The World Ends In 27 Days

Shichen raised the light and stepped into the maintenance passage.

Behind him, Zeyu caught the service door before it swung shut, while Jingwei followed the beam along the narrow walls.

The passage smelled of warm dust. Old brackets jutted from the concrete where shelving or pipes had once been removed, and Shichen kept the light low enough to show what lay beneath their feet.

He remembered walking through here before they moved in, but he had been checking what needed repairs then. Now he found himself looking at every corner differently.

At the far end, he stopped beside a metal door and tried the handle. It remained locked.

"This is the one I meant," Shichen said, passing the light to Zeyu before taking out his keys.

Jingwei crouched to examine the frame while Shichen found the right key. Neither man spoke until the lock turned and the door opened into a small storeroom.

Empty shelves lined one wall. Beyond them, another doorway led toward the garage.

Jingwei walked through to check where they had come out, then returned and put his hand against the door Shichen had unlocked.

"So someone gets past this, and they’re behind the new panel," Jingwei said.

Shichen nodded. Standing here, he could see how little the proposed barrier would help if they left this route outside it.

"We’ll have to keep the service entrance on our side," Shichen replied.

Zeyu shifted the light toward him. "Can we move the panel forward again?"

"Yes, but I’ll need to build a separate frame." Shichen looked back along the passage. "I was trying to save us some work by using what was already there."

"Do we have enough material?" Jingwei asked.

"We do," Shichen assured him. "It’ll just take longer."

Jingwei stepped aside so Shichen could close and lock the storeroom door.

"Then let’s do that," Jingwei said. "I’ll check the camera view once you’ve marked the position."

They returned to the entrance together. Zeyu held the tape while Shichen measured from the walls, leaving the bent gate frame out of it this time. By the time they had marked a position, sweat was running down Shichen’s back.

He stepped away to look at the space they had left for the service door, then opened it fully.

Zeyu watched it clear the mark. "Better?"

"Better," Shichen agreed. He wrote down the measurements, then folded the paper. "I’m going to tell Zhiyi before we start."

Hanchuan heard Shichen wiping his shoes outside the medical room. Zhiyi opened her eyes before the knock came, her fingers moving against his hand.

"Come in," Zhiyi called.

She had been quiet since the drawings were turned over. Hanchuan hadn’t asked whether she was asleep, although he had wanted to more than once.

Shichen entered carrying a folded sheet.

"We checked where the passage comes out," Shichen told her. "You can reach the garage through it. The door locks, but Jingwei doesn’t want us relying on it to keep anyone out."

Hanchuan sat a little straighter. "What are you doing instead?"

"Putting the panel farther forward on its own frame," Shichen replied. "That keeps the service door behind it. We’ve measured the space, and we have what we need."

Zhiyi slipped her hand from beneath Hanchuan’s.

"May I see?" Zhiyi asked.

Hanchuan brought the table closer while Shichen unfolded the paper. She studied the new mark, following it toward the wall before checking the doorway.

"The door can open fully?" Zhiyi asked.

"We tried it," Shichen said. "There’s room."

Zhiyi nodded and moved her hand away.

"Then use that position," Zhiyi told him. "Please tell me before you begin drilling."

"I will," Shichen promised. He waited before reaching for the paper. "Do you want me to leave this?"

"No. I’m finished," Zhiyi replied.

Shichen gathered the drawings from the table, keeping her corrected sketch with the others. Hanchuan followed him to the door and quietly asked him to call when they needed help lifting the panel.

When he turned back, Zhiyi was watching him.

"You can sit down again," Zhiyi said.

Hanchuan returned to her bedside. She held out her hand before he reached for it, and he settled her fingers between his own.

"Has your headache eased?" Hanchuan asked.

"A little," Zhiyi answered. Her gaze stayed on his face. "Would you have asked that if I had kept the drawings?"

"Yes," Hanchuan said. "Why?"

"I thought putting them away might make you stop looking at me like that," she replied.

Hanchuan pulled his chair closer. "Like what?" he asked.

"Like you’re waiting for something to happen," Zhiyi explained. "When I answer, you look at Qinghe. When I move, you stand up."

He glanced down at their hands. He had thought he was hiding it better than that.

"I know I’m injured," Zhiyi added. "You don’t have to keep reminding me."

"I don’t mean to." Hanchuan rubbed his thumb over her fingers, then made himself look at her. "I spent days talking to you while you lay here without answering. Now, every time you close your eyes, I want to ask you something just to hear your voice."

Her fingers tightened around his.

"Sometimes I close them because my head hurts," Zhiyi said. "Sometimes I’m tired. I need to be able to do both."

"I know," Hanchuan replied. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I’m just not very good at sitting here anymore."

"You used to talk to me when you couldn’t get out of bed," Zhiyi reminded him.

He remembered her sitting beside his mattress, sorting supplies while he found reasons to keep her there. Sometimes she would put something in his hands and tell him to make himself useful. Other times she listened until he had run out of things to say.

"You complained about that," Hanchuan said, a faint smile touching his mouth.

"You gave too many instructions," Zhiyi replied. "But you talked about other things as well."

Hanchuan lowered their hands to the blanket. Lately, he asked about her pain, her sleep, whether she wanted water. He couldn’t remember the last time he had sat beside her without waiting for something she might need.

"What would you like to talk about?" Hanchuan asked.

Zhiyi looked toward the folding bed across the room.

"Why you sleep where I can’t reach you," Zhiyi said.

"Qinghe needs room beside your bed," Hanchuan explained.

"He isn’t here now," Zhiyi pointed out. She tugged gently on his fingers. "And I didn’t ask you to move the bed."

He looked back at her, then at her mouth.

He had been so careful with every touch. Even now, with her watching him, he was thinking about how to lean closer without moving the mattress beneath her.

"Your ribs," Hanchuan began.

"Are nowhere near my mouth," Zhiyi replied. She raised her free hand toward his face. "Come here."

Hanchuan stood and bent over her, bracing his hand well away from her injured side. Her fingertips reached his jaw, and he paused beneath the familiar touch before lowering his mouth to hers.

He meant to keep the kiss brief. Instead, he lingered as she brushed her fingers along his cheek, letting himself enjoy being close to her without asking whether she needed anything.

When he finally began to pull back, her hand slipped behind his neck.

"That is how you kiss me when you’re leaving," Zhiyi murmured, keeping him close. "Are you leaving?"