Shattered Window

Chapter 13: Three Days Missing, She Returns with Injuries

The first day Shen Zhi was gone, Lin Yuanzhou cleaned the apartment from top to bottom.

He scrubbed the kitchen stove, scraping off every last grease stain. He put the English book Dancer's Song back on the bookshelf. He washed the bowl Shen Zhi had left in the sink and set it upside down on the drying rack. When he was done, he sat on the sofa and realized there was nothing left to do.

The second day, he messaged Tina to ask if there was any word from Shen Zhi. Tina said no — she'd called several times, but Shen Zhi hadn't answered, hadn't replied to messages either. Yuanzhou said he was in the same boat.

The third day, he started to think Shen Zhi might not come back.

The thought surfaced while he was peeling garlic at Old Zhou's restaurant. A piece of garlic skin fell to the floor. He bent down to pick it up, then stopped halfway.

"What's wrong?" Old Zhou asked.

"Nothing."

He picked up the garlic skin, threw it in the trash, and continued peeling. Old Zhou glanced at him but didn't ask again.

Around eight that evening, Yuanzhou returned to the bookstore. Before he'd even finished parking the scooter, he saw that the light on the second floor was on.

His heart skipped a beat.

He locked the scooter and ran up the stairs two at a time. He pushed open the apartment door. The living room was empty, but Shen Zhi's bedroom door was open. He walked over and looked inside.

Shen Zhi was sitting on the edge of the bed.

She wore a black*** (a weatherproof jacket), the hood still up, her hair damp and plastered to her face. The hem of the jacket was spattered with mud, her pants were dirty, her shoes caked with mud. She looked like she'd been walking in the rain for days.

Her suitcase lay open on the floor, the zipper undone, clothes stuffed inside messily — as if she'd packed in a hurry.

"You're back," Yuanzhou said.

Shen Zhi looked up at him. Her complexion was worse than before she'd left — even paler. Her lips were cracked, dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in days. The scar on her left cheek was partially covered by her hair, but the skin that showed was a sickly pale greenish-white.

"Yeah," she said.

Her voice was hoarse, raspy, like sandpaper.

Yuanzhou wanted to ask where she'd been, what had happened, how she'd ended up like this. But the words died in his throat.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

"Not hungry."

"I'll make some noodles—"

"No need." Shen Zhi stood up, took the towel from the bed, and wiped her hair. "I want to take a shower."

She walked past Yuanzhou and into the bathroom. The door closed.

Yuanzhou stood in the hallway, listening to the sound of the shower running.

He sat in the living room for ten minutes, then went to the kitchen and made a bowl of noodles anyway. When they were done, he set the bowl on the coffee table and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Noodles are on the coffee table."

No response from inside.

Twenty minutes later, Shen Zhi came out of the bathroom. She'd changed into a clean gray hoodie, her hair still wet, wrapped in a towel. She walked to the living room, saw the bowl of noodles on the coffee table, hesitated, then sat down, picked up the chopsticks, and took a bite.

She stopped.

Then she set down the chopsticks, picked up the bowl, and drank all the broth.

Yuanzhou sat at the other end of the sofa, watching her.

"These past few days—" he began.

"I'm fine." Shen Zhi cut him off.

"You look terrible."

"I got caught in the rain. I'll be fine after some sleep."

She stood up, carrying the bowl toward the kitchen.

"Leave the bowl. I'll wash it," Yuanzhou said.

Shen Zhi ignored him. She washed the bowl and put it back on the drying rack. Then she walked back to the living room, stood next to the sofa, and swayed slightly.

Yuanzhou saw it. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Shen Zhi steadied herself on the sofa armrest for a moment, then started toward her room.

She was walking much slower than usual. Her left leg dragged badly — she was practically hauling it. Every step made her frown. When she reached the doorway, she reached for the doorframe to steady herself, but her hand shook and missed, and her whole body tilted sideways.

Yuanzhou rushed over and caught her.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," he said.

"No." Shen Zhi tried to push his hand away, but she couldn't — her hand had no strength.

"You're in no condition—"

"I said no." Shen Zhi's voice rose abruptly, then faded again, as if something was blocking her throat.

Yuanzhou didn't let go. He helped her into the room and eased her onto the bed.

"Lie down. I'll get you some fever medicine."

Shen Zhi didn't move. He helped her lie back, pulled the blanket over her. As the blanket reached her shoulders, his hand touched her face — it was burning hot.

He found the thermometer in the drawer and handed it to her. "Take your temperature."

Shen Zhi took the thermometer and put it in her mouth. After a few minutes, he took it out and looked — 38.9°C (102°F).

"High fever," Yuanzhou said. "I'm going to buy fever reducer."

"There's some in the fridge."

He opened the fridge and found the fever reducer at the very bottom, along with several bottles of electrolyte water. The medicine was prescription — looked like it had been prescribed before, most of the pills already used, just a few left.

He poured a glass of warm water and carried the medicine and electrolyte water back to Shen Zhi's room.

Shen Zhi looked at him with half‑closed eyes, not speaking.

