Chapter 130: Closer

The evening’s arguments hadn’t transformed Hanchuan’s friends into the survivors they would need to become, but the men who had questioned every hard boundary at Jinhai now understood why Hanchuan noticed whether Zhiyi had eaten.

Every person outside the shelter had someone who considered them irreplaceable.

Hanchuan had simply decided whose survival he would build the world around.

He led Zhiyi to the kitchen table and seated her before warming the bowl in the microwave.

Shichen had forbidden the ovens because they placed unnecessary strain on the cooling system, but the microwave added too little heat to matter.

The bowl contained rice porridge, shredded chicken and vegetables softened enough that Zhiyi wouldn’t have to think about eating them.

Hanchuan placed a glass of water beside it and waited until she drank before giving her the spoon.

"You don’t need to watch me," she said after the third mouthful. Her words lacked their usual precision because fatigue had begun slowing them.

"I do."

"I know how to eat."

"You also knew how to stop Qingsong from becoming airtight, support the hospital’s power allocation and calculate the remaining fuel. Only one of those tasks was neglected," Hanchuan teased her softly.

Zhiyi looked down at the porridge. "Eating didn’t change the outcome of the other problems."

"It changes your outcome."

That answer made her look at him again.

Hanchuan sat beside her rather than across the table. He didn’t hurry her, but he remained close enough to redirect the spoon whenever her attention drifted toward the communications wall.

She finished half the bowl before placing the spoon against its edge. "I’m full."

"Three more bites," he replied with a shake of his head.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Two," he amended.

Zhiyi ate two more spoonfuls, then pushed the bowl toward him with the satisfaction of someone who had fulfilled a contractual obligation.

Hanchuan accepted the compromise and finished what remained while she drank the rest of the water. By the time he placed the bowl in the sink, her eyes had closed.

She opened them when he returned.

"Do you want to walk upstairs or be carried?" he asked.

Zhiyi evaluated the distance between the kitchen and the private staircase. "Carried."

The answer warmed him more than it should have.

Hanchuan slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. She settled against his chest as he lifted her, resting her face beside his neck without the tension that had once accompanied being touched unexpectedly.

None of the others commented as he carried her from the room.

The private floor remained quiet when they reached it.

Hanchuan took Zhiyi into their bedroom and lowered her onto the padded bench near the bed. He removed her shoes, then opened the drawer containing the clothing she preferred to sleep in.

When he placed the folded shirt and shorts beside her, she looked at them without moving.

He recognized another choice that had become too large.

"Lift your arms," he instructed gently.

Zhiyi obeyed.

Hanchuan changed her clothes without teasing her or pretending not to enjoy the trust she gave him. He moved slowly, allowing her time to object to every touch. She never did.

Once she was dressed, he pulled back the covers and settled her against the pillows. He expected her to close her eyes immediately.

Instead, Zhiyi watched him loosen his collar.

"Your friends were surprised by you today," she said.

Hanchuan removed his shirt and placed it over the back of the chair. His friends’ reactions at Jinhai remained with him, although he had no intention of apologizing for the decision that caused them.

"They’ll be surprised several more times before they understand," he said. The last seven days had only begun stripping away the assumptions they carried from their former lives.

Zhiyi sat on the edge of the bed and watched him. "They thought you would open Jinhai."

"They thought I was still the man they knew seven days ago." Hanchuan turned toward the wardrobe, but the certainty in her response stopped him before he could reach it.

"You are."

He looked back at her.

Zhiyi didn’t appear confused by the contradiction. "You haven’t become someone else. You protected your companies, your employees and your friends before because losing them was unnecessary. They thought that meant you would protect everyone."

"And you didn’t?"

"No." Her answer came without hesitation. "You were always willing to destroy anything that threatened what belonged to you. They simply weren’t threatened before."

Hanchuan studied her face. His friends believed the apocalypse had changed him because that explanation was easier than accepting they had never known where his boundaries ended.

Zhiyi had recognized them immediately.

"You aren’t different," she continued. "The consequences are."

The distinction settled something inside him that he hadn’t realized remained unsettled.

Zhiyi shifted onto her side so she could continue watching him. "You protected them before the Heat. You prepared the shelters to include all five men and gave them the opportunity to make alternative arrangements for their families. You didn’t become someone else. They only learned that your boundary stopped moving when the shelter closed."

"And where is it?"

"At me."

She answered without pride or apology. To Zhiyi, the conclusion was an observable fact rather than a declaration requiring emotion.

Hanchuan crossed the room and sat beside her.

"Yes," Hanchuan confirmed. He crossed the remaining distance to the bed and stopped in front of her. "My boundary is you."

Zhiyi’s gaze moved slowly over his face. She understood what the statement included: every locked door, every person he would refuse and every choice his friends might never forgive him for making.

"They may think that’s wrong," she said.

"They can," he agreed.

Their judgment wouldn’t change the number of years stored inside Jinhai or persuade him to gamble with her life. Hanchuan had already survived long enough without Zhiyi once. He wouldn’t risk repeating it to preserve anyone’s opinion of him.

"I don’t."

The quiet certainty held him motionless.

Zhiyi reached for his hand and drew him closer until he stood between her knees. She didn’t ask him to become kinder, and she didn’t pretend the people outside Jinhai mattered more to her than surviving beside him.

She simply looked up at him as though choosing her had never made him difficult to love.

Hanchuan brushed her hair away from her cheek.

He had done things in his first life that would disturb every person inside Xiling if they learned the details. Zhiyi knew most of them, and she had never asked him to become gentler at the cost of keeping her alive.

She only asked him to remain with her.

"You supported every one of them tonight," he said. "You helped Jingwei’s employees, Zeyu’s family, Shichen’s building and Qinghe’s hospital. None of those people belong to you."

"They belong to your friends."

"That isn’t the same thing."

"No." Zhiyi’s eyelids lowered before she forced them open again. "But your friends belong to you."

The distinction was exactly one she would make.

Hanchuan bent and pressed his mouth against her forehead. "Sleep."

Zhiyi caught his wrist before he could move away. Her grip held little strength, but he stopped immediately.

"Stay until I do," she asked.

Hanchuan turned off the bedside light and lay beside her. He drew her against his chest, then waited while her breathing gradually slowed.

He would have remained awake until morning if she needed him there.

Less than a minute later, Zhiyi’s fingers curled into the fabric at his waist.

"Closer," she murmured without opening her eyes.