Chapter 239: Awake

Qinghe forgot that his hands were wet until a drop ran down Zhiyi’s wrist. He reached for the towel beside the sink, but she kept hold of him, waiting for the answer he still hadn’t given.

"I’d love you to stay," Qinghe said, smiling as he dried their hands together. "I wasn’t expecting you to ask me that while I was washing dishes."

Zhiyi glanced toward the plates draining beside him. "Would you have preferred somewhere else?"

"I don’t think I would have cared where you asked." Qinghe put down the towel and drew her closer, resting his hands at her waist. "I’m trying to imagine waking up and finding you still there."

She smiled at that, and he bent to kiss her.

By now, he knew how she liked his hand against her cheek and how she would catch his sleeve if he pulled away before she was ready. He had learned those things slowly, over afternoons that stretched into evenings, and he wanted time to learn the rest.

When the kiss ended, Zhiyi stayed close enough that her fingers rested against his collar.

"I’d like to sleep," Zhiyi told him. She spoke plainly, without looking embarrassed. "I want to lie beside you, but I don’t want you wondering whether I meant something else."

Qinghe brushed his thumb along her waist before letting his hands settle. "Then we’ll sleep. You can bring your own pillow if you like mine as little as the cushion in the sitting room."

"Your pillow is comfortable," Zhiyi replied. She looked pleased that she could answer him. "I tried it when I was waiting for you last week."

He laughed, remembering coming into his room to find her reading against the headboard. She had looked so comfortable there that he had sat beside her instead of suggesting they move. Now he wondered how long she had been thinking about staying.

The following evening, Qinghe finished getting ready far too early. He moved the book from his bedside table, put it back, and finally opened it so he would have something to do while he waited.

He had already cleared a drawer for her, though he doubted she needed one for a single night.

A knock came before he had finished the first page.

Zhiyi stood outside with her hair loose over her shoulders and a small bag hanging from one hand.

She wore the soft sleep clothes he had seen beneath her cardigan on quiet mornings, but seeing her in his doorway made them feel unfamiliar.

"I brought my brush," Zhiyi said as he stepped aside. She lifted the bag slightly. "And something to wear tomorrow. Hanchuan reminded me before I forgot."

Qinghe took the bag and showed her the empty drawer.

She looked inside, then at him, smiling as she put her clothes away. He watched her set the brush on his dresser beside a bottle that had stood alone there since they moved into Xiling.

They read for a while before turning off the lamp. Zhiyi began on her side of the bed, then moved closer when he lifted his arm for her.

Her cheek settled against his chest, and he rested his hand on her back, feeling the warmth of her through the thin fabric.

For several minutes, Qinghe listened to her breathing and the quiet hum of the room. He wasn’t checking anything. He liked hearing her there.

"You can move," Zhiyi murmured, her hand resting against his stomach. "You’ve been keeping your arm very still."

"I’m comfortable," Qinghe assured her, though he relaxed his shoulder when she raised her head to look at him. "I’m also trying to remember the last time I wanted a night to last longer."

Zhiyi kissed him, then settled back where she had been. He stroked her hair until her hand grew still against him, and eventually he fell asleep without noticing when.

Her brush remained on his dresser after that night. Sometimes she took it back to the room she shared with Hanchuan, but it always seemed to return.

Their second year of Heat passed without a cool morning.

Outside, the last leaves disappeared from the dead trees, and wind filled the roadside ditches with dust.

Inside Xiling, Qinghe learned which nights Zhiyi would read until she fell asleep and which nights she would abandon the book halfway through to talk to him. He learned to leave room in his drawer without making an occasion of it.

She spent evenings with the others too. Zeyu’s games grew more difficult, and Shichen filled another sketchbook.

Jingwei began staying for those evenings even when nobody asked him to, taking the chair beside Zhiyi rather than the one nearest the door.

Qinghe noticed those changes more easily than he noticed the passing months. The calendar advanced, but the view outside never offered them another season.

By the middle of the third year, they had stopped expecting the public broadcasts to return.

Their own radios still worked, and they kept listening, but most voices belonged to people trading supplies or trying to find someone who had disappeared.

That autumn, a man came to Xiling carrying a little girl.

Qinghe was in the kitchen when Jingwei called them.

He dried his hands and went to the communications room, where the man stood on the wall display with the child’s face tucked against his shoulder.

She looked asleep, although Qinghe couldn’t see enough of her chest to be sure.

"He says she needs medicine," Jingwei told him. "He asked for you by name."

Qinghe stopped beside the table. Zhiyi came in behind him and took the empty chair, watching the man lift his head toward the camera.

"Doctor Wen," the man called. His voice shook as he shifted the girl against him. "Please. Someone told me you were here."

Qinghe leaned closer to the image, searching the man’s face.

He looked vaguely familiar, but that meant little after years of patients and relatives passing through the hospital.

The child’s hair was tied with a yellow band, and one of her shoes was missing.

Beside him, Zhiyi reached for the controls and enlarged the image.

"Show us her face," Qinghe said through the speaker. "Tell me what happened to her."

The man tightened his hold instead of turning her.

Zhiyi touched Qinghe’s wrist before he could repeat the question. Her eyes remained on the screen, following the child’s hand where it gripped the man’s shirt.

"The girl is awake," Zhiyi said quietly. "She’s trying to pull something away from her mouth."