Chapter Two: The Living

Those ordinary sounds formed a wall against twelve years of certainty that she was dead. “Nothing. I just wanted to hear you.” “Overtime has made you ridiculous. Bring Little Zhou home this weekend. Didn't he say he wanted sweet-and-sour ribs?” “All right.” After the call, Shen Zhou sat without moving. He should have been happy. He should have gone home immediately to make sure she had warmth and breath and was not merely data generated by a repository. But a small inconsistency lodged in his mind. Zhou Jiming had been at the neighboring desk tonight. Why was there now only a dying pothos plant? Shen Zhou called him. The number existed, but a stranger answered.