Soundless(20)

I’m about to take the hall that leads to a side exit when I notice another corridor. In searching for the laundry room and the kitchen, I encountered most of the areas that the servants work in, which makes me think this must be their living quarters. I need to be on my way, but I just can’t bring myself to leave without seeing Zhang Jing one last time. In a moment, I’ve made my choice, and I turn down the hall, carefully peeking in each room. Many doors make that same long noise the kitchen door did, and I’m grateful no one else can hear it. If I ever get a chance to read Feng Jie’s book again, I intend to learn what the name for that sound is.

At last, I find where the servant women sleep. The space is smaller than my bedroom but with more beds crammed into it. Zhang Jing is sleeping at the end of the room, her bed up against the wall. I lean over her, feeling my heart ache as I take in the features of her beloved face. With a pang, I suddenly wonder if I’ll ever see her again. Li Wei and I have no idea what we’ll find at the bottom. We don’t even know if we’ll reach the bottom. What will happen if I die? Who will take care of Zhang Jing then—especially if her sight goes?

The fear is almost enough to make me change my mind about the journey. Then I remind myself that while there are risks, there’s also the chance that I might be able to change everything—not just for Zhang Jing but for others in my village. Whatever it is we find—more food, answers about the blindness—it has the possibility of improving the world of those we know and love. Li Wei is making this journey regardless, and he needs every asset he can get. I am one of those assets.

I smooth Zhang Jing’s hair from her face, my touch as light as a feather. She shifts slightly but continues sleeping peacefully, her cheek on her pillow and hand underneath it, just as she has slept since childhood. I look around the room. Along with a bowl of water on a table, there are some scraps of paper and a pot of ink resting on a shelf. I go to it, and in the moonlight I write a brief note: I will be back with help. Trust me.

I take the scrap of paper and tuck it under Zhang Jing’s pillow, near her hand. She will feel it when she awakens and hopefully have faith in what I’m doing. I have no doubt my disappearance will eventually be linked to the theft of the food, and I hate the thought of her believing the worst of me—especially after she told me how my position brings prestige to our family. Knowing I’m risking throwing that all away, I place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

I give my sister one last fond look and make my way out of her room. The patrolling servant is back on his rounds, but I dodge him, winding through the corridors until I reach a side door. Although I don’t expect there to be many people out this time of night, this door is less exposed than the main one, allowing a more discreet exit. Keeping to the shadows, I follow paths and trails until I reach the spot on the outskirts of our village that Li Wei and I had both agreed on: the place where our ancestors used to mount climbs from, farther up the trail from where the supply line is. And it is where I find Li Wei waiting.

You’re late, he signs to me in the moonlight. I thought maybe you’d changed your mind. Or feared the restless spirits that come out at night.

I stopped believing in them when I stopped believing in pixius, I respond haughtily. I had to say goodbye to Zhang Jing.

Shock fills his face. You told her?

No, no. I just checked on her—while she was asleep. No one knows. I pat my knapsack. And I found food, just as I promised. Did you get the things you need?

He gestures to a pile of equipment near his feet. Some of it, like the ropes, look like gear I’d find among the miners. Other items—metal rings, spikes, and hammer-like tools—are beyond me.

Some of this is from the mines, he confirms. The rest is from the magistrate’s supply shed. It has been stored there for centuries, but I was able to find pieces still in good shape. His face darkens. I had to steal all of it.

I know, I tell him. I had to steal the food too.

He shakes off his dismay and forces a smile. None of that will matter when we return with new supplies, right?

Right, I say, trying to smile back. I don’t bother pointing out what he already knows: that there’s no guarantee we’ll make it back, let alone with any bounty. Do you know how to use this stuff?

Much of it works like what we’ve used in the mines, he tells me. I’ve read up on what I don’t know and made some inquiries in the past. He glances up at the sky, where the full moon is descending in the west, still bright. In the east, however, I see a faint purpling of the sky as the sun readies itself for the day. Ready to go?

Ready as I’ll ever be, I reply.

He gives me a quick primer on the basics of the equipment and then shocks me when he uses some of the rope to tie us together. He grins when he sees my astonishment.

Nervous about being so close to me? he asks, giving the rope a slight tug.

I cross my arms, refusing to be baited by that dangerous question—even if there is truth to it. But whatever my feelings for him, I must focus on the larger picture: Zhang Jing and our village’s future.

Don’t get any ideas, I warn.

A small smile tugs at his lips. And what kind of ideas would those be, apprentice?

You know what kind of ideas. Just because we’re going on this journey, it doesn’t mean anything has changed. I meant what I said two years ago: My life has taken a different course. We can’t be together. I cross my arms imperiously, hoping I am convincing and that I’m not letting on that his nearness makes my pulse quicken.