After another week of heavy bombing, the universities were leaving Changsha. They couldn’t wait until the end of the month, no matter how badly they wanted to celebrate the New Year in a big city. Changsha was no longer safe. Minghua University’s interim destination was the town of Shangtan.
“It feels as if we’ll never get to Chengtu,” Ying-Ying said. “Wouldn’t it be heaven to live and go to class in one place until the war is over?”
“After Shangtan, Chengtu,” Lian said. “We’re halfway there.” And perhaps in Chengtu there would be another letter from her mother.
On the second day of their journey, they set out at nightfall from the village where they had rested. The students were eager to make good time and carried their supper with them, two steamed buns each. At the edge of the village, Lian spotted Meirong leaning against the wall of a house, strapping a new pair of straw sandals over her cloth shoes. Meirong looked up and smiled.
“I think I’ve had my penny’s worth out of these straw shoes,” Meirong said. “Fortunately, at this price, I have spares.”
“Do you want to walk together?” Lian asked, as nonchalantly as she could.
Meirong shook her head, then looked up from tying her sandals. “Lian, I don’t want you to think I’ve become less of a friend,” she said. She lowered her voice. “It’s just that, well, after we got to Changsha I joined the Communist student movement for real. I’m leading Minghua’s Communist Students Club now.”
“No! You mustn’t!” Lian couldn’t hold back her gasp of dismay. “Think of what happened to Jenmei.”
“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” Meirong said, “and I didn’t want you to worry or have to lie if anyone asked. I’d walk with you today but I can’t. I’m meeting a comrade from one of the other student groups. He’s walking partway to Shangtan with me. A walking meeting. We’ll be hanging back at the very end of the line.”
“Why are you doing this, Meirong?” Lian said.
“I’m carrying on Wang Jenmei’s work,” Meirong said. “I’m going to make sure the Communist movement at our school grows stronger.”
“Meirong, please don’t do this,” Lian begged.
“I’ve been very careful, Lian,” she said. She finished tying her sandals. “More careful than Wang Jenmei. She was too outspoken. And, of course, I trust you not to say anything.” She flashed Lian a bright smile and squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you know. I didn’t want any misunderstandings between us about our friendship.”
Lian caught up with the convoy and joined the middle of the line. She walked beside one of the library wagons, just behind Ying-Ying and some other girls. She turned for a last look back at Meirong, who was swinging her rucksack back onto her shoulders. As she set off, an old man behind her picked up the discarded straw sandals.
Lian hoped Mr. Lee wasn’t aware of Meirong’s activities. But even if he didn’t suspect her, it didn’t matter. With Meirong’s joining the Communist cause, her friend wouldn’t confide in her as before. Meirong had her own secrets now. Between the two of them, their secrets could fill a cavern. Their friendship could never be as before.
She wished her mother had given her a forwarding address for mail. Even if she sent a letter to her mother at Unity Mission, even if a kind person was willing to hold it, her mother wouldn’t be going back to the Mission. And if she did, she wouldn’t think of asking about a letter. Lian could only hope for news once they got to Chengtu. Until then, she couldn’t leave. Not yet.
Some students had stopped by the side of the road for a quick drink, a bite of food from their lunch boxes. The moment he saw her, Shao said something to the classmate beside him and left the group. He was leaving his friends to walk with her. She recalled the warmth of his hand over hers and her heart quickened.
No, she couldn’t leave. Not yet.