Perfumed Revenge

The Warning

The bell above the café door jingled at 9:03 a.m. Min pushed it open on a faintly-squeering morning sun. The air smelled of freshly ground coffee and buttery croissants—normal, almost cheerily, which felt like mockery.

Ailing sat at their usual corner table, a porcelain plate bearing half of an egg tart. She looked up; an earnest softness settled over her features as Min slid into the chair right across from her.

"Your eye," Ailing murmured.

Min touched her cheekbone and winced. The bruise had bloomed overnight; a purple-yellow shadow beneath her left eye. "Fell," she said, lying. "Tripped over the cat."

Ailing's mouth tightened. She pushed a cold compress across the table, Min's favorite from the convenience store downstairs. "Liar."

Min pressed the compress to her face; it stung cold. The café was nearly empty; the steady hiss of the espresso machine and the genteel murmur of a few early patrons were all the noise to be found. A student typed on a laptop. An old man read a newspaper. Normal. Safe.

"You were right," Min said quietly.

Ailing had paused in her ritual of bringing the cup to her lips. “About what?”

“Last night. Li Wei. Came home smelling of jasmine. I asked him. He...he hit me.”

Ailing’s face didn’t change, but her knuckles tighten on the cup. “I told you when you started dating him. Remember sophomore year? Spring Fling. You wore that blue dress; my favorite on you.”

Min's throat tightened. She remembered; the spring fling had been at the school gym with streamer paper lanterns everywhere. She'd been 19 and all giddy because Li Wei had asked her out *finally* after months of those lingering wondering looks they had exchanged in the library.

“You were talking to Liu Tao,” Ailing continued. “By the punch bowl. He was telling you about his internship at the newspaper. You were laughing. Li Wei saw. Walked over, grabbed your arm—too tight—and said, ‘We’re leaving.’ You tried to pull away. He backhanded you. So hard your head hit the wall. Left a mark.”

Min now stared at the tablecloth, which had a red-and-white check pattern. It was all blurry. She *did* remember. A headache the next day. The way Li Wei had apologized, giving her roses and swearing it was a "moment of weakness." *“I just get so jealous when I see you with other guys,”* he'd told her. *“You're mine, Min."*

"I thought... he was just insecure," said Min. "He promised it would never happen again."

Ailing snorted. "Men like him don't change, Min. They just get better at hiding it. At making *you* feel like the problem. 'Paranoid.' 'Overreacting.' Sound familiar?"

Min felt as if her eyes were really burning. Li Wei had indeed said it last night. *"You're paranoid. Always have been."*

"Then why didn't you leave?" Ailing just had to press. "After the dance?"

"Because I loved him," Min whispered. "And he... he was so sorry. Took me to the hospital, paid for the X-ray. Bought me that jade necklace I'd had my eye on. Said he'd never hurt me again."

Ailing reached across the table, covering Min's hand with her own. Her fingers were warm, calloused from years of typing - she worked as a journalist at Shanghai Daily. "Love isn't an apology, Min. It's action. And Li Wei's only action is making sure you stay quiet."

Min pulled her hand back, defensive. "He has stress built up right now. Work has been crazy with this whole SinoTech merger with that American firm. He had been sleeping at work. Maybe... maybe it's just a rough patch."

Ailing narrowed her eyes. "Rough patches don't leave bruises. They don't make you scared to walk into your own home." She leaned in, voice lowering. "I saw him last week, you know. At the Peninsula. With a woman. Red dress, long hair. They were laughing. He had his hand on her lower back. Looked... *intimate*."

Min's stomach dropped. "What? When?"

"Thursday. I was meeting a source there. Saw them in the lobby. He didn't notice me."

Min's thinking was chugging. That was the day he had *worked* late. Funny enough he had come home reeking of jasmine that night.

"You think... it's her?" Min asked.

Ailing nodded. "I can find out. I have contacts at the hotel. But Min... you need to leave. Before it gets worse. Before he takes more than a slap."

Min fixed her eyes on the coffee cup that was now cold, and the foam had settled into a gray film. *Leave?* Where could she go? Her parents were in Suzhou, retired, living off of a meager pension from her father. Her sister was in Shenzhen, busy with her own kids. She hadn't worked since marrying Li Wei-he had insisted she 'focus on the home.'

"I can't just... leave," she said. "I have no money. No job. No place to go."

Ailing's expression softened. "I have a spare room. My roommate moved out last month. You can stay as long as you need. Just... think about it. Please."

Min nodded, but her mind was already spinning. *What if Ailing's wrong?* What if it *was* just stress? What if Li Wei really was trying to change?

The café door jingled again. A young couple walked in, hand in hand, laughing. Min watched them, a pang in her chest. She and Li Wei used to be like that.

Ailing pushed a napkin across the table. On it, she had scribbled a number. "My source at the Peninsula. If you want to know who she is. Just... be careful."

Min tucked the napkin into her purse. "I should go. He'll be up soon. Doesn't like when I'm out too long."

Ailing's smile was sad. "Call me anytime. Day or night."

Min stood, the cold compress still in her hand. As she walked out, she glanced back. Ailing was watching her, phone in hand, already typing-probably checking that hotel contact.

Outside, the sun had climbed higher, casting sharp shadows. Min touched her bruised cheek, wincing. Maybe Ailing's right; possibly I should leave," she thought.

But then the voice of Li Wei the night after the dance came, soft and contrite: *"I will never hurt you again, Min. I promise."

She shook her head, hailing a cab. Just a rough patch, she told herself. We'll get through it.

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