Soundless(12)

I always wanted to paint pixius, he remarks. Like winged lions. Can you even imagine? My master would chastise me for having my head in the clouds.

Seeing my surprise at that admission, he laughs again. Yes, you aren’t the only one who daydreams. You remind me of myself at your age. He pauses, and that humor fades from his features. That’s why I want you to come with me.

He turns, and I follow quickly, my heart rate picking up. Has he found out about what’s happened to me? Has someone reported me? The thought is terrifying as I follow him back through the school. A part of me almost welcomes the chance to unburden this secret. Because while Feng Jie’s writings were full of information about hearing, there was no mention of how or why it might come back after being gone for generations. To my knowledge, no one has ever written about such a thing—because it’s never happened.

Elder Chen brings me to a small room usually reserved exclusively for the elders. There, inside, I see Zhang Jing standing before Elder Lian, with the other elders seated beyond them. One look at my sister tells me this isn’t about me at all.

Elder Lian is surprised by our presence. What is Fei doing here?

I thought it appropriate she be present, Elder Chen responds.

This has nothing to do with her, Elder Lian insists.

I am the only family she has, I quickly interject, even though I know it’s impertinent. If she is in trouble, I need to know.

A gleam of triumph shows in Elder Lian’s eyes. You’ve known she has been going blind for some time, haven’t you?

I make no response.

There is no place for blindness among the artists, Elder Lian declares, looking back at Zhang Jing. You’ve lost your apprenticeship. You must gather your things and leave.

Zhang Jing cannot speak. In fact, she goes so pale I’m afraid she’ll pass out. My instinct is to comfort her, but instead I take a bold step toward Elder Lian. She’s not blind yet! I notice some of the other elders are holding up pieces of canvas: samples of Zhang Jing’s past work. Look at those. She still has skill. A blind person couldn’t do that.

They’re imprecise, Elder Lian argues. Flawed. We know you’ve been covering for her. We need perfection in the record, and that requires a perfect set of eyes.

She might get better, I protest. Elder Lian snickers in disbelief. I do not like the sound. It is harsh and ugly.

No one’s sight gets better, Elder Lian says. We all know that. Be grateful her vision is good enough to let her join the miners. At least that way she will be able to contribute. It’s better than begging.

An image of the beggars in the village’s center comes back to me, and I can practically see Zhang Jing among them. It makes me feel sick. But Zhang Jing joining the miners isn’t much better. I think about Li Wei and his father, how dangerous it is to be in the mines with limited vision. I think about how even then, the rations miners receive are smaller than what we get here. It was what drove the servant to steal for his family.

Don’t send her away, I say suddenly, addressing all the elders. There’s an opening among the servants, right? After yesterday’s theft? Let Zhang Jing take it. Please. Her vision is more than adequate to perform those kinds of duties.

I don’t know if that’s true or not. I’ve never thought much about what the servants do. I haven’t had to. But it has to be a better fate than mining or begging.

The shock that meets me in Zhang Jing’s eyes suggests she disagrees, but I make a small gesture, urging her not to protest as the others deliberate.

The elders exchange glances, and it is Elder Chen who finally speaks. It’s true that we lost one of the cleaners yesterday. Zhang Jing needs a place, and a place has opened up. It is a fortunate thing. Balance, yes?

Elder Lian looks skeptical for a moment and then shrugs. I will allow it. Behind her hard exterior, I catch a glimpse of regret in her eyes. Maybe her initial decision to kick Zhang Jing out wasn’t born of cruelty so much as necessity. Elder Lian pities what’s happened to my sister, and somehow that makes all this even worse.

The full impact of what I’ve just brought about hits me. My sister, a servant? Not just any servant—a cleaner? We’ve spent so much time as artist apprentices that I’ve come to take this lifestyle for granted. It’s demanding, but there is a prestige to it. There’s a pride in knowing our craft is what keeps the village orderly, that hundreds of years from now, our descendants will look upon what we’ve created and learn from it. Our art will endure when the rest of us are gone. Others rightly treat us with deference, just as the servants in the kitchen did earlier. I suddenly imagine Zhang Jing groveling as they did, bowing and avoiding eye contact with the other artists. Worse, I imagine her scrubbing the floor or doing some other demeaning task.

I see despair in Zhang Jing’s face, but she is nonetheless quick to give the proper response. She bows three times to Elder Chen. Thank you, master. It is a great honor. I will fulfill my new duties with as much dignity as I fulfilled my previous ones.

My heart sinks. Honor? There is no honor in this, but at least I will be able to sleep easy knowing my sister has a roof over her and food to eat. Elder Chen dismisses us with a small gesture, and after more bowing, we retreat to the hallway and head back to the girls’ dormitory.

Don’t worry, I tell Zhang Jing. Once your vision comes back, they will reinstate you in your apprenticeship.

She comes to a halt and shakes her head sadly. Fei, we both know that’s not going to happen. I must accept this miserable fate now.