Chapter 456: Eternity 17.

Eventually, Yan turned her head. "Do you think people can know when

something bad is going to happen?"

Bai did not answer immediately. It was an unusual question, or perhaps

it was not unusual at all after the last few weeks. Since the apocalypse

began, everyone had learned to read small signs and make choices based

on incomplete information. A strange silence could mean a street was

empty, or it could mean something dangerous had driven the zombies away.

A radio message could be a warning or a lie. A person could look safe

and still be preparing to take everything from you.

"Sometimes people notice things before they can explain them," Bai said

at last. "Sometimes they see enough pieces to understand that something

is wrong. Sometimes they’re afraid because they know how much they stand

to lose. But a bad feeling doesn’t tell you everything. It just tells

you to pay attention."

Yan listened carefully. "And if you can’t do anything about it?"

"Then you do what you can. You check the doors. You prepare. You make

sure the people you care about have a way out. You don’t give up just

because you can’t control the whole situation."

Yan’s fingers tightened around the cup. For a moment, she looked as

though she might say something much more personal. Then she nodded, as

if the answer had given her a place to put her thoughts.

Bai wanted to ask what she was afraid of losing. She had a feeling the

answer might matter more than anything else Yan could tell her. But she

did not ask. She had already learned that the strongest way to show care

was sometimes to remain where she was and let the other person decide

when to speak.

That night, Yan did not sleep well. Bai knew it because she could hear

the slight change in Yan’s breathing from the other bed, and because

every so often the mattress shifted as Yan turned over. Bai lay awake

longer than usual, staring into the dark and wondering about the call.

Aunt Lan’s warning had been too direct to ignore. If the military safe

zone was dangerous, then going there could put the whole family at risk.

Yet if Aunt Lan was being held somewhere against her will, staying

behind could mean losing the chance to help her.

Bai had faced many kinds of danger since arriving in this world. She had

fought zombies, monsters, and people who mistook cruelty for strength.

She had used her abilities without explaining where they came from, and

she had followed the system’s guidance when it suited her aims. There

were still parts of her life that nobody in this apartment could

understand, including the world she had come from and the reason she had

arrived here. She kept those things hidden not because she wanted to

deceive Yan, but because she had not found a way to explain them that

would not change everything. Some truths required the right moment, and

she had not decided what the right moment looked like.

She turned her head slightly and looked toward Yan’s bed. In the

darkness, she could make out only the outline of the blanket. Bai

wondered whether Yan was thinking about her mother, about Aunt Lan, or

about something else she did not want to talk about. She wanted to ask.

Instead, she held the wish close and let the silence remain. Tomorrow

would bring practical work. There would be decisions to make, supplies

to count, and perhaps another attempt to call Aunt Lan. Bai could wait

until morning to understand what needed to be done.

A Day of Pretending to Be Fine

Mother Yan woke early the following morning and began preparing

breakfast before anyone else was out of bed. She made enough for

everyone, set the table, and checked the water level in the kettle. The

routine was so familiar that a person looking at her from the outside

might have thought nothing had happened. But Yan noticed that her mother

kept checking the phone beside the stove, and Bai noticed that the tea

Mother Yan poured for herself remained untouched while she organized the

breakfast dishes.

When Yan entered the kitchen, Mother Yan greeted her with a smile.

"You’re up. I made eggs. There’s fruit too."

"You were up before me."

"I couldn’t sleep. I thought I might as well do something useful."

Yan looked at the untouched tea. "Did you try calling her again?"

Mother Yan’s hand paused over the plates. "The phone is still off."

"I’m sorry."

"There’s nothing you need to be sorry for." Mother Yan set the plates

down, then turned away to check the pan. "We’ll see what happens. We

can’t spend every day worrying about something we don’t know how to

fix."

Yan understood that the words were meant as much for Mother Yan as for

her. She wanted to insist that worry was not the same as wasting time,

that there were ways to seek information, and that they did not have to

accept the silence as the final answer. But her mother had already put

the pan on the heat and was reaching for the spatula. It was a quiet

refusal to talk, and Yan did not push her.

Bai came in a few minutes later, already dressed and carrying a small

repair kit. She stopped when she saw Mother Yan at the stove. "You’re

cooking? I thought it was my turn."

"You repaired the kitchen tap yesterday. Let me make breakfast."

"I can do both."

"I’m sure you can," Mother Yan said, smiling, "but I would like to cook

today."

Bai studied her expression. There was no anger in it, only a tired

effort to keep everything ordinary. Bai set the repair kit on the

counter and stepped back. "All right. I’ll check the water unit after we

eat."

Mother Yan thanked her, then returned to cooking. Bai took a place

beside Yan at the table.

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TO BE CONTINUED.