Chapter Three: The White Platform

He remembered a white river beside the highway when he was a child; an extra, empty floor reflected outside Qiongjing's office; the same gray-white background behind the seven anomalous users three years ago. He had called it fatigue and glare. The algorithm had not given him an ability. It had made ignoring it impossible. “A long time ago,” he said. A bicycle bell rang in the dark. Cen Yao emerged on an unlit electric bike and stopped ten meters away. She looked younger than her photograph; the scar over her eyebrow resembled a pale bracket. She glanced at Lin's empty hands. “You actually closed the screen.” “Where is Zhao?” Xu asked. “White Station. They probably haven't compiled him into a wall yet.” “And Chen Wan?”