After the Dragons

by Cynthia Zhang

  Now, though, this thing with Kai has changed everything. Technically, they’ve done little beyond kissing and sharing the same bed when Eli finds himself at Kai’s at two in the morning. But it’s so much more than he thought it would be, more than he thought he would ever want. This thing with Kai — whatever it is or whatever it turns out to be — feels like exploring a city without a map, the sweetness of unhurried wandering broken by bursts of vertiginous serendipity. Eli doesn’t know if what he feels for Kai is the same feeling about which poets wrote so many odes, but he’s curious now. He wants to find out, if there’s time.

  “He’s … different,” he says to his grandmother’s grave. “You’d like him, I think.” He hopes she would, at the least. While he has few worries about his parents, growing up on college campuses where differences proliferated and were deliberately cultivated, he’d never discussed the issue with his grandmother — never had any reason to, the default assumption being that Eli was straight and merely a late bloomer. He likes to think, though, that his grandmother would have been kind about it. That, having been born during one revolution and lived through another, witness to a father torn apart for loyalty to old gods and a husband publicly spit on for Western decadence, she would have been kinder toward supposed deviance. That, even if she did not quite understand, she would have at least loved him through it. She would have liked Kai, he’s certain. That fierce independence and stark sense of right and wrong — he can see his grandmother understanding that. Maybe even empathizing with it.

  “I miss you,” he says, because it is the type of thing you say here, the type of thing you can admit to the dead. “My current professor, she’s working on shaolong, she’s got theories on how studying draconic evolution might help us discover something new about the disease, some biological mechanism or wonder molecule that we can use to cure or prevent this. Dragons aren’t supposed to do well in cities — and most don’t. Toxins build up in tissue faster than most other animals. But the fact that some survive in the city makes Dr. Wang think draconic biology might be medically useful for human diseases tied to pollution. And I know it’s a long shot and that even if Dr. Wang is right we’d still be nowhere close to a cure, but I wish … I wish you could be here for it. I wish I could have helped.”

  On his grandmother’s grave, the incense steadily burns, sweetening the air with the faint smell of flowers. It is a warm, sunny day, and though the grass is dry beneath him, it is still inviting. Eli could just lie down, close his eyes and let the day carry him along.

  He stands up instead. Removes the sticks of incense from the holder, pouring water from his bottle over them to put the fire out before lining the sticks neatly on his grandmother’s grave. A message, perhaps, if she can still receive it. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier, with the rest of my family; I’m sorry I let myself get too busy to talk to you more when I had the chance. I hope you can forgive me.

  “I’ll come back soon,” he tells her, and it’s a promise to himself as well.

  It’s a rare cool day when Eli leads Dr. Wang through the maze of streets to Kai’s apartment. Kai is waiting outside as planned, lips pressed into a thin line as he watches their approach.

  “Hi,” he says, nodding at Eli. “Thank you for coming here,” Kai directs this to Dr. Wang, who smiles in response. In her T-shirt and worn jeans, Dr. Wang could pass for a mother visiting her child. But her gaze is bright as she surveys the apartment building, mind almost audibly clicking along as she registers boarded-up windows and the broken stair railing lead up to Kai’s place. “Come in.”

  They shuck their shoes off at the door. Kai’s bought new house slippers, Eli notices, and feels briefly guilty for incurring this expense. Dr. Wang doesn’t say anything about the bare walls or lack of air conditioning, and Eli is grateful for his professor’s silence.

  From her place atop a shelf, Mei chirps, stretching her head toward Dr. Wang in curiosity.

  “Oh, hello,” Dr. Wang says, glancing up. “Who are you, my pretty girl?”

  “Her name is Mei,” Kai says. “She’s generally friendly, but I’d still watch my fingers. She gets protective sometimes.”

  “Hello, Mei,” Dr. Wang says, lifting one hand for her investigation; after a few sniffs, Mei stretches her neck, an obvious bid for petting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear.” Mei warbles, and Dr. Wang gives her a conciliatory scratch before returning her attention to the rest of the room.

  “I’m here,” Dr. Wang says, nodding at Eli. “What now?”

  Kai moves to the table and pulls out a chair. “We can start by sitting down.”

  As Eli and Dr. Wang take their seats around the kitchen table. Kai pours tea into new, unchipped cups. They sip cautiously as they wait for it to cool.

  “All right,” Eli says, when it seems like they have settled in. “I’ve talked to both of you about this already, but I think we should refresh some of it. So we’re all on the same page. Dr. Wang, you’ve been wanting to explore draconic biology as a possible avenue for the development of new medical treatments, but the department is concerned about costs.”

  Eli gives a nod in Kai’s direction. “Kai has worked extensively with dragons, both in the classroom and outside of it, and he’s been informally helping Mr. Lin for a few years now. This summer, he’s been taking in dragons and patching them up. Some of them go to Mr. Lin after they recover, but that leaves dozens more that aren’t worth as much or are too hurt for most people to want to pay for. I’ve looked it up, and the cost of feeding dragons isn’t much higher than keeping similar model organisms — most of the cost comes from the equipment and the initial expense of dragons themselves. Beida already has the equipment and Kai’s willing to lend us dragons if we help with their medical upkeep. So if we worked together, it’d be mutually beneficial: less work for Kai, better care for the dragons, and a chance for Beida to do cutting-edge research at minimal cost.”

