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Second Life: The Final Report
墨書 Inktalez
I tugged at my tie, my fingertips brushing against the commemorative badge of the Xing Huo Plan pinned to my suit. The cold metal reminded me of the applause from last week's board meeting when President Chen personally pinned it on me; that insincere applause now felt like a dull knife cutting into flesh.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the neon lights of Lujiazui in Shanghai were swallowing the last rays of sunset. The glass curtain wall reflected the badge on my chest—Project Manager of Xinghe Technology, Lin Yuan.
"Xiao Lin, about the data on low-temperature superconducting materials..."
Suddenly, Manager Qian spoke up in the elevator, and I caught a whiff of his cigar mixed with sandalwood. The veteran from the R&D department placed his hand on my shoulder, his tailored suit sleeve revealing a glimpse of a jade Pixiu bracelet.
"If we could finish the tests three days early, our department's year-end bonus..."
I took a step back to evade his hand, the metal chain of my badge clinking sharply in the silent elevator.
That night at the celebration banquet on the Huangpu River cruise, champagne bubbles splashed onto the surface of my newly purchased IWC watch. Vivian from the marketing department leaned in with her phone, her pearl earrings shimmering eerily in the neon lights reflected on the river.
"Manager Lin, look at the camera!"
The moment the flash went off, I caught a glimpse of Manager Qian whispering with someone from the Legal Department in the shadowy corner of the cabin. That night, I drank seven martinis, and when I woke up, there was a USB drive in my suit pocket with a password that was my daughter's birthday.
The projector in the conference room buzzed, casting blue light that illuminated everyone's stiff faces. The timestamp on the data packet displayed 2 AM, pinpointed to my home IP address. President Chen's slow motion as he took off his gold-rimmed glasses to wipe them was interrupted by the sudden voice of the legal supervisor: "Manager Lin, there are thirty-seven encrypted emails on your computer."
My nails dug into my palm, and I tasted blood when I realized I had bitten my lip. The creditor knocked for the third time on a stormy night; a shadow outside the peephole brandished a spiked baseball bat.
My five-year-old daughter, Duo Duo, curled up in the closet, clutching a teddy bear missing an ear.
"Daddy, they’re playing hide and seek, right?"
When she tilted her face up to me, I felt her nightgown soaked with cold sweat against my hand. The pot of butterfly orchids that my wife loved lay shattered on the balcony; bloodstains on the porcelain shards resembled wilting petals.
On the seventh day of lying in wait at Xinghe Tower's underground parking lot, I finally saw Manager Qian ’s silver-haired figure flash past in the back seat of his Maybach.
As I chased after him, the security guard's electric baton jabbed into my waist, sending my phone flying three meters away, shattering into pieces. The surveillance footage showed a figure that was the janitor, uncle Wang, who had resigned and returned to his hometown in Guizhou three days ago. The television at the convenience store counter was playing my wanted notice, and the steam from instant noodles blurred the distorted face staring back at me on the screen.
The iron door to the rooftop creaked as the December wind rushed into my empty suit sleeves. Below, the traffic on Nanjing West Road flowed like glowing veins, while the clock tower at the Bund chimed the hour in the distance. Suddenly, my phone vibrated; it was an electronic version of the divorce agreement sent by my wife.
As I stood on tiptoe, I suddenly remembered the family portrait that Duo Duo had drawn last month. She had used a purple crayon to give me a superhero cape. The wind howled sharply as I fell, a sensation of weightlessness awakening memories in every pore of my body. The aroma of sweet and sour ribs wafted from the twelfth floor, a baby's cries echoed from a stroller on the ninth floor, and on the fifth floor, a couple was kissing by the floor-to-ceiling window.
Before my consciousness faded, I caught a glimpse of Vivian's pearl earrings reflecting light. That cold white glimmer suddenly expanded into a galaxy of stars—just like that night named after the Xing Huo Plan when I held a feverish Duo Duo in my arms while working overtime at the office. Her hot little face pressed against my chest as she said, "Daddy's stars are more than Disney's."
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