Chapter 17 · The Departure Bell

The bell rang a second time.

Its sound rolled through the abandoned ferry station and shook dust from the rafters. Outside, the river answered with a long, wet groan. Black water climbed the steps in slow, deliberate folds, swallowing the painted warning signs one letter at a time.

NO ENTRY AFTER SUNDOWN.

The last red stroke disappeared beneath the tide.

Lin Lan tightened her fingers around the ticket in her hand. The paper was warm, almost feverish, and her name had not merely been written across it. The ink moved beneath the surface, rearranging itself like tiny trapped insects.

LIN LAN.

LAST PASSENGER.

A cold line of blood slid from the cut near her temple and disappeared into her eyebrow. She ignored it. The ferry waited beyond the broken dock, its hull rising from the river with the slow, obscene patience of a corpse remembering how to breathe.

Seven years ago, the vessel had gone down with everyone aboard.

Lin knew that because her mother had told her.

She also knew it because the ferry still carried the same name painted across its side in flaking gold: THE MERIDIAN.

A strip of black water ran from its windows like tears.