  Eli pauses, picks up his tea so that his hands have something to do as he glances from Kai to Dr. Wang. He hadn’t memorized the speech per se, but he had gone over the points beforehand to make sure he had everything in order. He hopes, watching them now, that it would be enough.

  “You know,” Dr. Wang says, turning to Kai, “Eli can be incredibly stubborn, when he wants to be. You wouldn’t guess it from looking at him, nice American boy that he is, but it’s true. Cornered me after a lab one day and started talking about this idea of his. When I tried to explain how difficult getting departmental approval would be, he dug his heels in and wouldn’t stop talking until I agreed to come.”

  “I know,” Kai says, and for possibly the first time since they met, he smiles at Dr. Wang. “It’s just as frustrating on this side.”

  “Hey,” Eli says, but it’s half-hearted. “It’s worked out well, hasn’t it? I’ve gotten you here.”

  “Yes,” Dr. Wang says, meditatively sipping her tea. “You have. I haven’t agreed to anything though.”

  “But you might. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t thinking about it.”

  “True enough.” Dr. Wang finishes the rest of the tea, puts her cup back on the table. “I can’t make a decision without knowing what I’m agreeing to. Do you mind if I have a look at the dragons you currently have?”

  Kai shrugs. “Go ahead.”

  A few cages line the walls, but Kai has moved the majority of them toward the bathroom, near the back door. Several of the cages have towels draped over them — “for the nocturnal and the shy ones,” Kai had explained once, as the two of them watched over an injured panlong — and Dr. Wang is careful as she lifts the cloths. The dragons inside blink in the sudden brightness.

  A few dragons stiffen at her approach, hiss when she hovers too close, but Dr. Wang is good at calming them, staying still and murmuring assurances.

  Dr. Wang coaxes one of the friendlier tianlong onto her shoulder where the creature stretches his neck in an plea for affection. She scratches him with one hand, the other slowly unfolding
one wing to examine it. There’s a bandage on the dragon’s chest, white and newly changed; Dr. Wang lifts it, revealing long gashes crisscrossing high between his two front legs, what Kai says is likely the result of a fight with a stray cat or another dragon. He’s thin and the tips of his wings are tattered, but Eli remembers when Kai had first brought the tianlong in. The dragon had shivered with fear as Kai wiped the blood from his chest and legs, and Eli had hovered nearby until Kai snapped at him to either sit down or get him some proper bandages.

  And now the small dragon Kai had refused to name (because “it’s harder, when you get attached”) is nuzzling Dr. Wang’s hand, letting her reposition him to better examine his scars.

  “These aren’t bad,” Dr. Wang says, fingers tracing the stitches on an ugly gash across the tianlong’s chest. “Did you do them yourself?”

  Kai nods a dismissive yes. “Anatomy lessons, years of observation, and helping my mother with fixing old clothes. We had a few practicals in classes, but it’s mostly experience.”

  “And you’ve been doing this for how long?”

  “Off and on, over the years. Helped out with a local dragon rescue as a kid, where they eventually trained me, and then I started sneaking a few into my dorm my first year of college. We weren’t allowed to have pets in the dorms, but well,” Kai’s gesture is unapologetic, “I always thought that was a stupid rule.”

  “I can see that,” Dr. Wang murmurs, but her attention is on the tianlong in front of her. “How many new dragons would you say you get each week?”

  “Depends. There’s always abandoned dragons around, if you know where to look. Like Eli said, I give them to Lin when I can, the ones people would want for pets. But there are way more than he can sell. The others I’ve been taking out of the city and setting free in places approximating their natural environments — freshwater dragons by freshwater and salt-water dragons by the saltiest body of water available. It’s maybe not the best choice environmentally since they’re technically still pets being introduced to a new habitat. But they’re disturbing urban ecosystems if they stay in the city. At least in the country, they have a better chance than in Beijing.”

  “Understandable,” Dr. Wang says. “Not an ideal solution, but the best one you can find.” She stands up, smoothing her pants, and pulls out her phone. Wincing at the time, she turns back to Kai, Peking University Changjiang Distinguished Service Professor Dr. Wang Jiachun in full effect.

  “The thing is,” Dr. Wang says, “as irregular as it is, Eli does have a point — there would be some bureaucratic fuss, of course, but once we get past that, it would be quite a good situation for my team at Beida. And, well,” she says, smiling as she slips the phone back in her pocket, “I’ve never been above taking advantage of a good opportunity.”

  Dr. Wang nods, and they sit back down to their tea. Negotiators gathered at a table, Eli thinks, glancing around.

