The second support beam struck the floor with a crash that shook the infirmary wall. Yan sat upright on the cot. The movement pulled at the burn on his back and sent a sharp ache through his shoulder.
Qinghe set down the bowl she had been using to rinse a dressing. “Stay there.”
“The hall is still falling.”
“The hall is already lost.”
Bai appeared in the doorway, breathing hard. Dust covered one side of his face. “The side arch is blocked. A support swung down after the beam fell. We have everyone outside except one apprentice.”
Qinghe rose. “You saw the list?”
“I counted the people at the yard. One name isn’t answering.” He held up the apprentice roster. “A girl from the lower crew. She was near the back.”
Yan swung his legs off the cot. “I heard a knock.”
“You have a burn across your back,” Qinghe said. “And your shoulder is swelling.”
“I heard it after the beam fell.”
“You’re not going alone.” She lifted the water bowl and handed it to a nurse. “Bai, keep the yard count. Steward Lu stays outside until the wall is checked. I’ll take the outer edge with Yan.”
They walked around the side of the hall rather than approach the broken arch. The outer wall had a new crack above the herb lane. Steward Lu stood with two workers and watched a mason test the stones with a long pole.
“Stay back,” he called. “The support is loose.”
“We’re not entering through the arch,” Qinghe said. “One apprentice may be behind the shelf.”
“The furnace casing is still hot.”
“We’ll follow the cooler edge and stop at the first sign of movement.” She looked at Yan. “If your back starts bleeding through the dressing, you come out.”
Yan nodded. He kept his right arm close and walked along the wall. The sleeve of his work shirt was scorched, and the dressing beneath his coat rubbed against the burned skin. Every breath tugged at his shoulder. The heat grew stronger near the broken window, where smoke drifted out in slow gray waves.
“Where did you hear the knock?” Qinghe asked.
“From the trench side. Two knocks, then nothing.”
They found the broken pole near the entrance. Bai had carried the apprentices through the arch but left the tools behind. Yan took the pole with his left hand and tested the weight. It was long enough to reach the shelf without putting his fingers under the edge.
Qinghe studied the stones above them. “We have a minute. The outer crew says this section can hold if nothing else shifts.”
A small sound came from behind the toppled shelf. Not a voice. A faint scrape.
Yan tapped the floor with the pole. “If you hear me, answer once.”
A knock came from below the shelf.
Qinghe leaned close to the gap. “Can you tell us your name?”
“My… my robe,” a girl said. The words broke into a cough. “It’s caught.”
“Are you under the beam?”
“No. My leg is clear.”
Yan looked through the gap. He could see a hand and part of a blue cuff pinned by a fold of cloth. The shelf corner rested on the broken beam, not the girl. A nail had caught the robe and pulled it tight.
“Don’t move yet,” he said. “We’ll lift the shelf corner.”
Qinghe watched the support above the wall. “Only enough for Bai to reach the fabric. If the wood slips, we leave it.”
Yan placed the pole under the shelf’s lower edge. His right shoulder hurt from the earlier fall, so he set his left foot forward and used his legs to lift. The shelf resisted. He pushed steadily until its corner rose a hand’s width.
The movement sent hot ash down his sleeve. It stung his wrist and ran beneath the cuff. He held the pole firm, jaw tight, while Qinghe pulled the cloth away from the shelf.
“Bai,” she called.
Bai came around the outer corner, having finished the count in the yard. He crouched at the opening and reached through the gap. “I can see the nail.”
“Don’t pull against it,” Qinghe said. “Free the hem first.”
Bai worked the cloth loose, then eased it off the nail. The girl’s shoulder cleared the gap. Yan kept the shelf raised as she crawled forward, coughing and dragging one knee across the dusty floor.
“Keep coming,” Qinghe said. “Take my hand.”
The girl reached her. Yan lowered the pole only after Qinghe had hold of the apprentice’s wrist. The shelf tipped toward the trench. He guided it down onto the already broken beam rather than letting it fall flat onto the floor. Wood crashed against wood. Ash clouded the window.
Bai pulled the girl clear and wiped the soot from her hair with his sleeve. “Can you stand?”
She coughed again and nodded.
Qinghe checked her eyes and breathing before they moved. “We’re going out. Don’t talk until we’re in the yard.”
Yan followed them along the wall. The heat remained at his back, but the outer path was clear. He heard the masonry crew call that the wall was stable enough for evacuation, not safe for entry. Once they reached the courtyard, the girl sat beside the water trough.
Nurse Mei brought her a cup. Qinghe listened to her lungs and asked whether breathing hurt. The girl shook her head. Her robe was torn at the shoulder, and her hands trembled, but she had no visible cut.
Bai checked the roster again. “Forty-two. Everyone is here.”
Steward Lu came from the outer gate and counted from the bottom of the list. He stopped at a name written twice. “That’s the mismatch. One worker is listed with the clinic and with the Furnace Two crew.”
“Both entries are the same person,” Bai said.
“Then I will correct the report after the clinic confirms.” Lu made a mark beside the duplicate. “No one is leaving until the infirmary finishes its count.”
Qinghe took Yan by the elbow. “You’re coming back inside the clinic.”
He looked at the new apprentice. She lifted the cup with both hands and drank. “You got out.”
“I thought the roof had closed the way.”
“It hadn’t.”
The ash on Yan’s wrist burned where it had touched the skin. The burn on his back throbbed under the dressing, and his shoulder hurt from the fall. He let Qinghe guide him to the infirmary without asking to see the damaged hall again.