Chapter 322: Sign and It's Yours

"Calcium tablets." Tang Guo said.

Shen Zhixia looked up from her notebook.

"That family replied. Just one line: the kid's been taking calcium tablets, prescribed by the township health clinic, said it was a calcium deficiency."

January 2nd, 7:30 p.m. The second day of the three-day New Year's break. The notebook lay open on the table, the Qingshi Village page with yesterday's four copied source citations pressed beneath it, the pen still wedged in between. Tang Guo set a bag of tangerines at the table's corner; the bag tipped and one rolled out. She bent down and put it back.

"You kept that last bag." She unwound her scarf. "This one I bought today."

"Haven't finished the last one."

"That was my first bag. This is my second." She draped the scarf over the chair back and set her phone on the table, screen up.

Zhi'an came out from the inner room to pour water, set the cup at the table's edge, and didn't leave.

"What exactly did she write." Shen Zhixia asked.

"Read it yourself."

"You read it. Word for word. Don't change a thing."

Tang Guo picked up her phone and squinted at the screen. "The kid's been taking calcium tablets these past couple days. The doctor in town said it's a calcium deficiency, prescribed three boxes."

"How long has she been taking them."

"She says almost a month."

"Did the calcium tablets cost anything."

"She says they were free. The health clinic gave them to her."

"What else did you ask."

"I asked where the test report is. She didn't answer. I asked if the doctor said anything else. She didn't answer that either."

"How many times did you ask."

"Once." Tang Guo put the phone down. "I was afraid if I pushed too hard she'd stop replying too."

"Out of the five things, how many came back."

Tang Guo counted on her fingers, then let her hand drop. "When did it start. When was the blood drawn—she said she can't remember, just that it was before the holiday. Where it was drawn, she'd only say 'the one in town.' The health clinic line came back verbatim—the calcium deficiency part. Who has the report, she won't say."

Shen Zhixia wrote it down. January 2nd, one line: The mother who replied—her child, the township health clinic said calcium deficiency, prescribed three boxes of calcium tablets, free, been taking them nearly a month. At the end she added: Original report not seen; date of blood draw unknown.

"That number—did the health clinic ever say a single thing to her about it." She asked.

"No." Tang Guo said. "She said the doctor only said that one thing."

"Ah Nan replied too." Tang Guo added. "Her daughter's in fourth grade. Ten years old, fourth grade."

Zhi'an set his cup down, turned back to his room, came out with his exercise book, flipped it open, and added a few words to the page with the folded paper corner tucked in it. When he finished, the pen tip tapped the paper once, and he closed the book.

"Why are you writing that down." Tang Guo asked.

"I asked about it last time." Zhi'an said. "I said, next time ask one thing."

Shen Zhixia didn't look up. The pen tip hovered over the paper, paused, then kept writing.

"Sis." Zhi'an said. "Is calcium deficiency the same thing as that number."

"It's not." She set the pen down. "The column on that report says blood lead. Calcium deficiency is something else entirely."

"Then why did the doctor only mention calcium deficiency."

"Maybe he didn't look at that column." She drew her hand back from the paper. "Or maybe he looked and chose not to say. He only said one thing, and that's the one thing the family understood."

Zhi'an thought for a moment. "Who's responsible for the part that's too high."

Shen Zhixia didn't answer. She finished copying the line and capped the pen.

8:10 p.m. Tang Guo's finger stopped on the screen.

"There are two more messages." She said. "I didn't read them earlier."

"Read them."

"Someone from the factory came by. Said they'll give nutrition money. Sign and it's yours."

The sound of Zhi'an's writing stopped.

"Next one."

Tang Guo glanced down before reading it out. "Stop contacting me."

"Read it again, word for word."

She read it again, slowly, each word drawn out one by one. When she reached "nutrition money," she enunciated the words clearly.

Shen Zhixia held out her hand. "Let me see."

Tang Guo passed her the phone. That gray avatar was still in the contact list. She tapped it open. The last two lines were the ones Tang Guo had read, followed by a message Tang Guo had typed herself, with a red marker after it. She tapped once and a prompt appeared on screen: You are not friends with this person yet. Please send a friend request first.

"She deleted me." Tang Guo said.

"Screenshot it."

"Already did. The moment I saw those two messages."

"Where'd you save them."

"Computer. Folder labeled January 2nd. Both images are in there."

"Send me a copy." Shen Zhixia said. "From the computer, not your phone."

"Why."

"Because you'll switch phones." She said. "Every two years, and everything's gone."

Tang Guo nodded. "I'll send it when I get home."

[Thud. Three families asked. One closed the door.]

Shen Zhixia pushed the phone back, flipped to a fresh page in the notebook, and wrote down the date.

"Now that she's deleted you, if her daughter gets another blood test, we won't hear a word." She said.

"So her daughter's case is just over?"

"It's not over." Shen Zhixia said. "The report is still in her own phone."

"The third family replied too." Tang Guo said. "Just two sentences: Stop asking. My husband works at the factory."

"On New Year's Eve she said the report was in her husband's hands."

"Yeah."

"Her husband works at the factory." Shen Zhixia finished copying the line. "So the report is in the hands of someone at the factory."

Tang Guo pinched the opening of the tangerine bag, creasing it.

"That family—no one asks them again. From now on." Shen Zhixia said.

"I wasn't planning to." Tang Guo said. "The day she wrote 'we're too scared to say anything,' I should have understood."

