Boundary under light
[Resort's Public Open Day]
At ten o'clock on the weekend, the sunlight spread across the glass roof like a thin silk. The sea breeze, broken into segments by the building, blew through the inner courtyard, carrying a hint of salt and the dampness of the soil, its sound very soft, like whispering in your ear.
The park is open to the community and schools. Children who have registered lined up in a winding queue. Volunteers distributed crayons and stickers. Along the connecting walkway, long white rolls of paper were joined together in sections, with blue masking tape used to seal the four corners. Portable lights stood on the side, casting low-profile shadows on the paper.
Hu Li squatted down, flattened the paper with her palm, and scratched a faint white mark on the back of her finger along the edge of the paper. She looked up, smiled, and waved to the first child: "Come on, stand here, heels aligned with this line."
The children's laughter danced in the air like tiny bells. She had the children spread their arms like birds, or hug them to their chests like they were holding an imaginary cat; the ballpoint pen followed the shadows, the lines crisp and clean. The second child took their turn; she twirled the pen between her fingers, then gently tapped it into the pen holder beside her. The pen wobbled slightly before settling still, like a fox tucking in its tail—swift and clean.
Mu Tianlang was at the other end of the aisle handing over the traffic flow to the stagehands. He didn't stand in the middle, but stopped two steps to the side, letting the crowd naturally move around to avoid crowding. Someone jogged past, their shadow almost bumping into her. He subconsciously took half a step forward, his hand supporting her waist, not touching her, but deflecting the force.
She didn't turn around, only tucking a strand of hair from her forehead behind her ear, a speck of paint smudged on her sleeve like a thin cloud. His hand paused in mid-air, then swiftly returned to his pocket. He then placed a pack of wet wipes on the side she favored.
She looked up at him, didn't say thank you, but just waved the wet tissue at him as if to say: I saw it.
"Shadow imprinting, stand firm!" she reminded the child. She deepened the imprint by one notch along the child's fingertip, laughing, "That'll make it feel like you're really catching the wind."
He glanced down at the stroke and said in a low voice, "Stay away from the wind."
She tilted her head, her smile subtle, letting him hear only, "I'm on your side."
He glanced at her for a second, then looked away: "Okay."
[Resort's Public Open Day Near Noon]
The telephoto lens finally peeked through the gap in the railing, and the reporter waved the tag to find the right angle. Hu Li glanced at the reflective stainless steel pillar, marked a point in his mind, and casually adjusted the angle of the toilet paper roll by two degrees to ensure that the child's hand and the string were always visible in the picture, so as not to give the illusion that only "two adults" were left.
The reporter smiled and leaned closer: "Designer Hu, today's event was very interesting. Where did you get your inspiration?"
"From them." She gestured with her chin towards the child, "Shadows are their domain."
Another reporter chimed in, tentatively: "Recently, there's been a lot of attention on the resort, and also on you and the president—"
She didn't answer, continuing to crouch down and finish shooting along the shadows, her tone gentle, but the sharp edge hidden beneath the surface: "They are the main characters today, you can make the theme clear in your photos."
The topic naturally veered off course. The reporter changed tactics, turning to Mu Tianlang: "President, will the opening ceremony be affected by the weather or public opinion?"
Mu Tianlang raised his eyes, his voice flat: "As scheduled, according to plan." He paused for a moment, then added two more words: "Safety is the priority."
The reporter raised an eyebrow: "Would the CEO be willing to take a photo with Designer Hu?"
She had finished outlining the little girl's shadow, stood up, took a half step back, and smiled faintly: "You can take a picture with her. She said she wanted to leave a blank space in this one, so the wolf and fox wouldn't crowd it."
The little girl nodded earnestly, leaving a finger's width of space between the two shadows. In the shot, the child's drawing was brighter than the adult's face, and the people around laughed along.
He stood watching, his Adam's apple bobbing, but said nothing. She asked him through the crowd in the softest of voices, "Would you also like to leave a little bit of space between your fingers?"
