When Lin Zi'an disappeared, the chalk was still sliding across the blackboard.
It was second period on Wednesday morning. With his back to the class, the math teacher was explaining a permutation-and-combination problem no one understood.
Cicadas shrilled outside the window. Half the air-conditioning was broken, and more than forty students were nodding off.
Jiang Yu sat in the last row by the window, watching the back of the head in front of him bob nonstop.
Lin Zi'an was sneaking food again.
He had hidden a piece of bread beneath his textbook. Whenever the teacher turned around to write, he would quickly duck his head and take a bite. The plastic wrapper rustled softly, especially loud in the quiet classroom.
Jiang Yu had been watching him for three minutes.
Not because it was interesting.
But because a strange number was hovering above Lin Zi'an's head.
1.
White and translucent, as if someone had projected the letters from a phone into the air.
Jiang Yu rubbed his eyes.
The number was still there.
Since that morning, he had been able to see these things.
There was an 87 above his mother's head.
His father had 72.
The woman who owned the breakfast shop had 34.
The stray dog outside the school gate that people were always feeding had an astonishing 106.
At first, he thought he was just sleep-deprived.
Until the end of first period, when he saw his own number in the bathroom mirror.
-1.
Not zero.
Negative one.
Jiang Yu stared at the mirror for a long time.
In the end, he simply splashed cold water on his face.
He didn't tell anyone.
That was normal.
From childhood onward, whenever he encountered something he didn't know how to deal with, he chose not to say anything for the time being.
Besides, telling people would only make them worry.
“Jiang Yu.”
Someone in front of him turned around.
Lin Zi'an nudged the bread hidden under his textbook toward him and whispered, “Want some?”
Jiang Yu glanced at it.
Red bean.
He was actually a little hungry.
His mother had been in a hurry that morning, taking his younger sister to school, and had left only a cup of soy milk on the table. He'd taken two sips, found it too sweet, and poured the rest down the sink.
“No, thanks,” Jiang Yu said.
Lin Zi'an didn't push him. Before turning back around, he added, “Then keep an eye on the teacher for me.”
“Okay.”
Jiang Yu kept watch for him.
When the math teacher turned around, he lightly kicked the leg of Lin Zi'an's chair.
Lin Zi'an immediately stuffed the bread into his desk.
Things like this happened every day.
Keeping an eye on the teacher for someone, collecting homework for them, staying behind to take out the trash when the student assigned to clean asked for leave. Jiang Yu rarely refused anyone, because the air always turned awkward afterward.
And he hated awkwardness.
As long as he said “okay,” things would usually pass smoothly.
Three more lines of formulas appeared on the blackboard.
The number above Lin Zi'an's head suddenly flickered.
It changed from one to zero.
Jiang Yu froze.
That 0 didn't hover quietly like the other numbers.
It began to tremble.
First, its edges blurred. Then it flickered on and off like a faulty fluorescent tube.
Lin Zi'an seemed completely unaware. He kept his head down and stuffed the last bite of bread into his mouth.
Jiang Yu stared at him.
“Lin Zi'an.”
Lin Zi'an turned half his face toward him. “What?”
“You...”
Jiang Yu didn't know what to say.
There's a number above your head?
Your number hit zero?
Either one sounded like something a crazy person would say.
Lin Zi'an waited two seconds. When Jiang Yu didn't continue, he rolled his eyes.
“Spit it out. I thought the teacher had turned around.”
The moment he turned back, the number above his head vanished.
It didn't turn transparent.
It was as if something invisible had directly wiped it away.
The next second, Lin Zi'an's right hand began to disappear too.
Jiang Yu stopped breathing.
It wasn't flesh tearing apart or turning to ash.
His fingers faded from the tips inward. Skin, nails, and palm lines melted layer by layer into the desk behind him.
Lin Zi'an lowered his head and looked at it.
He didn't scream.
He only blinked in confusion.
