The cold hum of Sector D trailed behind her as Qingran moved quickly through the corridor, past the ration storage and backup generators, until she reached the residential wing.
Room A-12.
She keyed in the code.
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
Inside, the air was quiet and warm. The room was modest—five beds lined the walls, three of them occupied. One by Qingran herself. One by Fang Yuxi. And now, the third by Shen Li, who lay curled beneath a thick wool blanket.
Fang Yuxi looked up from her spot on the edge of her own bed, already alert.
"She stirred once," she said in a low voice. "Didn't wake. Murmured something I couldn't make out."
Qingran stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She moved past the footlockers and over to Shen Li's bed.
The girl hadn't shifted much. Her bandages were still intact. Her skin no longer carried that sickly sheen from earlier.
