After I Am Late for My Friend's Wedding

At the third vibration of the mobile phone on the desk, I was just lifting the blue chip from the file bag with tweezers. The chip's edges glimmered with a cold light; the starburst pattern etched upon it flickered faintly beneath the desk lamp — this was the latest backup of energy core parameters submitted by the Northwest Project Team, classified at the highest national secrecy level. When the metal tweezers touched the chip, they emitted an exceedingly faint 'tick' sound, piercingly clear in the silence of the office. The fluorescent desk lamp cast light on the spread documents; their edges, slightly curled from repeated handling, bore a vivid red confidential stamp in the upper right corner — like a drop of congealed blood. As he unlocked the screen, the chill on his fingertips had yet to dissipate. The red unread notification in the high school classmates group chat pricked like a thorn, stabbing at the top of the screen. Entering the chat, the class monitor Leo Wilson's message, accompanied by a string of tapping emojis, stood out sharply in the conversation window: "Charles Lynn, Felix Carter is getting married next Saturday; you must attend!" His avatar remained the graduation photo from ten years ago, clad in a faded school uniform, the corner of his mouth curved with the distinct pride of youth. Scrolling through the group member list, most avatars were greyed out; only a dozen or so still active, like lingering sparks in a forgotten corner. I opened the calendar plugin at the lower right corner. On the interface, the 28th was marked in red ink with: "Northwest Project Final Handover Meeting — 9:00 AM, National Energy Security Center." Beneath it, a small note read: "Physical key No. 071 required, with on-site fingerprint and iris verification." At this moment, the key lay in the drawer to my left, enclosed in a specially designed anti-magnetic case embossed with a golden confidentiality emblem. Buried deep in the drawer was a yellowed high school transcript; beside my name was Felix Carter's, his math scores always a few points higher than mine. "There was important work that day, so I truly could not attend. I have instructed my assistant to transfer the gift money." As I typed this sentence, the keyboard's tactile feedback felt somewhat stiff. The old-fashioned wall clock in the office struck seven, its brass pendulum swinging and casting a wavering shadow upon the wall. Outside the window, the sky had turned completely black, with only the distant CBD still illuminated in patches of light, like an eternal sea of stars. I recalled the starry sky behind the school during high school, when the stars shone far brighter than now. Felix Carter said each bright star corresponded to a great figure. We lay on the grass counting stars until late at night, the dew soaking through our school uniform jackets.