The rattle of fortune-telling sticks started up again and abruptly stopped. The wail of air-raid sirens churned the air. The market grew chaotic as stallkeepers gathered up their wares and stores emptied. Shoppers dashed in different directions, some going straight to the shelters, others running to collect their families. Shao pulled Lian down the lane and they began running toward the river.

“What if they bomb the riverfront like they did the other day?” Lian asked, panting.

“Let’s find a place to wait and see what happens,” Shao said. They cut through an area of bombed-out buildings, a neighborhood destroyed during the first bomb attack. They stumbled over a wrecked house, carved shutters, and chunks of roof tile. The sirens’ howling continued unabated. Shao glanced up the hill for the warning beacons and saw both lights were extinguished. The planes would be overhead any moment. He pulled Lian into the shelter of a wide brick arch at the mouth of a long, low tunnel, its roof partially collapsed.

“What sort of bomb shelter was this?” she asked.

“Not a shelter. I think it used to be a kiln,” he said, pointing at shards of pottery scattered around the yard.

The planes roared above them, polished metal bodies gleaming, their red sun insignias clear and unmistakable. Almost immediately explosions rent the air from the direction of the marketplace. Bursts of flame shot up. Shao took Lian’s hand and they ran toward the river to where Sparrow waited. The river glinted bright gold, reflecting clear skies and a setting sun. He never doubted Sparrow would be there. Even if the riverfront were being bombed, she would be there. Still, he heaved a sigh of relief when Sparrow’s figure detached from a stand of willows.

Sparrow looked deceptively boyish. She had exchanged her dark-blue servant’s garb for khaki trousers and a short, padded jacket. She’d brought supplies with her in canvas bags she’d sewn straps onto, improvised rucksacks for their journey. They’d left their Minghua rucksacks behind to give the impression they were still in Shangtan.

It was Sparrow who had suggested doubling back to Changsha. The city was teeming with new arrivals. They’d just be anonymous faces in the crowd, not worth a second glance.

“Wei Daming goes back and forth between Wuhan and Changsha,” Shao said, when Sparrow brought up the idea. “He might be able to help us with transportation. If he’s in Changsha, he’ll be at the hospital.” The thought made him feel better, to get help from someone they could trust. It would be an adventure.