"Take the medicine first." He handed her the pill and the water.

Shen Zhi propped herself up, took the pill, put it in her mouth, and swallowed. When she swallowed, she frowned again, as if swallowing glass shards.

"Drink some electrolyte water, too."

Shen Zhi took the bottle, drank two sips, and lay back down.

"Keep the blanket on." Yuanzhou pulled the blanket up higher. "If your fever doesn't break by midnight, call me."

"Yeah."

He stood up, walked to the door, and paused.

"Shen Zhi."

"Yeah."

"You're back. That's what matters."

He didn't look back at her. He went out and pulled the door shut behind him.

Back in his own room, Yuanzhou sat on the edge of the bed, his heart still racing.

She was back. But she was in worse shape than when she'd left. Her limp was more pronounced. She was soaked, feverish, weak. He'd glanced inside her suitcase — a few bottles of medicine, some clothes, the white resistance band.

Where had she been these past few days? Who had she seen? How had she ended up like this?

He didn't ask. Not that he didn't want to — he just couldn't. She'd barely come back, and he didn't want to drive her away again.

Yuanzhou lay on his bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

A little after one in the morning, he got up to use the bathroom. As he passed Shen Zhi's room, he stopped to listen.

There was a sound from inside. A soft whimpering, like someone in pain.

He knocked on the door. "Shen Zhi?"

No answer.

He knocked again. "I'm coming in?"

Still no answer.

He pushed the door open. The bedside lamp was on. Shen Zhi was curled up under the blanket, her brow deeply furrowed, sweat sticking her hair to her face. She'd kicked off half the blanket, and her left leg was exposed — she was wearing long pajama pants, but Yuanzhou could see that her knee was swollen, bulging against the fabric.

He walked over and felt her forehead. Hot. Hotter than earlier.

"Shen Zhi." He gently shook her shoulder.

Shen Zhi opened her eyes groggily. Her gaze was unfocused. It took several seconds for her to bring him into view.

"Water..." she said.

Yuanzhou went to the living room, poured a glass of warm water, and came back. He helped her sit up. Shen Zhi took the glass, her hands shaking, spilling a little on the blanket. She drank a few sips, handed the glass back, and lay down again.

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Yuanzhou asked.

"No."

"You can't just let this fever burn."

"It'll be gone tomorrow."

Yuanzhou looked at her and sighed.

He went to the bathroom, got a washcloth, wet it, folded it, and laid it on her forehead. Shen Zhi kept her eyes closed, not speaking.

"Does your leg hurt?" he asked.

Shen Zhi didn't answer.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a while, then started to get up to leave.

"Lin Yuanzhou."

"Yeah."

"Don't go."

Her voice was so small it was almost swallowed by the rain. But Yuanzhou heard it perfectly.

He paused for a second, then sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"I won't go," he said.

Shen Zhi didn't say anything else. She closed her eyes, and her breathing gradually steadied. The damp washcloth slipped from her forehead. Yuanzhou caught it and put it back.

Outside, the rain was loud. Inside, only Shen Zhi's breathing.

Yuanzhou leaned against the headboard, looking at her face.

Asleep, the coldness had vanished from Shen Zhi's face. Her brow was smooth, her lips slightly parted. She looked like an ordinary twenty‑five‑year‑old woman.

Not like the daytime version, bristling with thorns.

He reached out and felt her forehead again. Still hot, but less than before.

Yuanzhou leaned back against the headboard and stayed.

The rain fell all night.

He sat by Shen Zhi's bed the whole night.

—

The next morning, a little after six, Yuanzhou woke up. He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep — his head was tilted against the wooden headboard, his neck aching.

Shen Zhi was still sleeping. Her breathing was much steadier than the night before. The sweat on her forehead had dried.

He felt her forehead again — the fever was gone.

He stood up, stretched his neck, and went to the bathroom to wash his face. Then he went to the kitchen and made a pot of plain congee.

Just as the congee was ready, he heard movement from Shen Zhi's room.

He went to her doorway. Shen Zhi had already sat up, propped against the headboard. Her complexion was still bad, but much better than last night.

"Fever's gone?" Yuanzhou asked.

"Yeah." Shen Zhi's voice was still hoarse.

"The congee is ready. Want some?"

She nodded.

Yuanzhou scooped a bowl of congee and brought it over. Shen Zhi took it, stirred it with a spoon, and took a sip.

"Salty," she said.

"I added a pinch of salt. You need electrolytes when you have a fever."

Shen Zhi didn't respond. She kept her head down, drinking the congee one spoonful at a time. Halfway through the bowl, she stopped.

"Lin Yuanzhou."

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

Yuanzhou looked at her. He wanted to say "you're welcome," wanted to say "don't do this again," wanted to say "what happened to you," "how did you end up like this." But the words all died in his throat.

In the end, he just said: "Finish the congee. I'll get you more."

He took her empty bowl and went to the kitchen.

Standing at the sink, looking out at the rain.

She was back. That was enough.

The rest could wait.