Chapter 4 A Taste of Her World

Kai didn't know how far he'd walked. One block, maybe two. Long enough for the scent of meat and fire to fade behind him, long enough for the hunger to gnaw harder than his pride. His steps slowed. The heat of the street blurred at the edges of his vision. He stumbled, catching himself against a wall, his breath shallow.

The world tilted.

He wasn't just hungry-he was on the edge of collapse.

Behind him, footsteps.

"Hey"

The voice was sharp. Annoyed.

He turned, vision swimming slightly.

Mei stood a few feet away, arms crossed, the tongs still in one hand. She didn't look worried. More like irritated. Like she hated herself a little for what she was about to say.

"You're really going to faint over a skewer?"

He didn't answer.

She sighed hard, rolled her eyes, and jerked her head toward the cart.

"Come back."

He blinked. "What?"

"I said come back before you die in front of someone else's stall and ruin their lunch rush."

He hesitated. Was this a trick? A lecture? Another wave of insults?

But she didn't wait for him. She turned and walked back to her cart, flicking her braids behind her shoulder like she was shooing off regret.

Kai followed.

By the time he got there, she'd already pulled a skewer off the grill. The glaze shimmered in the light-thick, dark, red with spice. She shoved it into his hand without meeting his eyes.

"This doesn't mean I believe you."

"I didn't ask for it," he said, but his voice was hoarse.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Eat it before you fall over."

He didn't need telling twice.

The first bite hit like lightning. Sweet, smoky, spicy. The heat built slowly, rising up the back of his throat and settling into a warmth that pushed against the cold, empty feeling inside him. He closed his eyes for a second.

He'd never tasted anything like it. A spark of happiness flickered in him.

It wasn't just food-it was relief.

"Okay," he breathed. "This is really good."

She didn't answer.

He looked over. Mei was watching him, one eyebrow raised, as if waiting for him to collapse or maybe start crying.

Instead, he smiled a little. "You've got a serious talent."

She snorted. "Don't flatter me. You're starving. You'd say the same about soggy noodles."

"No," he said, finishing another bite. "I mean it. This is... it's just really amazing."

"Yeah, well, people like amazing more when they pay for it."

"I told you-"

"I know what you told me," she said quickly. "Doesn't make it true."

He paused. Then asked "So why feed me?"

She shrugged, tossing another skewer on the grill. "Maybe I don't want a dead guy in front of my cart. Bad for business."

"Right."

"Or maybe," she said slowly, not looking at him, "I just got tired of listening to your stomach growl like it was about to summon a demon."

He laughed once, caught off guard. "Is that your way of saying you care?"

She scoffed. "Not even a little."

"Got it."

A silence settled between them. Not awkward, not warm. Neutral ground.

Around them, the street pulsed on-voices, cars, the occasional bark of a street dog. A kid rode past on a too-small bicycle, yelling at someone down the road. The city didn't pause. But here, beside the cart, time bent slightly.

"You're not from around here," she said, firmly like she was sure.

"No."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "I can tell. You talk like you think people owe you something."

He frowned. "I don't-"

"It's not a bad thing," she interrupted. "Just means you came from somewhere people had more to give."

He looked down at the stick in his hand, now bare except for the burnt end.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe."

"You running from something?"

Kai looked up sharply. "What makes you think that?"

Mei shrugged again, moving with practiced ease as she flipped the skewers. "People don't just show up poor and hungry in a city like this unless they're chasing something... or running."

He didn't answer.

Another silence.

"I'm not going to ask," she said, after a moment. "But if you're going to be around, you might want to stop looking like a lost puppy."

"Thanks for the advice."

"And," she added, her tone hardening, "don't think this means you're getting free food again."

"I figured."

She met his gaze now, eyes sharp. "Next time, you pay. No stories."

He held up his hands. "Understood."

She turned back to the grill.

Kai leaned against a nearby post, his legs still a little shaky. The heat of the food lingered in his chest, pushing back the cold.

"I'm not a scammer," he felt the need to reassure her.

She didn't turn. "We'll see."

He watched her work-how she brushed the glaze in even strokes, flipped the skewers without rushing, checked the coals like they were the most important part of the day. There was a rhythm to it, a kind of street-side ceremony.

"Do you always stand like that?" she asked.

He blinked. "Like what?"

"Like you're waiting for someone to give you permission to breathe."

Kai straightened. "It's just been a long few days."

She didn't press.

Instead, she asked, "What's your name?"

He looked at her. "Kai."

Her mouth twitched like she was holding back a comment. "Hmm."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She didn't answer.

"You?"

She hesitated, then said, "Mei."

"Short for something?"

"No."

"Cool name."

"I didn't ask."

Kai chuckled. "You're kind of mean, you know that?"

Mei smirked. "You're kind of weird, you know that?"

"Weird how?"

"Most guys who try to scam me just disappear when they fail. You... you're still here."

He shrugged. "I didn't try to scam you."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Still weird."

Another minute passed.

Kai pushed off the post. "Well. Thanks. For not letting me faint on the street."

"Mm-hmm."

"I mean it."

She glanced at him again. "You done talking?"

He smiled. "For now."

He turned to leave.

"Oh," she called, "and Kai?"

He looked back.

"Next time, bring cash. Or bring work. I don't feed stories."

"Noted."

She was already back to grilling when he walked away, but something about her tone stuck with him. It wasn't kindness exactly. But it wasn't cold either.

Maybe he hadn't imagined the shift in her voice. Maybe, somewhere behind the sarcasm and smoke, she saw something different in him.

He walked on, still tired, still broke-but full, and not just with food.

Mei didn't trust him yet. Maybe she never would.

But she hadn't let him fall.

And in a city like this, that meant something.