By lunch, I was starting to think the radios were making Chenghai worse.
Not medically worse. Probably. I didn't know enough about radio poisoning to say for sure. But he had gone from quietly intense to sitting at the dining room table like the static was whispering state secrets directly into his brain.
Of course, Zhenlan wasn't helping either.
He stood beside the map with his arms crossed over his chest while Chenghai marked another road in black pen. More lines had been crossed out since the day before. Some had circles around them. Others had little symbols that meant absolutely nothing to me, which was fine because I had not asked to become emotionally involved with cartography.
I stood in the kitchen doorway eating a cookie and watching the two of them ruin the mood.
Yuche was making lunch because apparently Chenghai had forgotten that food was supposed to be edible and warm. Lingyun sat on the counter beside him, stealing pieces of sliced meat whenever Yuche looked away.
