Chapter 188: I Want To Go Back To Our Room
"No," Hanchuan answered, staying close so she wouldn’t have to stretch to reach him. "I’m staying."
Zhiyi looked at his mouth for a moment.
He knew that look, remembered it from evenings when she had climbed into his lap and moved his hands where she wanted them.
She had never expected him to guess when she wanted to be touched. Lately, he had been so afraid of hurting her that he had stopped noticing when she asked.
He cupped her cheek and kissed her again. This time, he let himself linger. Her hand relaxed against his neck before sliding into his hair, and he felt her settle beneath his touch.
When he lifted his head, she kept him close, her thumb brushing behind his ear.
"That was better," Zhiyi told him.
Hanchuan smiled a little and moved a strand of hair away from her mouth. "You could have told me."
"I did," Zhiyi replied, glancing toward his chair. "You kept kissing my forehead."
He couldn’t argue with that. He had kissed her forehead when she woke, when she fell asleep, when Qinghe finished examining her. It had become the easiest way to touch her without wondering whether he was asking too much.
"I was trying to be gentle," Hanchuan said as he sat down, keeping her hand in his.
"You can be gentle and still kiss me," Zhiyi pointed out. She studied his face. "You knew how before."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
He lowered his head for a moment, rubbing his thumb over her fingers. She sounded so much like herself that he wanted to keep her talking, even if she spent the next hour telling him everything he had been doing wrong.
"I missed you," Hanchuan admitted, looking up at her.
"Then stop sitting so far away," Zhiyi said, giving his hand a small tug.
He brought the chair against the bed and rested his forearm beside hers. She moved their joined hands until they were comfortable, then closed her eyes. He watched her for a moment before leaning back, leaving her to rest.
The room was quiet apart from the ventilation and the occasional sound from the corridor.
Something scraped across the floor in the distance, followed by Zeyu telling someone to wait. Zhiyi’s thumb moved against Hanchuan’s hand, then grew still again.
"The first time I slept beside you, you stayed awake," Zhiyi said after a while.
Hanchuan turned toward her. Her eyes were still closed.
He remembered that night. The mattress had barely been wide enough for one person, and she had stood beside it, exhausted, telling him the floor was too cold. He had tried to make room without letting her see how much effort it took to move his legs.
"You noticed?" Hanchuan asked.
"You held your breath whenever I moved," Zhiyi replied, opening her eyes. "I thought you were worried I’d hurt your legs."
"I thought you’d decide there wasn’t enough room," Hanchuan admitted.
"There was enough," Zhiyi said, her brow creasing.
"I know." Hanchuan rubbed the side of her hand. "But I wanted you to stay, and I didn’t want to give you a reason to leave."
He had lain awake long after she fell asleep, unwilling to shift even when his shoulder began to ache.
In the morning, she had complained that he looked tired and told him to sleep. He hadn’t known how to explain that having her beside him had kept him awake.
Zhiyi looked at his arm where it rested along the mattress.
"You’re doing it again," Zhiyi said.
Hanchuan followed her gaze. His shoulder was raised, his arm held awkwardly so it wouldn’t press against hers. He let it relax.
"I don’t want to hurt you," Hanchuan told her.
"Then let me tell you if you do," Zhiyi replied. "You keep moving away before I can decide whether I’m comfortable."
He looked back at her and nodded.
"You’ll tell me?" Hanchuan asked.
"I will," Zhiyi said. Her fingers loosened around his. "But you need to believe me when I say it doesn’t hurt."
"I’ll try," Hanchuan promised.
She lifted her hand to his cheek. He turned into her palm and stayed there while she brushed her thumb over his skin.
Qinghe knocked a few minutes later. Hanchuan started to straighten, but Zhiyi caught his hand before he could stand. Qinghe noticed and came around the other side of the bed.
"Shichen’s going to start drilling in about ten minutes," Qinghe told her. "He asked me to let you know."
Zhiyi glanced toward the bedside table.
"Put the new time on the paper," Zhiyi requested.
Hanchuan picked up the pencil, then looked at her. "What would you like me to write?"
"Drilling this afternoon. They told me before starting," Zhiyi said. She watched him add it beneath the earlier note. "Leave the morning time there. That was the first plan."
He kept both entries and put the pencil down. Qinghe asked about her headache, waited while she described it, and moved the lamp a little farther from her pillow.
When he left, Hanchuan settled beside her again.
The first sound of the drill made her fingers tighten around his. He waited, resisting the urge to explain when she already knew. After a moment, her grip eased.
She grew drowsy while they sat together. Hanchuan bent to kiss her before she fell asleep, and her hand found his collar as soon as he began to draw away.
He smiled against her lips and stayed a little longer.
By the evening, Shichen was ready for help with the last section of the barrier. Hanchuan left Zhiyi with Qinghe and went to the entrance, where Zeyu was waiting with his sleeves pushed up and dust caught in his hair.
The work took longer than Hanchuan expected. When he finally returned to the medical room, his shirt clung to his back and he had scraped a knuckle without noticing.
Zhiyi noticed before he reached the chair.
"Wash your hand," Zhiyi told him, pointing toward the basin. "Then come back."
Hanchuan looked down at the scrape and went to the counter. As he washed, he could hear her shifting the blanket behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, but she was only uncovering her uninjured foot.
Zeyu’s box was back on the bedside table, still unopened. Her notes lay beside it, held flat by the water glass.
She had made herself as comfortable as she could, yet she was watching the doorway when he turned off the tap.
Hanchuan dried his hands and returned to her. She laid her hand palm up on the mattress.
"I want to go back to our room," Zhiyi said.
He stopped beside the chair, then sat without taking her hand. He thought of Qinghe’s supplies, the room they had arranged around her care, the nights when he had needed only to lift his head to check on her.
"You still need Qinghe nearby," Hanchuan began.
"Our room is down the corridor," Zhiyi replied. She kept her hand open between them. "Tell me what I need here that we can’t take with us."