Chapter 21: Sharing a Bed

Song Ge fell asleep almost at once.

She didn’t sleep for long, though. Barely twenty minutes later, she woke.

The unfamiliar chandelier above her. The unfamiliar light outside the window. The unfamiliar, spacious bed beneath her. And the unfamiliar softness tucked in her arms and lying across her—

Wait.

Song Ge stiffened like a machine that had gone years without oil. Slowly, she turned her head and saw the person curled in her arms. Tong Xiangyu was fast asleep. The tear tracks on her face hadn’t even dried completely.

The young lady had been born beautiful and raised in the lap of luxury.

Unfortunately, she’d spent nearly half a month making do in Song Ge’s dark basement. She’d begun to look a little wilted.

Her skin was still so delicate it looked like a breath might bruise it, and her lashes were thick and long. But her pretty oval face had grown thinner, her chin a little sharper. The corners of her mouth no longer curled into a smile as they once had. Now they were either pressed into a straight line or pursed in a small, unhappy pout.

She was still wearing the fifty-yuan tracksuit she’d bought at the night market.

Her sleeping position, however, was as shameless as ever.

Tong Xiangyu had only meant to lie down at the edge of the bed for a little while. After tending to Song Ge’s wound, she’d been exhausted by the shock and fear and wanted to rest.

There was only one bed in the room.

But it was big enough for two people with room to spare.

Afraid of bumping Song Ge’s injured hand, Tong Xiangyu had deliberately lain on the very edge.

She had no idea that, once she fell asleep, she’d instinctively inch toward the person whose presence made her feel safe. Little by little, she edged closer to Song Ge.

Then she fell fully asleep.

At some point, she’d lifted an arm and draped it loosely across Song Ge’s chest. She’d curled one leg over Song Ge’s thigh. By the time she’d settled into the most carefree, comfortable sleeping position imaginable—

It was no longer a matter of just lying down for a little while.

Song Ge had woken up, but she didn’t get out of bed. She stayed rigid and still, letting the person beside her sleep on, her thoughts wandering all over the place.

Had this young lady been marinated in perfume or something? Why did she always smell so good?

Then she thought about how, just half a month ago, she would never have believed that this pampered heiress, the center of attention wherever she went, would one day fall asleep in her arms.

They’d never had anything to do with each other.

After a while, Song Ge turned to look at the large window.

Outside, the city lay in dead silence.

It had once been prosperous, bustling, and loud, one of the most economically developed provincial capitals in the country. But after the Monster Virus broke out, it had become an island.

An abandoned island.

Thinking of how she’d escaped when so many monsters had surrounded her, Song Ge couldn’t help feeling a lingering fear. She hadn’t had time to be scared then. Now she did.

It had felt like a dream.

The last time Song Ge had thought that, eight years had gone by.

Back then, she’d waited at home from morning until night, then through the night and into the next day. Every phone call she made went unanswered.

At last, the doorbell rang. She’d run to answer it without even putting on her shoes.

Did Mom rush out and forget her keys?

But when she opened the door, she saw her parents’ coworkers in uniform. Every one of them had red-rimmed eyes. Two people held black boxes, two held enlarged photographs, and another carried their clothes.

The highest-ranking officer at the station crouched in front of her.

“Little girl, are you Song Ge? I’m sorry we had to meet like this. Your mom and dad…” He paused, then said, “I’ve brought them home to you.”

Song Ge got out of bed after all.

Luckily, she didn’t wake the young lady.

She glanced at her wrist. After the wound had been cleaned, someone had put a bandage over it. It was a very ordinary bandage, but somehow it looked delicate.

As though she’d been badly injured.

Song Ge left it alone. She looked around the room carefully, then went to the window, opened it, and climbed up.

Putting weight on her wrist made it hurt.

Crouched on the windowsill, Song Ge carefully studied the area outside.

There was a small garden with a swimming pool in the back. After days of blazing sun and no water, most of the flowers and plants had withered. The pool’s clear blue water had dwindled to a shallow layer, filthy and littered with dead leaves and broken branches.

The garden wall wasn’t very high, but sharp, colorful shards of glass had been embedded along the top to keep burglars out.

There was a door, too.

Song Ge couldn’t tell where the back entrance led.

If something went wrong and they had to run for their lives, this wasn’t enough to go on.

She needed a map of the whole building, as well as the surrounding area.

Tong Xiangyu slept for more than three hours.

Song Ge didn’t wake her. She planned to wait for the old woman to come call them for dinner, then wake the young lady. If the old woman forgot about them, they could make do with biscuits and jerky.

Besides, she had chicken drumsticks.

But Grandma Tian never came to call them.

Tong Xiangyu woke on her own, startled by a nightmare.

Her scream sounded especially abrupt in the quiet room. Even Song Ge jumped and turned to look.

Tong Xiangyu sat up, sweating all over, and immediately began looking for Song Ge.

“Song Ge. Song Ge.” Her gaze was unfocused as she hurriedly looked around the room.

Song Ge watched her eyes pass over her and move on, as if she hadn’t seen her.

“I’m over here,” Song Ge said. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

Tong Xiangyu turned toward the sound of her voice. She didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “Song Ge, why aren’t the candles lit?”

Song Ge froze, her easygoing expression disappearing. She hurried over and waved her hand in front of Tong Xiangyu’s face. When her pupils didn’t react, Song Ge frowned.

“Can’t you see?”

“I can,” Tong Xiangyu said, squinting as she tried to make out Song Ge. “Just a little…”

Song Ge felt relieved. “Then it’s fine. It’s just a reaction to the bright light. Rest for a couple of days and you’ll be all right. But you can’t keep crying at the drop of a hat, understood?”

“You’re the one who cries at the drop of a hat.”

“You had a nightmare, didn’t you?” Song Ge said. The young lady had just woken up with a pale, sweaty face, yet she still insisted on being stubborn. “What did you dream about? You woke up and started looking everywhere for me.”

“Whatever it was, I wasn’t dreaming about you!”

“Good. Dreaming about me would be a bad sign.”

Tong Xiangyu suddenly fell silent.

Three knocks sounded from outside the room.

Song Ge walked over and opened the door. The old woman who’d rescued them stood outside.

“Girls, did you get enough rest?” She smiled with the same gentle warmth as always. “It’s time to eat.”

“Thank you,” Song Ge said. “My friend’s still asleep. I’ll go upstairs, and if it’s all right, I’ll bring some food back down for her.”

“Of course. That’s fine.”

“Then wait a moment, Grandma. I’ll use the bathroom and come right up.”

“All right.”

Song Ge closed the door but didn’t head for the bathroom. She walked over to Tong Xiangyu, who was sitting on the bed, and asked quietly, “How much can you see now?”

Tong Xiangyu leaned close and squinted at Song Ge. “Like this, I can see your eyes, nose, and mouth.”

She sat back and opened her eyes normally. “Like this, everything’s blurry. I can only make out vague shapes.”

Song Ge: “…”

She’d been way too close just now. They’d almost bumped noses.

Song Ge came back to herself and lowered her voice. “After I leave, lock the door. When I come back, I’ll knock five times, and then you can let me in. If it isn’t five knocks, don’t open the door.”

“What if I forget to count?”

“…”

Tong Xiangyu suggested excitedly, “Why don’t we use Morse code? Tap out the pinyin for ‘Song Ge’! Or just ‘Ge’!”

“I don’t know Morse code,” Song Ge said. “Five knocks. That’s it.”

“Oh…”