Chapter 417: How To Make It Right
"Are there zombies?" I asked, cocking my head to the side as I tried to figure out what kind of date you could have in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.
"No," replied Zhenlan, a soft smile on his face as he shook his head. "No zombies."
"Humans?" I pressed. I really didn’t want to deal with anymore humans.
"None are invited," he assured me.
"Does anything need killing?"
"Not tonight."
That eliminated nearly every reason I normally left the house.
With nothing left to do but see what was going to happen, I placed my hand in his and let him lead the way.
Zhenlan’s fingers closed around mine, warm and certain, before he led me through the rear hall toward the stairs that climbed to the upper terrace.
The plants opened ahead of us without being asked. Their leaves brushed my sleeves as we passed, but none reacted to danger. The Devourer remained somewhere beneath the city, the bite twin remained locked in the garage, and the workers outside continued existing without requiring either of us to supervise them.
Nothing screamed.
Nothing attacked the barrier.
No radio crackled from another room.
It all felt very suspicious.
At the top of the stairs, Zhenlan opened the terrace door.
The entire roof had changed.
A projector faced a white screen secured against the far wall. Blankets and cushions covered the sheltered section beneath the pergola, while bowls of snacks sat beside a kettle, mugs, and enough food to prove he had either raided my kitchen or bribed Chenghai.
Small lights had been strung through the beams overhead. Beyond them, clouds covered the night sky, dark and heavy with rain.
I stepped outside.
The air smelled like an approaching storm, but the wind curling around the terrace was warm. It moved beneath my hair and along the edge of my sweater without carrying a single drop of water into the sheltered space.
Rain began falling beyond the railing.
Not lightly.
It poured over the mansion, the gardens, and the barrier in a silver curtain, while the terrace remained completely dry.
Lightning moved through the clouds without striking. Thunder followed several seconds later, deep enough to vibrate through the floor without making the glass doors shake.
Zhenlan stopped beside me.
I looked from the storm to the blankets, then toward the projector.
"You made it rain for a movie?"
"I thought you liked storms."
"I like watching them from inside."
"We’re dry."
"That’s not the point."
His hand tightened around mine. "Do you want to go back inside?"
The answer should’ve been easy.
The couch was inside. So were Yuche, Lingyun, Chenghai, several hundred movies, and walls between me and the weather.
But the rain curved around the terrace without touching us. The plants moved happily beneath it, and the thunder covered every distant sound from the city.
For once, the world outside the barrier didn’t feel like it was ending.
It felt far away.
I walked toward the blankets and looked down at the snacks.
"You brought the good chocolate."
"Yes."
"And cream soda."
"Yes."
"And you somehow found the movie I was looking for yesterday."
Zhenlan came up behind me, close enough that his chest brushed my shoulder when he reached past me to lift the remote.
"Yes."
I glanced back at him. "This is suspiciously well planned."
His mouth moved near my ear.
"This time," he said, "I planned around you."
I looked at the blankets, the carefully arranged snacks, and the rain falling in a perfect silver curtain around the terrace.
That was an unfairly good answer.
For several seconds, I couldn’t think of anything sarcastic enough to protect me from it. Zhenlan waited without pushing for a reaction, his hand still wrapped loosely around mine while the storm moved through the gardens below us.
"You’ve been practicing," I finally accused.
A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Practicing what?"
"Saying things that make it difficult to insult you."
"Is it working?"
"Obviously not."
It was, but admitting that would only encourage him.
I stepped farther beneath the pergola and examined the cushions he had arranged across the floor. There were enough of them to build a small defensive position, which suggested he hadn’t completely abandoned his old habits. At least these defenses were intended to protect me from hard wood and uncomfortable seating rather than an approaching horde.
The food had been chosen just as carefully. There were three kinds of chocolate, dried fruit I had forgotten I owned, popcorn, crackers, and a plate of sliced pastries that definitely hadn’t been sitting in the kitchen when I went upstairs.
I picked up one of the crackers and looked at him. "Did you steal these from Lingyun?"
"I took them from your pantry," Zhenlan replied as he lowered himself onto the blankets.
"That’s where Lingyun hides them."
"They still belong to you."
"Ownership has become emotionally complicated since he moved in."
Zhenlan lifted the edge of a blanket and waited until I sat beside him before spreading it across my legs. "He tried to follow us."
I glanced toward the terrace door. "I’m surprised Chenghai managed to stop him."
"Chenghai offered to sit on him."
"Yuche probably offered too."
"He did."
I felt a small amount of sympathy for Lingyun. Not enough to return downstairs, but enough that I hoped they had given him something to eat while restraining him.
Zhenlan poured tea into one of the mugs and passed it to me. The scent of bergamot rose with the steam, and I realized he had made Earl Grey instead of the green tea everyone kept trying to convince me was better for hydration.
"You used milk," I said.
"And sugar."
"The correct amount?"
He looked almost offended. "I’ve watched you make it for more years than I am comfortably able to admit to."
"That doesn’t mean you understood what you were seeing," I replied, narrowing my eyes. I used a lot more sugar than anyone gave me credit for.
"Just try it," he laughed softly. "And if I got it wrong, I’ll spend another 20 years learning how to make it right."