Ning met the survivors in White Orchard’s small meeting room two days later.
She put the route map and the field log copy on the table, then waited while each person found a seat. Yan sat at the far end, close enough to hear and far enough not to take the meeting over. Qinghe joined with the medical pages in a closed folder. She did not open it.
“The Registry has already published some names,” Ning began. “We won’t repeat them without asking. We can print the route and orders without attaching each family to them. You can give a full name, a first name, no name, delay your account, or keep it private. You can change your mind before we send the final copy.”
The four had come in separately. Liao Ren still wore the padded vest he had used to haul carts, its shoulder stained with axle grease. Mei had brought a folded copy of the bulletin. The third survivor sat near the door, where he could leave without crossing in front of the others. The fourth kept glancing at the window whenever footsteps passed in the lane.
“I want one thing clear,” Ning said. “This is not a vote. You do not have to agree on what should be public. Each of you can make a different choice.”
