With a silent gesture from Jian Yuche, Wei Lingyun walked into the kitchen and found Chenghai laid out on the floor.
He crossed the space in three steps and dropped to one knee beside him, his hand moving to Chenghai's neck. The pulse was there—steady, strong. Breathing even. No blood visible.
"Zhou Chenghai." Lingyun's voice was low, controlled as he tried to get Chenghai's attention. "Can you hear me? I need a response."
Chenghai's eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, then sharpening as awareness returned. He tried to sit up, winced, and Lingyun caught his shoulder.
"Easy," Lingyun murmured softly, his eyes scanning the other man's face. "You took a pretty nasty hit."
"I know." Chenghai's voice was rough. He pushed himself up anyway, one hand braced against the floor, the other gripping Lingyun's arm for support. "How long was I out?"
"Not long." Lingyun helped him to his feet, keeping one hand on his arm as Chenghai steadied himself. "Can you walk?"
"Yes."
