THE SADDEST GIRL SINCE THE SONG DYNASTY

THE SUN ALSO SETS - PART I

Lady Zhao had, as far as Ander could tell, at some point between an agreeable conversation on Tuesday night and an antagonistic Thursday afternoon message thread, decided it was in fact a good and worthwhile idea to go to Dar-For Mountain. They should go that very weekend, Lady Zhao wrote, instead of the water village, because she hadn't been for so long, because Bingbing wanted to go, because they were all free. Why did Ander sound so reluctant, Lady Zhao wanted to know?

"I don't know. I'm not sure I feel up for it. I thought you said it was a bit trashy," Ander typed.

"Where are you now? At home?"

"In your massage chair, watching a documentary."

"You are travelling. You're supposed to be out exploring, learning."

"I am learning Chinese past tense."

"I have a friend who works night shifts. Spring – you remember him? The two of you should hang out."

"Not sure I can be bothered, to be honest."

"Too late, Ander, I've already arranged a meeting for the two of you tomorrow. Stop being such a fucking loser. Details to follow."

So was the pretext to Ander's rendezvous with Lady Zhao's preferred night-out accessory, Spring, at a metro station north of the Wusong River, though they would almost immediately cross back over. The day seemed clear, but bad weather, specifically bad pollution, was due to set in later, and hang around for the weekend.

The two explored the limits of free-to-use translation applications on their phones as they strolled the gentrified industrial lanes off Moganshan Road that constituted one of the more esoteric art districts of Shanghai. It was the first time on his trip that Ander had been exclusively in the company of someone whose English was worse than his Mandarin. And yet he decided it was still worth trying to convey the meaning of shade in the 1980s New York Meatpacking sense since he used it so much.