His gaze shifted only slightly: "It depends on the occasion."
She laughed: "And now?"
He said, "Follow the procedure."
She suppressed her smile slightly: "Okay, procedure comes first."
[Afternoon of the resort's public open day]
The tray at halftime held water and fruit. She took the water, a thin mist forming around the glass. His cufflinks gleamed slightly under the light. She tilted her head, her voice low: "This one today, it's warm."
He glanced at her, didn't reply, but simply moved half a step back, creating a natural barrier between the volunteers and children. She understood what he meant, stopped teasing, and simply lengthened the toilet paper so the second group of children could continue.
At the back of the line, a young man wearing a mask and a baseball cap, with a live stream on his phone, spoke rapidly as he tried to get closer: "We've noticed frequent interaction between the designer and the CEO, may I ask—"
A volunteer reached out to block them, saying, "Please move over here; the media area is over there."
The man stepped back an inch and then stepped forward again, his tone suddenly rising: "Is this place really safe? Didn't you just have a power outage yesterday? What if the children run around here—" Several cameras followed suit, and background noise surged up.
Before he could finish speaking, someone next to him chimed in, as if relaying a message: "I just saw water, the ground is very slippery!"
The air seemed to tighten for a moment. The children were startled, and the two younger ones instinctively took a half-step back. Hu Li immediately squatted down and opened her palms: "Look at me." She cupped her hands into a small hollow, "Now sit your knees in the hollow, we'll be a little boat, we won't run away."
The children quickly followed suit, squatting in a row. She drew her attention back to the children and continued guiding them to draw shadows, keeping them still and undisturbed; the surrounding signs and lights were handled by volunteers and staff according to on-site instructions. Her tone was calm, as if she were drawing a diagram.
Mu Tianlang didn't approach, standing an arm's length away, and said in a low voice: "Security, cordon off the area on the outside, leave a walkway; volunteers, sit in rows." He glanced at the ground, saw no water, and pointed to a shadowy spot: "The lighting is bad there, turn the corner lights back half a notch."
The man doing the live stream raised his phone higher: "Mr. President, are you worried we might film something?"
He looked over, his eyes cold and expressionless: "It's not out of fear, just follow the rules." A volunteer nearby immediately handed him a card outlining the event guidelines, which he tapped: "The media area is over there. Please take your positions. Main camera on the children."
"Today's main characters are the children," Hu Li continued, her voice soft yet maintaining order. "If you want a story, this is the best place." She beckoned to the little girl from before. "She said she wanted to leave some space for the wolf and the fox, so she stood in the light, making room for others."
The girl nodded obediently. The camera panned to her, and the comments section erupted with "So cute!" and "The little girl is so well-behaved!" The man streaming the show slowed down, as if he couldn't find a new angle to talk about.
Just then, a small commotion came from the other end of the corridor—a drink had fallen to the ground, spreading a sticky mess on the stone surface, right at the corner. Someone deliberately yelled "Slippery!" in a high-pitched voice, as if it had been rehearsed.
He turned his head and gave a brief command: "Seal off the corner." Two security guards quickly erected warning signs, volunteers pulled out soft barriers, and cleaners came forward with dry mops and absorbent paper to handle the situation. He added, "Children, look at your books first." Volunteers immediately brought out coloring books, and the children sat quietly, the noise quickly subsiding.
Hu Li glanced at the sticky, shiny area, but didn't linger long. She simply pulled the end of the toilet paper roll inward a little further, casting the child's shadow in the light. She quietly said to the little boy beside her, "Look, the light is the path. If you follow it, you won't get lost."
The livestreaming man paused for two seconds, gave an awkward laugh, and took a breath: "Then, Mr. President, what about the previous photos—"
He said, "I won't comment on personal matters." He paused for a moment, then added four more words: "The opening will proceed as scheduled."
Hu Li finished the last stroke of the shadow, stood up, wiped the dust off the back of his hand, and smiled: "You can take pictures of the shadow wall. We'll make today's shadows into a wall and hang it in the connecting corridor. When you come next time, you can find yours."
