That person stood at the end of the street.
Across a road.
Across the passing crowds.
Across the afternoon sunlight.
Yet Jin Feixun recognized that watch at a glance.
A silver watch face.
A black leather band.
A hairline scratch ran across the surface.
As if something had cut it.
She had seen it before.
More than once.
In a photograph from seventeen years ago.
At the old cinema three months ago.
And in that inexplicable recording just now.
The same watch.
The same person.
Jin Feixun took a step forward.
People passed in front of her.
When she looked up again—
The person was gone.
She immediately crossed the road.
Her shoes splashed through puddles.
A bus drove past right in front of her.
She went around it.
At the end of the street, all that remained was an old flower shop that had already closed.
Her own face was reflected in the glass on the door.
No one else.
She stood where she was.
Her breathing had quickened slightly.
Her phone buzzed again.
It was still that same recording file.
Jin Feixun put her headphones back on.
Yan Chuxian's voice came through.
“Do you remember the first time you saw me?”
Of course she remembered.
South Bank Cinema.
Rain.
A battered movie screen.
A white shirt.
And that final photograph that vanished.
“Actually…”
Yan Chuxian gave a soft laugh.
“That wasn't the first time we met.”
Jin Feixun stopped.
“The real first time…”
The voice began to grow indistinct.
“Was seventeen years ago.”
The recording cut off abruptly.
Jin Feixun stood by the roadside.
Only electrical hiss remained in her headphones.
She closed her eyes.
Seventeen years ago.
November 3, 2017.
She had been seventeen.
Her mother had vanished.
It was also the first time she had picked up a camera.
She had always believed it was simply an inexplicable coincidence in her life.
But now, looking back—
It wasn't.
She reopened the old photograph.
Zoomed in.
Yan Chuxian stood behind her.
Her younger self had completely failed to notice the woman.
She hadn't even turned around.
Why?
If Yan Chuxian really knew her,
why didn't she remember her at seventeen?
If she really existed,
why was there no record of her anywhere?
Jin Feixun suddenly thought of a place.
The City Archives.
It preserved decades of records from the South Bank Old District.
Building files.
Resident registrations.
Records of old projects.
And the missing-person case from seventeen years ago.
She hailed a cab.
She didn't go home.
3:12 p.m.
The City Archives.
The air-conditioning was turned down low.
The air smelled of old paper and dust.
A staff member looked up at her.
“What do you need to look up?”
“November 3, 2017.”
“Specifically?”
“South Bank Old District.”
The staff member tapped the keyboard several times.
“What kind?”
“Missing persons.”
“Name?”
Jin Feixun paused.
“Jin Lan.”
The staff member looked up.
“Is she family?”
“My mother.”
The other person nodded.
A moment later, an electronic file appeared on the screen.
Jin Feixun stared at the familiar photograph.
It was her mother.
Beneath the photograph, it said:
Name: Jin Lan
Time of disappearance: November 3, 2017
Last known location: South Bank Old District
Case status: Case closed.
Jin Feixun frowned.
“Case closed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The staff member flipped through the records.
“Presumed dead.”
“Where's the body?”
The other person paused.
“There isn't one.”
“No body, so why was she presumed dead?”
The staff member looked at her.
“The file says…”
He turned the screen toward her.
“The missing person was confirmed nonexistent.”
Jin Feixun froze.
“What does ‘nonexistent’ mean?”
The staff member frowned too.
“I don't know.”
“Who confirmed it?”
“There's no record here.”
“Is there an original file?”
“Yes.”
The staff member pulled up another file.
The file was corrupted.
It couldn't be opened.
Jin Feixun stared at the red prompt.
FILE ERROR
She suddenly asked:
“Is there a paper copy?”
“There should be.”
The staff member got up.
He led her into the underground archive room.
Rows of metal cabinets stretched into the darkness.
The lights came on one by one.
Jin Feixun followed behind him.
She didn't know why.
The farther in they went,
the heavier the unease in her chest became.
At last,
the staff member stopped in front of a cabinet.
“2017.”
He pulled open a drawer.
Dozens of files lay inside.
The staff member began searching.
“Jin Lan…”
Nothing.
He searched again.
Still nothing.
“That's strange.”
“What is it?”
“The number is right.”
“But the file is missing.”
Jin Feixun looked at the empty folder.
“Is there a checkout log?”
The staff member checked.
Nothing.
“A destruction log?”
Nothing.
“Then where did it go?”
The staff member shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Jin Feixun said nothing.
Then she suddenly saw something at the very back of the drawer.
A sheet of paper, with only one corner showing.
She reached in and pulled it out.
It was an old photograph.
The photograph showed South Bank Cinema.
Date taken:
November 3, 2017.
Jin Feixun's breath stopped short.
Because there were three people in the photograph.
On the left.
Her mother.
In the middle.
Her seventeen-year-old self.
And on the right—
Yan Chuxian.
The three of them stood at the cinema entrance.
