Ban Xia, clenching a handheld flashlight, gingerly unscrewed the screws and removed the casing of the radio.
A tiny silver key stuck to the inner wall of the radio's outer casing, accompanied by a yellowed note with drunken scrawl: Your New Year's gift.
Indeed, it was a generous gift.
She held the key in her palm, examining it closely. It was not much larger than her thumb, yet it carried weight, heavy and noticeable. The smooth silver metal casing, resembling a USB flash drive, had an interface at one end, which was sealed with a white, semi-transparent plastic cap. She took off the cap and sniffed close to the key's interface.
No smell.
It was hard to imagine that this thing had always been there—inside the radio, inside the room, within reach, staying with her for so many years.
Throughout countless days and nights, the girl and it had lived and slept together, clearly old friends who had accompanied each other for years, yet she had only just recognized it.
