They walked the long corridor back in silence, each step echoing against steel and sorrow. The bunker's walls seemed closer than before, like they were leaning in, listening, breathing.
People passed by, some whispering, others staring, but none dared speak aloud. They all knew something had happened. Blood still clung to Shen Li's sleeve, her cheek crusted dark with it. Qingran angled her body subtly, shielding her as best she could, but the stares remained.
By the time they reached their room, Shen Li's shoulders had curled inward.
Qingran closed the door behind them, the lock clicking softly.
"Alright," she said. "Take off your clothes."
Shen Li froze. "What?"
"I need to check," Qingran said gently but firmly. "He might've… left something on you. A mark. A tracking seal. We can't be sure until we look."
Shen Li shook her head, her face flushed. "I—I can't…"
Qingran's voice softened. "I won't touch you, I promise. I just need to be sure."
