How could Josh do this to her? She had trusted him. She looked around her, feeling an impulse to get up and move, but there was nowhere to go. “What would you like to be able to say in Chinese?” Joie had her hand on Barbara’s arm. She was sitting beside Barbara and had a dictionary in front of her. There was something formidable about Joie. She seemed not only contented but wise. If she herself were in trouble, she would know just what to do. Of course, she probably never did get herself in trouble. And if Barbara were to throw herself on Joie’s mercy, ask her what to do? No. That wouldn’t work. She would resent anything Joie would say. She could feel herself bristle at the very thought of advice from Joie. Advice from anyone, for that matter. Barbara was going to have to figure this out for herself. “Barbara?” Barbara tried to concentrate, shook her head. It had never really occured to her that she might want to communicate in Chinese. French and English, OK. That was her daily life. But Chinese? Barbara could not think of a single word. “There must be something you want to be able to say,” Joie insisted. Barbara couldn’t think of what to say to Joie. Strong characters had this effect on Barbara. Joie was right, surely. There must be something Barbara would want to be able to say. But what? Why couldn’t she think of anything? Barbara felt hopeless. Why was she here? She would never have agreed to come here without Josh. “Danger,” she said finally, in desperation, pointing to the first word on her notebook page. Joie peered at the word. “Danger,” she read. Only then she continued reading. “And an opportunity.” Barbara closed her notebook, but it was too late. “Danger and an opportunity?” Harry repeated in a very loud voice. “There’s a whole debate about that.” People in the seats nearby turned around to see what he was talking about. “Yes. What is that all about?” Joie asked, her finger moving down a dictionary page. “Don’t tell me, Fu! I want to see if I can find it. Yes, here it is!” she exclaimed finally. “Wei ji.” Madame Fu clapped her hands. “Wei is danger,” Joie read, flipping the pages. “That much is for sure. And ji can be translated as opportunity. Or,” she read, “as a crucial point. Chance. A pivotal moment. Crisis, in short.”