Lian clapped her hands softly as she sang. Duckling’s lips moved hesitantly, forming the words in silence. The tiny hands, one still clutching the ribbon, began to clap. Then finally a breathy childish voice joined Lian’s.

The skies shine out from the pond tonight,

Come with us, Little Duck!

Inside Lian’s heart, locks and latches fell open. She began crying, a silent deluge. She held the little girl to her chest, rocking back and forth as she held back her sobs so as not to frighten Duckling. She cried for Private Fung and his comrades, for their awkward friendly grins and naïve confidence as they’d marched off to battle. For Wei Daming and the soldiers he tried to save. For Meirong, whom she couldn’t save. For Mr. Shen and Wang Jenmei, on opposite sides of China’s politics but each a patriot. She cried for all the sorrows she had seen.

She cried because she would never see Sparrow again.

Gradually, Lian became aware of her mother’s arms around her, enclosing Duckling in their circle. “We’re not leaving her, Mother,” she said, choking back tears. “We’re taking her home with us. She won’t be abandoned again. I won’t have it.”

Even just one person, Miss Mason had said. If each of us could make a difference to just one person. Why couldn’t her one person be Duckling? Lian stifled her sobs and finished undressing Duckling. All around her, there was more talk, murmured discussions in both Chinese and German, between the foreigners, her mother, and Dr. Mao.

Then a woman’s voice, her words authoritative and oddly inflected.

“We would rather she went to a family that cares about her than someone who will raise her to be a servant,” the woman said. One of the German missionaries.

There was more conversation, then Lian heard Dr. Mao say, “My wife and I will adopt her. I’ve heard about this little girl.”

“Thank you, Stepfather,” Lian said and closed her eyes for a moment in relief. The sorrows she’d witnessed still continued. There was still brutality and darkness. But also a small shining point of light. Duckling squirmed, then giggled as Lian splashed warm water over her.

Together, Lian and her mother bathed Duckling, who now seemed quite content to let go of the red ribbon. They dressed her in clean clothes and socks, then took her to the orphanage dining room. The orphans had been given a snack when they’d arrived so unexpectedly, but now a real dinner was ready for them. Already charmed by the toddler, her mother walked ahead, carrying Duckling over her shoulder. Lian walked behind, making silly faces to coax a smile from Duckling.