The World Ends In 27 Days

Hanchuan brought the recording after breakfast, just as he had promised.

Zhiyi was sitting against the pillows while Qinghe moved the empty tray from her lap. Her hair had been brushed and gathered over one shoulder, and she watched the tablet in Hanchuan’s hand with an attention he recognized immediately.

"Is that the whole call?" Zhiyi asked.

"Yes," Hanchuan replied, sitting beside her. "Jingwei copied it over. You can pause it whenever you want."

Qinghe set the tray near the door. "I’ll be in the medical room if you need me."

Hanchuan waited until Qinghe left before placing the tablet where Zhiyi could reach it comfortably. She adjusted the volume herself, then pressed play.

The officer’s voice sounded smaller through the tablet’s speakers. Hanchuan remembered hearing it across the communications room while Zhiyi lay unconscious down the corridor. Even here, with her shoulder warm beside his, he felt the old pressure gather beneath his ribs.

Zhiyi listened without interrupting.

When the officer demanded access to her, she glanced at Hanchuan, then returned her attention to the screen. She heard his refusal and the questions that followed, including the attempts to establish where she was and why she couldn’t answer for herself.

Halfway through, she paused the recording.

"Did you tell them what happened to me?" Zhiyi asked.

"No," Hanchuan answered. "They knew you weren’t taking calls. They kept asking questions until they had enough to suspect you were injured."

Zhiyi moved the recording back a short distance and listened again. Her expression sharpened at the officer’s insistence that someone qualified needed to assess her condition.

"He wanted you to explain why Qinghe was enough," Zhiyi observed. "Then he could argue with the explanation."

Hanchuan nodded. "He wasn’t going to accept a refusal."

"He didn’t need the answer," Zhiyi said, touching the screen to resume playback. "He needed you to keep talking."

Hanchuan let her listen. He had been prepared for questions about his tone or what he had threatened to do. Instead, she followed the officer’s changing demands, her fingers resting beside the controls while she worked through the conversation.

When it ended, Zhiyi left the tablet on the blanket.

"Did they send another question afterward?" Zhiyi asked.

Hanchuan looked at her. "They sent soldiers."

"I know," Zhiyi replied. "I mean work. A problem they wanted me to solve."

Hanchuan thought back through the messages Jingwei had shown him. "There were demands to speak with you. Nothing I’d call an assignment."

Zhiyi considered that, then reached for his hand. "Good. I don’t want one waiting."

The answer loosened something in him. He turned his palm beneath hers and watched her settle their fingers together.

"You don’t owe them anything," Hanchuan said.

"I finished what I agreed to do," Zhiyi replied. "They kept trying to add things."

Hanchuan remembered the earlier calls, each one presented as something small enough to answer immediately. He had watched questions consume her attention long after the person asking them had gone.

"Do you want to see the later messages?" Hanchuan asked.

Zhiyi shook her head. "Not today. I wanted to know whether you promised them anything."

"I promised they wouldn’t take you," Hanchuan answered.

She looked up at him, and the certainty in her expression made him wish he had brought the recording sooner.

"Then there’s nothing for me to correct," Zhiyi said. She pushed the tablet toward his side of the bed. "Put it away."

Hanchuan set it on the table. When he turned back, she was still looking at him.

"What?" Hanchuan asked, brushing his thumb over her fingers.

"You look surprised," Zhiyi replied, cocking her head to the side.

"I thought you might want to say something to them."

Zhiyi’s brows drew together. "They heard you. They just didn’t like your answer."

Hanchuan laughed softly before he could stop himself. She studied him for a moment, then moved her hand to his wrist and pulled him closer.

"You can kiss me now," Zhiyi informed him.

Hanchuan bent toward her. "Was I waiting for permission?"

"You were waiting for something," Zhiyi replied, and touched his jaw before he could ask what she meant.

He kissed her slowly, feeling her fingers relax against his face. When he lifted his head, she stayed close enough that her hair brushed his wrist.

"You believed me," Hanchuan murmured.

"Of course I believed you," Zhiyi answered. "I just wanted to hear what he asked."

He rested his forehead lightly against hers. For days, he had been trying to supply every answer before she needed it. She had asked for one thing, examined it, and decided she was finished. He could have spent the morning inventing reasons to delay her.

A knock interrupted them before he found anything useful to say. Zeyu stood outside with a clean shirt draped over his shoulder and a streak of grease along his forearm.

"The mobile base door closes properly," Zeyu announced. "I thought you might want some news that doesn’t involve another man demanding to speak to your wife."

Hanchuan glanced at the tablet before looking back at him. "How much did Jingwei tell you?"

"Enough to know I prefer the door," Zeyu replied. His attention shifted to Zhiyi. "It still needs testing. I’m not declaring the vehicle ready."

"Does it open from inside?" Zhiyi asked.

Zeyu nodded. "I checked that first."

Zhiyi seemed satisfied. She asked him to bring her the list of remaining repairs tomorrow, then pointed at his arm before he could leave.

"You missed some," Zhiyi told him.

Zeyu examined the grease and sighed. "I washed twice."

After Zeyu left, Hanchuan found her looking toward the doorway rather than the tablet. Beyond it, someone was setting dishes on the kitchen counter. Shichen called a question down the corridor, and Jingwei’s reply arrived too quietly for Hanchuan to make out.

"I want to eat with everyone tonight," Zhiyi said.

Hanchuan glanced at the empty tray beside the door. "We can bring dinner in here."

"All six of us?" Zhiyi asked, surveying the space around the bed. "With plates?"

Hanchuan followed her gaze and pictured Zeyu balanced on the dresser. "I’ll ask Qinghe about getting you to the table."

Zhiyi caught his sleeve before he could stand. Her expression had become thoughtful again, although the faint curve of her mouth remained.

"And after that," Zhiyi continued, "I want to know why you’re all practicing with guns without me."