Chapter 237: Kiss Me Again

Qinghe stopped in the sitting-room doorway when he heard the address.

He knew the building.

Before the Heat, it had been a sports center, with a clinic across the street where he sometimes covered a weekend shift. He remembered people waiting outside with children, complaining about the lack of parking while they stood in the shade of trees that were probably dead now.

The voice on the radio asked for help again. Someone coughed in the background, and Qinghe put down the book he was carrying before coming closer to listen.

"Has anyone answered him?" Qinghe asked. He rested a hand on the back of Zeyu’s chair, watching the radio while the man repeated that the doors had been chained.

"A few people asked questions," Jingwei replied. He sat on the arm of an empty chair rather than reaching for the transmitter. "He wants anyone with a vehicle to come through the underground parking entrance."

Qinghe listened through another exchange. A woman asked whether anyone inside had something heavy enough to break a window.

The man said the windows had been covered to keep the heat out, then returned to asking about transport. He wanted to know how many people she could carry and whether she had anyone with her.

Beside Zeyu, Zhiyi leaned forward to hear more clearly.

She no longer needed the cushion beneath her ankle, and the wheelchair had been put away weeks ago. Qinghe noticed her bare feet tucked beside her on the sofa before turning back to the voice.

"He hasn’t answered her question," Zhiyi said. Her brow furrowed when the man began asking the woman where she was. "She asked about the windows twice."

"That doesn’t mean nobody’s trapped," Qinghe replied, although his hand had tightened against the chair.

"No," Jingwei agreed. He lowered the volume enough that they could speak without raising their voices. "But we don’t know who’s waiting at that parking entrance, either."

Qinghe looked toward the corridor. His medical bag was in the examination room, packed and ready, just as it had been on the day they stopped beneath the underpass.

He had spent much of that evening thinking about how close his hands were to supplies he couldn’t use. ℯ𝓵.

Now he thought about the drive to the sports center, the low ceiling over its entrance, and the people who might close the gate once they were inside.

"We’re not going," Qinghe said. He took his hand from the chair and rubbed the marks its edge had left against his palm. "Leave it on where you can hear it. Someone might tell us more."

Jingwei nodded and carried the radio back toward the communications room. Zeyu followed after a moment, leaving Qinghe beside the sofa with the book still on the table.

Zhiyi picked it up and held it toward him.

"You stopped in the middle of a Chapter yesterday," Zhiyi reminded him. "I’ve been waiting to find out whether he opens the letter."

Qinghe accepted the book, grateful that she had given him something familiar to do. He sat beside her, and she moved her feet to make room before leaning against his arm.

Over the past few months, she had begun doing that without asking him to move closer first. He still noticed every time.

He found their place and began reading.

At first, he could hear the man on the radio even though Jingwei had taken it out of the room. The words stayed in his head, making him lose his place halfway down the page.

Zhiyi touched the line with one finger, and he started the sentence again.

By the time they reached the letter, he had stopped listening for voices in the corridor.

Zhiyi interrupted to point out something the character had missed earlier. Qinghe looked back through the pages, found the conversation she meant, and laughed when he realized she was right.

"You remembered that from last week?" Qinghe asked. He turned the book toward her so she could see the passage. "I read it aloud and still forgot."

"He asked about the sister before anyone told him there was one," Zhiyi explained. She tapped the page, then settled against him again. "I wanted to see whether the writer had done it on purpose."

Qinghe continued reading, smiling when the next page proved her right. She didn’t interrupt again, but he felt her hand slide around his forearm as she listened.

They finished the Chapter before she asked him to stop. He placed the bookmark between the pages and left the book on the table, keeping his arm where she held it.

"Would you like some water?" Qinghe asked, glancing at her empty glass.

"In a minute," Zhiyi replied. She turned toward him, drawing one foot beneath herself so she could see his face more easily. "I’d like you to stay here first."

He had been about to stand, and her request caught him halfway through shifting his weight. Qinghe settled back, expecting her to ask about the radio. Instead, she smoothed a fold in his sleeve and looked at the hand resting beside hers.

"You kissed my hand the morning you brought the book," Zhiyi said. Her fingers slipped between his as she looked up. "You haven’t done it again."

Qinghe remembered that morning far more clearly than anything he had just read. He remembered her turning her hand over for him and the way she touched her knuckles afterward, thinking about the kiss.

"I didn’t want to keep asking whether you’d decided," Qinghe replied. He held her hand a little more firmly, pleased by how easily it rested in his now. "I like our afternoons. I didn’t want you worrying that every time I sat down, I’d be waiting for more."

"I like them too," Zhiyi told him. She moved closer, her knee brushing his thigh. "But I have thought about what you asked me."

Qinghe stopped watching their hands.

She was close enough that he could see where a strand of hair had caught against her lip, and when she brushed it away, his attention followed her fingers.

Zhiyi noticed. Her mouth curved slightly before she lifted her free hand to his cheek.

"I’d like you to kiss me," Zhiyi said. Her voice was softer now, but she held his gaze. "You don’t need to start with my hand."

Qinghe smiled before he could help it. He leaned toward her slowly, touching her cheek as his mouth met hers.

Her fingers tightened around his, and she tipped her face toward him, meeting the kiss instead of waiting for him to finish.

He had meant to keep it brief. Then her hand moved behind his neck, and he stayed, feeling her draw closer until he could rest his arm around her.

When Qinghe finally lifted his head, Zhiyi kept her hand against his neck.

Her cheeks were warm beneath his fingers, and she looked at him for a moment before glancing toward the open doorway.

"Would you close that?" Zhiyi asked, turning back to him. "I don’t want anyone interrupting when you kiss me again."