Panda Panic. Jamie Rix

in charge.

      “They’ll go for the pretty one, won’t they,” said Ping with a sigh of resignation. “We might as well give up now. They’ll choose Gao, I know they will.”

      Suddenly, Hui jumped into the air and flapped his wings in a flurry of excitement.

      “I’ve got it!” he cried. “A letter! A letter!”

      “Which one?” asked Ping. “I know lots of them. A? B? M? T? U? V?”

      “No. You write them a letter.”

      “Me? Write a letter? To whom?”

      “The pandas who live at London Zoo. You write to them and ask them what life is like there. And when they write back and tell you, you’ll know what it is you have to do to become the perfect panda for the exchange.”

      It was a glorious plan and one that Ping could not keep to himself for a moment longer. He ran to his mother, Mao Mao, and blurted it out. He even begged her to help him compose the letter, but to his surprise she refused.

      “Help,” she explained, “is the thief of self-knowledge.”

      Ping scratched his head.

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

      “A dragonfly tastes sweeter to a frog when snaffled by its own tongue.”

      “Why can’t you ever speak normally?” he squeaked. “Will you help me write the letter or not?”

      “It is better to travel alone, Ping, for only then will you know when you have arrived.”