“Mmm—mmph…”
Even with her mouth stuffed, Gu Sisi couldn’t keep still. She didn’t want to make a scene, but fear made her fidget; the gag was the only thing that seemed to calm her down. Of course, a muffled whimper carried far less menace. It barely registered on the man who’d been dozing across the room.
After a while she quieted herself. The gag hadn’t helped her intimidate anyone, and she could see this plan wasn’t working. Quiet was only temporary, though; the instinct to survive buzzed in her. She began to test her bonds.
The man had tied her tight. It took effort just to flex a finger. Still, need lent her strength. Inch by inch she shifted her wrists. First the right hand loosened, then, with a small victorious jolt, the left. Joy flared—both hands moved.
She kept easing herself forward, watching the man through slitted eyes. He seemed to be sleeping, nothing but a quiet shape in the dim light. Seeing him unmoving made her bolder. She moved more, smaller, careful increments so as not to make a sound. Her legs were numb from being bound too long; circulation had gone lazy. She wriggled them in the same patient way she’d worked her hands. Moving her legs proved easier; soon she felt she could hop if she had to.
Standing up, though—that was another matter. She’d been sitting on the floor for who knew how long. For someone who’d “kidnapped” her, this man didn’t seem very professional. Didn’t real abductors tie someone to a chair? She smiled a private, ridiculous smile at her own thought and pushed on.
What she didn’t know was that the man wasn’t asleep at all. He’d been watching her the whole time, following every tiny, awkward movement. He watched with something like interest, then tolerance. His amusement grew. She looked so ridiculous—careful, timid, hopping like a trapped animal. It made him think of something: an indestructible little cockroach. That ridiculous nickname lodged in his mind and it stuck.
For a long stretch of time he simply observed. She, meanwhile, kept struggling as if momentum itself would save her. From his vantage, though, she hadn’t really changed. Her cautious movements were so tentative they amounted to nothing. His interest cooled into boredom.
He decided then to spoil the show. Better to end the pretense and make her stop. As he moved, though, she suddenly stood—finally, gloriously, all by herself.
He gave a small, unexpected breath of relief. Watching her hop around trying to get up had been entertaining enough, like watching a kitten flounder. If her hands had been free, he thought, she might have even clapped for herself.
That little indulgence vanished in the next instant. A reflexive shriek escaped her lips—sharp, involuntary—then she pressed her face into the gag as soon as she realized. Too late.
The man’s eyes were open now, sharp and impatient. He stared at her.
Gu Sisi could only see the ceiling. Panic blossomed into a running commentary in her head. “Oh god, how embarrassing—did I wake him? He must have woken up. Oh no, what if he hits me? What do I do?” Her heart hammered, a private torment of hypotheticals. She was thoroughly, deliciously terrified.
None of those thoughts registered on the man. He wasn’t reading her fear; he was barely even looking at her face. He was trying, very hard, not to laugh. The sight of her—legs bound together so she could only hop forward, raised hands wobbling—was too comical. After all her effort she’d managed to stand only to step on an empty soda can. The can crumpled, she slipped, and she fell back to the floor in a tangle—like some ridiculous, undignified caterpillar.
The man bit down a laugh and forced a scowl. He had to be menacing—he was the kidnapper, after all. He walked over and peered down at her. With an exaggeratedly stern tone he asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”
He didn’t kick her; he tapped her with the toe of his shoe in a gesture that was more show than force. They locked eyes. For the first time Gu Sisi looked him properly in the face. He was... not unpleasant to look at—handsome in a blunt, dangerous way, absurdly composed for a man who had tied someone up. She blinked and scolded herself silently. Now wasn’t the time for such thoughts.
He hauled her up by the arm and dumped her onto a chair—finally, the chair she’d imagined and then made fun of earlier. It should have been a reprieve; instead, the bruised soreness woke up in her backside like a live thing.
“Plucky, aren’t you?” the man said, more amused than angry. He secured her there, fastening her so she couldn’t wriggle free easily. “You actually thought you could run?”
She swallowed against the gag, cheeks hot, and realized she’d never felt so small and stupid and sore all at once.