第四章 沒有滅的人Chapter Four · The One Who Did Not Go Out
儀器貼在自己的太陽穴上，是冷的。
夷光等著。她不知道自己在等什麼 —— 也許是等母親像所有交完的人那樣，被走廊的風帶走；也許是等那段記憶從母親那裡，整個搬進她的身體裡。
可是母親沒有走。
母親還坐在窗前，手還搭在膝上，只是比剛才更輕了一點，輕得像一張被人讀過很多次、快要散開的紙。但她沒有滅。她看著夷光，眼睛裡有夷光很久沒看過的東西 —— 不是城裡那種省著用的、快沒電的神。是亮的。
「妳把它留下來了。」母親說。
「我留下來了。」
「傻孩子。」母親的聲音在抖，可是她在笑，「留下來的人，城遲早會發現。沒有人，可以一直比規定的重。」
夷光這才注意到自己的腳。
她站著，腳掌牢牢踩在地上，像釘進去一樣。她想起剛才走進這棟樓的時候，整條走廊只有她一個人的腳步聲 —— 因為這裡其他的人都太輕了，輕到走路不會發出聲音，輕到風一吹就要扶著牆。
只有她，每一步都踩得到地。
外面那格燈還亮著。在這座一格一格熄下去的城裡，有一格，因為她把一段記憶留在了自己身上，亮了起來，而且沒有再滅。
夷光看著那格燈，第一次，覺得自己很重。
重得，可以站在原地，不被任何東西帶走。
The instrument pressed against her own temple was cold.
Yiguang waited. She did not know what she was waiting for — perhaps for her mother to be carried off by the draft in the corridor, the way everyone was once they had surrendered; perhaps for that memory to move, whole, out of her mother and into her own body.
But her mother did not go.
Her mother still sat by the window, her hand still resting on her knee, only a little lighter than before — light as a sheet of paper read too many times, on the verge of coming apart. Yet she had not gone out. She looked at Yiguang, and in her eyes was something Yiguang had not seen in a long while — not that thrifty, half-spent flicker the city wore, the look of something nearly out of power. It was bright.
"You kept it," her mother said.
"I kept it."
"Foolish child." Her mother's voice was trembling, and yet she was smiling. "Whoever keeps it, the city finds out, sooner or later. No one can stay heavier than the regulations allow for long."
It was only then that Yiguang noticed her own feet.
She was standing, the soles of her feet planted firmly on the ground, as though nailed into it. She remembered how, walking into this building earlier, the corridor had held no footsteps but her own — because everyone else here was too light, too light to make a sound when they walked, too light to keep from steadying themselves against the wall whenever the wind blew.
Only she touched the ground with every step.
Outside, that one square of light still burned. In this city dimming square by square, one square had brightened — because she had kept a memory upon herself — and had not gone out again.
Yiguang looked at that square of light, and for the first time, she felt that she was heavy.
Heavy enough to stand where she was, and not be carried off by anything at all.