THE COME CLATTERING down the stairwells and surge onto the platform around her: revoltingly young, for the most part, and energetic too, striding, laughing, chatting, texting, bouncing and bobbing to the music in their earphones. Marilyn feels exhausted just looking at them. She presses the manuscript to her chest as if it were an amulet.

She wishes the manuscript were about vampires. If it were, she′d be that much more confident that Xiaojun would like it. But it′s not. She wishes she were a vampire. If she were, she′d stick her fangs into one of these horrifying young people and suck up some of their appalling vitality. But she′s not. So she looks at her shoes instead.