The World Ends In 27 Days

Hanchuan kept his hand still beneath Zhiyi’s fingers, afraid that returning the pressure would make it impossible to tell whether she was holding him or if he was holding her.

Her eyes remained on his face, although the effort of keeping them open seemed to pull a small crease between her brows.

He had imagined this moment often enough to know what he should say to her. But now that she was looking at him, he couldn’t get past her name.

"Zhiyi," Hanchuan repeated, leaning close enough that she wouldn’t need to turn her head. "You’re at Xiling. You are safe. Qinghe is here with us."

Her gaze shifted toward the doctor standing across the bed. Qinghe moved into her line of sight, his expression gentle despite the concentration Hanchuan recognized beneath it.

"I’m going to check a few things," Qinghe explained. "Keep your head where it is. You don’t need to sit up."

Hanchuan almost objected when Qinghe tried to take her attention away from him.

He wanted her to keep looking at him, to recognize him again and again until he could finally believe that she would still know him tomorrow.

Instead, he loosened his hold enough to let the doctor examine her.

Zhiyi followed Qinghe’s instructions slowly.

Sometimes he repeated himself, allowing a pause before asking again, and Hanchuan had to stop himself from answering whenever the silence stretched.

The medical room seemed painfully bright despite the lowered lights. Hanchuan could see every movement of her eyelashes and the way her mouth tightened when she tried to shift against the pillow.

"That hurts," Zhiyi whispered, the words rough and barely audible.

Hanchuan leaned forward immediately, but Qinghe was already watching her face.

"Where does it hurt?" Qinghe asked.

Zhiyi looked down as though the blanket concealed information she needed. Her free hand moved toward her side before stopping, and Hanchuan resisted the urge to rearrange everything around her at once.

"Here," Zhiyi replied, touching the blanket above her ribs.

"You injured your ribs," Qinghe explained. "Your ankle and your head were hurt too. I’ll help with the discomfort, but let me finish checking you first."

Hanchuan watched her absorb the answer. She didn’t look frightened until her attention returned to him, moving over his face with a slow persistence that made him wonder what she saw.

"You’re hurt," Zhiyi murmured.

"No," Hanchuan assured her. "I’m tired."

She continued studying him, apparently unconvinced.

He had faced armed men without needing to explain the condition of his face, yet her quiet scrutiny made him want to wash, shave, and return looking like someone she could safely depend on.

Qinghe asked another question, and Hanchuan moved his chair closer rather than interrupting.

Zhiyi’s fingers remained against his palm throughout the examination, their pressure weakening whenever she concentrated on the doctor.

When Qinghe finally stepped back, Hanchuan looked up at him.

"She’s responding," Qinghe told him quietly. "I need to keep assessing her. Don’t exhaust her trying to find out everything at once."

Hanchuan nodded, although he hadn’t been planning to ask anything. He wanted to listen to whatever she had enough strength to tell him, even if she spent the rest of the night complaining about the pillow.

Shichen appeared in the doorway carrying the empty tray from their meal. He stopped so abruptly that the bowls knocked together, drawing Zhiyi’s eyes toward the sound.

"She’s awake," Shichen observed, his voice losing its usual certainty.

"For now," Qinghe replied gently. "She’ll need quiet."

Shichen nodded several times before setting the tray outside the room. When he returned to the doorway, his hands were empty, and he seemed uncertain what to do with them.

Hanchuan understood the feeling well enough to take pity on him.

"Tell the others," Hanchuan instructed. "Keep someone at the cameras."

Shichen left immediately. Hanchuan turned back to find Zhiyi watching the doorway, her brow tightening as though she was attempting to complete something without all the necessary pieces.

"Zeyu?" Zhiyi asked.

The name brought back the collapse with enough force to make Hanchuan’s jaw tighten. He forced it loose before answering her.

"He’s here," Hanchuan assured her. "He’s safe."

Zhiyi’s eyes closed briefly.

Hanchuan looked toward Qinghe, but the doctor remained beside the counter, watching without approaching. When she opened them again, her attention settled on their joined hands.

"The vehicle?" Zhiyi whispered.

"We recovered it," Hanchuan replied. "You don’t need to work on anything."

Her fingers shifted against his palm, and he wondered whether she disliked the answer or simply needed a more comfortable position. He supported her hand without lifting her arm, waiting while she looked toward the ceiling.

Zeyu arrived before she spoke again. He stopped beside the door, one hand still resting on its frame.

"Shichen’s watching the road," Zeyu explained to Hanchuan, although his eyes remained on Zhiyi. "Jingwei will come when I go back."

Zhiyi turned her gaze toward him. Zeyu attempted a smile, but it faded before he could manage anything convincing.

"The mobile base is inside," Zeyu told her. "It needs repairs, but we have it."

Hanchuan watched her examine Zeyu with the same careful attention she had given him.

The silence made Zeyu shift his weight, and Hanchuan could almost see the apology gathering behind his teeth.

"Are you injured?" Zhiyi asked before he could offer it.

Zeyu shook his head. "No," he replied. "I’m all right."

Zhiyi looked back at Hanchuan, apparently satisfied with that part of the answer. Her hand moved against his again, and he lowered his head when her lips parted.

"You didn’t leave," Zhiyi whispered.

Hanchuan couldn’t tell which moment she meant. Perhaps she remembered the rubble, or perhaps waking in an unfamiliar room had brought back another life when finding him again had never been guaranteed.

"I’m staying with you," Hanchuan promised.

Her eyes closed, but her fingers remained curled around his. Qinghe approached to check her again while Zeyu quietly stepped back into the corridor.

Hanchuan stayed bent beside the pillow, listening to her breathe. He had no certainty about the morning and no promise that her recovery would be easy, but when he shifted his hand, her fingers tightened enough to stop him.

For the first time since the collapse, he could do what she wanted simply by remaining where he was.