text: ainst something, but they were limp. And they were laughing at them. Laughing at them."
  
  Where is her mother now? This only happened... a few days ago, Zhaoluo thought, and a pressure began building in her chest.
  
  "I don't know why. I..." Huaxing had trouble breathing and she continued on, her face wet with tears. "Mama grabbed a pot from the house's kitchen—the window was open. I remember asking her what she was doing, but she started to sneak away. I told her to come back, but she told me that she was sorry. Then she... she got close enough to the nearest soldier and hit him with the pot. I heard the crack through the blasting gunshots, but I ran. And then they were shouting, and I looked back, and Mama was on the ground, and they were taking her clothes off."
  
  Zhaoluo started to tear up too. This sounded all too familiar. Had the Japanese made everything into a game with her family too? "I'm so sorry," she managed to choke out. They were horrible. What those soldiers had done was unforgivable.
  
  "I think your mother is very brave to take down a Japanese soldier. She was strong and brave, and you are too, Huaxing. I won't ever let them touch you," Zhaoluo murmured as they rocked back and forth quietly, unsure of how she'd keep that promise.
  
  > Continue.
  The racket downstairs woke her up, and she climbed out of the pile of blankets which she had grown very fond of in the past few days. The people downstairs were definitely not using inside voices. Zhaoluo groaned. Yesterday, the others had gone off to their designated buildings in the camp, which were all, unfortunately, not the same house as her. Sometimes she really wished she could wake up to a friendly face and not complete strangers.
  
  The gang and her... aren't strangers anymore, right? She had spent the past few days talking to them. While most didn't share the complete details of their lives before now, they still offered intelligent conversation outside of complaints about camp food, conditions, and the amount of people—horrified, empty-eyed, grimy people—flooding this camp as well as the many others.
  
  It just didn't seem... as bad anymore. And she was disgusted with herself. She is disgusted that she can't give more thought to her family and more thought to be people and feel scared because she wasn't. She wasn't scared anymore. Her newfound friends... she can't let them get close. Otherwise, she will be scared when something happens. Something will always happen.
  
  Zhaoluo looked out the window at a building past the fence, which is undergoing reinforcement—not like that's going to do any good. Outside, the buildings are shattered. If she looked down the street, she'd see burnt buildings. Reports from Mr. Bates, who she realized was Miner, told of the burnings. The Japanese locked the citizens into the buildings they spent their entire lives in and burned them in there, laughing as they tried to climb out windows or jump off the roof to another building, burning or being shot as they tried. They were told that the victims were like walking torches.
  
  Finally, she padded down the steps to the first floor, only to be almost pushed back as people were all trying to converge at the door. The entire floor still had people there, and somebody was blocking the path.
  
  "What's going on?" Zhaoluo poked the nearest person by her—a woman with no significant features except a high, thin nose—who glared at her and ignored her. She stepped to the highest spot possible on the staircase, trying to see who (or what) was at the door.
  
  "Everyone, calm down!" She recognized the voice as Mr. Bate's.
  
  But nobody did. Why would they? The Japanese had enough of China's east coast and inland already... who said they couldn't conquer them all? Who said that these Westerners wouldn't just abandon them?
  
  At last, the professor moved out of the way as people spilled out into the camp area, which was basically an area surrounded by buildings and even tents which several obvious paths leading outside into the city and further into the safe zone. Zhaoluo was almost surprised to remember that there were more camps than just this one in the safe zone, and that she was very lucky to have gotten into this one.
  
  The refugees started to flood out of the building like a horde of desperate people. What's going on again? When Zhaoluo reached the door, everybody seemed to be surrounding something. When she saw Ren, she ran over and asked him what he thought was going on. She could see tears behind those spectacles.
  
  "I think... the boy that arrived the other day—the one with the three bayonet wounds—is dead."
  
  For some reason, the news doesn't surprise Zhaoluo. "Are they gathering around... his body?"
  
  He nodded.
  
  She pushed through the group, who muttered at her jostling. When she finally broke through the mob-like ranks, her eyes settled onto the boy. He was just laid down like that with a scrap of cloth covering his eyes. They were going to bury him soon. The father was nowhere to be seen. Mr. Bates appeared across from her, and he gazed at her. She blinked. Huh?
  
  "The father was moved to another camp. He... didn't think he could stay here," Mr. Bates said to nobody in particular.
  
  The other people nodded, almost as if understanding. What bothered Zhaoluo was that father didn't even get to see his son buried.
  