"She deleted you because she's afraid someone will see her phone." Zhi'an said.

"I only asked what grade she's in." Tang Guo said.

"I would've deleted too, back then." Zhi'an said. "Things I said in the class group chat—I went back in my room and deleted them all."

"Did deleting help."

"No." Zhi'an said. "Someone screenshotted them and posted them to other groups."

Tang Guo turned her phone face down on the table.

Shen Zhixia's phone chimed. Lu Jibai.

She typed back a line: Ah Nan—someone from the factory came by, said they'd give nutrition money, sign and it's yours. Then Ah Nan deleted Tang Guo.

Half a minute later his reply came: "Copy those two lines down word for word. And the date."

She sent back: "Okay."

8:40 p.m. Tang Guo flipped her phone over. The screen lit up.

"I want to post something."

"Don't."

"Hear me out." She set the phone down firmly. "No village name, no names, no report, and I won't even write the number. I'll just write one line: There's a child. A number in her blood. It's a chunk higher than the reference range. Who's supposed to do something about it."

"In one village, only a few families have that report." Shen Zhixia said. "You wouldn't even need the number. If you put out 'this is happening,' the villagers will figure out among themselves who it is."

"And if they figure it out, that's their business."

"If they figure it out, life gets harder for those families."

Tang Guo opened her mouth, then closed it.

"On this account of mine, the question I get asked most all year is 'can you say something for me.'" She pressed her hand to the table. "And I can't answer a single time. Now I've got these few private messages in my hands. If I post one message, within three days people will come asking. Once the questions start piling up, those families won't be able to crawl back into their shells."

"They just told you they're scared." Shen Zhixia said. "If you post, it won't just be them who are scared."

"What I'm scared of is them not even daring to say they're scared."

"Right now one person still said 'stop asking.'" Shen Zhixia tapped her pen on the paper. "'Stop asking' is still something said. It's better than silence. But if you put that post out, she'll start wondering: two days ago I talked to that person from the city, and the day after the factory shows up at my door—did it leak from me?"

"I didn't mention a single word about her."

"You don't have to. She can't tell one end from the other."

Tang Guo pressed the screen dark, then lit it again.

"When exactly did the factory people go." Shen Zhixia asked.

"She didn't say."

"Then it's even harder to explain away." Shen Zhixia said. "The factory goes door to door. It has nothing to do with anything she said. But she won't think that way. She'll think: someone came asking the day before yesterday, and yesterday they showed up at my door."

Tang Guo pulled her hand back from the table and crossed her arms.

"So we just listen." She said. "Ask one by one, lock the answers in the computer, don't show anyone. I know better than anyone what happens when you shout without papers in hand. When they cut my last video up like that, it took me half a month to dig my way out."

"Which is why this time we get the papers first."

"The papers." Tang Guo said. "As of today, I haven't seen a single one."

Shen Zhixia glanced at the corner of the desk. The kraft paper envelope leaned against the stack of binders, its mouth open, untouched all day.

"Next time someone messages me, what's the first thing I ask." Tang Guo asked.

"Ask if there's a piece of paper in the house."

"Don't mention the illness?"

"Don't." Shen Zhixia said. "If the paper exists, the illness is on the paper. If there's no paper, asking about the illness is asking them if they're scared."

Tang Guo lowered her head and typed a line on her phone, then looked up. "Is there a piece of paper in the house."

"Right." Shen Zhixia said. "After you ask, type the date. For the families who've already replied, don't go knocking a second time. Especially the one who deleted you. She's already shut the door. If you knock again, you're knocking on her husband."

"And what if no one comes to us?"

"Then we wait."

"How long."

"I don't know." Shen Zhixia said. "Waiting doesn't cost money."

Tang Guo laughed, but it didn't look good on her.

"You sound just like Lawyer Lu." She said.

"He said it."

"I figured as much."

9:10 p.m. Tang Guo put on her coat and nudged the tangerines toward Zhi'an's door. "These are for him."

"Last time you also said they were for him, and then you walked off with them."

"Last time I didn't know you'd bought two bags."

From the inner room, Zhi'an called out: "Thanks, Tang Guo jie."

"Do your homework."

She pulled the door open. The sound-activated light in the hallway clicked on. Cold air poured in through the doorway and lifted the corner of the page where the four source citations were pressed down.

One foot already out the door, Tang Guo turned back.

"Zhixia. How much do you get for signing."

Shen Zhixia stood inside the doorway. "I don't know."

Tang Guo didn't leave. She held the doorframe and waited for her to continue.

"We've never even seen what that piece of paper looks like."

The door closed. The hallway lights went out one section at a time. By the second-floor landing, the footsteps were gone.

The door to Zhi'an's room opened halfway.

"Sis."

"Yeah."

"She deleted that person. But the number's still there."

"The number only counts if it's on paper." Shen Zhixia said.

"So is her number on paper?"

"It's on a piece of paper she's never shown us."

The door closed.

She returned to the desk, flipped the page open, and copied the two lines Tang Guo had read:

Someone from the factory came by. Said they'd give nutrition money. Sign and it's yours.

Stop contacting me.

When she finished, she turned the notebook toward the light. Below those two lines, half the page was still empty.

At the desk's corner, the paper envelope leaned against the binders, its mouth facing up. The wind had long since died down, and it didn't puff open again.