Qinghe watched Shichen widen the map, revealing the ground above the road.
Zeyu stood close to the display with his arms folded, while Jingwei remained beside the door. Neither man looked overheated.
They looked like men who had expected a short drive and spent part of it wondering whether they would return.
Beside Qinghe, Zhiyi examined the road’s upper connection.
"We need another route," Zhiyi said. "The vehicle worked."
Hanchuan looked down at her. "I know."
"Then we should go together when we have one," Zhiyi continued. She turned toward Qinghe before her husband could answer. "I can sit with my leg supported. You can come with me."
Qinghe had expected this request. Over the past week, she had begun watching the corridor whenever someone mentioned the garage.
"I’ll help you choose a seat tomorrow," Qinghe replied. "We’ll see whether you can stay comfortable in it."
Zhiyi nodded and returned her attention to the map. Hanchuan kept his hand against her shoulder, but he offered no objection.
Two evenings later, Qinghe sat across the aisle from her as the mobile base left Xiling.
The detour carried them around the damaged bend and onto the lower road.
Zeyu drove slowly until they reached the junction, then turned toward the outskirts of Yunzhou. Luming lay beyond them, but the city’s western edge offered the broadest approach still available.
Zhiyi had settled into a supported seat behind the driving compartment, with Hanchuan beside her.
Her ankle rested securely on the footrest, and she had already told Qinghe that the position was comfortable. He stopped asking and looked through the window.
A row of nursery greenhouses stood beyond the road.
Their plastic coverings had sagged over brown plants, and several doors hung open. An overturned watering can lay beside a hose that disappeared beneath the nearest frame.
Qinghe remembered buying a plant there for his office. The woman at the register had insisted he take a printed sheet explaining how to keep it alive.
He wondered where she had gone.
Farther along, a convenience store had lost its entire front window.
Shelves stood bare behind the broken glass. Someone had dragged a refrigerator outside and laid it on its back beneath the awning.
"There used to be a restaurant beside that," Shichen said from the seat ahead of Qinghe.
Zeyu slowed around an abandoned car. "It’s still there."
Qinghe looked again and found the restaurant beneath sheets of silver insulation fastened across its windows. Wooden doors, advertising boards, and pieces of furniture had been arranged to extend the narrow shade along the building.
A person moved beneath them.
Qinghe leaned closer to the glass.
A woman crouched beside a plastic basin, wringing a cloth between both hands. Her head and neck were wrapped in pale fabric. When she lifted an arm, her sleeve slipped back, exposing patches of peeling skin around a raw elbow.
She heard the engine and straightened.
Other faces appeared behind her.
A man lifted a strip of insulation from the doorway, then let it fall as the mobile base passed. Nobody waved. Their eyes followed the vehicle until the restaurant disappeared behind them.
Qinghe became conscious of the cool air moving over his bare forearms.
Ahead, Jingwei spoke to Zeyu. "People at the underpass."
The road narrowed between concrete barriers where an unfinished section had been closed before the Heat.
Beneath the overpass, blankets and cardboard covered the pavement. Several people stood as the vehicle approached, while others remained pressed against the concrete.
Zeyu reduced his speed.
A man wearing a torn delivery jacket stepped into the open lane and raised both arms. Behind him, another man pulled a shopping cart across the gap.
"Stop before the barriers," Jingwei instructed.
Qinghe felt the vehicle settle to a halt. Hanchuan checked the space behind them on the camera display, then turned his attention to the people ahead.
Through the windshield, Qinghe could see a woman helping an older man sit upright against a pillar. She held a bottle near his mouth, carefully tipping the small amount inside.
A broad man reached down and took it from her.
The woman caught his wrist. He shoved her hard enough that her shoulder struck the concrete, then drank while she scrambled back toward him. She tried to recover the bottle, but he held it above her reach.
Qinghe’s fingers tightened against his seat.
"That was his," the woman shouted. Her voice reached them faintly through the sealed cabin. "You said that was his share."
The broad man lowered the bottle and pointed toward the vehicle. "Then ask them."
The man in the delivery jacket approached the driving compartment. Strips of skin curled away from the backs of his hands, and a dirty towel covered his neck. His lower lip had split deeply enough to leave a dark line at its center.
He pointed behind the vehicle, then toward the overpass, speaking too quietly for Qinghe to understand.
Jingwei activated the exterior speaker. "Move the cart."
"You can’t go through," the delivery man called back. "There’s another blockage ahead. I know the way around."
"We’ll turn back," Jingwei replied. "Clear the road."
The delivery man glanced toward the broad man beside the pillar. Qinghe watched that exchange, then looked at the shopping cart. It had been placed carefully across the only opening between the barriers.
"Take us with you," the delivery man said. "Just as far as the next shelter."
Hanchuan answered before Jingwei could. "No."
The woman had stopped arguing over the bottle.
She stood beside the older man, looking toward the high windshield. Qinghe followed her gaze and realized she could see Zhiyi sitting beside Hanchuan, her injured leg supported, a full water bottle secured within reach.
"You have room," the woman called. "He only needs to cool down."
Qinghe looked at the older man. His head had fallen forward again, and one hand lay open on the pavement. Before he could say anything, the broad man bent and seized him beneath the arms.
For a moment, Qinghe thought he was helping.
Then the man dragged him out of the shade.
"Don’t," the woman cried, following them. "The ground’s too hot."
The broad man ignored her. He pulled the older man between the concrete barriers and lowered him directly in front of the vehicle. His heels scraped the pavement, leaving his shoes behind near the pillar.
Zeyu’s hands became rigid on the wheel.
Qinghe rose halfway from his seat before the restraint caught him. Beside Zhiyi, Hanchuan remained still, watching the broad man step back.
"Open the door," the man demanded, planting one foot beside the older man’s outstretched hand. "Or you can explain to her why you drove over him."