A record of an extremely small kindness.
After— after. When Tang Fan is home, and safe, Sui Zhou sees to it that he is comfortable, then moves to take leave of his imposition.
Surely in a world so vast there lie yet stones unturned— slippery things smalled for his spindling fingers to unearth.
Hockstetter knows all the best places to hide. What else are friends for?
An Erebite and a Terror confer over their grievances
Sui Zhou's WeChat starts firing off around midday, which does at least immediately pare down the pool of potential suspects.
Riley Flynn flees Crockett Island, and the priest follows.
How many nights has he entertained this very vision of Tang Fan, all lean long lines and li after li of smooth skin? Most, in some shape or another, since Tang Fan first stormed into his life and made his home in what wreckage he found there. Too many, but so few. To have it now, real enough to see, too far from reach to touch— it’s agony.
His house has been so quiet without the volume of Tang Fan's life filling it, these last days.