2:13 a.m.
The city was drowning in rain.
Water streamed down the windows of the old apartment, blurring the neon in the distance. Red, blue, and white lights stretched into long lines beneath the water trails, as if someone were dragging a finger across the city and smudging its entire night bit by bit.
Jin Feixun sat by the window.
The room was dark.
Only the computer screen was lit.
A photograph filled the screen.
A woman stood by the seaside.
She wore a white shirt, her long black hair streaming behind her in the wind, the hem of her shirt lifting slightly.
She wasn't looking at the camera.
She had merely turned her face toward the sea.
As if waiting for someone who would never come back.
Jin Feixun stared at the photograph for a long time.
Then she reached out and enlarged it.
The woman's face was perfectly clear.
Her brows and eyes, the bridge of her nose, the corners of her mouth.
Every detail was as sharp as it could possibly be.
Jin Feixun touched the screen.
Her fingertip came to rest on the woman's face.
“Yan Chuxian.”
She whispered the name.
The next second, the screen flickered.
The photograph turned blank.
Jin Feixun froze.
She opened the file again.
The file was still there.
So was the photograph.
But there was no one by the sea anymore.
Only a gray-blue ocean remained.
Wind swept across the empty beach.
The woman who had been standing there moments ago had vanished without a trace.
Jin Feixun stopped breathing for a moment.
She quickly opened the original file.
Nothing.
She opened the backup.
Nothing.
She opened the cloud.
Still nothing.
She pulled up every photograph related to Yan Chuxian from the past three months.
One.
Two.
Ten.
Thirty-seven.
One hundred twenty-one.
Not one photograph still contained her.
Jin Feixun sat there as her expression darkened bit by bit.
She picked up her phone and dialed a number.
“Hey?”
Her coworker's voice came from the other end.
“Zhou Yu.”
“What is it? Why are you still awake this late?”
“Do you remember Yan Chuxian?”
There was a two-second silence on the line.
Then a confused voice asked, “Who?”
Jin Feixun said nothing.
“Feixun, who are you talking about?”
She tightened her grip on the phone.
“The sound recordist.”
“She worked with us on the South Bank Old District Project.”
The other end fell silent for a long time.
“Are you sure you're not remembering the wrong person?”
Jin Feixun hung up.
The room fell quiet again.
Thunder rolled outside.
She lowered her head and looked at the desk.
A recorder sat there.
It had been left behind by Yan Chuxian.
Three months ago, she had handed it to Jin Feixun herself.
Jin Feixun picked up her headphones and plugged them into the recorder.
She pressed play.
At first, there was the sound of rain.
Very far away.
Very soft.
Then came footsteps.
One after another.
Finally, a woman's voice came through the headphones.
Gentle.
Quiet.
As if she were speaking right beside Jin Feixun's ear.
“If you're hearing this recording...”
The voice paused.
Then gave a soft laugh.
“That means I'm already gone.”
Jin Feixun closed her eyes.
She didn't cry.
She simply sat there, motionless.
The recording continued.
“Don't look for me.”
“And don't trust them.”
“Especially don't trust—”
The voice abruptly cut out.
As if something had forcibly sliced it off.
The next second, a harsh screech burst from the recorder.
Then a strange man's voice spoke.
Low.
Distant.
As if coming from the bottom of very deep water.
“She never existed.”
Jin Feixun's eyes flew open.
The headphones slipped from her hand.
Thud.
They hit the floor.
She lowered her head and stared at the recorder.
The last bit of color drained from her face.
Because she had heard that voice before—
Three months ago, on the day she first met Yan Chuxian.
Three months earlier.
South Bank Old District.
5:40 p.m.
The rain hadn't started yet.
The sky hung low.
The entire city seemed sealed beneath a layer of gray glass.
Jin Feixun walked down an old street with her camera on her back.
Most of the shops along the street had already closed.
The walls were mottled.
Wires crisscrossed overhead.
When the wind blew, the old signs hanging beneath the eaves swayed gently.
She raised her camera.
Click.