  Zhaoluo's eyes fell onto the boy's clothed chest. Beneath the ripped cloth—the same cloth that he arrived in—there were several stitched areas, but they were covered with dried blood and something nasty that reminded her of mold.
  
  "He needs to be covered immediately," Zhaoluo said with surprising confidence. Then, when nobody moved, she added, "We could get infected with that stuff on his wound."
  
  That got the crowd moving away, though some shot her an ugly glance. Why did they not like her?
  
  Mr. Bates nodded at her with approval. "You are correct. We have to bury... the poor child. There isn't enough of us in this camp right now..." Emptiness, guilt, whatever in her eyes got him asking, "Would you like to help?"
  
  She looked back at Ren, who stood there staring at her and Mr. Bates and the body. "What about you, Ren?" Something about this case made Ren very uncomfortable, and she wanted to know why. Maybe it was just corpses.
  
  "Sure," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking away from the body. "When?"
  
  "Tomorrow. When the sun rises forth in the sky."
  
  There's something wrong. Ren refused to look at Zhaoluo after they returned to the crates—which we had unofficially name the "base". Was he that scared of... of dead bodies? Why would he agree to bury the boy if there was something wrong?
  
  "Ren—"
  
  "I know what you're going to say." His reply was brief, and he paused his pacing. His eyes were on his dusty shoes.
  
  "Do you know me that well?"
  
  "No, but I saw the look on your face after I replied. I slipped; that's all." Ren was gazing at her now, his eyes keen and knowing.
  
  > say "Slipped?"
  "Slipped?" she had to ask.
  
  Ren sighed and pushed those spectacles up his nose. "Never mind. It's just... whatever."
  
  "We've all been effected by this stupid war. Hell, Huaxing's parents both died in front of her face!"
  
  Zhaoluo spread her hands out, trying to get something out of him. He seemed really interesting as a person and very intelligent as well.
  
  "This war has been a curse for every person in China. I am no different." Ren finally sat on a wooden crate with a deep sigh.
  
  Zhaoluo stood before him, hands on her hips, with an odd need to comfort the guy even though... what he said was completely true.
  
  But he spoke before she did. "You don't seem like the type of person to swear."
  
  She could see the curiosity in the lines of his face, at lost for words. "Swear?"
  
  He scoffed. "Your father. What was he like?"
  
  The kid was changing the subject again, and he was really confusing her. He didn't want to talk about himself, apparently.
  
  Zhaoluo sat down beside him, kicking at the dirt. Where were the others? They were probably mingling about. Knowing Boyan, he'd probably be with the doctor, trying to help people. "My father... he was a typical man. He'd always wanted... a son."
  
  Ren nodded, his face grim but knowing. "I am the youngest child of three sisters. My father and mother always fought over us, but my father insisted on getting a boy just so he could pass on his surname and lineage. It's silly, really."
  
  "Obviously. He always wanted me to fix the tea and whatnot. Always looking about for good matches for me; he always watched out for the family because he had no son to share that duty with," Zhaoluo replied, almost angrily.
  
  "Your father. Did he work at a restaurant?" Ren asked suddenly.
  
  She shot him a wondering look. "Yes. Why?"
  
  "I worked at a restaurant. A man that worked with me always looked at me and sized me up. It was odd, but I didn't say anything. I've experienced such... scrutiny before. Early in Novemeber, he asked me about marriage prospects and what kind of woman I liked."
  
  Zhaoluo was getting an uncomfortable feeling about this.
  
  "He said that he had two daughters, and one of them was old enough to be married, and that he thought I would make a good match. I almost laughed at the time, but he looked like a wise man." Ren pushed at the metal of his glasses. "He went on to tell me of his daughter. She was... he said that she cooked and cleaned very well and was always organized." He paused, waiting to see if Zhaoluo would respond.
  
  She didn't. Her eyes glowed with... an emotion that she didn't dare identify.
  
  "She said that she had a... defiant spirit that would need, ah, taming. But he emphasized on her..." Ren looked slightly uncomfortable at what he was about to say. "He emphasized her beauty and how well she worked."
  
  Ah. "And?"
  
  "We were wiping down after the day's work, and my hand slipped off the table when he actually asked about it. Honestly, it was odd. Typically, he would approach my parents, but I suppose he either already knew them or thought I was already out of the house or something. I really respected the man."
  
  "Oh? Did you?" A bitter feeling grew in her stomach. "What was this man's name?"
  
  "Lisong."
  
  A tight feeling gripped her chest, and she tensed. Ren took this in.
  
