The World Ends In 27 Days

It didn’t take him long before Hanchuan had stopped expecting anyone to leave the medical room.

It’s like she had become the center of the universe for all of them, like planets circling around the sun, unable to resist it.

Shichen sat beside the counter, nursing a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. Jingwei occupied the space near the door, his head bent over the tablet in his hands, and Qinghe moved between Zhiyi’s bed and his notes like a ghost.

It was either that, or Qinghe knew well and good that everyone was watching him, even if they weren’t looking at him. If he made so much of a wrong twitch, the other four would pounce on him, demanding to know what was wrong.

Even Zeyu had joined them. He had taken the chair furthest from the bed and remained there with his hands clasped between his knees, looking at Zhiyi whenever he thought Hanchuan wouldn’t notice.

But Hanchuan noticed every time.

He hadn’t forgiven his friend, but seeing him in that chair was better than finding his bedroom empty.

Looking away from Zeyu, Hanchuan adjusted Zhiyi’s hand in his, supporting her wrist while he settled her fingers against his palm.

She had always been particular about how people touched her. He wished she would pull away, frown at him, or explain that he was holding her incorrectly.

Instead, her hand remained wherever he placed it.

"Hanchuan, there’s a government call coming through," Jingwei announced quietly, lifting his gaze from his tablet. His expression had hardened. "They’re asking for you."

Hanchuan looked up reluctantly. Shichen lowered his cup, and Zeyu straightened in his chair, his attention finally moving away from the bed.

"Who?" Hanchuan asked, keeping his thumb against Zhiyi’s fingers. He couldn’t imagine anyone outside this room having something he wanted to hear.

"A military officer," Jingwei replied as he approached. "The contact is connected to the people who were looking for Zhiyi."

Hanchuan glanced at the phone. Jingwei had found evidence of that search before, although apparently finding her hadn’t been important enough to warrant this degree of persistence until now.

"Give it to me," he instructed, carefully releasing his wife’s hand. He stood but lingered beside her until Qinghe stepped closer.

"I’ll stay here," Qinghe assured him, his voice gentle as he met Hanchuan’s eyes. "Go take the call."

Hanchuan nodded and followed Jingwei into the corridor.

He waited for the medical-room door to close before accepting the video connection, unwilling to let a stranger look at Zhiyi while she couldn’t object.

The officer who appeared on the screen had gray at his temples and deep creases beside his mouth. He looked briefly relieved when he saw Hanchuan, although the expression disappeared beneath an impatience Hanchuan already resented.

"Mr. Pei, we need to speak with Qiao Zhiyi," the officer began, leaning toward the camera. "Please bring her to the phone."

"That isn’t possible," Hanchuan replied, his expression cooling at the assumption that his wife could be summoned.

The officer exhaled through his nose. Behind him, someone crossed the room carrying an armful of folders, but he kept his attention on Hanchuan.

"We have a problem affecting several emergency shelters," he explained, speaking with deliberate restraint. "Our specialists believe your wife can help us find a solution. We need to discuss it with her directly."

Hanchuan could picture exactly how that conversation would unfold.

Someone would ask Zhiyi a question, and she would give it her full attention. They would discover something else they needed to know before she finished answering, then something else after that.

Even if she had been awake, he wouldn’t have brought those questions into her room. They needed to be better prepared when they came to ask Zhiyi for help.

She wasn’t alone anymore. She had someone watching over her.

"You’ll need to consult someone else," Hanchuan told him. He shifted the phone in his hand, already impatient to return to the bed. "Zhiyi isn’t available."

"This concerns people’s lives," the officer insisted, his frustration becoming more apparent. "We wouldn’t be calling if we had another option."

Hanchuan stared at him, his face completely expressionless.

His wife was lying unconscious a few steps away, and this stranger wanted him to care about people whose names he didn’t know.

There had been a time when he might have explained his refusal politely. But right now, he couldn’t remember why he had bothered.

"Then you should spend this time finding one," he replied coldly.

The officer fell silent.

Hanchuan expected another appeal, perhaps a reminder of what they believed Zhiyi owed her country. Instead, the man studied his face long enough to make him conscious of his unwashed hair and the clothes he hadn’t changed.

"When will she be available?" the officer asked. His voice had lost some of its force. "If she’s resting, we can call later."

Hanchuan’s fingers tightened around the phone.

He had spent hours hoping Qinghe would answer that question, and hearing it from someone who wanted to put her to work made his patience disappear.

"I haven’t offered you an appointment," he snapped. Beside him, Jingwei lifted his head, but Hanchuan kept his attention on the screen.

"Is she all right?" the officer asked, his brow drawing together. "Mr. Pei, has something happened to your wife?"

Hanchuan forced himself to loosen his grip before he damaged Jingwei’s phone. He wanted to return to Zhiyi, take her hand again, and hear Qinghe confirm that nothing had changed during his absence.

"Her health is a private matter," he replied. "You called about a problem. I’ve told you she isn’t available to solve it. This should be the end of our conversation."

"We understood that she was somewhere safe," the officer responded carefully. He sat straighter, watching Hanchuan with an uncomfortable intensity. "Can you at least confirm that she’s being looked after?"

"My wife is being looked after," Hanchuan answered, each word precise with the effort of containing his anger. "You have no reason to concern yourself with her."

The officer lowered his eyes briefly.

Hanchuan could hear voices elsewhere in the room, but nobody interrupted them. When the man looked up again, the demand had finally disappeared from his expression.

"I didn’t intend to intrude on a personal matter," he replied, his tone becoming formal.

"Then we’ll leave it there," Hanchuan told him. He moved his thumb toward the control that would end the connection, relieved to have reached the end of a conversation he hadn’t wanted.

The officer inclined his head, apparently accepting the dismissal. His voice was calm when he spoke again, and he made no further attempt to keep Hanchuan talking.

"Very well," he replied. "Tell me when she becomes available."