Zahra waited until the end of Friday's lecture to approach Professor Mei.
The room was almost empty when she reached the front. Mei was gathering her papers with her usual mechanical precision, but her eyes flicked up the moment she sensed Zahra's presence; calm, unreadable.
"Room 407," Zahra said quietly. "You told me to come. I didn't."
Professor Mei smiled faintly. "And yet, here you are."
Zahra pulled the photograph from her coat pocket and laid it on the desk.
"This man. Dr. Liang Minsheng. Who was he to my father?"
Mei looked at the photo a long time before speaking. "He was a visionary. A rebel. A man ahead of his time. And… your father's mentor."
Zahra frowned. "But my father was never a doctor. He studied economics."
Mei shook her head. "Not in China. In China, he studied medicine. For a time."
Zahra's breath caught. "What?"
"Your father was part of a pilot research program," Mei said. "One no one talks about anymore. Not since the scandal."
"What scandal?"
Mei picked up the photo, tapped Liang's face with a thin finger. "Dr. Liang believed in bridging African genetics with Eastern medicine. A theory about ancestral immunity and molecular memory. But the project became… compromised. Someone used his research for something else. Something darker."
Zahra swallowed hard. "What does that have to do with me?"
Mei looked at her, long and searching. "That depends. Do you believe in inherited memory?" Zahra didn't answer. She couldn't.
Later that day, she went looking for answers on her own. The east wing of the university library was under renovation, officially. But she noticed that students avoided it for another reason: it was always cold, the lights flickered, and the staff discouraged anyone from going there.
Naturally, Zahra went anyway.
She slipped in through a cracked door behind the biology archives. The air smelled of damp paper and old chemicals. Most of the lights didn't work. Her footsteps echoed along the marble floor as she searched for the Medical History section.
At the back of the room, tucked behind a shelf labelled "Pre-1980 Medical Theses," she found a locked cabinet. On it was a faded plaque:
"Project: Xǐzhǎo - Cleansing Trial (1979-1982)"
A single file had been left out beside it. She opened it with trembling fingers. Inside were clinical records, handwritten notes, and photos. Photos of African students. Test subjects. Some of them frightened. Others with IVs taped to their arms.
One page had the heading:
"Subject #9: Williams, Zayne. Status – Discharged. Post-Trial Complications – Unknown."
Her father.
Her mind reeled. What had he been involved in? What had they done to him? She snapped photos of the documents with her phone, hands shaking.
As she turned to leave, she stopped. Someone had closed the door behind her. Footsteps echoed softly on the marble floor. She wasn't alone.