Yan Chuxian wore a white shirt.
The wind lifted her hair.
She looked into the camera with a smile at the corner of her mouth.
Jin Feixun's hands began to tremble.
“This photograph…”
The staff member leaned closer.
“What about it?”
“How many people do you see here?”
The staff member glanced at it.
“Two.”
Jin Feixun jerked her head up.
“What?”
“Two.”
“There are clearly three.”
The staff member pointed at the photograph.
“Your mother and you.”
“There is no third person here.”
Jin Feixun looked at the photograph.
Yan Chuxian was still there.
But the staff member couldn't see her.
She suddenly realized.
The problem wasn't the photograph.
It was—
The world she saw was different from the world everyone else saw.
The staff member picked up the photograph.
“Have you been too tired lately?”
Jin Feixun snatched the photograph back.
She offered no explanation.
She turned and walked away.
When she reached the door,
the staff member suddenly called after her.
“Ms. Jin.”
She stopped.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“There are words on the back of the photograph.”
Jin Feixun turned around.
The staff member flipped the photograph over.
There was only one sentence on the back.
The ink had faded,
but it was still legible.
“Don't let her live until November 3, 2026.”
Jin Feixun's face changed instantly.
November 3, 2026.
The date that had appeared on the advertising screen just now.
A date in the future.
It was also the time Yan Chuxian had repeated in her recording.
She suddenly understood.
Everything pointed to the same day.
Seventeen years ago.
Her mother vanished.
Three months ago.
She met Yan Chuxian.
Now.
She was investigating it all.
And three months from now—
November 3, 2026.
What would happen to Yan Chuxian?
7 p.m.
Jin Feixun returned home.
She didn't turn on the lights.
The old photograph lay on the table.
She scanned it into her computer.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then she began processing it.
Increasing the exposure.
Adjusting the contrast.
Enlarging the details.
Finally,
she saw something very small at the far right of the photograph.
It wasn't a person.
It was a door number.
South Bank Cinema's back entrance.
Number:
B-17.
Jin Feixun opened a map.
The place had long since been demolished.
But she remembered.
There was still an underground passage beneath the cinema.
It had been sealed off after an accident years ago.
No one had gone in since.
She suddenly stood up.
Picked up her coat.
Just as she was about to leave,
a knock came from the door.
Three times.
Very softly.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Jin Feixun stopped.
She didn't ask who it was.
Because she already knew.
The person outside said nothing.
Then came three more soft knocks.
She walked to the door.
Through the peephole,
she saw no one in the hallway.
Only a single light,
flickering on and off.
Jin Feixun gripped the doorknob.
Slowly, she opened the door.
A white envelope lay outside.
No return address.
No mailing address.
Only her name.
Jin Feixun.
She brought the envelope inside.
Opened it.
There was only one sheet of paper.
It read:
“If you've already seen the third person in the photograph.”
“Don't go to B-17.”
Below that was another sentence.
The handwriting was familiar.
It was Yan Chuxian's.
“Because I'm not there.”
Jin Feixun stared at the line.
Then she suddenly laughed.
Not because she was happy.
But because she had finally confirmed one thing.
Yan Chuxian was still alive.
At least—
She was still somewhere.
Jin Feixun picked up her phone.
She dialed the number that had already vanished.
The first time.
No one answered.
The second time.
No one answered.
The third time.
The call finally connected.
No one spoke.
Jin Feixun closed her eyes.
“Yan Chuxian.”
Silence.
She asked softly:
“Where are you?”
A very faint sound of breathing came from the other end.
Then a woman answered:
“You shouldn't have found this place.”
Jin Feixun's eyes grew slightly red.
“Why?”
“Because…”
Yan Chuxian's voice grew softer and softer.
“I'm already dead.”
Jin Feixun froze.
“But you're talking to me right now.”
Silence came from the other end.
For a long time.
Only then did Yan Chuxian say:
“Feixun.”
“Mm-hmm?”
“Have you ever thought…”
“Maybe the one talking to you right now—”
She paused.
“Isn't me either.”
The call suddenly disconnected.
Jin Feixun stood where she was.
On the phone screen,
the call duration read:
00:00.
She had never placed the call.
Yet there was an additional entry in the call history.
And the time on that entry was—
November 3, 2017.
Jin Feixun stared at the screen.
For a long time, she didn't move.
Outside the window,
the city lights came on one by one.
And on the computer screen,
the old photograph was refreshing automatically.
Yan Chuxian in the photograph—
Was gone.
In her place was a line of black text.
“Phase One: Remember.”
“Phase Two: Search.”
“Phase Three: Replace.”
At the very bottom,
a new name appeared.
Not Yan Chuxian.
Not Jin Lan.
But—
Jin Feixun.
Her pupils contracted sharply.
The screen went dark.
The room sank into darkness.
And in that darkness,
someone stood behind her.
A voice spoke softly:
“Now it's your turn.”