  "So you are Lisong's daughter. I knew it." Ren stood up from his spot and looked down on her. "Your father has done very bad things, Zhao Luo." He puncuated her name in such a way that it felt like a threat.
  
  She took a moment to breathe when the uncomfortable feeling grew. She had always suspected... but...
  
  > say "What do you know?"
  "What do I know?" Ren scoffed, looking up at her with a single brow lifted. He looked so... dangerous like that.
  
  Zhaoluo shifted her arms a bit and looked away, disguising it with a roll of her eyes. "If my father was a very bad man, what could he have done that your mother hadn't already?"
  
  Ren blinked. And frowned. And ignored her. "I wasn't going to accept the offer anyway, but I didn't want to offend the poor man. Once, I saw him mingling with some, ah, shady characters—"
  
  "And how would you know they were shady?" When it came out of her mouth, she wanted to slap herself because it sounded so dumb.
  
  "They had on longer, darker clothing and had this awful look to them. Zhaoluo," Ren started, "you're father was sucking up a lot of money. And that is why I did not accept the marriage offer. With you."
  
  Zhaoluo gave him an inspecting once-over. He wasn't bad looking... but she had worse things to worry about. She crossed her arms, uncrossed them, and crossed them again. Then she sighed and let both hands fall to their places. "What was the point of this? People are dying out in the city, and the refugees literally just shred the resourcse."
  
  "I thought you should know that your father, and you and I..." He shot her a sly look. "But I suppose you already knew."
  
  Shivers were running up her spine. Not the cold-and-scared shiver, but the barely-controlled-anger kind. "Ren. I don't know what you're problem is. Who did you lose? Who did you lose in this war?"
  
  Looking uncomfortable, Ren cleared his throat. "I'm just one of thousands. Millions, probably. What does it matter? Everyone lost someone. You clearly lost your family—father, stepmother, and half sister. All that. We're all the same. Everyone has a sad story to tell. I just don't feel for them anymore."
  
  The first thing that came out of her mouth was, "That's a horrible thing to say!" Zhaoluo immediately gave herself a mental slap at being so rash.
  
  "Can you say you feel for them? Did you feel for Huaxing?" The look on her face must have told him enough. "I thought so." He stood from the crate and began walking away. "You understood it all too soon. But at least, now you won't feel to bad."
  
  She still felt bad. Zhaoluo slowly lowered herself onto where Ren had sat. "Bad" was just a hollow, empty feeling.
  
  "We have to bury the boy."
  
  It was the "we" part of the statement that made Zhaoluo snap, "I know."
  
  Ren rolled his eyes and planted his fists on his hips. "You're the one who suggested it. No need to get so moody."
  
  The two found Mr. Bates, who had just finished wrapping up the body, which kept chill in the winter air. Together, they brought the body to the burial site—it used to be a park or field—and began digging into the solid ground with shovels already there. Previous graves were marked with ashes, previously paper in place of incense, and small trinkets. There were no fruits; they couldn't afford it.
  
  Zhaoluo's arms gave way quickly, as she wasn't used to menial work like digging, and Ren took her space easily, smirking at her incompetence. She wanted to growl at him. Instead, she nudged him out of the way and forced her aching arms to keep shoveling.
  
  It was something about the place that kept them quiet. Individual graves in the middle of a pretty much conquered city was a luxury. Mr. Bates, right before he brought them to this morbid place, explained to them some of the reports he got on what's happening in the city. According to him, many of the captive citizens and soldiers were forced to dig graves for themselves. It was a saddening thought, but it sounded bland next to the burning. And killing contests.
  
  When they were finished digging, Mr. Bates and Ren—with a queasy look on his face—lowered the boy into the hole, his body stiff as if he had been preserved in the snow. They slowly filled up the spaces between the earth and the boy until there was a mound, inconspicuous among the others, before them. Mr. Bates, having already thought ahead, took out a piece of paper. Small script was scribbled on it, and it was messy enough that Zhaoluo couldn't read it. The idea startled her, as Mr. Bates would have practiced finer writing—who made these papers, and how many did the person make?
  
  Using a lighter, he set a corner of the paper aflame and placed the paper in the center of the mound. They offered their prayers and wishes—she wished the boy a full, happy life that he would never get—and left.
  
  The trio returned to the cramped camp, and the professor thanked them for their assistance. Ren nodded, and Zhaoluo simply smiled. Burials were dismal here—nobody had been there for the boy. His father had left several days ago.
  
