Chapter One: The Midnight Menu

She opened the three bags. All were empty. At home she locked the door three times and photographed them with a spare phone. The image showed no bags, only three blurred, human-shaped shadows on her table. She switched on every light, made the bitterest coffee she could, and held out until dawn before falling asleep on the sofa. At 7:05, the doorbell rang. Zhiwei woke, took a fruit knife, and approached barefoot. A stranger stood beyond the peephole. He wore a long black coat. His pale face was gentle and strangely ancient, as if he had stepped out of a fading photograph. Though it was summer, he held a black umbrella, carefully avoiding the sunlight through the corridor window. He looked directly at the peephole.