Apocalypse Ground Zero: Refusing To Leave Home Chapter 17: Not Today

The sound of doors opening and closing echoed through the house like a rhythm.

thodical.

Systematic.

Jian Yuche’s n moved through each room with the kind of precision that suggested they’d done this before—checking closets, opening drawers, tapping walls for hollow spaces.

I sat on the couch with my bowl of popcorn balanced on my lap, watching Dean explain the proper way to salt a threshold. The TV volu was low enough that I could hear everything happening around .

The footsteps on the stairs, the muffled voices from the second floor, the scrape of furniture being moved.

But none of it mattered.

Zhou Chenghai stood near the doorway, his arms crossed in front of him, and his gaze fixed on instead of the search. He’d positioned himself between and the hallway—close enough to intervene if needed, far enough that he wasn’t hovering. But his attention never left .

I could feel him watching. Waiting for to react.

I didn’t.

Dean was now moving on from making a circle of salt around the house and him and his brother were waiting in the center, their guns ready. It really was a cri that two n as hot as them would be dying soon...

Shaking my head with regret, I reached for another handful of popcorn and chewed slowly, my eyes on the TV.

One of Yuche’s n walked past the living room doorway, glanced inside, then kept moving. His footsteps faded toward the kitchen.

Chenghai shifted his weight. "You’re really just going to sit there."

"I said I was making popcorn." I gestured at the bowl. "I made popcorn."

"That’s not what I ant."

"I know what you ant."

He exhaled through his nose, the sound sharp and frustrated. "They’re searching the house, Rouxi."

"I’m aware."

"And you’re watching a fucking TV show."

"It’s educational." I nodded toward the screen. "Did you know there’s a difference between how to kill a witch versus a demon? You never know when you are going to need this information in the future."

His jaw tightened. "This isn’t a joke."

"I’m not joking. I’m genuinely interested in how many tis Dean raises up his shirt and shows off his abs."

He stared at for a long mont, his expression caught sowhere between exasperation and disbelief. Then he turned his attention back to the hallway, his hand resting near his hip.

I went back to the TV.

Upstairs, sothing heavy scraped across the floor. A dresser, maybe. Or a wardrobe. The sound was followed by voices—low, clipped exchanges I couldn’t make out. They were being thorough. I’d give them that.

But thoroughness only mattered if there was sothing to find.

Zhenlan appeared in the doorway, his expression calm but watchful. He glanced at , then at Chenghai, then back toward the hallway where the sounds of the search continued. He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, arms crossed, observing.

He wasn’t going to interfere. He’d made that clear when he let Jian Yuche inside. But he wasn’t going to leave unprotected either.

I appreciated the pragmatism.

Finally, the creature that Sam and Dean were waiting for had arrived and the showdown was about to happen. I ate another handful of popcorn and settled deeper into the couch cushions.

Jian Yuche’s voice drifted from sowhere upstairs—calm, controlled, giving instructions to one of his n. A door opened. Closed. Footsteps moved down the hallway above .

Chenghai’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling, then back to . "You’re not worried."

"Should I be?"

"Most people would be."

"I’m not most people."

"I’ve noticed."

I glanced at him. His expression was tight, his posture rigid. He was tense. Ready to move if sothing went wrong. But his eyes kept coming back to , like he was trying to figure out why I wasn’t reacting the way he expected.

"They’re not going to find anything," I said slowly like he was stupid.

"You sound very sure of that."

"I am."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "Because there’s nothing to find."

He studied for a mont, his gaze sharp and assessing. Then he shook his head slightly and turned back toward the hallway. "You’re going to give a heart attack one of these days."

"That’s what keeps life interesting."

"That’s not reassuring."

"It wasn’t ant to be."

The search continued. More doors. More footsteps. The sound of cabinets opening in the kitchen, followed by the clink of dishes being moved. They were checking everything.

Good.

The more thorough they were, the more convinced they would be when they found nothing.

I reached for more popcorn and realized the bowl was almost empty. I’d eaten most of it without thinking.

Footsteps descended the stairs... heavy and deliberate... and Jian Yuche appeared in the hallway a mont later, his expression unreadable.

He moved through the first floor with the sa thodical focus, checking rooms one by one. I could hear him opening doors, the sound of his footsteps moving from the study to the dining room to the storage closet near the back entrance.

He was looking for hidden spaces. Unusual construction. Anything that could explain how an entire warehouse had been emptied overnight.

He wasn’t going to find it.

Chenghai’s attention shifted fully to Yuche now, tracking his movents through the house. His hand stayed near his weapon, his body angled protectively toward .

I kept my eyes on the TV.

My show was over, Dean and Sam had saved the day, so I flipped to another channel—so kind of ho renovation program where a couple was arguing about countertops.

Jian Yuche’s footsteps returned to the living room. He stopped in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the space before landing on .

I didn’t look up.

He walked further into the room, his movents slow and deliberate. He was studying everything—the furniture, the layout, the way the space was organized. Looking for inconsistencies.

There weren’t any.

Chenghai shifted closer to , his presence a solid wall between and the other man.

Jain Yuche’s gaze moved to the TV, then to the empty popcorn bowl on my lap, then to my face. "You’re very calm."

I glanced at him. "Should I be panicking?"

"Most people would be."

"So I’ve been told." I gestured toward the hallway with the remote. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

His expression didn’t change. "No."

"Then I guess you were wrong about stealing things from you."

"Or you’re very good at hiding things."

I shrugged. "Believe what you want."

He studied for a long mont, his gaze sharp and calculating. He was trying to read . Trying to figure out if I was bluffing or if I genuinely had nothing to hide.

I t his eyes directly and didn’t blink.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice low and deliberate. "If you’re involved in the theft, I will find out."

"Okay."

"That’s all you have to say?"

"What else do you want to say?" I set the popcorn bowl on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. "You searched the house. You didn’t find anything. So either I’m not involved, or I’m better at this than you are. Either way, you’re done here."

His jaw tightened slightly. The first crack in his calm exterior.

"Do what you want," I added, my tone flat. "But next ti, call ahead. I would’ve made more popcorn."

Chenghai made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh or a groan. I couldn’t tell which.

Jian Yuche’s gaze stayed on for another beat, then he turned and walked toward the entryway.

His n appeared from various parts of the house, regrouping near the door. No one spoke. They just filed out one by one, their expressions neutral but their body language tense.

When he was the last to leave, he paused at the door and looked back at one more ti.

I waved at him.

The door closed behind him with a solid thunk.

The house fell silent.

Zhenlan exhaled slowly and moved toward the window, watching as the cars pulled away. Chenghai stayed where he was, his gaze still fixed on .

I picked up the popcorn bowl and stood, brushing a few stray kernels off my lap.

"Well," I said, heading toward the kitchen. "That was a waste of ti."

Chenghai followed . "You’re unbelievable."

"Thank you."

"That wasn’t a complint."

"I’m choosing to take it as one."

I rinsed the bowl in the sink and set it on the counter, then turned back toward the living room. The renovation show was still playing. The couple had moved on to arguing about backsplashes now.

I sat back down on the couch and grabbed the remote.

Chenghai stood in the doorway, shaking his head. "You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days."

"Probably," I said. "But not today."

He muttered sothing under his breath and walked away.

I scoffed and reached for the bag of chips I’d left on the side table.

Jian Yuche could search all he wanted. He wasn’t going to find anything.

Because the things he was looking for didn’t exist in this reality.

And that was exactly how I wanted it.