THE SADDEST GIRL SINCE THE SONG DYNASTY

BATTLE OF THE LEVEL NINE CORRIDOR - PART IV

Lady Zhao had none. She had savings, good prospects, the choice of life-partners to pick from. It wasn't that she feared her fate would be the same as Ander's, to have so much one moment and lose it all the next – the two were too different in character in that respect; she would never be so bungling. So what was it? Why did she feel so spiritually lost, so despising of the universe, so fearful the universe despised her? She had prayed for love and riches by habit all her life; Buddha, or whoever was listening, had granted her a ninetieth-percentile salary, and a buffet of suitors to select from. Now, nearing her thirtieth year, her Saturn Return, as her fortuneteller had once explained, why did everything feel so wrong? Why was she still so dissatisfied?

She would go to the temples on Dar-For Mountain, she would take companions, and there she would confront the spirits in person.

For a moment, the corridor returned to peace as Lady Zhao finished her explanation, and no one had anything immediate to say. Then her neighbor, whose folded arms had been deployed into hands on hips, and who had moved closer to Ander to scrutinize him from up close, exclaimed "Wow, you really struck gold with this one, didn't you?"

Ander was looking gaunt and swayed slightly on his feet, and he seemed to lack the energy to move away, or even form a sentence. Lady Zhao began opening the door to her apartment, and declared victory, at least within the scope of her aims, by instructing Ander to pack his things quickly. She was content to concede to the woman who lived next door the prize of last word. Indeed, as the door closed, Lady Zhao heard the woman add an encore to her departing insult.

"And, girl, don't leave your trash in the corridor again – that damned cat from upstairs keeps coming and ripping it open, and I end up cleaning half of it." The man added, "Yes, yes, it does."

Lady Zhao shoved some clothes in a day-bag with purpose, Ander complied with the instructions she gave, pausing occasionally to steady himself, and Bingbing stood to one side, waiting, electing not to disrobe since their departure was, she anticipated, imminent.