Chapter 285 Relaxation
Chapter 285 Relaxation
Zoey didn't think much about it. She turned around to face the water stream directly, cupped some water in her hands, and repeatedly splashed her face and jaw. Her once full cheeks now showed slightly protruding cheekbones, and her jawline was so sharp it felt almost cutting to the touch—the kind of gauntness that came from enduring days of scarce resources. Water droplets slid down her neck into the hollow of her collarbone. She looked down, gently traced her collarbone with her index finger, then moved down her arm, carefully rubbing her fingertips and the spaces between her fingers.
Her hands used to be slender, steady and gentle when holding a scalpel. Now veins bulged on the back of her hands, and thick calluses covered her fingertips, so rough they felt foreign to her. She kept rubbing those calluses, as if touching those days and nights of gritting her teeth and pushing through under gunfire.
She lifted her right leg, toes lightly touching the cold bathroom tiles, left hand against the wall, letting the hot water thoroughly wash her calf. Her calves bore permanent light brown tan marks and several faint scratches—marks left after scabs fell off from being cut by dried thorns while moving through the camp not long ago, like scattered lines etched with traces of war. Water ran down her ankle between her toes, flowing onto the white tiles.
The bathroom grew increasingly steamy, the warm mist carrying the faint fresh scent of body wash into her nostrils.
She closed her eyes, letting the hot water flow over her limbs, listening to the sound of water hitting the tiles, when suddenly her eyes began to burn. During countless nights in Yemen, wrapped in a thin blanket curled up in a tent, even washing her face was a luxury, let alone enjoying a proper hot shower like this.
For a long time, her skin had been cracked and peeling from the wind and sand, her lips always pale, her palms and backs of hands covered with tiny wounds. But now, warm water gently enveloped her, and her cracked skin gradually relaxed. Only after every inch of her skin had absorbed enough water did Zoey turn off the shower and step out.
She grabbed a nearby towel, wrapped it around her long hair and pressed to absorb the water, then slowly wrapped it around her body. The soft terry cloth brushed against her skin, bringing a comfortable tickling sensation.
The mirror was still fogged up. She reached out, gently wiping away a section with her fingertips, revealing herself in the mirror. The redness in her eyes hadn't completely faded, her complexion still carried some pallor, but those eyes held a clarity that comes from surviving hardship. The person in the mirror was thinner, darker, marked with rough traces, yet more upright and resilient than when she left.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she suddenly smiled—a smile that held the sense of belonging from returning to her homeland.
Zoey pulled out a hair dryer from the bathroom cabinet that she hadn't used in ages. Warm air slowly flowed from the nozzle.
She lifted her hand to gather her long hair over her shoulder, moving the hair dryer slowly down from the ends. The warm airflow dispersed the moisture between the strands, spreading the faint scent of shampoo throughout the bathroom. She gently combed through her hair, letting the warm air dry each strand bit by bit, until her hair became soft and fluffy. Only then did she turn off the dryer and put it back in its place.
The exhaustion throughout her body gradually surged up in the warmth. Zoey returned to her bedroom and stood by the bed. Instead of lying down immediately, she bent over to smooth out the tiny wrinkles on the sheets—a small habit she'd always had. No matter how tired, she preferred a tidy environment. A moment later, she slowly lay down. The soft mattress supported her entire body, releasing days of tension and heaviness. The bedding carried the scent of sun-dried fabric mixed with a faint laundry detergent fragrance, completely different from the smell of sand and disinfectant at the Yemen camp.
Tossing and turning, she suddenly thought of Alice. After she left for Yemen, they could still exchange messages sporadically at first. Later, as the fighting intensified and signals became unreliable, their last contact was half a month ago—just a hurried exchange confirming each other's safety before losing touch.
Xuanying turned on her side, reaching for her phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up, reflecting the softness in her eyes.
Still lying on her side, she casually held up her phone and snapped a selfie—in the frame, her hair was slightly messy, her eyes still carried lingering fatigue, but she was smiling with her eyes curved, the smile reaching her eyes, unable to hide her thoughts of her old friend. After sending the photo, Zoey opened her chat with Alice and scrolled up.
Their previous conversations were full of everyday warmth—Alice complaining about work, sharing intimate details about her relationship with Jerry, and her endless reminders before Zoey's departure...
Looking through them, Zoey unconsciously curved her lips, her expression softening. Her fingertips gently traced the familiar words on the screen, as if those days of laughing together and talking late into the night were right before her eyes, when they were still the same as before. She quietly waited in that position while scrolling through the messages, but no new messages appeared in the chat. Soon, the screen dimmed, reflecting the faint anticipation in Zoey's eyes.
Drowsiness gradually took over, her eyelids growing heavier. The phone still lay quietly in her palm, the screen's faint light dimming and being unconsciously lit up again by her, yet still no movement.
Half-asleep, Zoey suddenly remembered that the last time they talked, Alice had mentioned her sleep was terrible in late pregnancy, frequently getting up at night, but tending to nap during the day. Right now she might have just fallen asleep, perhaps even put her phone on silent mode aside, not seeing the message at all.
Thinking of this, Zoey suppressed the disappointment in her heart, gently turned off the screen, placed the phone on the pillow not far from her, and gradually fell asleep accompanied by the faint sound of wind outside the window and the warmth of the bedding.
She slept unusually deeply that night, without a single dream.
At five in the morning, her biological clock woke Zoey right on time. When she opened her eyes, the window was still covered with a layer of pale gray-blue—dawn hadn't broken yet. What Zoey felt was soft bedding, not the hard sleeping bag from the camp. She stared blankly at the familiar yet strange ceiling, the old photo frames hanging on the wall, and after a few seconds of daze, she belatedly realized:
She was back home. No need to worry about gunfire in the middle of the night, no need to stay alert and watch her surroundings. Those anxious days in Yemen had finally, temporarily, turned the page.
After fully regaining consciousness, Zoey's first action was to reach for the pillow, quickly grabbing her phone and unlocking the screen. Her fingertip first tapped into the conversation with Alice, but her anticipation gently landed when she saw the interface clearly. Next to that smiling selfie, the "unread" indicator still remained.
She stared at those two words for a long time, thinking Alice must be so exhausted in late pregnancy that she hadn't touched her phone all night, which wasn't surprising.
She put away her disappointment and was about to set down her phone when she noticed an unread message at the top of her message list, from Chase.
The message was sent around two in the morning, and read:
"Just finished a video conference with Stella and the others. The final quality inspection work for the next batch of medicine going to the battlefield is progressing smoothly. I'll pick you up at Sunnyvale Gardens at 8:30 in the morning, and we'll go see Grandpa together."