THE SADDEST GIRL SINCE THE SONG DYNASTY

UNFORTUNATELY, DEATH - PART II

Ander was still captivated by his own encounter with the metaphysical realm. He trailed at the back, hands in pockets, mind somewhere in California, occasionally taking trios of stairs in waltzes, otherwise not concerning himself – not debasing himself – with matters of the mundane and terrestrial. He caught up with Bingbing and Lady Zhao at the shuttle stop where they had negotiated their way to the front of a long queue. He managed to duck in by their patronage.

Rocking back and forth and repeating the mantra, "we need to go faster," did nothing to speed the bus to the ferry terminal up. Sorting tickets and tensing her legs for a sprint run at their destination perhaps marginally improved Bingbing's prospects. When the bus, after what felt like an unwelcome century, pulled up, she bolted.

The rain had started again. All evidence the sun was a disc shape in the sky had been smeared into an inconsistent shimmering smudge. The stone-paved ground was wet and slippery, so once again Lady Zhao was not willing to risk her ankles or special Mourning Shoes (named because she bought them for a funeral, but afterwards realized they went well with all her more pious outfits) keeping up with Bingbing.

In the distance, across a large open square and at the door to the terminal, Lady Zhao could see Bingbing pleading with a uniformed woman overseeing access to the building... who then let her through ahead of a crowd of fifty something, maybe a hundred passengers. She must have used the same argument as for the bus, Lady Zhao mused – that Bingbing had a family emergency, that if she didn't get back to the mainland and home this afternoon, someone might die. In Bingbing's mind, prone to grand extrapolations, she wasn't lying.

Lady Zhao and Ander walked over to the guard who had let Bingbing in, a hard-faced thirty-something with a whistle hanging from her lips, poised for scolding. They attempted to talk their way in.

The interaction started off civil, Lady Zhao complimenting the guard's epaulets and demonstrating how she really knew that girl with the reptile skin suitcase by showing photos on her phone.

"I can call her now. Let me call her and get her to speak with you. You know, she gets lost very easily. Without me and her soul mate," Lady Zhao patting Ander on the back, going a little off-piste with the truth in the name of the cause, "she could get lost on the boat and fall into the sea. She can't swim."

But after perhaps six minutes of intransigence – with little consideration, the guard had announced that whether or not they really knew Bingbing, it was not their emergency, and nothing would change her mind of that fact, so there was nothing left to discuss – Lady Zhao resorted to slandering the woman's calves (even bare, they were somehow unnaturally orange), and began doing vulgar impressions of the woman's Hunan accent. For Lady Zhao, it was not only the outcome of a skirmish that mattered, in this case catching up with Bingbing, it was victory for victory's sake. The effort had begun; it needed to be finished honorably. In return, the guard blew her whistle and pointed far off.