Chapter 13: Shower

Song Ge sat up at once. “Give me your phone.”

Tong Xiangyu handed it back. Seeing Song Ge’s expression tighten, she couldn’t help tensing up herself. “What’s wrong?”

Song Ge didn’t answer. She opened the trending topics, but the page only showed a network connection error. She restarted her mobile data and tried again. The same message appeared. She switched to another app, but that was offline too.

Without looking up, Song Ge asked, “What could stop you from getting online?”

“Your phone could be out of credit, or the signal could be bad?”

“Bad signal…” Song Ge pressed her lips together. She seemed to reach a conclusion, then stopped wasting time and put her phone away.

Tong Xiangyu kept asking what was wrong.

Song Ge didn’t tell her. There was no point. The young miss couldn’t do anything about it, and neither could Song Ge. This was no longer something one person—or even one group—could handle. The country would have to step in.

“It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

Tong Xiangyu could tell Song Ge had cut herself off mid-explanation. How am I supposed to sleep now? She pressed her lips together, then asked anxiously, “You’re not going to sneak out by yourself after I fall asleep, are you?”

“No.”

Song Ge didn’t look like she was lying, so Tong Xiangyu lay back down and tried to fall asleep again.

But the nightmare had left her sweating, and now her skin felt clammy. She was still wearing the school uniform skirt she’d had on yesterday, and the more she thought about it, the more uncomfortable she felt. In the end, she sat up again. “Song Ge.”

Song Ge glanced at her.

“I want to take a shower.” Tong Xiangyu took a breath and blurted out the rest. “Could I borrow some clean clothes from you? And, and…”

“Underwear,” Song Ge supplied. She saw no reason to be embarrassed about it.

Song Ge calmly walked over to the cabinet by the door. Tong Xiangyu hesitated, then added in a quieter voice, “Do you have a new pair?”

Song Ge didn’t answer. She took out a clean shirt and pair of pants, then pulled out a package of underwear she’d bought at the supermarket that morning.

Tong Xiangyu was surprised when she saw the package. Even through the wrapping, the fabric looked expensive, and the price on the label was steep. It didn’t look like the sort of thing someone who bought outfits for thirty or forty yuan would wear.

But how could she question a gift?

Maybe Song Ge really did buy fancy underwear.

After all, underwear mattered more than clothes.

Tong Xiangyu went to shower.

Song Ge walked to the window and peeled back a corner of the tape to check outside. There were bloodstains all over the glass. Severed limbs lay scattered nearby, and monsters wandered through the area, making low, breathy noises.

There was no way they could get out.

Tong Xiangyu fiddled with the shower for ages, but couldn’t get any hot water. She’d already taken her clothes off, but put them on again and poked her head out of the bathroom, looking miserable. “How do I make the water hot?”

“I don’t heat water in summer,” Song Ge said. “It’s not cold. Just take a cool shower.”

Tong Xiangyu’s pretty face fell. “Oh. O-okay…” She started to close the door, then paused.

“Wait.” Song Ge looked her over. “You won’t catch a cold from a cold shower, will you? I don’t have any medicine.”

“I… I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think. If you’re not sure, don’t shower.”

Tong Xiangyu’s eyes reddened. “But I smell awful.”

Song Ge got up and stepped in front of her, then bent her head to sniff.

Tong Xiangyu had never imagined Song Ge would do something so direct. She jumped, and only the cramped bathroom kept her from leaping out of the way.

“I don’t smell anything.” Song Ge straightened and gave her a sidelong glance. “High standards are all well and good, but you have to work with what you’ve got. I don’t have much here.”

“I—I won’t catch a cold.”

Tong Xiangyu’s eyes darted away. She sounded anything but certain. Song Ge considered this for a moment. “You really do need to build up your strength. While we’re waiting for rescue, you’re training with me.”

“Training? What kind of training?”

“Conditioning,” Song Ge said. “I’ll decide what you do and how hard you do it.”

