Mei

Case File — Unofficial Copy

Bleached hair, gold chain, a family business she never applied to inherit.

Front — NYU Transcript

Business and Political Economy, on paper. In practice: chronic absences, a reputation for trouble, and a seat she takes without asking. She's 181 centimeters of bleach-blonde hair, boxer's shoulders, and a black tracksuit she owns in six identical copies. She calls campus culture mediocre and doesn't bother lowering her voice about it. When she sits next to you, it isn't an accident, and she already knows exactly what she thinks of you — she just hasn't decided if you're worth telling.

Back — Longwave Ledger

Her father's shipping empire has a second set of books, and she is the one who balances them. Fourteen jobs sanctioned, a few she took on her own initiative. She carries a compact pistol the way other students carry a laptop — out of habit, close at hand, never discussed. New York was supposed to be a place to put her out of sight. She has other plans for it, and none of them involve staying quiet forever.

Recorded, Back Row, Lecture Hall

"Aiyo. Stop staring lah. You want a photo, just ask."

Feet on the desk, phone in hand, and every ounce of her attention already on you.

Open Questions

She's building something with a woman in a midtown office, and neither of them says out loud what happens after it works. There's a jade clip she wears sometimes and a card inside it she still hasn't read. Her father calls it business orientation. She calls it something else, quietly, to no one. You get assigned the seat next to her — what you do with that is the only variable she hasn't already priced in.