The petite young woman beside him wore the tunic and baggy trousers of a servant. She gave the young man a handkerchief and he wiped his face. Then he dusted off his jacket with a jaunty air, not at all as though he’d just lived through an air raid. He smiled when he saw Lian, a grave and courteous smile that made her feel as though he was giving her his complete and undivided attention. In a far corner of her mind, she acknowledged that his smile would’ve been captivating if she weren’t so numb, so overwhelmed by all the destruction.

He walked toward her, his first few steps a bit unsteady. He pointed at the enameled badge pinned to his jacket, then to the embroidered crest on her blazer with a grin of recognition, as if they were at a school social. The servant girl simply stood on the street, appraising the ruins around them.

“I’m Liu Shaoming, fourth year,” he said. “Call me Shao.”

Lian recognized him now. It would’ve been hard not to. Liu Shaoming was at the center of an elite circle at Minghua, all scions of wealthy families connected either by kinship or business interests. Her female classmates considered him the handsomest man on campus.

“That’s Sparrow Chen,” he added, indicating the girl with a tilt of his chin. “She works on campus.”

Sparrow’s face was clean of dirt and soot, her features calm. Lian found the girl vaguely familiar, wide-set eyes in a face just verging on prettiness. Yes, of course. Sparrow was the one who cleaned the dormitory floors. How could she not have remembered?

“Hu Lian. Second year,” she said. It was ridiculous, in this place and at such a time, that she should wonder how she looked, her cheeks streaked with tears from the stinging smoke, hair and clothing dusted with flour.

“We were on our way to the station,” Shao said, “the ten o’clock train to Shanghai. You too?”

She nodded and turned away to look down the street. A light breeze was dispersing the smoke and she could see more of Shing An Road. And the railway station. It seemed undamaged, but twisted vehicles and shattered masonry filled the street in front of its arched entrance. The air-raid shelter and buildings across from the station had taken a direct hit and were now in flames. All those people, now buried under bricks and shards of glass.

“There were too many people trying to get in the air-raid shelter,” Shao said, his gaze following hers. “Sparrow said we should find cover somewhere else. Good thing we did.”

His next words were interrupted by an explosion from the direction of the shelter, making them both jump. There was a whoosh of sound, and flames rose from another building.

“Young Master,” Sparrow spoke for the first time. “We must get out of here. Now.”