Chapter 184: I Didn’t Say That
The drill started at the exact time Shichen had written on the page.
Hanchuan watched as Zhiyi glance toward the clock, then return her attention to the box beneath her hand.
She hadn’t tried to open it, but she had begun turning it occasionally, examining a different surface before setting it down again.
He wanted to open his mouth a few times, but he was learning not to mistake every time she paused for a problem.
"Shichen and Zeyu are working on the barrier," Hanchuan reminded her when the noise continued.
"I know," Zhiyi replied, keeping her eyes on the box. "It’s on the paper."
Hanchuan closed his mouth, his lips twitching in a small smile.
Across the room, Qinghe looked up from his notes without commenting, which somehow made the correction more difficult to ignore.
His phone vibrated against his thigh before he could decide whether to apologize or be happy that she was still giving him attitude. He put those thoughts away when Jingwei’s name appeared on the screen.
"We need another pair of hands at the entrance," Jingwei informed him when he answered. "The panel is awkward, and I want someone watching the approach while they move it."
Hanchuan looked toward Qinghe.
"I’m here," Qinghe assured him. "Go help them."
Zhiyi had lifted her eyes at the exchange and Hanchuan leaned forward, placing his hand beside hers rather than taking the box away.
"I’m going to the entrance," Hanchuan explained. "Qinghe will stay with you."
She nodded, and he stood before he could ask her again if she wanted him to stay. He paused at the doorway and glanced back. She was reading the page again, and Qinghe was pulling his chair closer to her bed.
But that didn’t make it any easier to leave her.
The service corridor smelled of fresh dust as he walked down, wanting to hurry up and get this job over and done with.
Shichen stood beside a panel resting on padded supports, while Zeyu crouched near the bottom edge with a measuring tape stretched between his hands.
Jingwei handed Hanchuan a pair of gloves.
"The road is clear," Jingwei reported. "And we’re keeping the residential section closed while we work."
Hanchuan pulled on the gloves and followed Shichen’s instructions.
The panel was heavier than it appeared to be, and they had to stop twice to adjust it as they carried it through the cleared passage to its final destination.
Beyond the damaged gate, sunlight struck the concrete hard enough to hurt his eyes.
The blood near the inner barrier had been cleaned, but he knew where the soldier had fallen. He stepped across the spot while Zeyu carefully guided the other end around the equipment stacked against the wall.
Nobody mentioned it.
"Hold it there," Shichen instructed, leaning close to inspect the fit.
Hanchuan braced his end while Shichen checked the mounting position. A few seconds passed before the architect straightened with an expression Hanchuan had learned to dislike.
"What is it?" Hanchuan asked.
"The frame is farther out of alignment than it looked," Shichen replied. "We need to set this down again."
Zeyu exhaled through his teeth but helped lower the panel without arguing. Once it rested on the supports, Shichen examined the damaged section, running his gloved hand along its edge.
"It’s repairable," Shichen explained. "But I’m not fastening a new barrier to something not right. It will cause the overall structure to be weaker and potentially break faster."
Hanchuan looked toward the road. Jingwei stood between them and the broken gate, watching the empty approach with his rifle held close.
"How long will it take?" Hanchuan asked, letting out a long sigh.
"I don’t know yet," Shichen replied. "I need to check the original drawings against what’s actually here."
Hanchuan agreed, though he didn’t like leaving anything unchecked. It felt like they were inviting trouble, either way.
They brought the panel back inside and made sure the part of the shelter they were using was secure. Then they put away the smaller tools. The rest of the work would have to wait.
By the time Hanchuan removed his gloves, sweat had soaked the back of his shirt.
He returned to the medical room to find Zhiyi watching the clock.
"The drilling stopped," Zhiyi observed as he entered. "It isn’t the time he wrote."
"They need to adjust the frame," Hanchuan explained. He washed his hands at the basin before approaching her. "The work will take longer."
Zhiyi looked toward the page, then at the door. "Which frame?" she asked.
"The one at the vehicle entrance," Hanchuan replied. "Shichen is checking it."
Her fingers shifted against the box. Hanchuan could see her getting caught up in the problem, but before she could ask another question, he was already about to tell her to rest.
"Give me the design," Zhiyi requested.
"You don’t need to work on this," Hanchuan replied gently. "They can handle it."
"That isn’t what I asked," Zhiyi pointed out.
Qinghe set down his pen. Hanchuan could feel the doctor’s attention on him, but he kept his eyes on his wife.
Her expression had tightened and he wanted to smooth the crease between her brows. However, he knew that touching her now wouldn’t help her in any way. In fact, it might make it worse, not being able to answer her.
"You’re recovering," Hanchuan reminded her softly. "Yesterday, looking through a page was tiring."
"That was yesterday," Zhiyi replied, furrowing her brows. "Today, I want to see the design."
Hanchuan hesitated, and she noticed. Her hand withdrew from the box until both palms rested flat against the blanket.
He had spent years trusting her calculations with his life, never second guessing what she told him or what she needed. Refusing her a piece of paper felt too much like betrayal for his peace of mind.
Qinghe moved closer to the bed, concern written all over his face. "Does your head hurt more now?" he asked, reaching forward to feel her temperature.
"No," Zhiyi replied, looking at him. "I’ll tell you if it does."
Dropping his hand, Qinghe nodded before turning toward Hanchuan. "We can let her look briefly," he suggested. "She doesn’t have to solve anything."
Hanchuan reached for his phone, but Zhiyi spoke before he could call Shichen.
"Do you still have what I wrote before?" Zhiyi asked. "The plans."
"Yes," Hanchuan assured her. "All of them."
Her gaze dropped to the handwritten page beside her bed.
His handwriting filled most of it now, with Shichen’s repair schedule added beneath the information she needed to orient herself.
"Are you checking those?" Zhiyi asked.
"Shichen uses them," Hanchuan replied. "They helped us prepare all of this."
She looked toward the box again, but didn’t reach for it. Hanchuan waited for her next move, aware that Qinghe had become very still beside them.
"Sometimes I forget what you just told me," Zhiyi murmured, sounding more vulnerable than Hanchuan liked. "That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything I know."
"I didn’t say that," he replied softly.
Zhiyi lifted her eyes to his, making him hold the gaze he had spent so long waiting to receive.
"Then why will you use my answers from before," Zhiyi asked, "but you won’t let me give you one now?"