“Jiang Yu.”
His voice was very soft.
“Can you see it?”
Jiang Yu shot to his feet.
The chair legs scraped across the floor with a piercing screech.
The entire class turned to look at him at once.
The math teacher stopped writing and frowned. “Jiang Yu, what's wrong?”
Jiang Yu didn't answer.
Half of Lin Zi'an's body was already gone.
He sat there like a picture slowly rubbed away by an eraser. The uniform, arm, and face that had been clear a moment ago were reduced in the next to only faint outlines.
“Pull me.”
Lin Zi'an reached out his remaining left hand.
Jiang Yu grabbed it immediately.
The instant they touched, he felt an intensely cold force burrow into his palm from Lin Zi'an's hand.
It was like someone had stuffed an entire winter into his veins.
“Jiang Yu.”
Lin Zi'an's eyes reddened.
“I don't want to disappear.”
Jiang Yu tightened his grip.
“You won't.”
The words left his mouth before he could think.
“You won't disappear.”
He didn't know what else he could do. All he could do was pull Lin Zi'an backward.
But Lin Zi'an's body had no weight.
The harder Jiang Yu pulled, the faster that hand disappeared.
“Teacher!” Jiang Yu shouted. “Call an ambulance!”
The math teacher stood on the platform, staring blankly at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Lin Zi'an is disappearing!”
The classroom fell silent for two seconds.
Then someone laughed.
A moment later, more people started laughing.
“Did Jiang Yu sleep himself stupid?”
“What Lin Zi'an?”
“Why is he grabbing at thin air?”
Jiang Yu froze.
He looked down at Lin Zi'an.
Only a face remained.
It hovered above the empty seat, tears sliding from the corners of his eyes and vanishing before they could fall.
“He's right here!”
Jiang Yu turned toward the others.
“You can't see him?”
No one answered.
They looked at Jiang Yu the way people looked at someone who had suddenly gone insane.
Lin Zi'an opened and closed his mouth.
Jiang Yu bent down and only then heard his final words.
“Please...”
“Remember me.”
The words had barely left his lips.
His face disappeared.
The hand Jiang Yu had been holding lost all sensation as well.
Jiang Yu's five fingers clenched around empty air.
He had grabbed nothing.
The only sound left in the classroom was the low hum of the air conditioner.
“Jiang Yu.”
The math teacher set down the chalk.
His tone was no longer reproachful, but concerned.
“Are you feeling sick?”
Jiang Yu didn't answer.
He stared at the empty chair in front of him.
The red bean bread in the desk was gone.
The math textbook on the desk was gone.
The black jacket that had hung over the back of the chair was gone too.
As if no one had ever sat there.
Jiang Yu slowly raised his head.
“Where's Lin Zi'an?”
No one spoke.
He asked again.
“Where did Lin Zi'an go?”
The class monitor sitting beside him frowned.
“Who is Lin Zi'an?”
Jiang Yu looked at the others.
“The person who was sitting here just now.”
“This seat has always been empty.”
“That's impossible.”
Jiang Yu went to Lin Zi'an's seat and pulled open the desk.
Empty.
He flipped through the seating chart beside the teacher's desk.
The last seat by the window was Jiang Yu.
The seat in front of Jiang Yu had no name.
That box was blank.
“You were playing basketball with him yesterday.”
Jiang Yu pointed at several boys in the class.
“He made the last shot. You said you'd buy him a drink.”
The boys exchanged confused looks.
“There were only four of us on each team yesterday.”
“Zhe made the last shot.”
Zhe paused, then nodded.
“Yeah. I made it.”
“It wasn't you,” Jiang Yu said.
“It was Lin Zi'an.”
Zhe's expression gradually grew impatient.
“I already told you, we don't know anyone by that name.”
Jiang Yu took out his phone.
He remembered that after playing basketball yesterday, everyone had taken a group photo on the court.
