Chapter 217: Am I Interrupting?

Shichen held out the plates as Hanchuan sat back from Zhiyi.

"Qinghe said she can eat like that if she’s comfortable," Shichen told him. "I brought napkins too, although I’m not promising they’ll keep the crumbs out of your bed."

Zhiyi reached for her plate. Hanchuan took it from Shichen and passed it to her, waiting until she had it balanced before accepting his own.

"Zeyu wants to know whether we’re heading back once the road clears," Shichen added. "He’s looking at the route while he eats."

Zhiyi paused with half her sandwich in her hand.

"I would like to eat first," she replied. "Then we can discuss where we’re going."

"I’ll tell him to finish his food," Shichen said, and left them together.

Hanchuan settled his plate on his knee. He waited until Zhiyi had swallowed before asking whether she wanted to return to Xiling.

She considered the question rather than answering immediately.

"I want my ribs to stop hurting," Zhiyi said. "Going home won’t make that happen tonight."

"Our bed would be more comfortable," Hanchuan suggested.

"This one is comfortable." Zhiyi rested her free hand on the mattress. "I asked to lie down, and you brought me here. That was what I needed."

Hanchuan looked at the pillow behind her, resisting the urge to ask whether she wanted another. She had already arranged it herself.

He took a bite of his sandwich while she ate beside him. For a little while, neither spoke. From the kitchenette came the sound of a cupboard closing, followed by Zeyu asking where Shichen had found something.

Zhiyi caught a piece of filling before it fell from her bread. Hanchuan steadied the plate when it tipped beneath her hand.

"I don’t like seeing you hurt," he admitted.

"I know that," Zhiyi replied, lowering her sandwich. "But you keep watching me as though something will happen the moment you look away."

He almost reminded her of the crowds, the fire, and the gun at the underpass. There had been plenty of reasons to keep watching.

None explained why he was still doing it here, with her eating beside him.

Hanchuan left his hand on the mattress near hers. After a moment, Zhiyi rested her fingers over it.

"You can eat," she told him. "I’m not asking you to stop looking at me entirely."

"I’d find that difficult," Hanchuan replied, turning his hand to catch hers.

Zhiyi glanced at the sandwich on his plate. "Apparently, you’re finding eating difficult too."

He took another bite, and she returned to her own food. Her fingers stayed between his, leaving her to manage the plate with one hand until he moved it onto a firmer part of the blanket.

When Zeyu laughed at something in the front compartment, Hanchuan looked toward the doorway.

He hadn’t heard that sound in hours. It faded into quieter conversation, and he turned back to find Zhiyi watching him.

"When I was unconscious, did you sleep beside me?" she asked.

"Sometimes," Hanchuan answered, rubbing his thumb along her fingers.

"For how long?" Zhiyi asked. She set the remaining piece of sandwich on her plate and gave him her full attention.

"I don’t remember," he admitted.

He remembered the chair beside her bed and the sound of the monitor. He could picture Qinghe moving around the room and the blanket someone had put over his shoulders. He couldn’t tell her how much of that time he had spent asleep.

Zhiyi moved her plate aside. Hanchuan placed it on the nearby surface with his own, then let her draw his hand back between hers.

"When did you last sleep without checking whether I was still breathing?" she asked quietly.

Hanchuan looked down at their hands. He could have told her he slept every night. He fell asleep with her beside him and woke when she shifted. Sometimes he woke because she hadn’t moved at all.

"Before you were hurt," he admitted. "I slept better then."

Zhiyi tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Do you wake because you hear something," she asked, "or do you wake and then look for a reason?"

Hanchuan leaned back against the edge of the bed. He hadn’t expected the question, and it took him a moment to answer honestly.

"Both," he said. "Sometimes you make a sound. Other times I wake up and need to check."

"What happens once you’ve checked?" Zhiyi asked. "Can you go straight back to sleep?"

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, buying himself a moment she was unlikely to mistake for anything else.

"You’ve probably noticed that I don’t," Hanchuan said.

"I’ve noticed that you’re tired," she replied, drawing their hands down again. "I’m trying to understand how much sleep you’re losing."

He nearly told her she didn’t need to worry about him. Then he looked at the food she had put aside and the way she was waiting for an answer.

"I stay awake until I’m certain you’re all right," Hanchuan admitted. "After that, I try to sleep again."

"The night before last, you moved my pillow," Zhiyi said. "I thought it had slipped."

"You sounded different." He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, remembering the cold rush of waking in the dark. "You’d turned your face toward the blanket. I knew what it was as soon as you moved."

Zhiyi lifted her free hand toward his cheek. He bent closer so she wouldn’t have to stretch, and her thumb came to rest beneath his eye.

"You could have woken me," she told him.

"You needed the sleep," Hanchuan replied. He leaned into her palm, closing his eyes for a moment.

"So did you," Zhiyi said. "But you stayed awake afterward."

He opened his eyes. "How long were you awake?"

"Long enough to realize you were pretending to sleep," she answered. Her fingers moved gently toward his temple. "I thought you wanted quiet, so I didn’t speak."

Hanchuan turned and kissed her palm.

"I wanted you to rest," he said. "I didn’t mean to keep you awake with me."

Zhiyi stroked his cheek, and he stayed bent toward her rather than returning to his place on the edge of the mattress.

He had thought he was hiding those nights from her. Now he pictured her lying beside him, waiting for him to sleep while he listened to every breath she took.

A soft knock came from the open doorway.

Qinghe stood there with a bottle of water and a folded cloth, his gaze moving between them.

"Am I interrupting?" Qinghe asked.

"Yes," Zhiyi replied, keeping hold of Hanchuan’s hand. "But I need to ask you something."