Chapter 240: Counting Down

Zhiyi moved the camera view closer until she could see the girl’s fingers.

They were caught beneath a strip of cloth that crossed her mouth and disappeared behind her head. Each time she pulled at it, the man shifted her higher against his shoulder, hiding her face again.

"Put her down," Zhiyi said through the speaker. Her hand remained beside Qinghe’s on the desk. "She’s awake, and she’s trying to get that cloth off."

The man stopped pleading. He looked directly at the camera, then turned his body so the child was farther from view. Zhiyi watched his hand spread across the back of her head, pressing her against his shirt.

"She bites when she’s frightened," the man replied. "I’ve been carrying her for hours. Please, just let us get out of the sun."

There was shade beside the outer wall, only a few steps from where he stood.

He had passed it to reach the entrance and was now using his body to block the camera. Zhiyi changed to another view while Jingwei brought up the road behind him.

Qinghe leaned toward the microphone.

"Set her down in the shade and take the cloth off," Qinghe told him. His voice was steady, though Zhiyi could feel how tightly he held the edge of the desk. "You don’t need to come inside to do that."

Hanchuan entered with Shichen close behind him. Neither interrupted. Hanchuan stopped beside Zhiyi’s chair, resting his hand briefly against her shoulder before looking at the images.

The man outside glanced toward the road. Zhiyi followed his gaze on the second display and saw movement near the bend, where a broken wall hid part of the old approach.

Someone crouched there, keeping low enough that only the top of a head appeared before disappearing again.

"There’s someone behind the wall," Zhiyi said, pointing it out to Jingwei. "He’s been looking in that direction since Qinghe answered."

Jingwei switched views.

Two men were waiting beside a handcart, one holding a long tool across his knees. A woman sat on the ground near them with her arms wrapped around herself.

When the child cried out, she lifted her head.

At the entrance, the man’s patience gave way.

"Come and look at her yourself," the man demanded. He lifted the girl toward the camera, and she kicked hard enough that he nearly lost his hold. "You’re a doctor. What kind of doctor leaves a child outside?"

Qinghe reached for the speaker before Hanchuan could answer.

"The kind who can see you holding her mouth shut," Qinghe replied. "Put her down. We aren’t opening the door."

Zhiyi looked up at him. He was watching the girl, his face pale but his hands still.

She remembered him reaching for his medical bag during their first trip into the city. Now the bag remained in another room, and he hadn’t asked anyone to bring it.

Outside, the man lowered the child roughly onto her feet. He kept hold of her upper arm while she tore at the cloth, coughing when she finally dragged it below her chin.

The woman beside the handcart stood.

Zhiyi saw one of the waiting men reach for her, but she pulled free and ran toward the entrance.

The child turned at the sound of her voice and tried to follow it. This time, when the man tightened his grip, the girl sank to the ground and screamed.

"Let her go," Hanchuan said through the speaker. He had moved close enough that Zhiyi could feel his arm beside hers. "All of you are leaving. Nobody comes any closer to the door."

The man stared at the camera. Then the woman reached him and caught the child beneath both arms, pulling until he released her. She stumbled backward with the girl against her chest and kept retreating toward the road.

For a moment, Zhiyi thought the man would follow her. Instead, he struck the entrance with his palm.

"We know you’ve got food in there," the man shouted. "You think we don’t see that thing you drive?"

Jingwei turned on the exterior warning lights.

The man flinched when the lamps above him came on, then looked toward the covered firing position beside the entrance. He stepped back, his anger still visible, but he kept moving when Hanchuan told him to leave the approach.

They watched until the group had taken the handcart beyond the bend. The woman carried the child beside it, refusing when one of the men reached to take her.

Zhiyi kept that camera open after they disappeared, waiting to see whether anyone returned.

Qinghe finally released the desk. She took his hand, rubbing her thumb over the marks his grip had left, and he bent to kiss her hair.

"They knew your name," Zhiyi said quietly. "We need to remember that."

"I will," Qinghe replied. He stayed beside her while Jingwei saved the recording, and nobody suggested that the next visitor should receive a different answer.

By the fourth year, their departures from Xiling had become rare.

They no longer took the same road home twice if they could avoid it, and they stopped discussing supplies whenever an exterior microphone was open.

Zhiyi could remember when those habits had required reminders. Now the men followed them while talking about dinner.

As the end of the Heat drew closer, she began packing the things she had once thought she could leave behind.

Shichen’s portrait came off the dresser first. She slid it into its folder, then added the books she wanted to take and the wooden box Zeyu had made her.

The box still held its compass, though the games had long since been copied elsewhere.

Zeyu found her kneeling beside the open bag and sat on the floor to help.

"I can take another bag," Zeyu told her, lifting the books out so she could reach the clothes beneath them. "You don’t have to fit everything into this one."

"I know," Zhiyi replied. She looked around the room, at the empty patch on the dresser and Hanchuan’s shirt hanging behind the door. "I didn’t expect there to be so much I wanted."

Zeyu folded a cardigan and laid it beside her. When she reached for it, he caught her hand and pressed a kiss against her fingers before letting her continue.

They had planned to leave for Jinhai well before the date she remembered. The mobile base was loaded, the road checked, and the last bags waited near the bedroom door.

That evening, Jingwei came to fetch them before they finished packing.

In the communications room, the view beyond Xiling had turned dark. Wind bent the dead branches along the road, lifting dust until it covered the lower half of the camera.

Zhiyi stepped closer as a bright streak split the clouds above the trees.

Hanchuan reached for her hand, his eyes on the same screen.

The thunder arrived while she was still counting how many days should have been left.