Chapter 221: More Than You Know

The woman returned slowly, keeping one hand against the wall as she approached the doorway.

She no longer carried the photograph. In its place was an empty cup, which she held close to her stomach until she reached the light.

Qinghe leaned forward, watching her.

Dust blew across the threshold and caught against her slippers, but she seemed unaware of it. She looked toward the mobile base, searching the dark windshield until he pressed the microphone button and told her he was still there.

"He’s awake," the woman said. Her fingers tightened around the cup, and she glanced back into the showroom. "He knew who I was as soon as I sat beside him. He’s been waiting for someone to come."

Her son stepped away from the doorframe. He reached for the cup before she had finished speaking, bringing his other hand toward her elbow as though he intended to guide her inside.

"I’ll get him something to drink," he said. "Go and sit with him, Mom. You shouldn’t be standing out here."

She drew the cup against her chest before he could take it. His hand remained between them for a moment, then dropped to his side.

Qinghe watched her study her son’s face.

Earlier, she had pulled at his sleeve and waited for him to answer her questions. Now she stood far enough away that he would have to move to touch her.

"He told me you stopped bringing him water yesterday," she said. "I asked him twice because I thought he might have lost track of the time."

"I took a bottle in this morning," her son replied quickly. He looked toward the mobile base, then back at her. "I told you I’d been in to see him."

"You showed it to him." The woman looked down into the cup, turning it slightly in her hands. "He asked you to leave it beside the bed, but you took it away when you went."

Qinghe felt his fingers press harder against the edge of the console. Behind him, the cooling system continued its quiet hum. He could hear someone shift in a seat, but nobody spoke over the woman.

Her son wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When he answered, his voice was louder than before.

"He knocks things over. You know he does. If I leave a bottle where he can reach it, half of it ends up on the floor." He gestured toward the cup she was holding. "That’s why I said I’d get it. Just give me a minute."

The woman didn’t hand it over. She stood with her shoulders slightly bent, looking at the man who had kept her outside a locked room while her husband waited on the other side.

"I could have held it for him," she said. "I was right there. All you had to do was let me in."

Qinghe glanced at the bottle beside his seat. He had spent much of the evening holding it without remembering to drink.

Outside, the woman rubbed her thumb along the rim of an empty cup and waited for an explanation her son still hadn’t given.

Her son looked toward the mobile base, his jaw tightening as he noticed Qinghe still watching.

"You have water in there," he called. "If you’re so worried about him, you could give us some instead of sitting there telling me what I should have done."

Qinghe kept his hand beside the microphone.

Earlier that evening, he might have started explaining why they couldn’t open the vehicle. Now he watched the man’s mother lift her head, waiting to hear whether her son would finally answer her.

"Where did you put the bottle you took from his room?" Qinghe asked. "You said you brought it back out."

The woman turned toward her son. Her gaze dropped to his pocket, where he had kept the key, then moved past him into the showroom.

"Is it in the office?" she asked. "You told me there was nothing in there I needed."

She tried to pass him, and he caught her elbow. Qinghe straightened, but the woman pulled free before he could reach for the controls.

"Don’t hold me like that again," she told her son. "I’m going to get my husband something to drink."

She disappeared into the building, leaving him beneath the narrow strip of light. He took a step after her, then stopped and wiped both hands down his trousers.

Inside the mobile base, nobody spoke. Qinghe could hear the faint creak of Zeyu’s seat as he turned toward the display.

The woman returned carrying two bottles, with the empty cup hooked between her fingers. She stopped just inside the doorway and looked at her son.

"There are four more in your bag," she said. "Were you waiting for us to stop asking?"

"They have to last," he replied. His eyes followed the bottle as she began unscrewing its cap. "You don’t know how long we’ll be stuck here."

"He thought you were still out looking for water." The woman held the loosened cap against her palm. "That’s why he waited. He didn’t want to make things harder for you."

Her son lowered his gaze. When he reached toward the second bottle, she moved it behind her back and turned toward the mobile base.

Qinghe saw her take in the closed windows and the light inside. He waited for the request he couldn’t promise to meet.

"Thank you for making him give me the key," she said.

Then she carried the water back into the showroom.

Qinghe let his hand fall from the controls.

The doorway remained open, but he could no longer see her. Somewhere inside, she would be sitting beside her husband with the cup she had brought out empty.

"We should leave," he told Zeyu.

His friend studied him briefly before turning toward the road. Shichen checked the approach while Hanchuan brought Zhiyi forward, and Qinghe moved aside to let them pass.

Once she was seated, he helped settle the support beneath her ankle.

Zhiyi touched his sleeve before he could straighten. "Sit across from me," she asked. "I’d like your company."

Qinghe put the spare cushion away and took the seat as the mobile base began moving. He fastened his belt, aware that she was still watching him.

"Is there something you wanted to ask?" he said.

"Not yet," Zhiyi replied. "You don’t have to answer a question every time you sit with me."

He smiled faintly, looking down at the hands he had folded in his lap. Most of their time together had given him something to do. Without an examination or a glass to offer, he felt strangely uncertain about how to stay.

"When we’re home, come and see me without your medical bag," she added. "I would like that."

Qinghe looked up. She was waiting for his answer, her attention steady enough that he couldn’t dismiss the invitation as politeness.

"I’d like that too," he admitted. His smile warmed as he held her gaze. "More than you know."