The World Ends In 27 Days

Shichen discovered he had written the same instruction twice when he tried to add it a third time and the system warned him about it.

He lowered his pen and stared at the page.

Checking the remaining access routes was sensible. Writing it repeatedly wouldn’t make them safer, although apparently his mind had decided that persistence might accomplish what reinforced concrete couldn’t.

Across the table, the shelter plans remained open on his tablet.

He had moved through all nine properties without finding anything that explained how he was supposed to walk back into the medical room and stand there doing nothing.

At least here, he could pretend he was helping.

He reached for the pen again, then stopped when footsteps approached.

Jingwei appeared in the doorway, and Shichen straightened before he could prevent the reaction. His attention went immediately to the other man’s face.

Jingwei noticed. "Hanchuan’s still with her," he explained, remaining beside the door. "I came to check the security feeds."

Shichen nodded and looked down before his disappointment became too obvious.

He hated that he had begun examining his friends for news instead of greeting them. Every footstep now carried the possibility that Qinghe needed help, or that Zhiyi had opened her eyes, or that something had happened which none of them would survive hearing.

Jingwei crossed to the controls while Shichen turned another page.

For several minutes, neither interrupted the other. The silence should have been comfortable between men who had known each other for years, but Shichen kept listening for sounds from the corridor.

"You can go sit with her," Jingwei remarked without turning around. "Nobody’s going to complain that you abandoned your paperwork."

Shichen pressed his thumb against the pen’s clip. "I’m checking the shelters. I’d prefer to finish before something else happens."

The explanation sounded reasonable enough that he almost believed it. Unfortunately, Jingwei glanced over his shoulder and looked directly at the three identical entries on the page.

"You’ve already checked that one," Jingwei pointed out, his gaze lingering on Shichen’s hand. "Unless writing it again is part of the repair."

Shichen set the pen down more firmly than necessary.

He wasn’t angry with Jingwei, but irritation was considerably easier to manage than whatever had been sitting beneath his ribs since Zhiyi was brought back.

"I know what I’m doing," he replied, then rubbed his eyes when Jingwei’s expression made it clear how little that statement had accomplished. "I need something useful to take back there."

Jingwei turned away from the controls. "She isn’t waiting for a report," he reminded him, his voice quieter now.

Shichen knew that.

She wasn’t waiting for anything, and that was the part he couldn’t bear.

Zhiyi should have been looking over his shoulder, finding something he had missed or asking a question that required him to reconsider an entire room. Instead, he could make whatever changes he wanted, and she wouldn’t even know.

He missed being corrected by her.

The realization would have been amusing under almost any other circumstances.

Shichen had never enjoyed having someone pick through his work, particularly someone young enough that he initially mistook her certainty for inexperience.

Now he wanted her awake so she could tell him precisely why something wouldn’t work.

"She trusted me with everywhere she was going to live," Shichen murmured, looking at the tablet. "I keep thinking about that."

Jingwei pulled out a chair but didn’t offer reassurance.

Shichen appreciated the restraint. He couldn’t have endured being told that none of this was his fault when he hadn’t managed to decide exactly what he was blaming himself for.

The collapse hadn’t happened because he drew a line incorrectly.

He couldn’t repair it by admitting a mistake, and he couldn’t promise that another building would never hurt her.

All his knowledge had left him sitting at a table, making lists while another man fought to keep her alive.

"I can spend the next month checking every wall," Shichen continued, his fingers resting against the edge of the tablet. "I can make changes until we run out of materials. None of it matters if she doesn’t get to live in them."

For a moment, Jingwei looked toward the doorway. When he faced Shichen again, the familiar severity had returned, although his hands remained still on the table.

"Then have them ready when she does," Jingwei replied. "I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m checking cameras because standing outside her door doesn’t feel like enough either."

Shichen studied him, caught off guard by the admission. He had mistaken Jingwei’s constant movement for certainty.

Apparently, they were both finding jobs that allowed them to leave the medical room without admitting they couldn’t tolerate staying.

He looked back at the plans. Nine shelters had once meant an impossible deadline and more work than anyone should have accepted.

Somewhere between choosing properties and preparing rooms, he had begun imagining Zhiyi inside them.

He wanted to see her use what he had built.

The desire felt unexpectedly personal. He wanted her comfortable enough to forget the walls existed, occupied with something other than surviving until tomorrow.

He wanted to be nearby when she discovered she needed something, so he could provide it before she decided she could do without.

Shichen rubbed a hand over his mouth. "I’ve been thinking about buildings because I don’t know what to do about her," he admitted.

Jingwei rose, leaving the chair pulled out. "Come back with me when you’re ready," he offered, pausing beside the table. "You don’t have to fix anything before you’re allowed to see her."

After Jingwei left, Shichen remained seated long enough to finish one useful list.

He separated the checks they could perform inside Xiling from work that would require access to the other properties, then crossed out the repeated instructions.

The work would still be there afterward.

For once, he could leave it unfinished without pretending another hour would change what waited down the corridor.

He saved the plans and stood, taking nothing with him.

The work would still be there when he returned, although he wished he had something better to bring Qinghe than another person waiting for reassurance.

When Shichen entered the medical room, Hanchuan glanced up before returning his attention to Zhiyi. Qinghe stood beside the counter, comparing images on his display.

Shichen approached the empty chair but didn’t sit. He watched Qinghe move between the images, then return to the first one without speaking.

Whatever courage had brought him down the corridor became difficult to hold onto.

"Qinghe," Shichen called softly, keeping one hand on the chair. "What does it show?"