The Person Who Failed to Arrive Seven Years Ago

The next morning, the school cleared out a low-light conference room. The curtains were fully drawn, reflections from the tabletop reduced to a minimum, and even the remote light screen’s default portrait enhancement was turned off. Mihe’s mother lived somewhere two hours ahead of Gongdeng City, and it was still early morning there when the connection was established. Once the image stabilized, Xu Linchuan almost failed to recognize her. Seven years was enough to change a face in many ways. Large patches of fine silver-gray lines now ran along the side of her neck, and the photosensitive membranes around her eyes were thinner than before. When she first came to the school seven years ago, she had gone two nights without sleep and was still carrying a notebook filled with gate-station numbers and the names of investigation contacts. Back then she spoke quickly and could immediately cite the source for any point in the timeline. Now, seated at the other end of the light screen, she moved much more slowly.

He Qi came straight to the point, displaying the school’s old maintenance diagrams and the latest images of Yike’s old ring one after another. Mihe’s mother looked at the blue fabric first, then asked them to turn the image toward the inner side. She enlarged it twice before stopping on a small worn patch beside the clasp. “Closer here.” He Qi complied. Two shallow scratches came into view. “She shaved it down herself,” Mihe’s mother said. Xu Linchuan did not remember at first. “She complained that the clasp rubbed against her neck membrane,” she explained. “The first time, she took a knife to it at home. I scolded her. Then she did it again later.”

Xu Linchuan suddenly remembered the day the practical arts teacher caught Mihe. The child had stood outside the office, openly defiant, saying she had only made the device more comfortable and had not broken it. Xu Linchuan told her to write a safety report, and she asked whether she could title it “On the Matter of the Clasp Being Very Poorly Designed.” “I made her write a report,” he said. The woman on the other side of the light screen glanced at him. “She wrote one at home too.” Xu Linchuan paused. “She wrote two?” The corner of Mihe’s mother’s mouth moved very slightly. “Your school couldn’t keep her in line. Neither could I at home.” The trace of a smile quickly vanished.