The road shone slick with the evening’s earlier rain. Sophie hung a right into Victoria Street, cycling past her favourite gelato store and an enoteca exuding Darlinghurst cool. At the Cross, she admired the giant Coke sign in spite of herself. Kings Cross was no Siam Square, no Wangfujing Street, but something about the electronic billboard suggested good times, party times, ahead.

She skirted down Darlinghurst Road, past the sex shops, porn shops, pizza joints and ragged junkies looking for a score. Around the corner was Blue Lotus. The restaurant sat on a leafy side street behind the main drag. Home to expensive real estate, a couple of exclusive clubs and some sophisticated dining options, this was where the trendy came to enjoy the sense of danger promised by Sydney’s seedy side without actually having to dabble in it. Blue Lotus served food inspired by the cuisines of China’s Yunnan, Sichuan and Guizhou provinces. In his role as head chef, Jin Tao used locally sourced ingredients, organic produce and only sustainably farmed fish. This marked his prices up but gave his restaurant an edge, allowing the cocktail set to indulge with a conscience.

After decades of ginger-steamed scallops and sweet and sour pork, Sydney had begun its love affair with China’s sultry heart. Foodies flocked to restaurants specialising in the tastes of China’s peasant cuisine, relishing the tang of the Sichuan peppers, the punch of pickled chilli and the salty heat of fresh black beans. Blue Lotus matched this food with its atmosphere. The long, narrow dining area featured a single dark wood table and smooth benches running along either side. The no-reservation policy meant diners turned up early to bag a space at the communal dining table and indulge in a drink at the bar out the front. Jin Tao’s sommelier was famous for his detailed knowledge of Old and New World wines. And for his mandarin-infused vodka.

Sophie chained her bike to a pole in the alley behind the restaurant. She scuffed across the cobblestones to the kitchen door. Through the window she saw benches laden with food: chicken breasts, shallots, baskets of dried chillis, giant carafes of brown sesame oil. She jerked open the door. Cooking scents hit her: garlic, star anise, cinnamon, chilli oil.

The sous chef, Stu, nodded hello. His hands were buried deep inside a fish. He indicated the burners at the back of the kitchen where Sophie spied Jin Tao’s shiny head. ‘Go on through,’ he said. ‘He’s checking the pork belly.’

Sophie strode over the tiles to where Jin Tao stood examining the contents of a clay pot.

‘You have to try this,’ he said. He held out a spoonful of glistening pork belly for her to taste. The skin gleamed black from a reduced soy glaze. A white sliver of fat separated the skin from the meat.

‘Hello to you too,’ said Sophie. She took the spoon into her mouth. The pork tasted like velvet. ‘That,’ she groaned, ‘is sensational.’

Jin Tao winked. ‘I got it right tonight,’ he said. ‘The crowd is going to go sick. You want some more?’

Sophie waved the spoon away. ‘Already eaten,’ she lied. ‘You’ll be a celebrity one day, I know it.’ She paused, watching a faint pink creep into Jin Tao’s cheeks. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’

Jin Tao put the lid back on the pot and washed his hands at a basin. He jerked his head towards the storeroom. ‘Step into my office.’

The storeroom smelled like garlic and shrimp paste and its shelved walls were lined with tins and jars: pickled tofu, deep-fried shallots, dried seaweed, nuts, peppers. Jin Tao slid the door closed. He picked up an open bag of sunflower seeds, shook some into his palm, and offered it to Sophie. ‘My secret stash.’

She took a handful, putting a seed in her mouth and cracking the shell between her teeth. The kernel slipped out easily and she ground it to a paste. ‘Do you remember that dinner we went to a couple of months ago, with my student?’

Jin Tao chewed thoughtfully. ‘More information. There’ve been loads.’

‘At the Sichuan place.’

Jin Tao picked some more seeds from the bag. ‘The jellyfish salad,’ he said. ‘It rocked.’

Sophie smiled. Jin Tao remembered anything, as long as he could associate it with food. ‘Do you remember my student Wendy?’

Jin Tao nodded. ‘And the other guy, Tae Hun.’

Sophie held out her hand for more seeds. ‘That’s it, I’d forgotten his name.’

‘Lucky bastard.’ Jin Tao scowled. ‘That Wendy’s cute. Bit weird, but cute.’

‘What do you mean?’

Jin Tao cracked a seed between his teeth. ‘She spent the whole night cacking herself, like she was stoned or something. She reckoned the walls had ears.’

I don’t remember. I’ve forgotten the details.

‘All I really remember is the food,’ Sophie said. ‘And I wasn’t even drinking.’

‘You want to go out with them again? Have a night on the tiles with wacky Wendy?’

In her mind, Sophie saw Wendy’s mangled face. Blood on the concrete. Her stomach lurched. Her legs felt weak. She dropped the sunflower seeds to the floor. Took a step back.

‘Soph?’

Behind her, a bag of dried shiitakes provided support. Sophie leaned into it, feeling the sharp ends of the mushrooms stick into her back.

‘Wendy died today,’ Sophie said. Her words came out in a croak. ‘She jumped.’

Jin Tao’s face was perfectly still, a sunflower seed perched neatly between his teeth. He blew the shell from his lips. Sophie watched it flutter to the ground.

‘Holy shit,’ he said. He rubbed a hand across his head. ‘Are you okay?’

Sophie bit down on her tongue. Now was not the time to cry. ‘Actually, I can’t stop thinking about her.’ She brought her hand to her pocket, wanting to ram it in. For the second time in a day she felt raw, exposed. Jin Tao reached out and touched her fingers. Then he took her hand and pulled her gently to him.

‘You need a hug,’ he said.

‘It’s all right,’ she said. But Jin Tao’s arms were already around her, holding her.

Sophie surrendered. In the fluorescent bright of the store­room, she actually felt safe.

At the end of the long hug, Jin Tao stepped back. He lifted Sophie’s chin with a slim finger. ‘I should take you home,’ he said.

She dropped to the floor to gather the spilled sunflower kernels. ‘I have my bike.’

Jin Tao didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’ll dink you.’

‘It’s fine, you’ve helped me by giving me Tae Hun’s name.’

Jin Tao retrieved a dustpan from the corner and squatted beside Sophie. ‘Poor bastard,’ he said. ‘You going to write him a note?’

‘I need to find him first,’ she said. They finished clearing the seeds. Sophie stood up and slid open the door to the kitchen. The sounds of the evening rush hour swept around them. ‘You’d better get back to your pork.’

Jin Tao raised an eyebrow, held up a forefinger. ‘One minute,’ he said. ‘Wait here.’

Sophie hovered in the doorway and threaded the toggles on her coat. Jin Tao reappeared and pressed a plastic bag into her hand. She didn’t have to look to know what it held: a container of rice, some sticky pork, probably some vegetables.

‘You’ll want to eat later,’ he said.

Sophie left the warmth of the kitchen and headed back out into the night.