Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Mei Lin had hopped onto a local train, which had deposited her in downtown Changsha.
She’d used some of Ethan’s money to purchase new clothes and had changed into jeans, a gray sweater, and a black wool jacket completely different from the royal blue puffy one she’d worn years before.
She’d added a wool hat and a face mask, hoping to blend in with the locals.
The pollution was bad enough that face masks had been common even before the pandemic.
There were cameras everywhere. They hung from traffic signals, from building corners, from the eaves over storefronts. All she could do was try to keep her face averted.
Lu Feng had known she was on the train. Had he tracked her ticket, her ID, her phone…?
Her phone.
The last thing she wanted was to discard it, her only chance of reaching Ethan. But if it was being tracked…
She tossed it into a trash can and heard the heavy clunk when it hit the bottom.
She’d find a way to reach Ethan. There had to be a way.
But how? Lu Feng had found her. A system somewhere must have alerted a person in the government, who’d alerted him.
Unless the government was after her?
No, that didn’t make sense, considering the warden who’d released Mei Lin worked for the government. Why would the government free her and then try to capture her again?
Policies come from many doors. Her grandmother used to say that about bureaucracy, about how one group was doing one thing, another group doing the opposite. That had never felt more true. One door had opened for her while another was trying to lock her in again.
Or maybe Lu Feng had bribed someone to help him track her.
There was no way to know for sure.
She kept pace with the foot traffic. Not too fast, not too slow. She was a woman on her way somewhere, unremarkable, uninteresting.
The afternoon moved toward evening. The streets shifted from commercial to residential and back again.
She registered none of it, really, just the rhythm of footsteps, the shape of the crowd.
Children going home from school. Workers on their evening commute.
Young people looking for fun. They were a constant stream of feet on the sidewalk.
She’d caught sight of a clock in a pharmacy window earlier and, reading the time, had stopped to watch the minutes tick away.
Ethan would be getting off his plane now.
Taking the train to Kowloon Station.
Waiting on the platform for her to emerge.
If only she’d made it. She would have stepped off. She’d have seen him. She’d have told herself not to run, but she would have run. She would have thrown herself into his arms.
He’d lift her off her feet like he always did, hold her close. Maybe he wouldn’t want to put her down again. Would he kiss her?
Did she want him to?
He’d tug on her short hair and lie, saying it looked good. Or maybe he’d think she was beautiful no matter how skinny, how sallow, how ugly. That was love, wasn’t it?
If only she were with him now instead of wandering aimlessly around a city where she didn’t know a soul.
How long would he wait for her? When he was convinced she wasn’t on the train, what would he do next?
Would he go to a hotel? Wait for word? Fly back to America?
Suddenly, she’d realized what she was doing—just standing on the sidewalk like a fool. She’d put her head down and kept walking.
It was dark now, probably after midnight. Very few people were on the road.
Her legs were trembling. She needed a place to rest, but she didn’t dare go to a hotel.
She hadn’t eaten since the day before. She’d forgotten that she had the freedom to eat when she wanted. Now, it was too late. The few restaurants she passed were closed for the night.
There had to be a restaurant or kiosk open somewhere, but without a phone, how would she locate one? She’d have to wait until morning.
She’d survived hunger for six years. One more night wouldn’t kill her. But calories wouldn’t just fill her stomach. They’d fuel her mind. She used to be smart and quick-thinking. Not anymore, not for a long time.
She turned a corner and froze.
The building was older than those around it, tucked between a mobile phone shop and a shuttered restaurant. Above the entrance hung a small cross.
Jesus.
She’d been praying in the back of her mind, as she’d done for years. Was this an answer?
She staggered across the street and up the steps to the front door, hoping it would be unlocked.
It was.
Thank You.
She stepped inside a dim sanctuary and took in the rows of pews, the aroma of incense, the mustiness of old wood, and the peace that filled the house of God. It was like something from a different life.
