He clicked.

Zhang Chao scrolled down. And then he saw it. Beneath the signature, in a different font—a clumsy, old monospace type—was a second block of text. It had been added later, perhaps years later, on the same machine. Li Wei,

I wrote this letter a hundred times on paper. But you never gave me your address after you moved to Shenzhen. You only gave me this… this Fox thing.

He opened it. Dad,