An old building slated for demolition was captured in a single frame.
She lowered her head to check the photograph.
No problem.
She kept walking.
Tonight, she had to finish the final set of visual records of South Bank Old District.
The entire area would be demolished in two days.
She didn't like photographing ruins.
But she liked recording things that were about to disappear.
Because she had always believed—
as long as a place was recorded, it would never truly vanish.
At least it wouldn't vanish from her memory.
She reached the entrance of the old cinema.
South Bank Cinema.
Half the sign had already broken down.
The characters for “South Bank” were still lit.
Of “Cinema,” only a single “C” remained.
Jin Feixun raised her camera.
She was just about to press the shutter when a sound suddenly came from inside.
Music.
Very soft.
Like an old record.
She stopped.
Hadn't the old cinema been sealed off?
She pushed open the iron gate.
The hinges gave a dull thud.
The cinema lobby was dim.
The air smelled of damp dust.
She followed the sound inside.
A beam of light leaked through the crack beneath the door to Auditorium 2.
Jin Feixun pushed the door open.
And then she saw Yan Chuxian.
That was the first time they met.
The woman sat in the last row of the cinema.
She wore a white shirt.
Her long hair fell over one shoulder.
Monitoring headphones covered her ears.
A piece of professional recording equipment sat in front of her.
Its red indicator light blinked.
Her eyes were closed.
As if the entire world had nothing to do with her.
Jin Feixun stood in the doorway.
She didn't make a sound.
After a few seconds, the woman suddenly spoke.
“You've been standing there for a while.”
Jin Feixun paused.
“You knew?”
Yan Chuxian removed one side of her headphones.
“The sound of your shoes against the floor is pretty obvious.”
She opened her eyes.
The two women met each other's gaze for the first time.
Jin Feixun would remember that moment for a long time.
Not because Yan Chuxian was particularly beautiful.
But because of her eyes.
They were too quiet.
So quiet that she didn't look like someone meeting a stranger for the first time.
“This place has been sealed off,” Jin Feixun said.
“I know.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Yan Chuxian looked toward the movie screen.
“Today is the last day.”
“Last day of what?”
“The last day this place can still be heard.”
She said it simply.
Jin Feixun followed her gaze.
The old movie screen had been stained gray-white by time.
There was no movie playing in the cinema.
Yet there were so many sounds.
Wind passing through broken window frames.
The air conditioner's lingering low hum.
Water dripping from a pipe in the distance.
The faint creak of seats shifting in the wind.
And, before the rain began to fall, the barely perceptible clamor from the deepest part of the city.
Yan Chuxian pressed the record button.
“What are you photographing?”
“This place.”
Jin Feixun raised her camera.
“This place?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Yan Chuxian smiled.
“Then we're doing the same thing.”
“What?”
“Leaving behind evidence for things that vanish.”
Jin Feixun looked at her.
For the first time, she thought this stranger was a little strange.
But she didn't dislike her.
Instead, she felt a strange sense of familiarity.
As if they'd known each other long ago and had simply forgotten where they'd met.
“What is your name?” she asked.
The woman looked at her for a few seconds.
“Yan Chuxian.”
“Jin Feixun.”
“I know.”
Jin Feixun blinked.
“You know me?”
Yan Chuxian pointed to the press badge hanging from her chest.
“It says so right there.”
Jin Feixun looked down.
She smiled.
“I thought you recognized me.”
Yan Chuxian smiled too.
“Maybe I do.”
Rain finally began falling outside.
Raindrops tapped against the glass.
Once.
Then again.
Faster and faster.
Yan Chuxian suddenly took off her headphones.
“Listen.”
“To what?”
“The rain.”
Jin Feixun remained standing.
Yan Chuxian closed her eyes.
“Everyone hears rain differently.”
“Some people hear weather.”
“Some people hear someone leaving.”
“And some people...”
She paused.
“hear someone coming back.”
Jin Feixun looked at her.
She didn't know why.
But those words suddenly made her chest tighten.
She raised her camera and aimed it at Yan Chuxian.
