Fourth Name

Anping Building will be closed tomorrow. Surveyor Xu Zhao rushed up to the third floor in the last half of the day - his brother had been missing for two days, and the last photo he sent was the house number of 307. There she got her brother's work ID card. Behind the work ID card was a 40% discounted clearance receipt, with the status of residence marked "No one." She turned to the back. Sister, don't give this piece of paper to Chen Du yet. There was a fire in this building eight years ago, and Chen Du's father died inside. The newspaper headline was "The man on duty locked the door, and the escape from the old building was blocked." On the original registration form, the testimony was: I saw him closing the door on the third floor in the courtyard behind the building. There are only two paraphrases in between, and a comma that has no place. In 307's old account book, the column for 2018 reads: three in the front room and one in the back room. Three people have registered. Lived in four. This was the first piece of paper that Xu Zhao and Chen Du checked together. Later, they relied on this to make a living - retrieving original documents for people who had been written incorrectly, merged, or erased on the paper.