The smoke came first.

  Lian smelled it before she saw it. It wasn’t the soft kind that drifted from incense or temple candles. It stung the back of her throat. When she looked toward the valley again, the faint haze that had seemed so far away the day before had turned into a heavy wall of gray.

  Kai was standing near the gate, squinting down the slope. “It’s our street,” he said quietly. “It’s burning.”

  Lian didn’t answer right away. She knew what she was looking at but didn’t want to name it. Her mind kept trying to push it away, to tell itself it was just a barn or a neighbor’s field. But there was too much smoke for that, too dark and steady.

  “We can’t stay here,” Kai said.

  “We don’t know what’s down there,” she replied.

  He turned to her. “But what if they’re still there?”

  Lian’s chest tightened. She wanted to say yes, that maybe their parents were still alive, that maybe they were waiting somewhere for them. But she could see the flames rising higher now, orange against the clouds, and she knew.

  She crouched down so she was at his eye level. “We’ll go,” she said, “but you have to listen to me. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I say run, you run. No questions.”

  Kai nodded, his jaw set. He was trying to be brave, but his hands were trembling.

  They left the temple just after dawn. The path down was slick from last night’s rain, and the mist clung to their clothes as they walked. The sound of crackling carried up the hill before they even reached the road.

  Halfway down, they passed a bicycle lying on its side in the mud. One wheel was still spinning.

  When they reached the edge of the village, the air was thick with heat. Smoke curled through the alleys. Lian covered her mouth with her sleeve. The street looked familiar and strange all at once. The house with the red roof was gone, just a blackened frame now. Someone’s laundry still hung between two posts, half burned, shirts fluttering like torn flags.

  Kai pointed. “That’s Mr. Wong’s store.”

  What was left of it, anyway.

  They moved quietly, stepping around pieces of roof tile and shattered glass. Somewhere nearby, a window collapsed inward with a dull crash.

  When they reached their own street, Lian stopped. Their house was gone. Nothing but the stone steps and the charred outline of the porch.

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  Kai’s voice was barely a whisper. “Where are they?”

  Lian didn’t answer. Her mind had gone blank. The smell of burned wood and something worse filled her nose. The blanket she’d wrapped around her shoulders fell to the ground without her noticing.

  Then she saw movement in the smoke—someone stumbling out from the side of the house.

  Lian grabbed Kai’s arm and pulled him behind a wall. She peeked out carefully. The figure was limping, clothes torn, one arm held tight against his chest. He stopped near the well, coughing hard, and then looked around like he wasn’t sure where he was.

  It was one of her father’s colleagues. Mr. Han.

  Lian stepped out slowly. “Mr. Han?”

  He turned toward her, startled. His face was blackened with soot, and his eyes were wide. “Lian?” he rasped. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Where’s my father?” she asked.

  He shook his head weakly.

  Lian’s throat went dry. “Where are they now?”

  Mr. Han coughed, leaning against the well. “Don’t know. I ran when the shooting started.” He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “You have to leave, Lian. They’ll come back to finish it.”

  Kai stepped out from behind the wall. “Who will?”

  Mr. Han looked at him, then back at Lian. “Go. Don’t stop for anyone.” He opened his mouth again, but before he could speak another word, his knees buckled.

  Lian rushed forward, catching him just before he hit the ground. “Mr. Han! Hey—hey!”

  He was barely breathing. His hand reached up, trembling, and pressed something into hers. A small flash drive, burned at the edges but still intact.

  “Your mother… said you’d know,” he whispered.

  Then he was gone.

  Lian sat frozen for a long moment, her fingers gripping the flash drive so tightly it dug into her palm. Kai was staring at her, his face pale beneath the soot.

  “Lian?” he said.

  She looked up at him, forcing her voice to stay steady. “We have to go.”

  He didn’t move. “But—”

  She grabbed his hand. “Now.”

  They ran.

  Back through the broken street, past the houses they used to walk by every day, past the old banyan tree that used to hold their swing. The wind carried the sound of sirens from far away, faint and distant.

  When they reached the main road again, Lian stopped to catch her breath. Her lungs burned from smoke and running. She looked back one last time. The village was a blur of gray and orange, swallowed by fire.

  Kai was quiet beside her. His face was streaked with ash, his hair plastered to his forehead.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  Lian looked down at the flash drive still clutched in her hand. The metal was warm against her skin. “Somewhere safe,” she said.

  He nodded slowly. “Like the temple?”

  “No,” she said. “Farther.”

  They walked until the road curved out of sight. The sky had begun to clear by then, blue trying to push through the smoke. Birds were starting to return, cautious and quiet.

  Kai kicked a pebble down the path. “I don’t want to forget them,” he said softly.

  “You won’t,” Lian replied. “Neither will I.”

  He looked up at her, searching her face for something. She didn’t know what. Comfort, maybe. Certainty. She didn’t have either, but she gave him her hand anyway.