Billion to One

Barely Room

"Hello, Da Qing?" Zhu Hong is on the phone, standing in front of the refrigerator looking for soup ingredients. Her voice is barely above a whisper because she does not want to disturb the man sleeping in the bed behind her. "Can you grab some dangshen, huang qi, and black fungus as well?  There is little to none here.  His fever is going up again and I want to be prepar..."

"SHEN WEI!"

Zhu Hong does not finish.  She feels a chill run down the length of her spine.  Turning immediately, she finds the Chief sitting up in the bed. His body is turned away slightly from her, but she can still see that his forehead is soaked with sweat.  Tears are streaming down his face.  The veins in his arms are bulging, his hands clenching the sheet at his sides.  He curls forward seeming to collapse into himself with each exhale of breath.  His mouth is spread wide, his screams are silent, but his agony is deafening.

Zhu Hong is unable to move.  Did she hear correctly? Did the Chief just call out for Shen Wei? Her brain is having difficulty processing the information.  The Chief begins shaking his head back and forth, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.  Almost as if trying to deny what his eyes see or had seen.

Suddenly, his body convulses and he lurches towards the far side of the bed. Zhu Hong, dropping her phone, dives toward the bed. Planting one knee on its edge, she wraps her left arm the Chief's waist stopping his forward momentum and catching him just in time to prevent him from smacking his head against the corner of the alcove sill.  

She pulls him backward, speaking to him in a calm voice, hoping to either wake him from the night terror or calm him down. "Shhh, it's okay, Yunlan. You're okay.  We're here. Just lay still. Just lay..." His body convulses again. She wrestles him back, still using only her left arm as she grapples inside the wicker basket at the head of the bed with her right. 

Pulling out a small metal case with two draw bolts, she braces it against herself and tries to open it.  The Chief's movements prevent her from getting proper leverage. Then, a pair of sleep-impaired hands appears, from the direction of the tea alcove. One firmly pushes the Chief back against the bed, and the other quickly placing a damp towel over his eyes. This allows Zhu Hong the opportunity to open the case, pull out an electronic syringe, and inject the Chief in the arm.  Within seconds, he calms and his muscles relax.

Zhu Hong is pulling away when she hears the door open behind her.

"Hong jie?"

Guo Changcheng's concerned voice comes a bit too loudly.  Zhu Hong immediately holds a hand in the air to quiet him.  Slightly out of breath from the struggle, she adjusts into a seated position.  After she takes a second to collect herself, she reaches back and pulls the blanket up over the Chief's arms. She then picks up the towel that has fallen onto the pillow and dunks it into the water basin on the nightstand.  She begins to wipe away the sweat from the Chief's forehead and the tears from the corners of his eyes. From experience, the room stays silent.

The sedative takes full effect quickly; the Chief's furrowed brow is now smooth.  With another pass of the towel, Zhu Hong also notices the flush fading from his cheeks, his temperature returning to normal. She places the towel on the edge of the water basin, closes her eyes, and breathes an unsteady sigh of relief.

When her mind begins to work again, she bends down and retrieves the dropped syringe from the floor. She rolls it between her thin fingers and feeling a twinge of guilt but she quickly pushes the feeling aside. This is not the time for an internal debate on morals. The medication is necessary.  It controls the Chief's fluctuating body temperature. It also helps to curb his sleepwalking and partially relieves his night terrors. Moreover, much to the chagrin of the corrupt Judges of Hell, it is helping to keep him alive: his body and his legacy at least.