THE SADDEST GIRL SINCE THE SONG DYNASTY

DAR-FOR MOUNTAIN VIA PURGATORY - PART I

There was nothing for Bingbing to do except plug herself into the world of music and zone out. Navigation was Lady Zhao's job, and to interrupt, as Bingbing had attempted, for mere conversation, invited snappy hostility that she preferred not to provoke. But this moodiness was forgivable. Lady Zhao was being such a good person, so nice a friend, so selfless; she was escorting someone whose trouble with spatial-reasoning verged on clinical curiosity (Bingbing got lost in her own two-bedroom apartment), they were going on a voyage of spiritual rehabilitation, specifically Bingbing's rehabilitation (since what on Earth could be wrong in Lady Zhao's life?), and had Bingbing been on her own, she would never have had the imagination, gall or skill to go. Plus, there was all that faff the night before – Lady Zhao locking herself out of her apartment and getting attacked by neighbors – Bingbing didn't quite catch exactly how or why it had happened, but she would be sure to ask later.

The group that included Ander (despite the uncertainty of earlier) rode the metro, got to a bus station, and found it to be busier than usual because of the fog and the cancelled trains. Above them flew swirling arches of concrete, a whirlpool of transport intersections.

Making it through the journey without throwing up or passing out was Ander's role. When Bingbing had tried to engage him, he had begun a sentence, then tapped his chest, and made precarious swallowing motions while bobbing his head forward and back like a pigeon. After finally quelling any immediate impulse to retch, he apologized for not being able to talk properly, and went to sit a little away from both Bingbing and Lady Zhao as they waited for their rescheduled service.

For the buses, like the trains, frequencies had been reduced because of the fog, and the eight-thirty and the nine-fifteen departures had been condensed into one so that when the three boarded their overcrowded coach, they discovered their seat reservations were no longer valid. They would have to stand.

Considering this to be already the third last-straw of the day before she would simply have to slap a face, any face (the first being Ander's late return, the second being Bingbing's prodding), Lady Zhao wisely restrained herself, and instead sought to rectify their predicament – the prospect of standing for the five-plus hour journey – by bargaining with those in seats. On her first effort she reached an agreement of two hundred kuai to depose a healthy looking middle aged man from his cushioned throne. But Ander, whom she offered it to because he was struggling to stand straight (he had developed stomach cramps) refused animatedly to forfeit so much money for something he believed he had already paid fairly for. He insisted he would be just fine standing, and by the time Lady Zhao surrendered and sought it for herself, the offer of acceptance had been rescinded.