After ending the radio contact, Ban Xia immediately pulled out an old, yellowed map from her drawer – a 2020 Nanjing Transportation and Tourism Map left by her teacher. The twenty-year-old map, having passed through countless hands, was worn and tattered from repeated folding.

She spread the map out on her bed, then held up her small lamp and leaned in close, using her finger to trace the words on the map, searching bit by bit.

She needed to find a place that would have enough evidence to prove she was living in 2040.

On the map, the area filled in light pink was Qinhuai District, an irregular quadrilateral. To the north of Qinhuai District was a large oval of green representing Purple Mountain, and to the west of Purple Mountain was the blue diamond of Xuanwu Lake. Ban Xia first located where she lived – 66 Muxuyuan Street, Meihua Mountain Manor.

On the 1:100000 scale map, the Meihua Mountain Manor complex was just a fingernail-sized spot. The complex adjoined a one-millimeter-wide, five-centimeter-long north-south straight road – that was Muxuyuan Street. Further north, Muxuyuan Street intersected with Zhongshan Men Street, a thick main road two millimeters wide, filled in light yellow, winding across half of the Nanjing map.

Ban Xia’s finger moved slowly across the map, starting from Meihua Mountain Manor, following the main road northward, identifying the places one by one:

Jiangsu Chinese Culture Institute.

What was this place? Didn’t look like it could help, next.

Haiyue Garden.

No, this was a residential complex, mostly burned down now, only ruins remained, currently occupied by a large group of monkeys.

Southeast Eye Hospital.

No.

Muxuyuan Metro Station?

No.

Weiqiao New Village.

No.

Xiamagang Historic Site Park.

No.

Provincial Seismological Bureau? Would there be evidence in the Seismological Bureau?

Still no.

The girl knelt on the bed, tired from lying prone, she sat up to rest for a moment, blinking her eyes hard.

The room was dimly lit, with only a small energy-saving bulb hanging above the desk and the small lamp in her hand for light. The lamp had a blue plastic shell with a small solar panel on its base – leave it on the balcony for a day to fully charge. Her teacher had salvaged it from a garbage heap, seeing it still worked, and kept using it since. The thing had a ring of LED bulbs, six in total, but only half still worked. Reading was difficult in such lighting conditions, especially the tiny text on the map that was only as thick as mosquito legs – it wasn’t easy to make out clearly.

Ban Xia decided to try a different route.

Starting from Meihua Mountain Manor, and heading south to Moon Bay Lake.

Then to Jun’an East Court.

Next to Minghu Grand Restaurant.

Finally to Guanghua Road.

Nothing found.

Ban Xia let out a sigh. In the vast city of Nanjing, there must be someplace that preserved enough evidence to prove she was living in 2040, but unfortunately, Nanjing was too big – so big that many places were beyond reach. With just a pair of legs and a broken bicycle, Ban Xia could travel at most twenty kilometers from her residence. Any further and she couldn’t guarantee getting back in one day. She didn’t dare spend the night outside – it was too dangerous.

If only she had a car – perhaps there were still one or two working cars hidden away in some corner of Qinhuai District? There must be some vehicles that had escaped her and her teacher’s searches, ones that still had their batteries.

Ban Xia thought silently.

But even if she had a car, she wouldn’t know how to drive it.

This world had gone through a period of chaos when she was still very young, so her memories weren’t clear. Now looking back, Ban Xia only vaguely remembered the crimson night sky, huge black shadows moving like spiders across the earth under the moonlight, her teacher leading her from hiding place to hiding place, seeing fewer and fewer humans, fewer and fewer, until finally there were none left.

“Where could there possibly be evidence…”

Ban Xia lay down again, eyes wide open.

The main roads on the map were the girl’s primary travel routes. For safety reasons, Ban Xia could only move along major roads, unable to venture into small alleys or residential areas.

Starting from Meihua Mountain Manor!

Muxuyuan Street!

Zhongshan Men Street!

Nanjing Museum!

Would there be evidence in the Nanjing Museum? After all, it was full of antiques. When they needed utensils, her teacher had once gone to the Nanjing Museum to look for pots and dishes. Those ceramic and porcelain pieces in glass cases – if they could be used, her teacher had brought them all back. For instance, there was a “Ming Dynasty Jingtai Blue-and-White Ladies Spring Outing Jar” now sitting in the kitchen being used to pickle fish, and a “Hongwu Copper-Red Plum Vase with Three Friends of Winter” now used for storing cured meat.

There was also a jade burial suit – her teacher had wanted to take that too, saying it was a shame to leave such a treasure for rats to gnaw on, but she didn’t know what use it could be, so she just found a glass case to put it in and set it up at the entrance of the Nanjing Museum as a door guardian, hoping it would scare away animals.

But as things stood now, the motionless jade burial suit couldn’t deter animals – they just treated it as a sculpture, unless it could walk.

But if it walked, it would scare Ban Xia instead.

Could these things prove she was in 2040?

Probably not, since they existed in 2019 too.

Next.

“Ming Palace Ruins.”

No good.

Next one.

“Zhongshan Hotel.”

Zhongshan Hotel? Ban Xia carefully recalled.

Oh, that blackened foundation was the Zhongshan Hotel.

Nanjing General Hospital.

Xi’an Gate.

Pilusi Temple.

Ban Xia’s eyes were getting blurry, but she still hadn’t found anything useful.

What kind of place would preserve large amounts of evidence?

First, it needed clear time markers; second, it needed clear event records; and the times and events needed to correspond precisely – only then would it be convincing evidence that could prove she was living in 2040. Only a sufficient quantity of magazines, yearbooks, and newspapers could prove what Ban Xia was saying was true.

Where would there be large quantities of magazines and newspapers? Bookstores? No, bookstores wouldn’t keep large quantities of old newspapers from years ago – bookstores only had trashy novels.

Ban Xia’s gaze moved slowly along the tan-colored main road on the map – that was East Zhongshan Road. She knew it well; Ban Xia often sat on the steps in front of the Ming Palace Ruins, watching water buffalo and deer passing majestically along East Zhongshan Road.

“Would you like to go read? Reading more would be good for you.” Her teacher’s words echoed in her mind again. “There are magazines, newspapers, and everything – if you want to read, we can go bring some back…”

Ban Xia suddenly saw it – a tiny line of black Song-style characters, hiding quietly in the complex map, inconspicuous, but Ban Xia knew she had found it.

Presidential Palace.

No, below it.

“Nanjing Library.”