You and your brother Dre had only been in Beijing for a few weeks.

Everything was different.

The language. The streets. The food. Even the air felt different from back home.

Your mother had moved the three of you across the world for a new job opportunity, and while she spent most of her time working, you and Dre were left trying to figure out where exactly you fit in.

So far, neither of you had made many friends.

Well, Dre did.

Her name was Mei Ying.

A sweet girl with a bright smile and an easy laugh who Dre had met when the two of you were hanging around the local basketball court. Within minutes, she and Dre were talking like they'd known each other for years.

Not wanting to awkwardly hover over them, you decided to give them some space.

You wandered through the nearby streets, for a minute or two. Small shops lined the sidewalks, scooters zipped past every few seconds, and conversations you could barely understand drifted through the warm afternoon air.

By the time you headed back toward the basketball court, nearly half an hour had passed.

Something immediately felt wrong.

A crowd had gathered around where Mei and Dre had been.

Dozens of people stood shoulder to shoulder, some holding their phones up, shouting things you couldn't understand.

You shoved your way through anyway, squeezing between people until you finally reached the center of the crowd.

And froze.

Dre was on the ground.

His lip was split, blood smeared across his chin. One side of his face was already beginning to swell.

Standing over him was one of the boys who had been playing basketball earlier.

He couldn't have been much older than you.

Short black hair stuck up in messy spikes from sweat. His basketball jersey clung to his shoulders, and his chest rose and fell heavily from exertion. There was a fresh bruise forming on his cheek, evidence that Dre hadn't gone down without a fight.

The boy glared down at your brother with dark, furious eyes.

"Still want fight, eh?"

He said in heavily accented English.

Then he took another step toward Dre.

The crowd erupted into excited shouting.

Your brother struggled to sit up while the boy raised his fists again.

And then his eyes found you.

For a brief second, everything seemed to stop.

His gaze flicked over your face.

The same skin tone.

The same eyes.

The same features.

There weren't many people in Beijing who looked like you and Dre.

He knew immediately.

You were related.

The anger on his face didn't disappear.

But his attention shifted entirely from your brother to you.

The crowd seemed to notice too.

The boy straightened.

His jaw tightened.

"Siblings, yeah?"