Chapter Text
The road changed from smooth to bumpy as the Beijiang precinct filled the horizon.
A metaphor in reverse, Shen Yi thought. His cadence slowed, and he stood above his saddle and coasted into the gentle slope leading to the entrance.
As his bicycle turned towards the front gate, Shen Yi nodded to the officer. A stout man with an interesting face—square jaw, a disproportionally thin mustache, asymmetrical nose—squinted at Shen Yi. Specifically, at Shen Yi's chest.
Shen Yi's bicycle squealed to a halt. Both of them winced.
"Sorry," Shen Yi managed, breathless. He fumbled his ID badge from his bag. "It tangles up with the handlebars. Here."
"Huh," the officer grunted. His beady eyes scanned each line on Shen Yi's ID, searching for flaws. "Then you shouldn't ride so fast." He waved Shen Yi through.
"I don't—" Shen Yi began, but a honk bellowed behind him. When he checked over his shoulder, Du Cheng's stony face was visible through the jeep's windshield.
The officer snapped to attention, his dismissing wave at Shen Yi sharper.
With a mental sigh, Shen Yi pushed harder on the pedals and steered for the canopy reserved for bicycles.
The tent was a stopgap solution as more commuted to work on their bicycles. A barrier, or a steel 'horse' as Shen Yi learned, occupied the shelter. It was effective; riders simply chained their front wheels to the vertical bars that striped the 'horse.'
The barrier was nearly at capacity despite the early hour. It was a tight fit, but Shen Yi tucked his bicycle into the end. There was no way to fit his chain around the remaining vertical bar. He'll have to reach through the tangle of chains and locks in the back.
Shen Yi hissed, jerking his left hand back. His lock and chain fell to the ground with a loud jangle.
The adjacent bicycle's detailed front rim sliced from Shen Yi's knuckles to his wrist.
Shen Yi's right thumb traced the edges of the wound. Blood beaded at the edges.
It wasn't deep, Shen Yi determined. Remembering the storm cloud that was Du Cheng behind him, Shen Yi gave up trying to chain his bicycle. It was too old to be valuable to anyone but Shen Yi.
Mindful of the time—ignoring the small voice inside that whispered he only wanted to beat Du Cheng to the office—Shen Yi pulled out tissues and pressed them to his hand. He yanked his shirt sleeve over the bloody mess and hurried to get inside.
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"Oh no, Shen-laoshi, are you alright?"
The murmuring around Shen Yi quieted. Shen Yi inwardly cringed. Luckily, the morning briefing was only to go over a witness list. Shen Yi had nothing to offer and, out of habit, he spent the time studying the surrounding faces. Shen Yi envisioned imaginary charcoal lines that traced the contours and angles when Li Han gasped.
Li Han's eyes were on his left hand, at the red spotted band aids. Shen Yi used three because his desk had nothing wide enough.
Behind Shen Yi, Wei Shu rose to his feet, his lank form casting a thin shadow across Shen Yi.
"Ouch," Wei Shu hissed in sympathy, "That looks deep."
Du Cheng deliberately cleared his throat.
Wei Shu and his shadow vanished when he dropped back into his seat.
An unsettling sensation crawled up the back of Shen Yi's neck. Too many eyes were on him. And Du Cheng's stare was like a lamp pointed on Shen Yi's skin for too long.
"It's fine," Shen Yi assured Li Han, because her focus was on his hands, not him, at least. "I'm right-handed. I can still draw."
"We don't need portraits right now," Du Cheng muttered.
Shen Yi's lips tightened.
"I'll get the kit," Lao Yan offered.
"I'm okay," Shen Yi protested. His throat worked as he tracked the older officer hurrying to where the station stored supplies. Lao Yan returned with not only a kit, but with Fei-je on his heels.
"Xiao Shen," Fei-je tsked. She slipped into the chair Li Han vacated.
"It's not serious." Shen Yi shifted in his seat. The silence around Shen Yi hung like a miasma. "I cut my hand on the bicycle rack when I came to work this morning."
Shen Yi carefully disentangled himself from Fei-je's hand. He took the large gauze pad out of the open kit.
"I can do this." Shen Yi smiled faintly. He resisted pushing Fei-je away. The stare from the board sat heavier on him with each second they wasted.
Fei-je fussed some more, but relented when Shen Yi peeled off the old adhesive.
"That horrible bike rack again," Fei-je sighed.
"You need to watch out for tetanus," someone called out helpfully from the back. "Didn't someone from Traffic cut her hand on it last week?"
"Xiao Cho," Fei-je said. To Shen Yi, "And Xiao Xe broke a finger on it last month trying to fit his bicycle in."
"I heard Xiao Xe needed stitches," Lao Yan said, making a face.
"I heard they amputated his finger," another volunteered.
Alarmed eyes darted towards Shen Yi. He gulped and glanced down at his hand. He rubbed the back of his hand harder with an antiseptic wipe.
"He's fine," Du Cheng groaned. It wasn't clear to whom Du Cheng referred.
"Aiyo, it looks like it's still bleeding," Lao Yan hissed in sympathy.
Du Cheng's mouth thinned as he studied Shen Yi's hand.
Shen Yi twitched. Only because the wipe came too close to the wound, Shen Yi told himself.
Fei-je clucked, dismayed.
Shen Yi offered a reassuring smile. "I'm okay," he told her. "It's almost stopped bleeding."
Du Cheng tapped the board with his marker. "Can we get back to the briefing?"
Chastened, everyone's focus returned to the briefing.
It was like a coat Shen Yi didn't know he had on lifted off his shoulders the moment everyone looked away. He breathed slowly out the mouth as he cleaned up and replaced his band aids with a larger bandage.
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A week later, Zhang-ju expedited a request to replace the bicycle rack with a long strip of self-locking bicycle docks. The station retired the steel 'horse' after the new docking system arrived.