Chapter 13: The Forged Signature

The corridor emptied slowly, a dressing gown at a time.

Lin Zhi stood in the middle of it, barefoot, with the transfer order in his fist.

His shirt was on inside out.

The ward behind him was stripped to the mattress, and the monitor stood against the wall with nothing to read.

He could not remember a time he had been so frightened.

"Mr. Lin."

Pei Wen stood at the end of the hall with his round glasses crooked and his lunchbox clutched in front of him.

He was crying.

He was crying openly, with his mouth shut tight, and he had apparently been at it for some time.

"Mr. Lin," he said. "I've known he was awake for three weeks."

Lin Zhi looked at him.

He felt, to his surprise, no anger at all.

"Get the car," he said.

Pei Wen told it on the road, with both hands on the wheel and his glasses fogging.

"I was reading him the stock closes, like every night. And he squeezed my hand at the Shanghai index."

"At the index," said Lin Zhi.

"It was down four percent. He disapproved."

Lin Zhi put his face in his hands and laughed until he coughed.

"I didn't say anything," Pei Wen went on, miserable. "He wrote a word on my palm with his finger. Wait. That's all it said."

"I've waited for three weeks. I didn't know what for."

"For me," said Lin Zhi.

"I think so. I think he picked you."

"I think he did."

Lin Zhi smoothed the order flat on his knee.

He had read it three times in the ward, and something in the signature had nagged him the whole time.

He could not find it.

They drove around the lake in the grey light, past fishermen and joggers and old men doing slow exercises with fans.

Lakeside Rehabilitation was a long white building behind a hedge, with a car park at the front and a delivery bay at the back.

"I used to do logistics," said Pei Wen. "Before I was an assistant."

"The Xie Group owns the laundry contract, and the bay opens early."

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