Chapter 251: Wanted This For Years

Shichen raised the binoculars again as the people on the roof scrambled away from the broken wall.

A woman fell beside the small doorway, and the man carrying the ladder nearly stepped on her before someone caught his coat and pulled him back.

Through the rain, Shichen could see another roof just beyond theirs, separated by a narrow gap.

"They can cross behind the stairwell," Shichen said, passing the binoculars to Zhiyi. "The next building is higher, but the ladder should reach."

Zhiyi found the gap while he watched without the lenses.

Two men were already turning the ladder, struggling to lift it above the heads of the people crowding them.

When one end struck the neighboring wall, someone reached down from the other roof and caught it.

Behind Shichen, Jingwei came into the room carrying his tablet. He stopped beside them long enough to follow their gaze before setting it on the windowsill.

"The lower stairwell is filling," Jingwei told them. "Everyone who was sleeping near the lobby has moved up. Our doors are clear."

Shichen glanced at the camera view.

Bedding lay abandoned on the steps beneath the water, its bright pattern shifting whenever something bumped against the railing. He checked the protected entrances, then handed the tablet back.

Luckily, there was nothing they needed to change upstairs.

Across the street, the first person began climbing toward the neighboring roof. Others pressed forward before he had reached the top, making the ladder shake.

Zhiyi lowered the binoculars when a man near the doorway shoved past the woman who had fallen.

He put his foot on the lowest rung, but the person holding the ladder caught the back of his collar and dragged him off.

Another man helped the woman up while the crowd continued pushing behind them.

"They’ll pull it down if they keep doing that," Shichen muttered. His hand had closed around the curtain, and he let go before he tore it from its hooks.

Jingwei watched until the woman reached the other roof. "I’ll keep that building on the side monitor," he said, picking up his tablet. "If anything comes toward us, I’ll call you."

After he left, Shichen remained at the window with Zhiyi.

They watched several more people cross before the rain thickened enough to hide the gap. He could still make out figures moving, but not whether anyone remained beside the doorway.

Zhiyi set the binoculars down and turned toward the sofa.

"Your book is getting bent," she said, reaching for the sketchbook he had left half open against a cushion.

She smoothed the loose cover with her palm before holding it out to him. "Will you still show me?"

Shichen looked back at the window. For a moment, he had forgotten why he had brought it downstairs.

"Yes," he replied, taking the book and sitting beside her. "Although I’d planned to start with something better than that."

A corner of a drawing had folded beneath the cover.

He eased it flat, revealing Zhiyi asleep against Qinghe’s shoulder, her hand curled around his wrist. Qinghe’s head rested against hers, his abandoned book open across his knee.

Zhiyi leaned closer without touching the page.

"I remember that book," she said. "He insisted he wasn’t tired, then read the same paragraph twice."

"He fell asleep before you did." Shichen smiled as he smoothed the crease. "You took his glasses off because they kept pressing against your forehead."

She looked at him then, her shoulder warm against his arm. "You remember more of that afternoon than I do."

Shichen could have blamed the drawing. Instead, he left the page open between them and told her the truth.

"I was supposed to be checking the water records. You looked comfortable, and I kept watching you."

Zhiyi studied the picture again. Her fingers rested near the edge, careful of the pencil marks, and he found himself watching her almost as closely as he had that afternoon.

She turned the page when he nodded.

There were sketches of the others among the drawings of her: Zeyu beneath the mobile base, only his legs showing; Jingwei cleaning a weapon at the kitchen table; Hanchuan holding a mug while Zhiyi stole something from his plate.

At that one, she smiled and leaned farther over the book.

"He said he didn’t want the last piece," Zhiyi recalled.

"He was saving it for you," Shichen told her. "You’d already eaten yours."

Her smile lingered as she continued through the pages.

Then she stopped at a drawing of herself sitting on the floor with her back against Shichen’s chair. A blanket covered her legs, and one of his hands rested near her hair.

Zhiyi touched the unfinished line of his fingers.

"I thought you hadn’t drawn this," she said. "You put the book away when I asked."

Shichen remembered her looking up at him, sleepy and curious, while he closed the cover against his chest. He had spent the rest of the evening wishing he had answered differently.

"I hadn’t finished it," he said, then shook his head. "That wasn’t the only reason. I didn’t want you asking why I’d put myself in it."

Zhiyi looked from the page to his hand beside hers. "You were there. I was leaning against your chair."

"I wanted you leaning against me." Shichen turned toward her, leaving the book open across their knees. "I kept thinking about asking you to come sit beside me. By the time I’d worked up the nerve, you were asleep."

She slid her fingers beneath his, and he let her bring their hands together. Outside, rain struck the windows hard enough to cover the quieter sounds from the kitchen.

"I’m awake now," Zhiyi said. She moved closer until her thigh rested against his, then watched him with a small smile. "And you don’t have to ask me to sit here."

Shichen lifted his free hand to her cheek. He had drawn her often enough to know the shape of her mouth, but the pencil had given him nothing like the warmth beneath his fingers or the way she tilted toward him.

"I’ve wanted to kiss you for years," he admitted, brushing his thumb lightly beside her lips.

Zhiyi’s fingers tightened around his. "Then come closer," she told him, lifting her face.

He kissed her slowly, letting the sketchbook slip closed beneath their hands.

Her mouth softened against his, and when she touched his neck, he moved nearer without thinking about where to put his knees or what she might notice.

When he finally drew back, she kept her hand against his collar. Shichen caught the book before it slid off their laps, but Zhiyi took it from him and placed it on the table.

"Show me the portrait later," she said, turning back toward him.

Her fingers slipped into his hair as she drew him down again, and this time Shichen’s hand settled at her waist.