And now the November 8 issue of Xinwen Bao reported that the army’s central command had given the order for a general retreat from Shanghai. Chen Ping read the front page out loud to a circle of grim faces. When Chen Ping handed out pages of the newspaper, Shao took the middle section, searching the columns until he found the editor in chief’s essay, his father’s words.

Outside the International Settlement, streets are cratered and buildings leveled. Japanese sentries patrol empty neighborhoods, their soldiers looting among the ruins. Inside the Settlement, an estimated 500,000 displaced persons have taken refuge, filling camps and hospitals. There are also refugees who have not been counted, the ones being housed and fed by relatives. It’s common for twenty people to squeeze into rooms meant for a family of six.

Foreigners who once belittled the Chinese family system as feudal and nepotistic are now thankful our tradition of duty to family has prevented worst-case scenarios. We hope they now understand our resilience as a people and a nation. China is worth supporting. China is worth more than words of sympathy. China needs her allies to take action.

A muted atmosphere settled over the factory campus in the wake of losing Shanghai. Shao leaned against the back wall of a bunkhouse. In the yard, students drifted together in small, subdued groups to huddle over the newspapers. Some of the female students were weeping.

“I knew Shanghai might fall, I just didn’t believe it actually would.” Jenmei came to stand beside Shao. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Shao hoped everyone was too preoccupied to notice. “Your family should be safe, though; they live inside the International Settlement.”

“Yes, we do,” he said. “But my father goes in and out of the Settlement on business quite often to see the situation for himself. It’s a constant worry to my mother.”

Jenmei patted his arm, her eyes sympathetic, her full lips curved in a soft smile. Then she slipped her hand into his. Just as gently he pulled his hand away from hers.

“Jenmei,” he said, keeping his voice low, casual. “I’ve been thinking.”

“You’ve been avoiding me for days, Shao,” she said. Her smile twisted, became slightly mocking. “Don’t feel embarrassed about what happened between us. I don’t hold myself to bourgeois notions of romance and neither should you. It was just an expression of physical desire. We shared a kiss or two, nothing more.”

But there had been more. The smooth curve of her body from neck to back, the hollows at the base of her throat. The insistent pressure of her arms. Yet even as he listened to her murmured endearments, he’d felt detached. He’d sat up, moved away. And she had taken his refusal as a gesture of chivalry, that her virtue mattered to him. That she mattered to him.