The reporters nodded, and the camera cut to the child and the painting.
She turned her head to him and whispered, "Your tone was very cold just now."
He simply said, "Standard."
She blinked. "Then I'll add some warmth." She carefully tucked the sketch of "The Fox and the Wolf" into the tube, deliberately letting the edge of the paper slip past his palm, not touching it, just letting her breath brush against it. "Today you stand behind the light, and I'll stand in the light, so it'll look a little warmer."
His gaze darkened slightly: "Don't be reckless."
She smiled and said, "Yes, ma'am."
[Sunset during the resort's public open day]
As the activity drew to a close, she walked along the roll of paper, tracing the names the children had written down in a very fine line. The volunteers put the portable lamps back into the box, their light falling one by one on the ground, like someone escorting you home.
He stopped an arm's length away from her side: "You've had a long day."
She looked up: "You didn't scare anyone today."
He gave a very faint smile, almost imperceptible: "Thanks for the reminder."
She handed the paper tube to the volunteer, and as she turned, her shoulder line traced a short arc in his eyes. He didn't reach out, but simply shifted his position half a step outward, making room for her. She understood, and her toes retreated back within the marked lines, as if she were withdrawing a thought.
[Nighttime at the Resort's Courtyard Corridor]
One by one, the lights for the open day went out, and the backup lights came on, cutting the ground into sections. The air was quiet, and a breeze drifted in from the sea, carrying a hint of dampness.
She walked along the corridor and picked out a few photos from today, sending them to the operations team for organization. She then chose two more to keep to herself: one of the children's shadow wall, and the other of their shadows on the ground very close together when he stepped aside. She sent the second photo only to him, adding the caption: "The boundary ends here."
He replied: I received it.
She thought for a moment, then took another picture, holding the phone close to her chest, capturing only half of her face and shoulder. She didn't add a caption, but instead posted: "The fox stands in the light, the wolf behind the light."
He didn't send any pictures or say much. Two minutes later, he simply replied, "I saw it. I'm in the back."
She smiled at the word, put her phone back in her pocket, and let out a soft breath.
[Resort CEO's Office Overnight]
Only one desk lamp was lit in the CEO's office, its light illuminating the desktop. He arranged the surveillance footage and the live stream playback side by side in three frames, comparing them frame by frame. He paused on one frame: when the man in the live stream raised his phone, a passerby raised his hand to shield his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes glanced at the camera—not out of curiosity, but to confirm.
He noted down the time and coordinates, his voice even lower: "Extract the original footage and run feature vector comparison; retrieve the cleaning work order and the anomaly alert together."
The assistant replied on the other end of the intercom, "Received."
He added: "Public relations should use the public interest narrative first; security should patrol the area more tonight and keep a close eye on corners; make two copies of the shadow wall and lock them in the archives."
His gaze returned to that frozen frame. He tapped his knuckles lightly on the table: Don't give them anything to hold against you. He didn't want her to get involved with that dirty stuff.
The water in the foggy black cup was still warm. He pressed the lid tightly and pushed it to one side, as if suppressing the thought of crossing the line.
[Night in the Staff Dormitory]
As she returned to her room, the motion-sensor lights in the hallway turned on one by one, like a string of patient road signs. She leaned the tube of paper against the wall. Her ankle was a little tight after running today, so she lifted her foot onto a stool, pressed her fingers against the most sore spot, and slowly calmed her breathing.
The phone lit up; it was him.
Mu Tianlang: Just finished watching. Thanks for your hard work.
Hu Li: You've worked hard too. So many little hands held mine today.
Mu Tianlang: I know.
Hu Li: You stood behind the light, very well-behaved.
Mu Tianlang: Standards.
Hu Li: Then why are you still keeping an eye on me?
The dialog box paused for a second.
Mu Tianlang: Let's see if you're on this side.
