On her best day Lian had visited three camps and returned to the flat before sunset. Most days she only managed two. When the gaudy neon signs of Shanghai blazed on, it was time to get off the streets. She entered the apartment each evening despondent and weary. More tired than she had ever believed possible, even when she had been on the road.

But perhaps tomorrow someone would say to her Yes, we know your mother, she’s right inside!

But Lian knew, after her first day of searching, that the camps couldn’t even keep accurate records, it simply wasn’t possible. The only way she could be certain was to walk through each camp, between rows of straw-mat tents, looking and questioning, both hoping and dreading that she would find her mother there among the dejected homeless. There were so many orphaned children, so many women. Young teenagers. Very few elderly.

When she reached the third floor and entered the flat, Lian found a letter that had been slipped under the door. On the envelope, Sparrow had written she would come by again later. Inside was a note from Shao.

I’d come see you, but I want to stay close to my mother right now. Sparrow will take you out for a meal. My brother Tienming knows you’re at the apartment and says you’re welcome to stay until someone else needs it. I delivered him a letter from Mrs. Deng. She’s left him. Did you have any inkling when you were in Wen-chou?

Minghua University’s new director of student services wrote to my father saying I was missing, presumed dead after that air raid on Shangtan. They probably think you were killed too. I had to explain to my father why we left Minghua without telling anyone. Sparrow will fill you in on what I said, but rest assured it was minimal and my father has promised not to mention your name when he writes back to Minghua. If there’s anything you need, just tell Sparrow. I’ll come see you soon.

Lian put the note on the windowsill and sat down on an elm wood chair. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, the arms smooth and polished, a pleasure to touch. She leaned against the curved back. All she wanted was to sleep. When she shut the door to the flat, she told herself she was shutting out the world. Then she would heat up some rice and boil water for tea. She worried about her mother and cried herself to sleep over Shao. When she slept, she often dreamed about Sparrow, the Star looking at her out of eyes like pools of night, sometimes amused, sometimes contemptuous.