Jianmo stood framed in the elevator doorway, breathing hard against the brass trim. The crimson streaking his torn suit dripped from his cuffs down to split knuckles. He scanned the room for ropes, broken glass, or marks on Tienya's skin.
Instead, the penthouse reeked faintly of jasmine blossoms and steeped oolong. Boss Ma leaned against a rosewood sideboard, his silk collar crooked and sweat beading his upper lip. Two enforcers knelt beside the low velvet divan. Hu was busy rubbing the arch of Tienya’s foot through a linen cloth, while Li balanced a bone-china teacup on a lacquer tray, knees shaking.
Tienya reclined on the cushions, the heavy black ledger tucked casually under her left elbow. "Oh, Jianmo, darling!" she said, tilting her chin up. "You're late. Hu here was just explaining the pressure points along the heel. Apparently my girl at the parlor was cutting corners." She flexed her toes against the cloth.
Jianmo lowered his fists, the blood on his knuckles tacking to his palms. He stared past the enforcers at his wife.
Boss Ma seized the pause and sprang forward, slipping a nickel-plated stiletto from his sleeve. The narrow blade pointed straight for Jianmo's neck.
"Watch the upholstery!" Tienya gasped. As Ma darted past her perch, she flicked her wrist, tipping her steaming cup of oolong. A sheet of amber liquid splashed squarely across Ma's eyes and nose.
Ma shrieked, dropping the stiletto onto the wool rug. He caught his face in both hands, stumbling sideways into a bronze coat rack as steam rose from his red forehead. Hu and Li scrambled backward on all fours toward the terrace curtains.
Jianmo glanced at the blade spinning on the rug, then at Tienya, who dabbed a yellow spill off her cuff with a linen napkin.
His cover was practically in shreds. The torn jacket and split knuckles bore no resemblance to hauling freight, and he waited for her to recoil from the gore.
Instead, Tienya slid her feet to the floor, tucking the ledger under an arm as she walked over. She drew a scrap of patterned silk from her pocket and rubbed firmly at the dark streak drying along his cheekbone. "Jianmo, honestly," she muttered, inspecting the stain. "What are they loading at the piers, engine grease? This jacket was imported wool."
She smoothed his hair back with two fingers. "All this night shift overtime ruins your pores." She glanced casually past his shoulder toward Ma, who sat groaning against the wall. "And look at this room. Broken china everywhere."
"Perhaps it's time you resigned from the docks," Tienya murmured, patting his lapel. "Master Chenzhe says the new textile prints sold out in three department stores this morning. We can afford your room and board. You could try bonsai trimming. Fewer sharp gears to snag your sleeves."
She hooked her beaded shoulder bag from the arm of the sofa, shoved the syndicate ledger down into its silk lining without a second glance, and zipped the brass fastener shut.
"Come along, darling," she said, looping her arm through his clean elbow and steering him toward the open elevator. "You need an Epsom bath before bed. And I might have Hu write down that herbal balm recipe. He has very nimble thumbs."
The brass elevator doors slid shut on Boss Ma's sputtering groans. Two seconds later, the penthouse's double entrance banged open against the wall. Peizhi charged inside, a twelve-inch pipe wrench raised in one hand, followed by a dozen dye-house laborers gripping iron rods and crowbars. Peizhi halted on the plush carpet, blinking at the scalded syndicate boss slumped beside a cold teapot and two cowering thugs.