Clear Condition Changed. Additional Target Registered. Ward Two, Closing Soon.

Fang Runing went down on one knee and lowered He Yuanqiu from her back.

He Yuanqiu's feet touched the mud. She swayed but didn't fall, steadying herself on Fang Runing's shoulder for a moment, then slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were still that amber, but the mist inside had thinned, like someone finally surfacing for a breath. She looked at Fang Runing—carefully, as if recognizing her, or confirming her.

"You look like you just crawled out of a burrow," He Yuanqiu said, her voice hoarse, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

Fang Runing said nothing. She looked at He Yuanqiu, her throat blocked as if by a red-hot coal. She wanted to say "you too," wanted to say "you've lost weight," wanted to say "I came to see you every week"—but in the end said none of it. She only nodded, as if confirming something that should have been confirmed three years ago.

He Yuanxia stood between the two of them, looking from one to the other. Her small hands still clutched Fang Runing's hem, knuckles white. He Yuanqiu looked down at her.

That look was different from the one she had given Fang Runing—like something had struck her softest spot. He Yuanqiu slowly crouched down to He Yuanxia's eye level. She held out one hand, palm up, as if waiting for someone long gone to decide for herself whether to take it. He Yuanxia bit her lower lip, tears spinning in her eyes, holding them back. Then she flung herself forward, crashing into He Yuanqiu's arms, her forehead pressed to her collarbone, sobbing.

"You said you'd come get me," He Yuanxia sobbed, the words slurred. "You said it. You said you'd be right back."

He Yuanqiu wrapped her arms around her and tightened them. Her own eyes were wet, but she didn't cry. She only rested her chin on the top of He Yuanxia's head and said, over and over, "I'm back. I'm back."

Fang Runing turned away, her back to them, facing the silent women in the courtyard. They were still there—dozens of blurred figures facing the main gate, like a row of gravestones forgotten by time. The commotion hadn't stirred them. They were still waiting, as if they had waited so long they'd forgotten what for.

"What are those things?" Fang Runing asked, without turning around.

He Yuanxia peeked out from her sister's arms, her voice still muffled. "They're the mothers who were sent here. They gave birth in here, and then the babies were taken away. Some of them died later; some didn't, but staying awake was the same as being dead. The system signed something with them and kept them here as scenery. They don't usually come out. Today they all came out—because the main gate opened."

Fang Runing followed her gaze. The main gate had indeed opened a crack—not wide enough for a person, but open. The road beyond the iron gate lay hidden in fog, a shapeless gray-white blur.

"When did the gate open?"

"Just now," He Yuanxia said, sniffling. "When you brought me out through the window. There's a rule here: only someone whose heart has died will walk up to the main gate. They've been waiting and waiting, for so many years without their answer, so they never touch the gate. But I counted—three more of them stepped out just now. Three new ones. Since you entered the building, three things have gone missing from it. So the gate opened a little."

Three things gone. Fang Runing counted silently: the woman in the maternity room, the infant on the second floor, He Yuanxia on the third. All of them had been brought out—not by anyone else, but by her and the red thread. The way this instance judged a clear was by releasing the things that "couldn't give up."

"Do all of these people have to be led out one by one?" Fang Runing asked.

"No." He Yuanxia shook her head. "The gate is open. As long as no one blocks it, whoever wants to leave can leave. But they don't want to. They're still waiting. Only if someone from outside comes in and leads them out, one by one, will they go."

Fang Runing looked back at the women. They were like a row of statues soaked by fog, light and thin, as if they would melt the moment the sun came out. She could never take all of them. The only ones she could take were the two behind her: one just woken from a long dream, one who had finally let go of a hem she had clutched for years.

"Let's go," she said, and stepped toward the main gate.

The wind suddenly picked up. Withered grass flattened across the yard; the stale smell in the air was swept away whole. The women moved—not toward her, not toward the gate, but all at once they turned to face her, as if her words had startled them. And then they spoke.

Dozens of voices layered into one—soft, and yet overwhelming.

"Where is my child?"

"Where did you take my child?"

"Have you seen my daughter? She was wearing a blue dress."

Fang Runing didn't stop. Her feet pressed into the space between withered grass and wet mud, sinking a little with every step. He Yuanqiu led He Yuanxia along behind her. The voices broke over her like waves, each one higher than the last, as if trying to drag her back off this road. The red thread whipped wildly in the wind, but it didn't break. It linked three people, its red glow in the gray courtyard like a fuse that refused to go out.

When Fang Runing was three steps from the main gate, someone appeared on the threshold.

A nurse. Not the kind from inside the building. This nurse was tall and thin, her white uniform gleaming clean, as if she had just walked out of a sterile world. She stood in the gap of the gate, turned sideways to block the way, a white-cloth-wrapped bundle in her arms. She had no face—or rather, her face was a soft mass of white light. She faced Fang Runing, her voice emerging evenly from the glow, flat as an announcement chime:

"Clearing Subject: Fang Runing. Bound Subject: He Yuanqiu. Please confirm: do you intend to leave with an unregistered target?"

Fang Runing didn't stop, and didn't answer.

The nurse continued: "System notice: target He Yuanxia is not on the clearing list. Please return her to her original position."

He Yuanxia clutched Fang Runing's hem tighter. The small hand was shaking, but she held back the tears.

Fang Runing finally stopped. She looked at the faceless nurse and said, enunciating every word: "She's not on the list. So what?"

The nurse was silent for a second, her voice still level: "Non-compliant targets may not leave the ward. If you take her by force, the clearing protocol becomes void, the bound subject will be judged a failure, and both of you will be terminated."

He Yuanqiu stepped forward, coming up beside Fang Runing. Her body was still weak—the wind swayed her whole frame—but she stood perfectly straight. He Yuanxia pulled at her hand, whispering, "Sis..."

He Yuanqiu glanced down at her and smiled. A shallow smile, but a real one.

"Who wants your protocol." He Yuanqiu lifted her head—to the nurse, to the gray-white sky, to the entire ward—and said, "I'm taking my little sister home."

Then she reached out and pushed the gate open.

White light blazed. Fang Runing closed her eyes—felt the red thread vibrating madly, felt He Yuanxia's small hand torn from her hem by a tremendous force and then gripping her wrist tighter, felt the wind pour in from beyond the gate, like the weight of the whole world pressing down on her, and like countless hands pushing her forward from behind.

She heard a voice. The system's voice—inorganic, edged with a faint electric buzz—sounding at her ear:

"Clear condition changed. Additional target registered. Ward Two, closing soon."

Then everything went quiet.