Chapter 42: Put This On
Zeyu looked down to see that Zhiyi’s eyes were open again and they were focused on the arm around her waist.
"I’m going to turn you around," he said.
There was no question.
He moved slowly, keeping his arms around her as he turned her within his hold. Her feet followed, but they didn’t take her full weight.
When she faced him, her head rested briefly against the center of his chest.
Zeyu looked down at her. "Stand," he murmured softly into her ear and her knees straightened.
He loosened one arm and her body swayed before she could stop it.
He tightened it again before she could fall. "Not yet," he continued, and Zhiyi didn’t argue.
Zeyu walked her toward the sofa, carrying enough of her weight that her feet only needed to follow. He lowered her onto the cushion and crouched in front of her.
Her hand remained closed around his sleeve.
"I’m not leaving," he reassured her. Satisfied, her fingers relaxed.
"I’m going to choose a dress. You’re going to sit here. No one will speak to you. No one will ask you to decide anything."
Zhiyi looked at him and it was the first time since the attack that her eyes clearly found his.
"All right," she whispered. Her voice was almost soundless but he could hear her, and that was what mattered the most.
Zeyu rose to his feet and the manager gestured toward the rack of dresses already inside the salon.
"There are too many," he announced, shaking his head.
She stopped.
"Remove all of them."
"All of them?"
Zeyu looked at her.
The manager immediately corrected herself. "Yes, Mr. Song."
The assistant wheeled the rack out.
Zeyu considered what he knew.
The Chen Foundation dinner was black tie. Hanchuan was one of its principal donors. Zhiyi was attending as his personal guest. She needed a full-length evening dress that would photograph well without drawing unnecessary attention. She disliked being touched. She had stepped away from the assistant before the woman reached her shirt. During the measurements, she had become more rigid each time the tape moved across her body.
The dress couldn’t require assistance to put on.
It couldn’t contain stiff boning, rough beading or anything that moved unpredictably against her skin. It couldn’t restrict her stride. It couldn’t need alterations. It had to work with low heels because Zhiyi had never answered whether she could walk in high ones, and Zeyu no longer intended to ask.
"Bring me three dresses," he told the manager. "Dark colors. Full length. Soft fabric. No beads, sequins, straps, boning, trains or open backs. She must be able to put them on without assistance and walk normally. They must fit her current measurements without alterations."
The manager nodded once. "Anything else?" she asked.
"That was a question," Zeyu replied, his face become devoid of emotions.
Her lips closed before she quickly turned around and left the salon with the assistant.
Zeyu returned to the sofa where Zhiyi was staring at her open left hand.
He sat beside her. "You were trying to answer me in the car," he said softly, making sure to relax his entire body. He put on his customary smile, and looked at her.
Her fingers curled slightly and he knew that he was right.
"The first question I asked," he continued and she nodded her head. "How long it had been since you bought a formal dress."
There was another nod and Zeyu gave her an approving smile, getting more comfortable beside her.
"I didn’t let you answer."
"No."
The quiet answer landed harder than an accusation would have.
"I thought you were shy."
"I was trying not to interrupt you."
"Because you wanted me to like you."
Zhiyi looked at him.
Zeyu held up one hand before the new statement could become something she needed to evaluate.
"You don’t have to confirm that."
Her mouth closed.
"Hanchuan told me you didn’t have to answer questions. I thought he meant I should make them easier. He meant exactly what he said."
"Yes."
Zeyu released a breath. "That is cruel and unusual punishment."
Zhiyi’s brow moved slightly, not following him.
Smiling at the movement, Zeyu clarified. "Asking you what you want might as well be considered cruel and unusual punishment."
"That isn’t universally true," she quickly objected. Only an idiot couldn’t answer a straight forward question. Her step-sisters had told her often enough. She didn’t want Zeyu to look at her like an idiot.
"No. Only when you don’t have enough information to know," Zeyu continued, not once looking at her differently.
But that wasn’t true. His gaze had changed from the car to now, but it didn’t look like disdain... it looked like... softness.
"Yes," she replied softly.
"And only when someone stands there staring at you as if silence is the wrong answer."
"Yes."
The second agreement was quieter.
The manager returned with three dresses.
Zeyu stood before she reached the sofa.
He examined the first. Black silk crepe. Simple, but the narrow lower half would restrict Zhiyi’s stride.
"No."
The assistant removed it.
The second was dark green with a folded neckline and long sleeves. The fabric was soft, but the zipper ran the full length of the back.
"No."
The third was dark blue.
The fabric was matte and smooth, with enough weight to fall cleanly without clinging. The neckline was modest without reaching her throat. The waist was defined, but the interior contained no boning. The skirt opened below the hips, allowing a full stride. A concealed zipper ran beneath one arm where Zhiyi could reach it herself.
Zeyu ran his fingers along the internal seams.
There was nothing rough, nothing that would catch against her skin.
Satisfied, he carried the dress to Zhiyi. "Put this on."
She looked at the dress, then at him.
"The changing room is behind you. No one will go inside. When you’re finished, come back here."
Zhiyi stood, and her knees wavered once.
Zeyu moved forward, but she steadied herself before he reached her.
He remained close as she entered the changing room and closed the door behind her.
He would be her protector when she needed it.