Click.
The shutter fell.
In the photograph, the woman sat in the last row.
Light from the movie screen fell across her face.
Rain blurred the city outside the windows.
Everything was quiet.
Except that there was someone else in the last row behind her.
A woman in black.
Standing behind Yan Chuxian.
She had no face.
No features.
Only one hand, resting lightly on Yan Chuxian's shoulder.
Jin Feixun's fingers went rigid.
She looked up.
The last row was completely empty.
“What is it?” Yan Chuxian asked.
“Nothing.”
Jin Feixun looked at the photograph again.
The figure was still there.
She enlarged it.
The woman in black's fingers were unnaturally pale.
And around her wrist—
was a silver watch.
Jin Feixun stared at it.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Because she recognized that watch.
She had seen it in an old photograph.
The photograph had been taken on—
November 3, 2017.
That was the day she first picked up a camera.
It was also the day her mother vanished.
Jin Feixun quickly shut off the screen.
“Have you been here before?”
Yan Chuxian looked at her.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
Her answer came quickly.
Too quickly. Enough to make Jin Feixun feel that something was wrong.
“Why?”
“Because I don't like this place.”
Yan Chuxian stood and packed the recording equipment into her bag.
“Then why come today?”
Yan Chuxian didn't answer.
She walked to the door and placed her hand on the doorknob.
Then suddenly stopped.
“Jin Feixun.”
“Mm?”
“If one day...”
She didn't turn around.
“Everyone tells you that you never knew me.”
The rain grew louder and louder.
“Would you believe them?”
Jin Feixun looked at her.
For a long time.
“No.”
Yan Chuxian finally turned around.
At that moment, the smile on her face was faint.
Yet so beautiful it hurt.
“Good.”
She opened the door and walked into the rain.
Her white figure gradually disappeared into the crowd.
Jin Feixun stood where she was.
She waited until Yan Chuxian vanished completely from sight.
Only then did she lower her head and open the photograph again.
The woman in black was still standing behind Yan Chuxian.
But just then—
the photograph flickered.
The woman in black vanished.
Jin Feixun frowned.
She looked again.
Yan Chuxian had vanished too.
The entire photograph now showed only an empty cinema.
She froze.
She refreshed it again.
The same.
She immediately opened the original photograph on her camera.
The file displayed:
IMG_0817
Time taken:
17:41:23
Location:
South Bank Cinema.
Subjects:
None.
Jin Feixun stared at the screen.
Her fingertips slowly turned cold.
She had just photographed her.
She had clearly seen her.
She had even heard her speak.
Yet the record in her camera told her—
there had never been anyone in that photograph.
2:47 a.m.
Jin Feixun woke from her memory.
She sat in the dim room.
The rain still hadn't stopped.
The recorder on the desk was still lit.
She put her headphones back on and played the recording again.
Yan Chuxian's voice sounded once more.
“If you're hearing this recording...”
“That means I'm already gone.”
Jin Feixun closed her eyes.
This time, she listened even more carefully.
Before Yan Chuxian spoke,
there was another very faint background sound.
Like someone walking in the distance.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Then a woman softly called out.
“Feixun.”
Jin Feixun's eyes flew open.
She immediately paused the recording.
The room was terrifyingly quiet.
She slowly removed the headphones.
At that exact moment—
the door behind her made a sound.
Click.
As if someone outside had gently turned the doorknob.
Jin Feixun didn't turn around.
She stared at the computer screen.
At the photograph of the seaside with Yan Chuxian gone.
She didn't know when it had happened.
But a line of text had appeared in the lower-right corner.
It hadn't been generated by the system.
And she hadn't written it.
Only seven short words:
“Don't let her remember you.”
Jin Feixun stared at the sentence.
A few seconds later,
the screen went completely black.
And outside the door,
a woman's voice spoke softly.
“Feixun.”
A pause.
“Do you remember me?”
Jin Feixun slowly raised her head.
For the first time, genuine fear appeared in her eyes.
Because that voice—
belonged to Yan Chuxian.