When the dorm lights went out, Shao closed his eyes and put one of his mother’s letters to his nose. It held the faintest traces of freesia and bergamot, a blend created especially for her by a perfumery in Shanghai’s French Concession. The proprietor had brought out tray after tray of small bottles for his mother to sniff. He fell asleep and dreamed he was a boy again. They were in his mother’s car, the chauffeur taking them through streets shaded by tall sycamores, a street of villas and brick walls. His mother’s lace gloves lay crumpled on her lap, her face was hidden by a veiled hat. She pulled out a handkerchief and the scent of freesia filled his dream.

HANDE GIRLS BOARDING School, where Minghua University’s female students were lodged, stood across the river from Hunan University’s large campus. It was a forty-five-minute walk from Lian’s dormitory to the classrooms, a short distance for students now accustomed to walking eight or ten hours each day. Morning and evening, a procession of university students dominated pedestrian traffic on the bridge, heads and faced wrapped up against the cold. Early morning temperatures hovered above freezing and the wind picked up humidity from the river, pushing chilly damp air through their clothes.

Since coming to Changsha Lian hadn’t seen much of Meirong, who came from the same town as Wendian. The two had been friends even before university, so Lian told herself it was normal they’d want to be together after so much time apart. Lian walked to and from the campus with any students who happened to be heading out at the same time. But on this evening, she deliberately fell behind so she could walk across the bridge alone. She had to think what to do next.

Finally, she had received a letter from her mother.

When she first saw the letter on her bed, Lian had resisted the urge to rip it open. First, she studied the envelope. The postmark was smudged but it had been mailed from Shanghai. Her mother had reached Shanghai. Lian examined the back of the envelope. There was no return address. She looked around at the other girls, all absorbed in reading their own mail. One or two were crying.

Lian slit open one edge of the envelope and smoothed out the sheet of onionskin paper.

My precious daughter. With luck, this letter has reached you in Changsha. I was overjoyed to find your letter waiting for me when I arrived at Unity Mission. You’re not in Shanghai, but it’s actually better that you’re with Minghua. Now that I know you’re with your professors and classmates, I want you to stay with them. You’re safer with your school. They’ll make sure you have food and lodgings. The last thing I want is for you to travel across the country all the way to Shanghai.