  > Numberless days later...
  Boyan stood before them, smiles and confidence and all. Zhaoluo didn't understand how he could remain so... so strong at times like these. Not empty. Not like Ren, not like her.
  
  "I have a plan," Boyan repeated, having already told this to them before they converged at the base.
  
  "And?" Ren asked rudely.
  
  Glancing at the other boy, Boyan explained, though not loudly, "The soldiers fought for the city, for us. What's to say we can't fight for ourselves?"
  
  "That's suicide."
  
  "But what if we set up traps in the city that explode when triggered?"
  
  "Ammunition?"
  
  "There's gunpowder and some other stuff at my house," Huaxing murmured, cowering beneath the rapid fire of words.
  
  Boyan inclined his head toward her. "Her father was a soldier."
  
  Pain flashed across the girl's eyes before she added, "I can take you guys there."
  
  "Why weren't Zhaoluo, Yinshi, and I told this?" Ren questioned, a look of hurt in his features.
  
  "I'm telling you now!" Boyan snapped. "You're pissy today."
  
  "Can we just be nice?" Huaxing whispered, letting MaiMai inch closer to her.
  
  Zhaoluo nodded. "I don't particularly like fools shouting loudly above me." The sun was golden today, and with Boyan towering over her, his silhouette was a looming shadow over them.
  
  He ran a hand through his unclean hair, sighing his rage away. "Alright. So what say you guys?"
  
  Yinshi spoke, and Zhaoluo was surprised. She had forgotten that he was there. "I agree with Ren. It would be suicide to go back into the city. Have you seen those reports? Do you want to die painfully?" He glanced at Huaxing. "Would you want bad things to happen to the girls?"
  
  "That's why I'm only suggesting that a few of us go," Boyan replied. "Huaxing and me."
  
  "That's ridiculous!" Ren exclaimed, and Yinshi nodded. Their spectacles glinted in the golden light.
  
  Zhaoluo squinted as sunlight hit her eyes when Boyan moved toward where Yinshi sat. The idea was pretty ridiculous and unlikely. They were just teenagers. Kids. Bored, empty, lost, hurt kids that probably saw too much.
  
  "If the Japs plan to kill us all, we might as well die fighting," Boyan hissed, glaring at Ren.
  
  "You sound like a stupid Jap yourself," retorted Ren. "Escaping is a better idea. The military pretty much abandoned us anyway. Even the soldiers left behind here! Did you see them? They had tried to take the people's clothing off their backs to try to pretend like they're us! Because they didn't want to fight. They're cowards, and I don't see why we can't run like they did."
  
  Boyan snorted. "And how do we escape? Nanking is a fortified city! There's walls! And the Japs probably blocked all the exits anyway. We'd need official papers to get through those."
  
  Ren sighed angrily. "Do whatever you want. It's not like I actually have control over you."
  
  "But you won't tell anyone."
  
  The two shared a long, knowing look before Boyan broke away to return to the front. Zhaoluo's eyes followed him, frightened for his foolishness.
  
  "MaiMai will not come with us. Ren clearly will not come with us. Who else will?" Boyan's eyes shined with a dangerous light, looking at Yinshi doubtfully but with eyes on me.
  
  > Offer to go.
  "I'll go with you guys; after all, I did promise Huaxing that I'll keep her safe," Zhaoluo mumbled. What the hell was she getting herself into?
  
  Boyan raised one of this thick eyebrows; he had clearly not expected that. "Are you sure?"
  
  Zhaoluo rolled her eyes at him. "A moment ago, you were yelling at Ren for being a coward or whatever. Now you don't want me to go?"
  
  Yinshi interrupted, a hint of worry in his voice, "You're a girl."
  
  And I could be raped. And brutalized. And whatnot. Zhaoluo bit her lip. "I have nothing to lose."
  
  "But your dignity and life," Yinshi added, leaning forward to look past MaiMai and Huaxing and at her.
  
  "Look. What Boyan said is right. The Japs will probably get us some way or another. I don't want to die conceding the fact that I never got them back for it," she retorted and stood up. "Boyan is right. Both of you are cowards."
  
  "Why can't I go?" MaiMai pipes up, trying to break the tension.
  
  Everyone turned to look at her, and it was Ren who answered, "You're the youngest."
  
  "I'm twelve!" she complained, looking as if that was the most reasonable explanation for her demand. Zhaoluo couldn't bring herself to look at the girl. She just seemed so much like Li—innocent, dark eyes and straight, to-the-brow bangs with short hair. Even her whining and the expression on her face.
  
