The World Ends In 27 Days

Zeyu’s car was already waiting for them outside the office when they stepped through the revolving doors.

It was low, black and impractical, with two doors, almost no rear visibility and an engine loud enough to draw everyone’s eyes. Zhiyi stopped beside it and examined the distance between the passenger seat and the pavement.

Zeyu pressed the key in his hand. The passenger door lifted upward.

"That’s unnecessary," she muttered, cocking her head to the side as she studied the mechanism.

"It’s beautiful," countered Zeyu with a bright smile.

"It complicates the hinge mechanism."

"It improves the experience."

"Of entering the car?"

"Of owning it."

Zhiyi considered the distinction, found no practical value in it and lowered herself into the passenger seat.

Zeyu closed the door after her, walked around the front of the car and slid behind the wheel. The engine started with a deep growl that vibrated through the seat.

"You like it," he said, more confident than he really should have been.

"It’s loud," Zhiyi replied. She didn’t cringe, but that was only because she was trying to be polite.

"That wasn’t a denial."

"I don’t dislike the vibration."

"I knew it."

He pulled away from the curb with considerably more satisfaction than the answer justified.

Zhiyi rested her hands in her lap and watched the office tower disappear through the side mirror.

Hanchuan would remain there until they returned. He had three meetings before noon and two calls with companies whose warehouses he intended to purchase. Jingwei was reviewing the security personnel. Shichen had gone to inspect the industrial property. Qinghe was at the hospital compiling a list of medical equipment.

Her assignment was to obtain a dress.

It was the least consequential task among them and as such, should have been the simplest.

Hanchuan had entrusted it to Zeyu because Zeyu understood formal events and clothing. He had also entrusted Zhiyi to him.

That made the outcome important.

Zeyu was one of Hanchuan’s friends. If she wanted to stay with the unit, she needed to get along with them. She needed to make a favorable impression.

She didn’t know how to do that, but answering questions accurately was generally preferable to ignoring them.

"So," Zeyu said as he changed lanes, "how long has it been since you bought a formal dress?"

Zhiyi turned toward him.

The answer should have been three years.

Except she hadn’t purchased that dress herself. Her father’s assistant had ordered it and charged it to the household account after her stepmother supplied the measurements. Zhiyi had worn it once, which meant it had been acquired for her use, but the wording of Zeyu’s question specified that she had to have bought it.

Before that, there had been a dress for an academic awards dinner. She had selected that one from three options sent to the house, but her father had paid for it. Therefore, she hadn’t bought that one either.

Did choosing the dress qualify as buying it, or did the financial transaction determine who had bought it?

"Actually, that doesn’t matter," Zeyu continued as she was still trying to work through the first question. "Do you already have formal shoes? You probably don’t. What size are you? Never mind, they’ll measure you. Do you wear heels?"

Zhiyi kept her attention on the first question.

She needed to determine what Zeyu meant by bought.

She opened her mouth to ask for clarification, but he was already speaking again and it didn’t seem right to interrupt him.

"Hanchuan didn’t mention jewelry. Do you have pierced ears? You must. Most women do, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you wear earrings. Some people hate anything that moves against their neck. Do you?"

Zhiyi closed her mouth.

The first question remained unanswered.

Three years if acquisition for her use counted.

Five years if it required her participation in choosing the dress.

Never if buying required her to complete the financial transaction with her own money.

She could ask Zeyu to clarify, but he hadn’t stopped talking long enough for her to do so.

"And what about your hair? Are you wearing it up tonight? We might need to arrange someone for that. The boutique has a stylist, but I don’t know if she does hair or only clothes. We can call someone else. Do you mind people touching your hair?"

Another question entered the sequence.

Zhiyi pressed her thumb into the center of her left palm.

She could only handle one question at a time.

She would answer the first when Zeyu finished speaking. Then she could proceed to shoes, size, heels, pierced ears, earrings, movement against her neck, hair and physical contact.

The order was clear. She only needed him to stop long enough for her to answer him.

Zeyu glanced at her. "You don’t have to be nervous. I can talk enough for both of us."

Zhiyi wasn’t nervous.

She was waiting.

She wanted to explain that, but it would require interrupting him. Interrupting one of Hanchuan’s friends during their first time alone might be interpreted as rude.

"The dinner starts at seven, so we have time. Not an unlimited amount of time, but enough. We’ll get the dress first, then shoes. Jewelry should come after the neckline, obviously. Unless we choose the jewelry first and build around it, but that seems unnecessarily complicated. Do you dance?"

Zhiyi pressed her thumb harder into her palm.

The answer to the first question hadn’t changed.

Three years.

Five years.

Never.

Zeyu waited for less than a second before smiling. "Your quiet. I understand. I usually have that effect on women, although they’re generally staring at me while they lose the ability to speak."

Zhiyi didn’t look at him.

If she did, he might interpret it as an invitation to ask why she was staring.

"Can you dance?" he continued. "That’s a different question. I suppose you could know how without doing it regularly. Hanchuan probably dances. He attends enough of these things. I’ve never seen him do it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t. He spends most galas standing near a wall and frightening anyone who considers approaching him."

Zhiyi adjusted her breathing.

Four seconds in.

Four seconds out.

She had learned to regulate it during the years when storms lasted for days and enclosed shelters made every sound impossible to escape.

The method required counting.

One.

Two.

Three—

"Are you attending as his guest, the company’s consultant or a representative of the Qiao family?"

She lost the count.

Her thumb moved from the center of her palm to the base of her index finger.

Okay... Start again.

Four seconds in.

One.

Two—

"That changes the dress, by the way. If you’re there for the company, we keep it elegant and serious. If you’re Hanchuan’s guest, we can do something more personal. Not too personal. He’d probably kill me if I sent you back in something transparent."

Zeyu laughed as Zhiyi’s lungs released the unfinished breath.