Since Nanking’s defeat, scores of wounded soldiers had struggled into the city by truck and train. The railway station had become a target for enemy bombers. There had been more air raids in the last week than the past two months combined. There was talk of moving the universities out of Changsha.

Daming had taken a few days’ leave from shuttling the wounded, spent the time pretending he was a student again, as carefree as when they had been in Nanking. He pulled the bottle of moutai out of his coat pocket. He’d won the coveted bottle off Shorty with the toss of a coin. Above him, thin clouds sailed quickly across the sky, pushed by a high wind. The Hsiang River flowed beneath the bridge, its currents black and smooth as a goddess’s hair. There were supposed to be two River Goddesses who watched over the Hsiang, the wife and daughter of an ancient king.

A procession by the riverfront caught his eye, red lanterns held high by revelers costumed in ancient garb, dancing their way toward the riverbanks to the music of cymbals and reed flutes. He listened to the music echoing up from the shore and smiled. He recognized the old tune. “Full of Joy.” He tapped his hand on the stone balustrade in time to the cymbals. Three cymbal clashes at the end of each refrain. Pang pang pang.

When the parade reached the riverbank, it didn’t stop. The red lanterns continued moving into the water. Mesmerized, he watched the revelers balance on the river’s surface, still dancing. From the waters the figures of two women in shining robes rose up to join them. Behind the women, huge riparian creatures emerged from the river, silver fins like rows of daggers along the spines of serpentine bodies, eyes the size and shine of pewter plates. Led by the two River Goddesses, the procession of revelers and river guardians descended into the depths. The red lantern lights moved downriver, growing fainter and fainter until they disappeared into darkness.

Daming lifted the bottle of moutai to his lips then paused. He held the bottle out and dropped it over the parapet, an offering to the river guardians.

AFTER YET ANOTHER New Year’s party, Shao had rolled out of bed late. But with luck, Daming’s train would be running late, too, as the railways tended to these days. He looked around the station and headed for the far end of the platform. Soldiers guarded a cordoned-off area where troops were waiting to board. More soldiers stood guarding the line of railcars that extended along the tracks, preventing people from climbing on. If there was any room left, they might let a few people on to hitch a ride.