chapter 16

Chapter 16

2001 marked the beginning of a new century. My father and I started new lives in the same city, each on our own.

My major in college was bioengineering. After graduation, I worked at a research institute for many years, spending my days peering into microscopes and dealing with all kinds of microorganisms.

My father assumed the identity of a deceased coworker and joined a metallurgical plant. His job involved handling strong acids, and he habitually corroded his fingerprints, taking advantage of his position.

We corresponded under false names, burning the letters after reading them.

Since Officer Lu still came looking for me from time to time, we quickly gave up regular correspondence and switched to more discreet methods of exchanging information.

For example, we picked a fixed seat at a noodle shop. My father would go there in the morning to eat noodles and hide a letter under the seat; I would go in the afternoon, have noodles, and retrieve the letter.

Occasionally, we arranged to go hiking together. When we arrived, we would exchange a distant glance and then climb the mountain together. I could no longer hold my father’s hand like I did when I was a child; I could only keep the distance of strangers.

Life continued this way for several years.

In 2007, something unexpected happened. While hiking, I once again felt that quiet yet terrifying gaze.

The gaze of the sheep.

Suppressing my inner fear, I turned to look. The crowd was dense; I didn’t see the sheep, but I did see Officer Lu in plain clothes, following me.

Realizing this, I kept my composure and continued walking, gradually veering off my intended path and widening the already considerable distance between my father and me.

Officer Lu didn’t notice anything unusual. It was a close call, but nothing happened.

But we couldn’t live so cautiously forever. My father was right back then-this was not a long-term solution.

My father had plastic surgery, but if you looked closely, you could still see traces of his old appearance; he corroded his fingerprints, but they would grow back; even if fingerprints could be erased, DNA is an eternal marker.

As early as 1997, when my father disappeared, the police already had my DNA.

I always understood: if the case isn’t closed, the past will never truly be past.