The jeep took me to the mouth of the valley at the foot of the back mountain; after that there wasn’t a road. The driver and I had to put on our raincoats and get out of the car, braving that appalling weather to stumble along the winding path leading to the farm. When we had fought our way through the rain across two ridges, we caught sight of Huang Yiyi caught up in the storm, weaving from side to side as if she were drunk. She had lost her straw hat, and was soaked to the skin. In that hammering rain she kept on tripping over, forcing herself up, and then falling over again. She looked like someone who had lost their soul, leaving an empty shell to wander around through the punishing storm.

I shouted to her and started running, catching her in my arms. Her eyes fluttered and her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but before she could get a word out she fainted. She had hit her forehead on something and cut it open, and the blood had mixed with the rain that soaked her face and body. I was now really worried, and held her tight as I shouted, ‘Huang Yiyi, wake up! Yiyi, wake up!’ I shouted until I was hoarse and on the verge of tears, but she didn’t open her eyes.

It was only when we’d got her to hospital, where they stitched up the wound, gave her a shot, and put her on a drip, that she finally came round. I was standing by her bed, and pointing at her bandaged head, I tried to make light of the whole thing by saying, ‘They’ve put two stitches in you; you’re very lucky.’ She looked at me coldly and then turned her head away. I knew that she hated me, but I tried to make light of the matter. ‘Yiyi, guess who the hero was who carried you down from the mountain today?’

She sniffed scornfully, then she turned her back to me and closed her eyes.