Chapter Three: The Stopped Clock

“My sister will find them,” Zhixia told an unseen camera. “She has more patience with numbers than with people.” Then the memory was cut apart. Zhixia's fear, pain, name, and final words flowed into twelve silver dishes. Before darkness closed, Zhiwei saw another version of herself in a mirror. That face was permanently thirty-two. “Save the first bite,” the other Zhiwei told Wen Qi. “The cycle must begin.” Zhiwei awoke on the restaurant floor with pomegranate sweetness and salty blood in her mouth. The table was broken, and the twelve guests were gone. Rain fell normally outside. Traffic moved again. The clock read 12:13. Gu sat several paces away, his palm pinned to the floor by a silver knife.