Tang Li did not scream.
She sat very still on the common room floor with the fallen notebook in her lap, both hands pressed flat against its cover, and for a long moment she simply stared at the two lines written there as if staring hard enough might make them rearrange themselves into something that made sense.
Attendance begins before the teacher arrives.
Don't sleep.
"It's still wet," she said. Her voice came out strange — flat, like she was reporting something that had happened to someone else. "Lin Yue. Look. It's still wet."
Lin Yue crouched in front of her, one finger still marking the place he'd caught the notebook open to. He didn't touch the ink. He only looked at the faint gleam of it under the common room's dim ceiling light, the way the last stroke of the second sentence still held a wet shine that hadn't had time to dry.
"I see it," he said.
