Jing Lan noticed this small movement and asked as she lifted the lid of her own lunch box, “You found Yu Xiaozhen’s papers?”

“Yes.” Yan Qing replied. “Someone had hidden them in a stack of old books. Lucky for me I took an extra look.”

“Will they be any help to the investigation?”

“They should be helpful.” Yan Qing said, “At least now we know Yu Xiaozhen had a younger sister. As for any other leads, those will have to be pursued by the military police.”

Clatter.

The lid of Jing Lan’s lunch box slipped from her fingers without warning and fell on the table.

“What’s wrong?” Yan Qing asked quickly.

“Nothing — it was too hot.” Jing Lan raised two fingers to her lips and blew on them. “The boiler room attendant is getting more and more conscientious lately. Every time the lunch box comes back scalding.”

She then cheerfully pried open Yan Qing’s lunch box for her. “Your skin is so delicate — let me do it so you don’t burn yourself.”

Yan Qing’s gaze settled on Jing Lan’s two reddened fingers, then drifted to the plain dry cornmeal bun in Jing Lan’s own lunch box. Her feelings were impossible to untangle.

“I had the kitchen prepare a millet and yam congee — good for the stomach.” Yan Qing pushed her own lunch box across to Jing Lan. “Your stomach isn’t strong. Eat more things that are easy on it.”

“You always do this.” Jing Lan shook her head, touched and at a loss. “Your kitchen isn’t running just for my sake.”

Yan Qing smiled. “Just eat.”

Jing Lan didn’t stand on ceremony. She ladled some of the congee into her bowl and ate with great appetite.

That afternoon there was a physical education class. As usual, the girls jogged two laps around the grounds and then drifted to sit and chat in the shade of the trees.

Yan Qing sat in her wheelchair, squinting as she watched these young women in their blue jackets and black trousers. Many times, upon opening her eyes, she still had to reassure herself three times that she was alive, before she could slowly begin to absorb everything that had come with her rebirth.

A shaft of dazzling light fell through the gap between the leaves. She couldn’t help but lift her hand to shield her eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, one person was missing from the clusters of students scattered around the grounds.

The classroom was empty and still, every student from the class outside for the lesson, sunlight filtering through the glass windows onto the worn desks and chairs.

A dark silhouette stepped through the piercing light and into the classroom, moving with practiced ease to a particular desk.

The silhouette pulled a cloth bag out from inside the desk, opened it, and began searching through it. Her movements were light, and she kept glancing toward the doorway. Only when her fingers touched something at once firm and brittle did an expression of excitement cross her face.

The silhouette quickly pocketed what she had found, returned the bag to its place, and headed swiftly for the door.

But she had taken only a few steps before she froze on the spot — staring at the figure in the doorway as though she had seen a ghost.

The light fell across that tranquil face, fell into those eyes holding an ocean of sadness. And in those bright eyes, reflected back was a face racked with alarm.

“Yan — Yan Qing? Why did you come to the classroom?”

The person caught herself. In a heartbeat, she composed herself into an expression of perfect unconcern.

“Indeed. That’s exactly what I want to ask you. The teacher is still outside with the class — why have you come to the classroom?”

“I was thirsty, so I came back for some water.”

“Your water cup should be in your desk. But just now, you were standing at my desk.”

Yan Qing’s expression sharpened suddenly, her eyes and brow alike going keen and precise. “Unless I’m mistaken, you just took something from my bag. That thing is in your pocket right now. Would you mind if I had a look?”

—