Chapter 41: You Answer To Me
For the first time since the call connected, something rough entered Hanchuan’s voice.
Zhiyi’s fingers curled loosely around Zeyu’s wrist. There was no strength in them. She wasn’t holding him so much as confirming that he remained there.
No one had ever done that before.
People wanted things from Song Zeyu. Invitations. Introductions. Cars. Money. Entertainment. A place beside him at dinner and photographs suggesting they belonged there. His family needed his name attached to the company and his face in front of investors, but they could replace most of what he did with three competent executives and a public-relations team.
His friends loved him.
They didn’t need him to hold them upright.
But Zhiyi did.
She needed his strength because hers was gone. She needed his arms around her and his lungs moving against her back. She needed him to stand between her and every person who expected an answer. She needed him to make the decisions she could no longer make.
The weight of her body didn’t feel like a burden.
Instead, it settled something inside him.
Zeyu felt his chest expand beneath her. His back straightened. His shoulders drew back as his hold became firmer and more certain.
He had her.
That was all he needed to understand.
"The ambulance is less than two minutes away," the manager called out, making sure not to get too close.
Zeyu looked down at Zhiyi’s face. Some color had returned, but not enough.
"Hanchuan?"
"Let them examine her. Don’t let them separate you unless it’s medically necessary. You need to touch her at all times."
"All right."
"And don’t ask her how she feels. Don’t let them address any questions to her, take them all. Even if you don’t know the answer, don’t let them ask her. It will send her into another panic attack."
Zeyu looked at the woman resting against him.
"I won’t."
He waited through three more breaths before speaking again.
"What happened?"
Hanchuan didn’t answer.
Zeyu corrected the question himself. "I asked her what color she wanted. When she didn’t answer, I tried length. Then fabric."
The silence on the line changed.
"I followed your instructions," Zeyu said.
"I know."
"They didn’t work."
"No. I guess they didn’t," Hanchuan paused for a moment before a long sigh came through the phone. "I was wrong."
Zeyu had never heard those words leave Pei Hanchuan so quickly.
"About what?"
"She couldn’t answer because none of those decisions had enough information."
Zeyu thought of Zhiyi asking whether the event was black tie. She had been given an uncertain answer, followed by another question.
"She wasn’t choosing between three colors," he said slowly.
"No. She was trying to determine every consequence of choosing each one."
"And before she could, I gave her another problem."
"Yes."
Zeyu looked at the rack of dresses.
"What am I supposed to ask her?"
"Nothing."
Zhiyi’s fingers moved around his wrist, and Zeyu moved one of his hands to that he could lower the phone closer to her ear.
Hanchuan’s voice softened. "Zhiyi, you don’t have to answer anyone. Zeyu will choose the dress. He will choose everything and it will be perfectly fine."
For several seconds, there was no indication that she had heard him.
Then her fingers tightened.
Only slightly.
Enough.
"I’ll choose it," Zeyu told her. "You don’t have to think about any of it."
Her body sank more completely into his hold.
The increased weight forced another adjustment. Zeyu shifted one foot, tightened his arm beneath her ribs and accepted all of it.
"I’ve got you."
This time, he wasn’t repeating anything Hanchuan had told him to say.
The paramedics arrived moments later.
Zeyu allowed them into the salon but didn’t release Zhiyi while they checked her pulse, oxygen saturation and blood pressure. When one of them attempted to guide her toward a chair, her fingers locked around his wrist and her breathing caught.
"She stays with me," Zeyu announced, his voice low and threatening. He had heard Jingwei and Hanchuan speak like this and thought it was funny, but now, he wasn’t going to back down.
The paramedic looked at Zhiyi’s hand. "All right," he said after a moment. "Just keep supporting her."
Her oxygen level climbed while they watched. Her pulse remained too fast but began to slow. She followed none of the paramedics’ questions, so Zeyu answered the ones he could and called Qinghe for the rest.
Qinghe spoke directly to them, obtained the numbers and gave Zeyu a list of signs that meant Zhiyi would be taken to the hospital immediately. Her oxygen level continued rising. Her color returned slowly. She remained awake and began reacting when the paramedic touched her wrist.
The immediate danger passed.
The paramedics recommended rest and observation and Zeyu agreed to both without asking Zhiyi to decide what she wanted.
After they left, the manager remained near the door with her hands folded tightly at her waist. The assistants stood several meters away, silent now but still watching.
Zeyu looked at them over Zhiyi’s head.
"Stop looking at her."
Every gaze shifted to him.
"Everyone out except the manager and one assistant."
The employees moved immediately.
The seamstress started to gather her supplies.
"We won’t need those," Zeyu said.
The manager hesitated. "If the dress requires minor adjustments—"
"Then it’s the wrong dress."
"We can complete alterations before this evening."
"We aren’t wasting time repairing a dress she doesn’t care about. If it doesn’t fit, bring another."
Quietly, knowing that she had been dismissed, the seamstress left with the others.
Within seconds, the salon held only Zhiyi, Zeyu, the manager and one assistant. The door closed, cutting off the music and the sounds from the showroom.
Zhiyi’s next breath came more easily and Zeyu felt it against his arm.
The manager spoke carefully. "Mr. Song, we can reschedule the appointment. We can also send a selection to President Pei’s residence."
"No," Zeyu snapped. Zhiyi stirred faintly so Zeyu lowered his voice. "The event is tonight. We’re leaving with a dress."
"Of course."
"No one asks her anything."
The manager nodded.
"No one speaks to her unless I tell them to. You answer to me. You show me the dresses. If I reject one, it leaves the room. No explanations. No alternatives unless I request them."
"Understood."
"If she catches you staring at her while you wait for an answer, you’re done."
The manager’s expression tightened.
"Yes, Mr. Song."