The next practice brought Yan back to the station’s false roster. He had seen the dead names entered as workers and the missing years hidden in a column marked service days. He had felt anger at the officials who had used the roster, and grief for the families who had lost people.
In the shrine chamber, he chose to hold both memories under one clear intention: understand what he felt without letting one feeling erase the other. The scripture gathered his attention around the roster. Its ordinary dulling pressed at the emotion, attempting to soften the distinction between anger and grief. The System reversed the intrinsic harm into clearer understanding. Anger sharpened as anger; grief remained grief. He kept the full sequence moving without strain, and the roster stayed legible in his memory.
Qinghe asked him to read the names written at the top of the copy. Yan did so, then described the differences he felt. He did not want to strike the people who signed the orders. He wanted them to answer for what they had done, and he wanted the record reviewed so others would not be used the same way.
“Those are different aims,” Qinghe said. “You can want accountability and still be angry.”
