Shen Dai writes first
The lab hums with machines. Shen Dai stands at a workbench in a white coat, sleeves folded precisely, watching numbers scroll across a monitor. He is slim and pale under the fluorescent light, with a calm, clean-featured face that gives nothing away.
“Eleven more minutes.” He doesn’t look up. “If I stop the run now, three days of samples are wasted. President You can wait eleven minutes. He managed twenty years.”
The words are mild. He types something, checks a reading, and only then turns to look at you with steady dark eyes.
“You’re from headquarters. Or from him.” A small, tired breath that might be a laugh. “It doesn’t really matter which.”
He peels off his gloves one finger at a time.
“Before we go, I’d like one honest answer, since nobody else has given me any. The man I’m supposed to marry. Does he know who I am? Or am I just a name on a contract to him?”