  "I know Yinshi and Ren would gladly keep you here," Boyan threatened. He looked deadly serious with his hand poised on a hip like that.
  
  MaiMai gave him an equally venomous glare, her brows making a V. "What if I tell a grownup?"
  
  Yinshi interjected before Boyan could say something he'd regret. "If you do, Huaxing wouldn't forgive you. She's doing this for her family, city, and country." The soft look on the boy's face was convincing enough, and paired with Huaxing's pretty grin of assurance, MaiMai's face relaxed.
  
  "Oh, all right," she muttered. "But you better be coming back, or I'll never forgive you."
  
  Boyan, Huaxing, and Zhaoluo quieted, and the rest followed. The weight of the child's words sank into their minds as they lowered their heads. We may not be coming back.
  
  > prepare to go.
  When the group dispersed, Zhaoluo made her way to Boyan and Huaxing, the masterminds of this plot. They looked powerful standing together—sharp, beautiful, and assured. Huaxing especially seemed to have discarded the sorrowful face Zhaoluo had witnessed before. In the waning sunlight, their height created demon-like shadows on the dirt, stone, and wood.
  
  She went to stand beside them, and it was as if the circle was complete. Just standing there beside these two vivid survivors was enough to make her smile faintly.
  
  "We will be leaving to gather the gunpowder tonight, when everyone is asleep and the sky is dark," Boyan began with a whisper. "We only bring ourselves and a knife. Here." Boyan reached into the pockets of his pants and pulled out two kitchen knives. "I helped out in the kitchen," he explained and handed one to us. "I had only planned on two of us, but I'll have to get another one."
  
  "What's the knife for...? I thought we were just going to get to my house and back," Huaxing asked, slipping the somewhat sharp knife into her coat pocket. Then her mouth fell open and her eyes widened as the realization dawned upon her.
  
  Boyan answered anyway. "In case we're caught and not immediately shot, we're going..." He sighed and raked his hair, eyes lowering.
  
  "Oh," was her only response.
  
  Something in Zhaoluo's guts began to squirm, and an uncomfortable sensation rose to her chest as the full impact of the idea hit her. She didn't truly know to what extent she could or would push herself to with the threat of pain, and she didn't want to find out.
  
  "Tonight. I will get another knife, and we will leave. Huaxing will immediately take us to her house, which isn't too far away. We should be back by breakfast. Nobody will know we were gone." They had everything planned out. Almost everything. Otherwise they wouldn't need the weapons. "Hey." Boyan placed a hand on each of our arms and made eye contact with us both in turn. "We will be back. I will not let MaiMai, Yinshi, and Ren lose another person they know. Do you understand?"
  
  Huaxing nodded slowly, and Zhaoluo fixed a determined gaze on him. "We got this."
  
  Zhaoluo slipped out of her building. The stairs were a pain to get up and down with cracking a sound. Another obstacle was one of the women—the high-nosed lady—who rolled into her path, layering her thin arm over Zhaoluo's slippered foot. The woman's hand proceeded to land on someone's bare foot, and the man shifted. This building was crowded, and Zhaoluo was glad she was in the quieter, less crowded upper floor.
  
  She quietly shut the door behind her and turned left—toward the fences, but in a discreet corner made by the fence (at some point, upgraded since last time) and the house. The lonely, cold scene was only interrupted by small lights placed throughout the camp, encircling it and giving the barest glow.
  
  She was the first one there, so she quietly sat down on the dirt and propped her head against the house's wooden flank. Her eyes trailed to the dark sky, the tiny stars little holes of light. Like a passageway to... something. Before, she used to take nature for granted, as it was always there no matter what humans endeavored. Now, it was still the only thing here standing after this horrible series of punishments on the Chinese, her people.
  
  Zhaoluo couldn't understand why the Japanese wanted China so badly. Why they wanted so much of China so badly. Resources? Weren't the other nations and places they conquered enough? Why take over all of China? Supplies and troops would be badly spread to manage such a task. They could better spend their time and resources on other things that would better benefit their nation.
  
  A pattering of light footsteps sounded, and Zhaoluo tensed. As the footsteps drew nearer, she pushed herself against the wall and tried to stay in the dark—just in case. Luckily, it was Boyan's face that popped into view, and he settled into a spot beside her, crossing his legs and peeking over the wall.
  
  "You're first here?" The question was just a rush of wind, and Zhaoluo nodded as Boyan turned to her. It was difficult to see his features, but she could see his blurry outline. "Alright. Huaxing should be hear soon." There wasn't a single touch of fear in his voice.
  
