Like a featherlight slip of paper, as heavy as the turn of the century:
"[Look again on the other side...]"
Chu Anqing and Lin Xian faced each other and spoke softly:
"[You will definitely understand.]"
...
Lin Xian took the small slip of paper.
Pinched it between his fingertips.
It felt so light, as though weightless and insubstantial through the thick gloves of his spacesuit.
Yet inexplicably,
Lin Xian felt that this thumb-sized folded slip of paper... was so heavy.
It bore the weight of a 600-year span of time.
The weight of supporting a whole world's reality and illusion.
He nodded his head.
His gaze shifted from the slip of paper back to Chu Anqing's face:
"Okay, I promise you. I believe you."
He unzipped the orange spacesuit zipper at his chest.
It was one of the only two personal pockets on this suit, designed for astronauts to carry personal items.