“Why do I need to train? Won’t the rescue teams come?”

“Who knows?” Song Ge said casually. “You can’t rely on anyone in this world except yourself. The people you need won’t always be there when things go wrong. Learning how to get yourself out of danger is more useful. Hopefully you won’t need it. But if you do, it could save your life.”

Tong Xiangyu understood. “Give someone a fish and you feed them for a day. Teach them to fish and you feed them for a lifetime.”

Song Ge snapped her fingers and pointed at her. “Exactly. Look at you, all cultured.”

Watching Song Ge’s little flourish, Tong Xiangyu thought she looked kind of cool. For some reason, that made her a little shy. She looked away and said softly, “I still want to shower. I’ll try not to get sick. You don’t have to worry.”

“Suit yourself,” Song Ge said. “If you do get sick, I can’t exactly conjure up medicine.”

Tong Xiangyu stood under the cold water for a while.

It was cold enough to reach her bones.

It was summer, but the basement was still chilly, even though it was only half underground.

She shivered, then remembered to ask Song Ge, “Where’s the body wash?”

“I only have soap. It’s under the sink, in the little compartment.”

Tong Xiangyu bent down and spotted the used bar. Her germophobia flared, and she stared at it, troubled.

But without soap, wouldn’t she still smell? She remembered Song Ge saying she had to work with what she had. After hesitating for a while, Tong Xiangyu finally reached for the pale yellow bar.

It was smooth and rounded, and already worn down from use. Tong Xiangyu felt awkward. She couldn’t stop imagining Song Ge using that same soap to wash herself.

She turned the thought over and over, but still couldn’t bring herself to use it. She put the soap down and glanced at the two towels hanging on the wall.

She didn’t want to use someone else’s towel, either.

Her nose stung. She wanted to cry over how awful her situation had become.

But Tong Xiangyu didn’t cry, and she didn’t use a towel. She hopped in place to shake as much water off as she could, then put on the shirt and pants Song Ge had given her.

The basement lights were on. Song Ge stood beside the table, bent over as she took stock of their food and water, figuring out how long they could last before rescue came.

The bathroom door opened. Song Ge didn’t look up.

Tong Xiangyu pinched the hem of her T-shirt, feeling a little self-conscious. She’d expected Song Ge’s cheap clothes to be uncomfortable, but the faded, worn-out shirt was soft against her chest.

The bra Song Ge had lent her wouldn’t fasten, so she’d gone without it.

Tong Xiangyu let her damp hair down and pulled it over her chest to hide some of the awkwardness.

Even so, her curvy figure stood out beneath the simple clothes.

Song Ge wasn’t great at math. It took her a while to write a number in the lower corner of her notebook.

Twelve days.

A little less than two weeks. If they rationed their supplies, they might stretch them to half a month.

That was food for two.

She needed the young miss’s delicate stomach to get used to her stockpile sooner rather than later.

They’d been lucky today. Song Ge had made it out of the supermarket before running into the monsters. If she’d been a little greedier or taken a little longer to grab supplies, things could have gone very badly.

But as the days went by, the monsters wouldn’t be the only thing Song Ge had to worry about. In a city where the zombie virus had erupted everywhere, they wouldn’t be the only survivors.

Other people would eventually run out of supplies, too, and find a way to go out looking for more.

She could only hope things weren’t as bad as they could be.

And that rescue would arrive soon.

Because people desperate to survive wouldn’t be much kinder than the monsters.

Song Ge closed her notebook and turned to say something to Tong Xiangyu. The young miss was already asleep on the bed, curled on her side. Song Ge’s T-shirt and cropped pants didn’t fit her at all. Below the hems, her long, slender legs were so white they seemed to glow. The soft shirt hugged her impossibly narrow waist, and its wide neckline framed a beautiful, alluring curve.

Song Ge looked for a second, then stood and pulled the blanket over her.

Just don’t catch a cold and become one more problem for me.