Chapter Five: The Space a Lie Leaves Behind

Lin read the ledger. Its instructions felt like a stranger's obsession. Emotion was gone, leaving evidence: the shoulder-shaped gap in college photographs; a mug worn to fit Zhou's grip; ten years of birthday messages from Lin to an empty number, each asking, *Still alive?* Zhou's body turned transparent. He typed: *Zhou Jibai does not exist.* It was a lie, and therefore a space in which he might remain. But every sentence required an owner. Lin held down the paper and added: *This sentence belongs to me.* Zhou stopped fading, though no one remembered him. Following the notes on his sleeve, they opened the succession book. Correctors were not a bloodline. The office passed to the first person who named a corrected truth.