Shao wished the trucks would drive faster, but they traveled with the headlamps turned off to avoid being noticed by the enemy. He couldn’t help his impatience even though he knew they were extremely lucky to get a ride. Hopefully their luck would hold. With only the three of them, it would be far easier to hitch rides and find places to stay. Not like Minghua 123.

The two soldiers riding up front eventually stopped peering through the back of the cab to stare at the three of them. Sparrow sat by the tailgate on top of plump sacks musty with the scent of raw cotton. Lian and Shao huddled under their blankets, leaning against the side.

“Daming really did well for us,” Lian said. “Here we are lying comfortably on bales of cotton. This truck could’ve been filled with charcoal or cans of tung oil.”

The truck swayed and Lian fell against Shao. He resisted the urge to pull her closer. But what did it matter? It was just three of them here. He put an arm around Lian and he felt her slowly relax until she was leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so grateful you came with me, both you and Sparrow,” she said. “You’re putting yourselves in danger doing this.”

“Between the three of us, we’ll get there,” he said. “And look on the bright side. You won’t need to hand in a term project.”

“I’m rather sad about that,” Lian said. “It would’ve been a good paper. The Willow Star and the Prince. I could’ve added some new firsthand research to a little-known legend, thanks to those cave paintings. I wish you could’ve seen them, too, Shao.”

The truck bumped along and eventually Lian slid down to sleep, back curled against the sacks. Shao pulled the blanket over her shoulders. He was tired and his flea bites itched. Every bone in his body ached as though he was coming down with fever. The rough road didn’t help. But it was also restlessness. Perhaps it was because he felt ill, but it seemed as though the finest of threads was unraveling in his mind, memories slipping by just beyond his grasp. Like trying to remember a dream after waking up, trying to piece together images that melted away the same moment they appeared. He rolled into a sitting position and clambered over to Sparrow, who was leaning out the tailgate, her face turned up to the night sky.

“Sparrow, I’m so sorry you’re caught up in all this,” he said. “And I’m angry, too. You should’ve stayed in Shanghai in the first place, like the good servant you’re supposed to be.”

“You should be glad I came, Young Master,” she said. “I’ve a far better sense of direction than you.” He gave her a mock punch to the arm, saw the silhouette of her shoulders shake with laughter.