Airplanes roared overhead, sometimes on their way to other targets, sometimes to drop bombs. And sometimes the aircraft flew by for one final pass to release propaganda leaflets, sheets that floated down like giant feathers. They landed in streets and courtyards, sometimes swirling in the hot currents above blazing buildings, drifting until heat scorched them into ash.

The air raids were short, usually lasting no more than an hour before the all clear sounded, but they felt ten times longer. The shelter’s wooden buckets that were used as chamber pots filled quickly as nervous bladders emptied. Their stench permeated the shelter, uncomfortably warm from the heat of so many bodies.

AFTER WAITING OUT several raids, Lian could gauge how far away the bombs were by sound, the whistling noise as they fell through the air, and by the shudder of the shelter’s ground and walls with each explosion. Some of the students studied, or at least pretended to, opening textbooks under the quivering light of a few dim bulbs strung across the ceiling. They took turns reading out loud from the Library of Legends to the boys of Lu’an Middle School. So far, the boys had heard from Tales of the Horse Gods, Tales of Forest Spirits, and Tales of Magical and Benevolent Creatures.

All of Minghua 123 joined the town’s cleanup brigade. As soon as the all clear sounded, the male students helped put out fires and cleared the streets of wreckage. They helped homeowners salvage furniture and belongings. They searched for survivors, carried away the injured and the dead. The female students hurried across town to volunteer at the hospital.

Lian followed behind Meirong as they picked their way through debris-strewn streets, barely keeping up as her friend clambered over piles of rubble. If there was one good thing about being trapped in Lu’an, it was that they’d been so busy that Meirong hadn’t had much time to mope. In helping others, she’d regained some of her liveliness.

Lian felt a hand on her back and turned to see Shao’s smiling face, framed between a pair of chubby legs, a toddler riding on his shoulders.

“Is he hurt?” she said. “We’re heading for the hospital.”

“No, he’s fine,” he said, “but his father is busy putting out fires and asked me to take him to his mother. She works at the hospital.”

“Would you like me to carry you?” Meirong asked, lifting her arms up. The child shook his head and clung to Shao.

“The residents of Lu’an used to joke about feeling left out of the war,” Shao said. “They said they felt slighted because Japanese bombers never ‘paid their respects’ to the town.”

“They must be feeling very honored now that the Japanese visit so often,” Meirong said.