Chapter 444: Eternity 5.

Lili’s favorite possession after Bai gave her

permission to help with harmless jobs. She checked the screws, sorted

washers, and carried a small cloth for wiping dust from surfaces. Bai

never let her use real tools unsupervised, but she made the child feel

included in the work. If a repair was too dangerous or complicated, Bai

explained why Lili could not help with that particular task and found

another one she could do instead. The distinction mattered. Lili was

learning that being protected did not mean being useless, and that an

adult who said no could still be taking her seriously.

One morning, Bai was replacing a cracked cover on a small electrical

unit when Lili came in with a notebook. She had copied some of the

labels from the supply shelves and drawn pictures beside them. The

drawings were crooked, and several of the words had letters facing the

wrong way, but she had clearly put a great deal of care into the work.

"I made a list," Lili announced.

Bai set down the screwdriver and took the notebook with both hands, as

though Lili had presented her with an important document. She looked

through every page instead of skimming it, asking the child about each

picture and praising the details she had remembered correctly. When she

found that Lili had drawn the medical supplies beside a little red

cross, she told her that the idea was good but that they should use a

different symbol on the actual storage labels so the important supplies

would be easy to identify even in bad light.

Lili listened with complete seriousness. "Can I fix it?"

"Of course. I’ll help you make the labels clear."

Yan walked in while they were discussing whether bandages should be

marked with one picture or two. She watched Bai patiently help Lili

redraw the symbols, then leaned down beside them.

"That’s a very good list," Yan told Lili. "You remembered several things

I forgot to check yesterday."

Lili beamed. "Bai Li says small things are important."

"She’s right about that."

Bai raised her head at once. "You sound surprised."

Yan looked at her. "I’m always surprised by how much you enjoy being

right."

"I enjoy being correct. It’s a valuable habit."

"Of course. And the rest of us should be grateful to benefit from it."

Lili looked from one woman to the other, then giggled. She had begun to

recognize that Yan and Bai often spoke as though they were arguing when

neither was truly upset. She liked sitting between them because the air

always felt warm when they were together, even when one of them was

pretending to be annoyed.

Bai also taught Lili how to recognize several sounds that might indicate

danger. The child learned the difference between the normal creak of the

building and the irregular dragging noise a zombie made when one leg was

injured. She practiced listening from the safe side of the apartment

door while Bai explained that no sound could be identified with complete

certainty on its own. A human survivor might move strangely. Pipes might

make frightening noises. If she heard something unusual, she should tell

an adult rather than decide by herself that it was safe to open the

door.

Yan supported the lessons but worried about making Lili too alert to

every little noise. Bai understood the concern and tried to keep the

teaching balanced. After a practice session, she would take the child to

the living room and read a story with her, or help her water the small

plants by the window. Lili needed to learn how to survive, but she also

needed to remain a child.

The matter of crystal cores came up in a serious conversation one

evening. The adults had found enough cores to make careful strengthening

possible, but nobody wanted to rush Lili into something her body might

not handle well. Bai was clear that a child should never be forced to

consume an unfamiliar core simply because everyone else was developing

faster. Yan agreed, and Mother Yan insisted that any attempt would have

to be monitored, with a way to respond immediately if Lili became

unwell.

They chose to delay any major attempt until they had more information

and could make a proper plan. In the meantime, Lili could practice the

simple concentration exercises Yan showed her. They were not about

creating power from nothing. They were about paying attention to small

changes in the environment, learning to settle her breathing, and

separating a real warning from fear. Sometimes Lili could sense a

vibration through the floor before the adults noticed it. Sometimes she

could not. Bai praised her for trying without promising that she would

develop a special ability.

"If I get stronger, can I help you fight?" Lili asked again one evening,

sitting beside Bai on the rug while Yan folded laundry nearby.

Bai rested one forearm on her knee. "You can help us now. You remind us

to eat, you help Mother Yan with the plants, and you notice things

people miss. Fighting is not the only kind of strength."

"But you fight so well."

"That’s because I have to. If I can solve a problem without fighting,

I’d rather do that."

Yan looked over from the laundry. "You should listen to her. She says

that, then tries to solve every household problem with a screwdriver."

"A screwdriver is not violence," Bai said.

"It depends on what you’re doing with it."

Lili burst out laughing. Bai tried to look offended, which only made the

child laugh harder. Yan had to turn back to the laundry because her own

smile had become too obvious. It struck her again that Bai’s strongest

quality might not be her power at all. It might be the way she made

safety feel like something the whole family could build together, one

careful decision at a time.

Mother Yan Finds Her Place

Mother Yan had not been idle during the weeks the household spent

settling into the apartment.

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TO BE CONTINUED.