  “I can’t take them in right away, of course — I can’t imagine having to explain why we have an extra twenty dragons to the department head. But I’ve brought the issue up in meetings before, and I can’t see my colleagues being too difficult once I explain the details to them. Like I said, there aren’t that many studies on dragons right now, so this would be an exciting opportunity for us.”

  “All right,” Kai says, once he’s finished refilling their tea. “And then?”

  “We’re working out the particulars,” Dr. Wang admits. “Immunology’s not the only department interested in draconic research, and the more researchers we can get interested, the stronger our proposal will be. So far, we’ve got the wildlife researchers who want to study migration patterns and behaviors in the wild, the herpetologists and evolutionary biologists who are excited to build a database of the draconic genome, and the conservationists working with the Beijing Zoo who want ambassador animals to use with the general public. All this work will benefit us as well, even if maintaining equitable power and budget distributions will be a headache. That’s a problem for another day. As it is, it’ll be touch-and-go as we sort things out, but my prediction is that most dragons will pass through our lab briefly before being transferred to adoption or band-and-release programs in local wildlife centers.”

  Kai reaches back to pet Mei, wrapped like a snoozing, scaly scarf around his neck. “And what would you be doing with the dragons in the lab?”

  Dr. Wang hums, tapping her fingers against her chin. “We’ll begin with standard intake procedures — weight, wingspan, blood samples — and if other departments find something promising in that data, they’ll take over research. We’ll be sharing data across departments, but it does mean less responsibility for Immunology specifically. If no outstanding features present themselves during intake, we’ll continue with rehabilitation, monitoring individual dragons in case any intriguing developments present themselves. Most of the day-to-day care will fall to the researchers in veterinary medicine, but my lab will be collaborating with them, both in terms of data analysis and developing experimental treatments for the dragons who have more extensive injuries or long-term conditions. It’s a neat bit of symmetry — the eventual goal of this project is to apply draconic research to human diseases, but until we can do that, we’ll be using insights from human medicine to treat dragons.”

  Dr. Wang pauses until Kai urges her on. The motion jostles Mei, and she opens her eyes to glare blearily at them before tucking her head beneath folded wings.

  “Overall, while we would test some new medicines and treatment regimens on certain dragons to see if they speed recovery, what we’re after is longitudinal, life-long data. That entails more waiting and watching than anything else. I know animal welfare is a concern of yours,” Dr. Wang says with a nod at the cages of dragons, some missing eyes or limbs. “I can offer you my word that we’ll treat our subjects well. Know that my goal with this project is to produce work that’s useful for both veterinary and human medicine. Our researchers will be treating dragons as patients, and a doctor’s first responsibility is always to their patient. This a lot to take on faith, but our goal here is to work with you, and that means making sure you’re satisfied. You’ve already been working with our dragons, with Eli, and you can continue doing that in an official capacity. Quaint as your arrangement has been, Beida has money to pay one more student employee, and I’d rather not violate any labor laws while helping head this project.”

  “So I bring you dragons, you run tests while rehabilitating them, and I come in periodically to make sure you aren’t cutting my dragons open,” Kai summarizes. Shifting to a more comfortable position across Kai’s shoulders, Mei lifts her head, yawns, and then resumes napping. “What happens if I get busy or have to leave Beijing or I’m,” Kai pauses, thinking over his words before he continues, “otherwise unavailable?”

  “I hope that you’d give us fair warning beforehand,” Dr. Wang says, not commenting on the way Eli stiffens next to her. “Outside of that, Tong has expressed interest in helping with the rehoming process, since he’s already been doing that a bit with you, and I’m confident he won’t hesitate to keep us in line. Like Eli said, this is meant to be a mutually beneficial transaction: for you, for us, and for the dragons you’ve been taking care of all this time. We want to figure out the details with you — not as just another student employee or an outside contact, but as a partner. That position means more work for you, of course, but also more control and decision-making power. I’ve given you a lot of contingencies and ‘we’ll figure it out when we get to it,’ but does that sound like a good starting point for you?”

  Careful not disturb Mei, Kai reaches for his tea. Eli can hear the cages creak above them, tianlong stretching their wings or shifting in their midday naps. The humidifier hums; pipes hiss; tanks burble, plastic tubes pumping out toxins and in oxygen for the dragons lazing inside. All dragons are at least partially aquatic, Eli hears Kai say in his mind, a memory of leaning over tanks as Kai points at and describes each dragon, but shuilong are the only ones w
ho have to spend most of their adult life in or near water. Too much time on land, and they start to dry out, skin getting papery and scales flaking off. It’s why you almost never find strays in urban environments — their skin is built to absorb nutrients from the water, so they’re incredibly sensitive to changes in pH and chemical composition. They’re literally too thin-skinned to survive the city —

  And what about us, Eli remembers wondering. What is it about people that drives them to build and live in places from which other animals would rightfully flee?

  Kai’s comment about being “otherwise unavailable” lodges like a splinter under Eli’s skin. What does that mean? What else could it mean when Kai is sick and so stubbornly refusing help?

  With a soft clink, Kai places his cup down.