Chapter 34: Breakfast First
Zhiyi woke with Hanchuan’s arm around her waist.
His chest rested against her back, one leg positioned between hers beneath the blanket. His hand lay flat against her stomach, holding her close enough that every breath moved through both of them.
The room was unfamiliar, but that only concerned her for less than a second.
Hanchuan was there, which meant that everything was fine.
So, instead of worrying, Zhiyi examined the ceiling above her head. White plaster. Recessed lighting. Morning entered through a narrow opening between the curtains and crossed the opposite wall at an angle that placed the windows on the eastern side of the house.
She remembered falling asleep on the couch in Hanchuan’s study.
"You carried me," she said, her voice somewhat raspy from sleep.
The arm around her tightened.
"I did," he agreed.
His voice was also rough with sleep and his mouth touched the bare curve of her shoulder where her shirt had shifted during the night.
"Good morning," he murmured against her skin.
"Good morning," she replied.
Hanchuan kissed her shoulder again.
Zhiyi waited, but he didn’t give her an instruction or ask a question. The contact appeared to have been the entire purpose.
She accepted that and returned to examining the room.
There was nothing unusual about sharing a bed with him. They had slept pressed together through winters cold enough to freeze water inside sealed containers. Hanchuan had held her through fevers, storms and nights when the sound of shifting ice made sleep impossible.
Mind you, this was different. The mattress was larger. His legs worked. Morning waited beyond the curtains instead of another disaster.
But the essential arrangement remained unchanged: Hanchuan was there.
Behind her, his breathing stopped.
"What?" Zhiyi asked.
"Nothing."
That was inaccurate. His heart had accelerated against her back.
She turned within his arms until she faced him. Hanchuan loosened his hold only enough to allow the movement, then settled one hand against the center of her back.
His hair was disordered from sleep. Zhiyi had never seen it like that before the world ended. The Hanchuan in photographs had always appeared controlled, dressed and prepared for the existence of other people.
This version belonged to a room no one else could enter.
"You didn’t sleep enough," she murmured, studying the dark circles under his eyes.
"I slept," he replied with a soft smile.
"For how long?" She soothed some of the sleep marks from his cheek, letting the fine stubble on his face tickle her fingers.
"Long enough," he countered, not moving so that she could keep exploring his face. He loved the feeling of her fingers against his skin. He never wanted her to stop.
"That isn’t a duration."
"No," he replied, a smile spreading across her face. "It isn’t."
Zhiyi looked toward the clock on the bedside table. It was 6:42 a.m. She had slept for seven hours and sixteen minutes, although she didn’t know when Hanchuan had carried her upstairs or joined her in bed.
She reached for his wrist and Hanchuan gave it to her without asking why.
His pulse was seventy-eight beats per minute. Higher than his resting rate in their first life, but his current body hadn’t endured seven years of nutritional deficiency, untreated injuries and prolonged physical stress.
"You’re measuring my pulse," he said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It changed after you kissed me." His expression remained still and Zhiyi waited for him to explain.
"It’s not dangerous," he murmured softly. He shifted his face so that her trailing fingers crossed over his lips and he kissed them playfully.
"That wasn’t my question," Zhiyi replied, keeping her fingers against his lips.
"No."
Moving her fingers, Hanchuan drew her closer until her forehead rested beneath his chin. The movement prevented her from examining his face, but it also placed her ear over his heart.
The rhythm remained elevated.
"You’re avoiding the answer."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it will create more questions," he chuckled softly
Zhiyi hummed, nodding her head. That was likely correct, so she allowed the unfinished sequence to end without causing her stress.
Hanchuan’s hand moved once over her back. "Sleep for another hour."
"But I’m awake."
"You need more rest."
"I slept for seven hours and sixteen minutes."
"You worked for thirty-eight hours before that."
"Not continuously."
"You slept for forty-three minutes in the car."
"That counts."
"It doesn’t."
"It meets the definition of sleep."
"It doesn’t meet mine."
Zhiyi considered disputing the classification. Hanchuan pressed his mouth to her forehead before she could begin.
"Breakfast first," he said. "Then you can continue to argue with me."
The order was measurable so Zhiyi nodded her head and got out of bed.
Her bag had been placed on a chair beside the wardrobe. Nothing inside it appeared to have been disturbed. A new toothbrush remained sealed on the bathroom counter beside a package of hair ties and toiletries from the same brands she had used before the apocalypse.
Zhiyi stopped in the doorway.
Hanchuan came up behind her, already fastening the cuffs of a clean shirt.
"I didn’t tell you which toothpaste I use."
"I didn’t think you needed to," he replied with a careless shrug.
She looked at the tube. The brand and formulation were correct. "Then how did you know?"
"You left it beside the sink in three shelters."
"That was more than four years ago."
"And?" he countered as he walked past her and turned on the shower.
He tested the water with one hand, adjusted the temperature and placed a towel within reach before facing her again.
"Twenty minutes," he said.
"That is an excessive amount of time."
"It isn’t."
"We have work."
"We also have water."
The statement was simple. It shouldn’t have altered anything.
Zhiyi looked at the steam beginning to gather above the shower. For seven years, bathing had required calculation. Water availability. Heating fuel. Contamination. The probability that they would need the same water for drinking before another source could be found.
Hanchuan touched two fingers beneath her chin and lifted her attention back to him.
"Twenty minutes," he repeated. "Use all of it."
He left the bathroom and closed the door.
Zhiyi stood beneath the hot water for nineteen minutes and forty-eight seconds.
When she entered the dining room, breakfast was already on the table.
There were no serving dishes and no questions about what she wanted. A bowl of rice porridge sat in front of one chair with an egg, sliced fruit and tea beside it. Hanchuan’s breakfast waited across from hers.
Zhiyi sat.
"You ordered for me," she said.
"Yes."
"You didn’t ask what I wanted."
"No."
The absence of a question left nothing unresolved.
She began eating.
Hanchuan checked three messages before placing his phone facedown beside his plate. "There’s a foundation dinner tonight."
"What foundation?"
"The Liang Urban Development Foundation."
"Shichen’s family?"
"Yes."
"What does it fund?"
"Urban housing, disaster recovery and architectural education."
The event would place construction executives, government officials and major suppliers in the same room. Hanchuan didn’t need to explain why they couldn’t ignore it. Relationships established there could accelerate purchases that would otherwise require weeks of negotiation.
"What do you need me to calculate?"
"Nothing."
Zhiyi paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth.
"Then why are you telling me?" she asked, cocking her head to the side like a lost puppy.
"Because you’re attending with me," he replied.
She lowered the spoon.
The statement created several immediate requirements. Clothing. Arrival time. Seating. Expected conversation. The possibility that people would ask questions without providing sufficient parameters.
Hanchuan watched her face, and before she could go too deep into the hole, he pulled her back. "You’ll stand beside me," he said. "You won’t have to speak unless you want to. If someone asks you something you don’t intend to answer, look at me."
The branches that opened in her head were starting to close one after another.
"What should I wear?" Zhiyi asked. This was one of the things that she was most stressed about because she didn’t know what would be considered appropriate to wear.
"I’ll handle it," Hanchuan assured her.
"All right."
Hanchuan picked up his phone again, the matter was apparently settled, and so, Zhiyi resumed eating.