She sat in the pew closest to the back. And then, she lay down, pulling her knees to her chest. She’d rest, just for a moment.
Something brushed her shoulder.
Mei Lin was scooting away before she was fully conscious, heart slamming against her ribs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” A man came into focus, his voice calm. “You’re safe here.”
He looked a couple of decades older and had a slight build, wearing a dress shirt and slacks. He took a step back, one hand up. He repeated the same thing he’d said a moment before. “You’re safe here.”
Was he the pastor?
He lifted something from the pew behind and held it out. It smelled heavenly.
She peeked at the contents and guessed rice and vegetables.
“For you,” he said. “Please, eat.”
She only hesitated a moment before she took the bowl and the chopsticks and scooted toward the center of the pew.
The meal was delicious, not just rice and vegetables, but pork.
It was the meat that brought tears to her eyes.
The pastor settled into the pew beside her, facing the altar. When she’d had as much as her stomach would accept—less than she wanted but more than she’d eaten at one time in years—she set the bowl on the pew beside her and folded her hands in her lap.
“What brings you here?” His question was curious, as if they were chatting after a service, not in the middle of the night.
“I was on a train, but I had to get off before my stop.”
He nodded.
“I had somewhere else to be.”
If he heard the sob that hitched her words, he didn’t react, just nodded again.
She spun the loose rings on her finger.
As if he’d come to a conclusion, the man stood and picked up the bowl. “There is a room,” he said. “Small but private.”
Something in his face—the kindness in his eyes, maybe, or simply the absence of any agenda—made her think of āyí, who had also asked her for nothing and given her everything she had.
Maybe Mei Lin would be a fool to trust him, but she’d come here because she needed sanctuary, and this man offered it. “Thank you.”
He led her to the back of the sanctuary, through a heavy door, and down a narrow hallway, pointing out the bathroom as they passed. A few steps farther, he opened another door and stepped aside.
It was barely larger than a closet and held a single bed and a bare shelf. An overhead bulb lit the space. There was no window, no carpet, no decor.
It was perfect.
He walked away and returned a moment later with two plastic bottles of water, which he set on the shelf. “Please, try to drink. If you die here, the paperwork will be terrible.” His eyes twinkled, and she smiled.
“I’ll do my best. Thank you. You…you do the work of God.”
His expression turned serious. “God sees you. He is with you. He knows what you need.”
It was similar to what āyí used to say to her. That this pastor said it, here and now… It must mean something.
But after the day she’d had, and the years before it… “How can you be sure?”
The pastor shrugged. “He is God, and He is love.”
He started to pull the door closed, but she stopped him. “Wait. Do you…? Could I borrow a phone?”
“I don’t have one.” He seemed truly sorry. “But I will provide as the Lord leads. Trust Him, sister, and sleep.”
He closed the door, and she was alone.
Alone.
When was the last time she’d been in a room alone? A very long time ago.
She should think. She should make a plan. She should figure out how to reach Ethan. First, she should figure out how to cross a city full of cameras with no money and no phone, how to get out of a country that watched from every corner and doorway.
She sat on the edge of the bed and took off her shoes.
Whether she lay down or fell over from exhaustion, she didn’t know. Within seconds, she was sound asleep.
Mei Lin awoke suddenly, eyes popping open. She’d fallen asleep so fast the night before that she hadn’t even turned the light off.
A distant knock carried through the walls, followed by a man’s voice, barely audible.
She sat up and swung her feet to the floor. How long had she slept? She didn’t know and certainly didn’t feel fully rested, though she wasn’t sure she ever would again.
A second man’s voice interrupted the first, and this one was angry.
Before the pastor replied—she was pretty sure it had been the voice of the man who’d led her here—she was shoving her feet into her worn sneakers.
She made the bed, grabbed the two untouched water bottles, and looked around to ensure she’d left no trace, nothing that could land on the pastor’s shoulders.
Satisfied, she peeked into the hallway. It was empty. The voices were louder out here.
Another door closed somewhere.
