Chapter 39: Feel Me Breathing
Zeyu’s smile began to fade as he studied Zhiyi closely.
First, he looked at her hands, then back at her face as if he knew that something wasn’t quite right, but couldn’t pinpoint what was actually wrong.
"Let’s move on to the fabric," he announced slowly, like that would help. "Do you want silk, chiffon or velvet?"
Zhiyi took in a deep breath. Silk was a fiber, not a single fabric.
Chiffon could be silk or synthetic.
Velvet would be too warm if the ballroom ventilation was inadequate. Chiffon moved unpredictably around her legs. Satin showed creasing. Beading added weight and created irregular points of pressure. Internal seams could become impossible to ignore over several hours.
Her breathing became shorter and shorter. She drew air in through her nose, forcing herself to concentrate.
One.
Two—
The manager lifted three swatches. "Would it help if you touched them?"
The count disappeared.
An assistant came closer with the fabric. "Some people prefer chiffon because it’s lighter."
"Ah, but velvet photographs beautifully."
"We also have silk crepe if she doesn’t like satin."
"Would you like to see it?"
"Does she have any sensory sensitivities?"
"What heel height will she be wearing?"
"What about jewelry?"
Zhiyi tried to hold every question, but the manager and assistants’ voices started to blend in together until she couldn’t figure out who was saying what.
But her assignment was to obtain a dress.
Hanchuan had entrusted her to Zeyu.
Zeyu had followed Hanchuan’s instructions.
Everyone was waiting for her.
She needed to answer.
Five years.
Formal shoes.
Shoe size.
Heels.
Pierced ears.
Earrings.
Movement against her neck.
Hair.
Physical contact.
Dancing.
Ability to dance.
Hanchuan’s guest.
Red.
Favorite color.
Vehicle modifications.
Sleeping compartments.
Kitchen dimensions.
Ventilation.
Internal doors.
Bathrooms.
Water tanks.
Medical water supply.
Refreshments.
Measurements.
Silhouette.
Sleeves.
Open back.
Comfort.
Dark blue.
Black.
Green.
Long.
Short.
Usual length.
Movement.
Silk.
Chiffon.
Velvet.
Sensory sensitivities.
Heel height.
Jewelry.
All she had to do was answer one question at a time so she would begin with the first.
"How long has it been since you bought a formal dress?"
Five years.
Probably five.
She opened her mouth but before she could say anything, someone touched her elbow.
The contact should have produced pressure against her skin.
But it didn’t. She didn’t feel anything.
The salon disappeared without becoming dark.
Sound ended in the middle of someone’s sentence.
The faces remained for less than a second. Then they disappeared too.
There was nothing to see.
Nothing to hear.
Nothing beneath her feet.
Her body had stopped existing everywhere except inside her head, where every unanswered question remained open.
Each answer required another answer.
Each branch divided.
Again.
Again.
Again.
There was no first step.
There was no end.
Zeyu watched the color drain from Zhiyi’s face.
One second, she was staring at the fabric swatches. The next, she went so still that the assistant beside her stopped speaking.
"Miss Qiao?"
Zhiyi didn’t blink.
The manager lowered the swatches. "Perhaps we should give her some space."
"Zhiyi." Zeyu stepped in front of her.
Her eyes remained fixed somewhere beyond his shoulder.
He waved one hand through her line of sight.
Nothing.
The trembling in her hand had stopped. Her fingers hung motionless at her side and Zeyu’s unease sharpened.
"Zhiyi, look at me," he commanded, putting a sharp note to his tone.
But she didn’t.
He touched her shoulder.
She didn’t flinch.
That was wrong.
She had moved away the instant an assistant came too close. Now Zeyu tightened his hand around her shoulder and received no response at all.
"Can you hear me?"
The manager moved closer. "Should I call someone?"
"Wait."
Zeyu put his other hand against Zhiyi’s cheek. Her skin was cold. Her eyes were open, but nothing inside them followed him.
He remembered something about grounding people during panic attacks.
Sight. Sound. Touch.
"Zhiyi, tell me three things you can see."
She didn’t reply.
"Anything. Me. The mirror. That terrible gold chair."
Her gaze didn’t shift.
"Tell me what you can hear."
Nothing.
"Can you feel my hand?"
Nothing.
The manager reached for her phone.
Zeyu looked down.
Zhiyi’s chest wasn’t moving.
For one suspended moment, he couldn’t understand what he was seeing.
Then he looked at her mouth.
Her lips had lost their color and a faint blue-grey shadow had begun forming around the edges.
"She isn’t breathing."
Everyone froze.
"Call emergency services," Zeyu ordered.
The manager immediately turned away with her phone.
Zeyu already had his own in his hand.
He called Hanchuan.
The line connected before the second ring.
"What happened?"
There was no greeting, no wasted question about why Zeyu was calling.
"She won’t answer me," Zeyu snapped back. His voice came out too loud, but this wasn’t the time to keep up his act. "She can’t hear me. She can’t see me. She isn’t breathing, Hanchuan. Her lips are turning blue."
The silence on the line lasted less than a second. "Put me on speaker," he demanded.
Zeyu obeyed.
"Has she fallen?"
"No. She’s standing. I don’t know how," Zeyu replied.
"Go stand in front of her."
"I am."
"Turn her around."
Zeyu caught Zhiyi by both shoulders and turned her until her back faced him. Her feet moved only because he moved them.
"Done."
"Wrap your arms around her body and pull her to your chest."
Zeyu locked one arm around her waist and the other across her upper body. She remained rigid inside his hold, every muscle fixed without providing any useful support.
"Closer," Hanchuan ordered. "Her entire back needs to be pressed against your chest as close as possible."
Zeyu pulled her into him until there was no space left between them.
"Is she breathing?" asked Hanchuan.
"No."
"Take a slow breath."
Zeyu dragged air into his lungs.
"Slower," the other man snapped. "Make her feel your chest expanding against her back. This breath isn’t for you, it’s for her."
So, Zeyu tried again.
He drew the air in deliberately, forcing his ribs to widen against Zhiyi. Held it. Released it slowly enough that her body could feel his chest empty.
Nothing changed.
"Tell her there are no questions," said Hanchuan, his voice starting to sound a bit panicked.
"There are no questions." Zeyu spoke close to her ear. "Zhiyi, you don’t have to answer anything."
There was still no response.
"Again," Hanchuan demanded.
Zeyu expanded his chest against her back.
In.
Hold.
Out.
"There are no questions. I’ll choose everything," he whispered, his voice soft as his lips brushed against her ear. "I’ve got you."
But no matter what he had said, her lungs didn’t move and the blue at the edges of her lips deepened.
"Hanchuan."
"I know. Again."
Zeyu took another exaggerated breath.
"Feel me breathing," he told her. "You don’t have to do anything yet. Just feel me."
In.
Hold.
Out.
"I’ll choose the dress. I’ll choose the color. I’ll choose the shoes. No one is going to ask you anything. I’ll protect you from everything."