Lin Zi'an had stood right in the middle, both hands draped over other people's shoulders, grinning like an idiot.
The photo was still in his album.
Eight people.
Lin Zi'an was gone.
The spot where he had stood in the middle had been naturally filled by the two people beside him. There was no gap in the photo, and nothing looked edited.
Jiang Yu's hand began to shake.
He scrolled back.
Last month's class dinner.
Gone.
The school anniversary group photo.
Gone.
The basketball club's group photo.
Gone.
Lin Zi'an was missing from every picture.
Jiang Yu opened his messaging app and searched for his name.
No account.
No chat history.
No group messages.
Even the message Lin Zi'an had sent him last night—“Let me copy your math tomorrow”—had vanished without a trace.
As if Lin Zi'an had truly never existed in this world.
“Teacher,” the class monitor said quietly. “Should we take Jiang Yu to the school infirmary?”
The math teacher stepped down from the platform.
“Jiang Yu, sit down for now.”
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Jiang Yu instinctively shook it off.
“I'm fine.”
After saying it, he froze.
Those three words were too familiar.
Like a thoughtless answer he had carried throughout his life.
I'm fine.
Don't worry about me.
You go ahead.
Anything is fine.
Whatever.
But this time, no one believed him.
The teacher called the nurse from the school infirmary and had her take him out of the classroom.
The hallway was very quiet.
Jiang Yu glanced back.
The math teacher had already picked up the chalk again, and the entire class had returned to their textbooks.
No one mentioned what had just happened.
No one wondered who Lin Zi'an was.
No one noticed that the world was missing a person.
Only the empty chair remained where it was.
Like a gap no one was willing to admit existed.
The nurse took Jiang Yu's temperature, then asked how long he'd slept the night before, whether he had a headache, and whether he'd taken any medication.
Jiang Yu shook his head to every question.
Finally, she had him lie down and rest.
“Call me if you feel uncomfortable.”
“Okay.”
The curtain closed.
Jiang Yu lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
He began forcing himself to remember everything about Lin Zi'an.
Lin Zi'an was terrible at math.
He liked red bean bread.
When he played basketball, he was always throwing wild three-pointers.
He had an older sister who was attending college out of town.
His family's dog was named Milk Tea.
Just last week, he had said he wanted to go to the beach during summer vacation.
Jiang Yu repeated it all over and over in his head.
As if Lin Zi'an hadn't completely disappeared yet, as long as he kept remembering him.
He didn't know how much time had passed when the bell rang outside the school infirmary.
Jiang Yu sat up.
His face reflected in the window glass.
Pale, with faint dark circles beneath his eyes.
And above his reflection, that number was still hovering.
-1.
He stared at it.
Lin Zi'an's Love Value hit zero, so he was erased.
What about him?
He was clearly at negative one.
Why was he still here?
A woman's voice suddenly came from outside the window.
“Because you've already been erased once.”
Jiang Yu whipped around.
The school infirmary was on the second floor. There was no balcony outside the window, nor anywhere a person could stand.
And yet, at that moment, a girl in a white uniform was sitting outside the window frame, her legs dangling in midair.
She looked about Jiang Yu's age.
Her long hair was tousled by the wind, and her face was so pale it was almost transparent.
Sunlight passed through her shoulder without leaving a shadow on the wall.
Jiang Yu stood up.
“Who are you?”
The girl didn't answer.
She only stared at him through the glass, her eyes slowly reddening.
As if she had been waiting for a very long time.
So long that she had almost forgotten what she was waiting for.
The next second, she passed through the closed window and stood in front of Jiang Yu.
Jiang Yu instinctively took a step back.
But the girl moved closer.
Until only an arm's length remained between them.
She raised a hand, seeming to want to touch his face.
But her fingertips passed through his skin.
The girl stared blankly at her hand.
Then she smiled.
Tears fell at the same time.
“Finally.”
Her voice was as soft as a dream.
“Someone remembers me.”