The freighter pushed its way through the waters of the East China Sea, the waves brown with sediment from the many rivers that emptied out along the coastline. Weighted down with coal and barrels of tung oil, the Dong Feng sailed so slowly Lian feared it would take longer than two days to reach Shanghai. But apparently, they would reach the port on schedule.

Her courage wavered at the thought of finding her way through Shanghai’s streets on her own. But she hadn’t wanted to stay in Wen-chou any longer than necessary. Now that she knew, she felt like an imbecile for ever thinking that Jenmei had been her rival for Shao’s affections. It was Sparrow and Shao, it had always been the Willow Star and her Prince, for hundreds of years. She had no business getting between them. As if she even could.

“It’s cold out here,” a voice beside her remarked. “And the dining room is serving lunch now. Don’t you want to eat?”

Lian glanced at the man leaning on the rail beside her. “I dare not eat, Dr. Mao. I don’t want to get seasick again.”

She had run into the doctor the day before when she was leaning over the side of the ship in a state of misery. He had given her powdered gingerroot then stayed to chat. But whether it was the ginger or his conversation taking her mind off the nausea, she’d been grateful for the relief.

Dr. Mao had fled from a small town outside Shanghai called Pinghu, now occupied by the Japanese. Since arriving in Shanghai Dr. Mao had set up his practice again. So far, most of his patients were from his hometown, fellow refugees who couldn’t afford to pay much. He had come to Wen-chou to buy drugs. His friend, the absent Dr. Yan, had told him prices were better in Wen-chou because he could buy directly from the boats smuggling medical supplies.

“Some of the drugs are for my own practice,” Dr. Mao said, “and some I’ll take to the German Lutheran Church’s refugee camp. I volunteer there, as do many of my former professors from the Shanghai German Medical College.”

“What do you know about the camps?” she asked. “Are there many? I suppose the Red Cross would be a good starting point to find information.”

“Surely you don’t need to stay at a camp,” he said, a note of concern coming into his voice.

“Oh, I have a place to live, thanks to a friend,” she said. “But the camps, well, I’m looking for someone.”

“Shanghai, Shanghai! We’re almost there!” an excited passenger shouted out.