Chapter 475: Eternity 36.

Yan made breakfast from the food they had packed, while Lili sat at the

small table with a picture book and kept interrupting to ask what

different road signs meant.

The caravan did not feel like a military vehicle when they were moving

through a quiet stretch of road. It felt like a small home that happened

to have reinforced panels, emergency shutters, and enough supplies to

keep everyone fed and warm. The familiar smell of hot rice and tea

filled the cabin. Lili’s questions filled the gaps between engine noise.

Mother Yan reminded everyone to wash their hands before eating, and Yan

glanced over the route with one hand holding her cup. Bai watched all of

it in the corner of her eye and felt a quiet satisfaction that she would

never admit out loud.

Their destination was still far away. They had barely crossed the first

stretch of city beyond Jianghu, and the world had already given them a

roadblock, several zombies, and a mutant strong enough to deform a car.

There would be more threats before they reached Shanghai. But for the

moment, everyone was safe, the caravan was undamaged, and the first

obstacle had been dealt with. Bai let the engine hum beneath her hands

and kept driving.

By late morning, the city had begun to open around them in broken

pieces. The blocks were not empty, exactly. There were signs of life

everywhere if they looked carefully enough: a curtain moving in an

upstairs window, a strip of cloth tied around a balcony railing, a

hand-painted arrow on a wall pointing toward water, and a row of empty

bottles lined up on a shop’s outer sill. But there were no people on the

road, and the signs had not been made recently. Some were old enough

that rain had blurred the paint. Others might have been left only a day

or two earlier. Bai did not stop at every sign. If they did, they would

never get anywhere. She made a note of the ones that might matter and

kept the caravan moving.

Yan had a better eye for reading what the signs meant. A row of bottles

near a shop could be trash, but if they were arranged mouth-down in a

neat line, someone might have been trying to show that the building was

empty. The cloth on the balcony might be a signal, or it might simply

have been laundry abandoned by someone who never came back. The arrow

toward water was more promising, but the street it pointed to was full

of abandoned vehicles. A place marked as a source of water was not

useful if reaching it meant being trapped between buildings. They

discussed each sign without treating the discussion like a contest.

Sometimes Bai’s instinct was enough to settle the question. Sometimes

Yan found a detail that changed Bai’s mind.

"You’ve marked three possible stopping points in the last twenty

minutes," Bai said, glancing at the paper map when the road

straightened. "And rejected all three."

"Because all three were bad stopping points."

"I’m beginning to think your map is only a list of reasons not to go

anywhere."

"That’s what a good map is for. It tells you where not to drive into a

hole."

"I can see holes."

"You can see holes after you have already driven over them."

"That happened once."

"It happened yesterday, when you were checking the storage compartment

and not looking at the ramp."

"The ramp was smaller than it looked."

"Because you were looking at the storage compartment." Yan lifted her

cup and took a sip of tea. "I am very happy to travel with a woman who

can lift cars, but I would prefer that she also looks at the road."

Bai kept her face straight with considerable effort. "Your concern means

a lot to me."

"It should."

The exchange was easy enough that neither of them needed to think about

Their teasing had been part of life at the apartment, but the

caravan added a new closeness. They sat shoulder to shoulder for long

stretches, shared the same narrow work surface, and frequently reached

for the same thing at the same time. A map might lie across both their

knees. A cup could pass from one hand to another before either had

asked. When Bai turned to point something out, she sometimes discovered

Yan’s face close enough that she could see the small flecks of light in

her eyes. Each time, Bai found a reason to look at the road again.

Yan did not miss it. She had become skilled at pretending not to notice,

though lately she had started to wonder whether her own habit of

watching Bai was any less obvious. Bai looked different when she was

concentrating. The usual impatience settled into a clear, quiet focus,

and her movements became economical. She did not waste effort on things

that did not matter. Even when she argued about a route, she listened

closely enough to remember every objection. Yan admired that about her.

She admired more than that, of course, but some thoughts were easier to

carry silently than to risk saying out loud.

The road widened after the next intersection. They passed a row of shops

that had once sold household goods, office furniture, and tools. Most of

the shelves visible through the broken windows had been stripped clean.

A plastic sign had fallen across the pavement, and the wind rolled it

along until it caught on a drain. Bai slowed near a hardware shop where

the roller shutter was half open. She had no immediate need to stop, but

she wanted to check whether the shop’s rear entrance led to a service

lane. If the front road became blocked again, knowing the layout of the

block could matter.

Yan noticed the change in speed. "Do you see something?"

"Maybe a way around the shops. I’ll check the lane."

"Then let me look at the street map first."

Bai waited while Yan studied the block.

TO BE CONTINUED.