If anything, it made her even more alert. A quiet stairwell in the middle of the apocalypse was never truly quiet. It was the kind of silence that made the back of your neck itch, the kind that felt like something was waiting just out of sight. Bai Li kept her body angled slightly forward as she moved, her knife held ready in both hands, her steps light but steady. Yan Cijin followed close behind her, not speaking, not making any unnecessary noise, just keeping pace and watching the corners Bai Li could not focus on at the same time. The stairwell walls were stained in places, the smell of old blood and damp concrete hanging in the air, and every landing looked worse than the last. By the time they reached the fourth floor, Bai Li had already lifted her guard a little higher, because the place ahead felt wrong in a way she could not ignore.
