“How can they be so heartless!” Meirong exclaimed, her face red with indignation.

“The white foreigners consider us inferior. Therefore, our suffering is insignificant,” Wang Jenmei spoke from behind. The tall girl shrugged. “One million or twenty million dead, Chinese or Japanese, it doesn’t matter to them.”

Several of the townspeople dawdling around the newspaper wall drew closer. Jenmei noticed their interest and straightened her shoulders. She lifted her chin and her expression took on a dramatic intensity as she turned to face her small audience.

“There’s only one way we can drive back the Japanese,” she said loudly. “And that’s if the Nationalist government would stop fighting the Communists. All Chinese must unite against our common enemy, regardless of our politics. Then we wouldn’t need to beg for help from foreign allies.”

There were murmurs of agreement. Jenmei’s striking looks won her as much attention as her words. Lian pulled at Meirong’s sleeve.

“I’ve heard that speech before,” she said. “We should work on that assignment, the one where we pick a story from the Legends to research. It’s worth twenty percent of the final grade.”

“You go,” Meirong said, “I’ll come find you later.”

But she wasn’t looking at Lian. She was watching Jenmei, admiration for the older girl shining out from her face.

TO LIAN’S RELIEF, only a few other students occupied the library. It was a half day, and most students were in town. Minghua 123’s temporary library occupied the largest hall in the temple complex. The walls were lined with shelving built from bricks and boards. There weren’t enough shelves, so open crates of books sat in rows on the floor. She settled into a corner and pulled some writing paper from her rucksack.

A girl at the opposite end of the hall caught Lian’s eye and gave her a half wave before returning to her own work. It was novel to Lian, this unsolicited warmth. She still hid behind Meirong, who was gregarious enough for them both, but the niceties of friendship came more easily to her now. Lian had learned that a compliment could break the ice, a question encourage conversation.

She wished Meirong would stop teasing her about Shao just because he walked with her sometimes or sat beside her at the library on occasion.

“It’s because we survived the bombing at Nanking West Railway Station,” Lian said. “He’s being kind, that’s all. He treats me like a younger sister.”

“That’s how these things begin, Lian,” Meirong said, wagging her finger. “Then it grows into something deeper. Don’t deny it. You’d like to be more to Liu Shaoming than a younger sister.”