By the next afternoon, I could walk without looking like something had gone wrong with my legs.
That was good because Chenghai had refused to explain what he meant by getting dirty, and I wasn't letting him carry me into another date before I knew where we were going.
I stood in front of my closet wearing an old pair of denim shorts and a black tank top while I looked down at my shoes. Sandals were easier. Sneakers were safer. Boots suggested I expected mud, bodies, or both.
Chenghai had only told me not to wear anything I cared about.
That covered most of my clothes.
I pulled on a pair of old sneakers and left the room before I could start thinking about it again.
Lingyun was sitting on the bed with his shirt lifted while Yuche changed the bandages around his ribs. The bruising had spread across his side, dark enough to look painful, but there was no fresh blood.
That was progress.
