Chapter 399: Daily life 9.

When the lights went off, nobody panicked. Mother Yan lit a lamp. Yan

Cijin checked the power panel. Bai Li went directly to the backup room.

Lili sat on the floor with the lamp beside her.

"Is it broken?"

Bai Li answered from the hallway. "No."

"How do you know?"

"Because I checked."

"Can you fix it?"

"It’s already fixed."

Lili smiled. "Good."

Within minutes, the refrigerator came back on. The small water pump

restarted. One light returned. Then another. The apartment slowly

brightened again.

Yan Cijin watched Bai Li walk back into the room.

"You really like fixing things."

Bai Li nodded. "Yes."

"Why?"

Bai Li thought for a moment. "Because when something breaks, I don’t

like standing there looking at it."

Yan Cijin smiled. "That’s very you."

Bai Li sat beside her. "You could say thank you."

"For what?"

"I fixed your lights."

"Our lights."

"Your apartment."

Yan Cijin turned toward her. "Our apartment?"

Bai Li suddenly realized the wording.

There was a short pause.

Then Bai Li shrugged. "We’ve been living together long enough."

Yan Cijin looked at her for another moment.

"Fair."

Their shoulders touched.

Neither moved.

Lili, sitting on the floor, looked up at them. "Are you both tired?"

Yan Cijin said, "A little."

Bai Li nodded. "Very."

Lili stood and walked over. She climbed onto the sofa between them and

leaned against both of them at once.

"Then rest."

Bai Li smiled. "Good idea."

Mother Yan watched the three of them and quietly turned down the lamp.

The room became softer.

Outside, the river reflected the faint city lights.

Inside, the apartment stayed warm and quiet.

That was what daily life had become.

It was not exciting.

It was not glamorous.

It was not free from danger.

It was repetitive in ways that would have bored people before the

apocalypse.

And that was exactly what made it precious.

A fixed hinge.

A cooked meal.

A watered plant.

A clean shirt.

A working lamp.

A child laughing.

Someone asking whether the rice needed more water.

Someone arguing over who had left a screwdriver on the table.

Someone fixing a loose window latch before the wind could break it.

Life was happening in tiny pieces.

And Bai Li had started collecting those pieces without even realizing

it.

She did not say that aloud.

She did not need to.

Yan Cijin could see it anyway.

A few days later, the apartment had developed a schedule so regular that

Lili began announcing it every morning.

"Wake up. Wash. Eat. Plants. Work. Lunch. Rest. Dinner. Sleep."

Bai Li nodded. "Excellent."

Yan Cijin looked at her. "You forgot arguing."

Lili thought about it. "That’s not on the schedule."

"It happens every day."

Bai Li smiled. "That’s because your mother likes arguing."

Yan Cijin pointed at her. "You are the one who starts most of it."

"I finish it too."

"That’s not something to be proud of."

Mother Yan walked past with a basket of clothes. "Both of you stop

before breakfast gets cold."

They stopped immediately.

Lili smiled. "Grandma wins."

Mother Yan nodded. "Grandma usually does."

The apartment had become noticeably more comfortable. Nothing had become

luxurious, but several things had been improved. Bai Li had reinforced

the balcony railing. Yan Cijin had organized a section of the storage

room into a proper pantry. Mother Yan had found a way to keep herbs dry

longer. Lili had decorated the wall beside the kitchen with little

drawings of the four people who lived there.

There were no expensive decorations.

No television.

No internet.

No ordinary city noise.

There were drawings.

A tiny paper boat.

A crooked picture of the river.

Three pots that were supposed to be plants but looked more like green

clouds.

A very large black motorcycle.

And four stick figures.

One was labeled Lili.

One said Grandma.

One said Cijin.

The final one said Bai Li.

Bai Li stared at the drawing for a while when she first saw it.

"Why do I have the biggest hair?"

Lili answered immediately. "Because you have big hair."

Yan Cijin laughed.

Bai Li looked at her. "You think it’s funny?"

"Very."

"I’ll draw you next."

"You can’t draw."

"I can."

"No, you can’t."

Bai Li picked up a pencil. "Sit."

Yan Cijin immediately realized her mistake. "No."

"Why?"

"Because you are going to make me look terrible."

Lili clapped. "Draw Cijin."

Bai Li smiled. "See?"

Yan Cijin sighed. "Fine."

She sat still while Bai Li drew. The result was not good. It had a face,

hair, arms, legs, and a weapon that was almost as large as the body.

Lili looked at it.

"That’s Cijin."

Yan Cijin stared. "Why do I look like that?"

Bai Li shrugged. "Very accurate."

"You gave me three eyebrows."

"I was adding detail."

"Three eyebrows are not detail."

Mother Yan came over to look.

She studied the drawing seriously. "I think it’s good."

Yan Cijin looked betrayed. "Mom."

Mother Yan smiled. "Very artistic."

Bai Li grinned.

That drawing stayed on the wall.

It became one of the small things that made the apartment feel lived in.

There were other little things too. Lili’s shoes near the door. Yan

Cijin’s notebook on the table. Mother Yan’s basket of herbs beside the

kitchen window. Bai Li’s toolbox under the sofa. A row of cleaned

weapons in their cases. A stack of folded blankets. A bowl where

everyone put keys.

The outside world had become impossible to recognize, but inside the

apartment the small signs of routine kept multiplying.

Sometimes Bai Li would come into the kitchen and find Yan Cijin

preparing food while humming quietly.

Sometimes Yan Cijin would wake and find Bai Li already on the balcony

checking the plants.

Sometimes Mother Yan would be drying vegetables near the window.

Sometimes Lili would appear with a new problem that did not actually

exist.

"Bai Li."

"Hmm?"

"The chair is wrong."

Bai Li looked at it. "What is wrong?"

"It feels weird."

Bai Li sat on it. "It feels fine."

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TO BE CONTINUED.