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.
Zhang Chao hesitated. It wasn’t his place to read private correspondence from a quarter-century ago. But the draft had never been deleted, never sent. It was a message in a bottle, adrift in a forgotten machine. foxmail
I know you don’t understand this email thing. Mom says you still use a typewriter at the报社 (newspaper office). But they installed this Foxmail on my computer, and I thought… maybe I could send you a letter without the stamp. I wrote this letter a hundred times on paper
P.S. The send button doesn’t work. Old Man Chen’s nephew says the server is gone. He says this is just a local draft. I don’t know what that means. But if you ever find this… come home. Zhang Chao sat in the humming silence. The server logs showed that this machine had been powered on last in 2003. Then again in 2005. Then never again. Zhang Chao hesitated