  Zhaoluo leaned back against the wall, a placid expression on her face.
  
  "You scared?" Boyan asked.
  
  "Very."
  
  He sighed. "We'd be fools if we weren't. The Japanese have better weapons than us. It's kind of unfair. They have this puny island, and we have a big chunk of Asia."
  
  She chuckled. "It's mostly mountains."
  
  "Yeah, well..." Boyan muttered bitterly. "We should be better. I don't know why we're still like this."
  
  Saving her from a response, Huaxing padded into the inlet. Boyan and Zhaoluo, having not heard her previously, jumped at her sudden appearance.
  
  "You scared me!" Zhaoluo hissed, though not unpleasantly.
  
  Huaxing grinned as she before them. "Hey, hey. I was practicing being quiet."
  
  Zhaoluo rolled her eyes though none of them could clearly see. "Whatever. Let's go. I want to be back as soon as possible."
  
  The trio climbed over the fence-wall-thing.
  
  > Across the road.
  With Huaxing in lead, they made their way across the road, a marker between the dismal refugee camp and the wrecked city. A blast of wind howled their way past them, and the hazy darkness sputtered against an intersecting street. Their eyes drank in their city. Behind the cover of dispersing shadows was a wreckage of buildings. Houses. Apartments. Schools. Places that nobody should be allowed to destroy. Beams, planks, and bricks littered the streets. Structures were toppled from the bombs that blew off their roofs and ripped off their walls.
  
  It was morbid. The rubble of some of the houses lay across the street, and they had to pick their way through the debris, eyes pricked by dust and limbs bruised by one extraneous or another. In the distance, behind a cloud of grey, a mute fire was burning.
  
  Zhaoluo's foot landed on something... sticky. It sucked on her shoes, making quiet noises, and she looked down. And stifled a shriek. Something dark glistened. She paused her walking, and Boyan turned back to look at her. Following her gaze, he spotted the dark spot on the ground. She looked around for the source of the blood and found it under a small roof of wood. A single spear of metal was driven through the body.
  
  Boyan stopped Huaxing, who looked back at her. Boyan gently pulled her away from the scene, softly whispering, "Quickly..."
  
  She suddenly felt exposed, even in the darkness. The air was saturated with tension, and there was a whispering in the trembling wind. A loud bang sounded, and the three refugees scrambled to hide, tripping up on the scattered rubble, daring not to make a noise. The gunfire was followed by more shots, each bringing their own wave of fear. There was shouting and screaming, though muffled, but it seemed farther in the city.
  
  Realizing this, they squirmed out of their individual hiding places beneath some pile of debris or another, scraping against bits of metal and splintered wood. Zhaoluo met Boyan's eyes, seeing a reflection of alertness and fear. He gestured for us to continue, and Huaxing led them down a discreet but winding path. Zhaoluo breathed a sigh of relief as they were led farther from the sounds of fire, guns, and shouts.
  
  It wasn't long before the group arrived at a small house—a single house, not some apartment buildings or shared homes. The small house still stood standing, but as they padded closer to the box-like structure, Zhaoluo could pick up huffing noises and quiet talking. It was coming from inside the house. She turned to Huaxing, who mouthed something that was likely unpleasant.
  
  Boyan pointed to ruined shop across the street, and the girls followed him. They squatted behind a broken counter, likely removed forcefully from the store, and Boyan leaned in toward them. "We can't get in there. There are enemy soldiers in there."
  
  "There has to be a way." Zhaoluo sounded desperate, even to herself. She did not just step into a drying puddle of blood and trek through Nanking for nothing.
  
  Huaxing shook her head, though Zhaoluo could barely see her expression under the shadow of the counter. "There is no other way into the building except the backdoor and the windows, and we'd still be caught."
  
  Something crackled around them, and they froze, shutting up.
  
  "Dete kite dokoni ite mo detekuru," came a harsh, and surprisingly young, voice. "Watashi wa anata ga kikoeru."
  
  A rush of fear and a pounding heart were Zhaoluo's only movements. She dare not breathe.
  
  A shadow was getting closer, and they were crouching behind the counter, knowing that they'd be found. Huaxing and Boyan exchanged scared looks, and Zhaoluo hoped that the soldier didn't find them and kill them. Or worse.
  
  > stay in place.
  The Japanese soldier approached. It was obvious that he was approaching the destroyed counter where they hid. He didn't speak anymore, but his footsteps weren't silent on the glass from the shot out windows.
  
  Boyan pressed a finger to his lips, and when a figure appeared on his side, he lunged a