She looked at the words, her heart felt like it had been pressed, then slowly released. She pulled the easel to the window, put away yesterday's painting, and replaced it with a new canvas. She first laid down a layer of damp gray as the base color, then painted a wolf standing in the light on the left, its outline clearer and its ear tips more prominent; in the lower right corner, she deepened the misty color to hide a fox, only revealing a tiny bit of its tail tip.
She picked up a charcoal pencil and left a space about a finger's width between the wolf and the fox; then she wrote a line of small words in the corner: I am on your side, and I am also where you need me.
Then, another message popped up from an unknown number, brief but even harsher: "Too slow. I'll do it myself. His proximity to you is useful to us. Stop dragging it out."
She stared at the screen for two seconds, steadied her breathing, and replied, "I control the rhythm."
The other party replied calmly, "He's not entirely innocent. His surname is Mu, and his mother's name is Fang Jing."
She muted the conversation, moved it to the "Save" folder, and didn't reply. She looked back at the blank space on the canvas, her chest feeling as if pulled by two forces, one towards light, the other towards mist. She brightened half of the blank space, then pressed it back down a bit. She didn't intend to speak of those eyes and voices hidden in the shadows; she would only deepen the boundary and stand within it.
The phone lit up again.
Mu Tianlang: Don't stay up too late.
Hu Li: You too. Had coffee today? Your cufflinks look great.
Mu Tianlang: One.
Hu Li: Then switch to your left hand tomorrow. Don't let people notice your habit.
After a few seconds of silence, he replied: Understood.
[Late at night in the resort's courtyard corridor]
As the night deepened, the low-level backup light cast a thin white line at her feet. She carried the paper tube downstairs, intending to place the shadow wall in the design department first. Reaching the corner, she stopped: in the shadows ahead, someone leaned against the railing, bending over to tie their shoelaces, as if waiting for someone, or perhaps deliberately stretching out a scene.
She didn't approach. She moved the paper tube to the other side, her phone camera panning across the railing and the low-level light, recording the path of light on the stone surface, then turned back. She knew she had collected all the light she needed for the day; the remaining darkness was beyond her reach.
Upstairs, a light shone through one of the windows. He stood behind that light, hands behind his back, motionless, like a wolf standing in the shadows of a slope, its ears pointed to the wind. He saw her stop, saw her retreat, his Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't go downstairs. He silently repeated the two shortest words in his mind: Don't come.
[The morning following the media rehearsal at the resort]
The next day at 10:00 AM, the PR and operations team held a media Q&A rehearsal in the glass corridor. She stood to one side, at the lighting position, recording the brightness and shadows of the backdrop at each stop. A PR colleague held up a card: "What if asked if we were affected by external factors?"
He said, "As scheduled, according to plan."
PR: "Was the advertising campaign adjusted due to negative feedback?"
He said, "The deployment will be handled internally by the company. Today, let's get back to the main focus—the opening and security; the timeline remains unchanged."
The card moves to the next question: "Do the designer and the CEO—"
She casually picked up the conversation: "Today's focus is on the artwork."
He didn't look at her much, only lowering his voice: "Just going through the motions."
She looked up at him, her smile ambiguous: "I know."
After the rehearsal, she took two comparison photos of the final lighting plan and sent them to him and the control room manager. She added a note: "I'm on your side, I won't cross the line."
He replied: Okay.
She paused, then added: "Then don't be too cold today."
He replied: I'll do my best.
She smiled and said, "Then I'll be even warmer."
He didn't reply. She closed her phone, looked up and saw the clouds on the glass sky slowly disperse, the sunlight tracing circles on the ground, like someone's restrained breath finally letting out an inch.
As night fell, the low-level lights in the inner courtyard were turned off one by one. She handed the first draft of the shadow wall to the operations team, while he closed the final checklist in the president's office.
The official press conference will be held at 10:00 AM tomorrow.
The wind blew in from the sea, like a line that tightened and then loosened. They each returned to their positions—on stage and behind the scenes—neither crossing the line nor retreating.
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