With her hair cut off, she looked even younger than she was. “It’s okay,” she said. “You can go back to sleep.” “I wasn’t sleeping.” He sat up in his chair, rubbed his face, pushing his uneasy dreams away. “No, I was only thinking.” “I’m fine now, and I know when you’re telling fibs.” He smiled. One hand drifted up to the opposite arm, rising to her shoulder, finding the ends of her hair. “Six months,” Zhuli said in a low voice, “and everything will grow back.” She gazed at him, and the dark smudges on her face, the bruising which had turned a sickly yellow, made her appear shadowed despite
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