“Where is she?” the angry man asked.
“I haven’t seen her since last night.”
Mei Lin appreciated the man’s careful answer—not a lie, though definitely meant to deceive.
She stepped into the hall, but her foot bumped into something.
A canvas duffel had been placed right outside her door, a folded note tucked under the handle. She crouched and read it in the thin light.
For you. The rest is outside. Be safe.
She unzipped the bag and found a yellow jacket, a yellow helmet, and black pants. A food delivery company’s logo was emblazoned across the chest in bold characters. The uniform was complete, down to a black face mask folded neatly at the bottom.
God sees you. He knows what you need.
Somehow, the pastor had known too.
She vacillated. Change into the uniform first, or run?
Change.
She ducked back into the room, pulled on the garish uniform, including the mask and helmet, and then stuffed her clothes and the water bottles into the duffel bag.
Hearing only distant voices, she moved into the hallway and away from the sanctuary. There was a closed door at the end of the hall next to a narrow window. She pressed near the glass and looked into an alley, gray with early morning light.
She didn’t see anybody, but it was a small window.
Hide me, Lord.
Behind her, the voices grew louder.
She opened the door and peeked out, taking in the sight of a small courtyard with a raised flower garden in the center. A yellow scooter was propped against one side, an insulated delivery box strapped to the back. The logos on both matched the one on the jacket she wore.
That must be “the rest” the pastor had mentioned in his note.
Thank You.
She settled the helmet on her head and swung onto the seat. The key was snug in the keyhole, so she started the engine, kicked up the stand, and rolled into the alley, aiming away from the front of the church.
She immediately regretted that decision.
A man was standing on the sidewalk in front of her, his back to her as he scanned the road that intersected the alley. Though she couldn’t see his face, she guessed it was Lu Feng. If she didn’t change course, she would pass within a few feet of him.
Her stomach dropped through the seat of the scooter. Her every instinct screamed at her to brake, to turn, to do anything but continue straight toward him. But if he had more men at the other end of the alley, they’d have time to trap her. At least this way, she had a shot at escaping.
She pressed the throttle and held her speed and made herself breathe.
He turned as she approached, his eyes moving over her quickly. Her uniform made her irrelevant, just one of hordes of delivery drivers.
He looked away before she passed and turned onto the cross street.
She kept her pace even and her hands steady for one block, two, three. At the fourth corner, she turned, and then let herself exhale.
You rescued me again. Thank You.
But the uniform only solved one problem.
She considered the issue as she rode. The food the night before and the few hours of sleep had kicked her brain into gear.
Somehow, Lu Feng had found her again. She’d discarded her phone, so he must have somebody in the government watching the cameras.
Her face wasn’t as disposable as her phone.
God, shield me. You’ve gotten me this far. Please, don’t stop now.
She aimed the scooter toward a business district she’d trudged through the night before.
But the night before, she’d been half asleep on her feet.
She couldn’t remember exactly where it was, and it took her hours to find the area.
At least she hadn’t imagined the electronics shop, which had opened by the time she reached it.
Mei Lin parked her scooter at the curb and walked in, smiling at the employee who greeted her.
She gestured toward the phones. “I’m just going to look. ”
“Let me know if you need help.”
Mei Lin moved to the back of the store, found the display model of a tablet, and pulled up the map, looking for the busiest area of the city. She’d never been to Changsha, but she’d heard of a place…
Here it was—Wuyi Square, a giant intersection surrounded by shops and clubs and businesses. There’d be plenty of other delivery drivers there. Mei Lin could fall in among them and be invisible. She studied the map in her head, memorizing the route she’d take to get there.
When she had it, she shifted to the table of phones, picking each one up, hoping to look like a customer while she searched for one connected to Wi-Fi.
She found one, opened a message app, and typed Ethan’s phone number and then a message.
Changsha. Wuyi Square today.
She waited, desperate for a reply—confirmation that he would send someone to help her.
That he hadn’t given up on her.