Chapter Three: The Deleted Screenwriter

On the reverse, an older hand had added: LITTLE MO, IF YOU FIND THIS, I HAVE FAILED AGAIN. DON’T TRUST THE ENDING I FILMED.—LU. A marble rolled overhead, though there was no floor above them. Water seeped through the ceiling and turned into curls of black film on the floor. Gu held one to the window. Two girls hid in a darkroom. The older covered the younger’s eyes. Shen Qing entered carrying a match. Then came a jump cut: she was already on fire. “An action is missing,” Lin said. “Or someone replaced it.” The old television lit. Qiao sat in Number Thirteen’s kitchen, exhausted. “Little Mo, if you’re watching, the film recognizes you. Don’t find me. Especially don’t bring Gu Wen.” “Why?” Lin asked.