I understand that too, I tell him. Zhang Jing . . . she is going blind. I pause, hit with the full impact of finally admitting this to someone. Our masters found out, and she can no longer be an apprentice. We had to take other action, make a big decision in order to save her from being a beggar.

Li Wei is very still now, regarding me with new interest. What did you do?

I take a deep breath, still having my own difficulties resigning myself to Zhang Jing’s fate. She is going to become a household servant at the Peacock Court.

He stares at me in confusion and then throws up his arms in disbelief. That is your big decision? To move her to a comfortable, safe job, where she’ll be well fed and face no risks? You actually deliberated about that and think you have anything in common with me or the other miners?

I know his harsh words are born from grief, and I try to respond calmly. I’m saying I know what it’s like to be scared for your loved one in that way. To have your life turned upside down. You aren’t the only one going through this. That earlier urge returns, the one that makes me want to go over and put my arms around him, comforting him as I would have years ago. But I can’t, not when others might see. Not when so much distance has built up between us.

He’s still upset but works to calm himself. Your life has changed, but I wouldn’t say it’s been turned upside down—not yet, he says. And that’s what no one seems to realize, Fei. Everyone knows things are bad, but everyone thinks if we just go forward like we always have, it will all be okay. Instead, we’re just moving toward darkness and ruin. Can’t you see that?

I start to reply, but then a sound I’ve never heard before catches my attention. It’s incredible, and I want desperately to hear it again. Unable to help myself, I immediately turn my head toward its source, and I see a flash of blue. It’s a thrush, just like the one I spotted the other day. It’s perched on the branch of a tree, and it opens its mouth, producing that exquisite sound . . . a song? I long for the bird to sing again, but it takes flight and disappears out of sight.

I stare after it, awestruck, and then quickly turn back to Li Wei in embarrassment. He stares at me, understandably confused, and then shakes his head. Clearly, this isn’t a discussion you care about.

No, wait. I do care, I say. But he’s already turned from me. I reach out to grab his arm, and as my fingertips touch his bare skin, he tenses and glances back at me. Something of my heart must be in my eyes, because his expression softens. My hand still rests on his arm, and I am dizzyingly aware that there are only a few scant inches between us. I’m also suddenly reminded that no matter how often we held hands or dreamed of the future, we’ve never actually kissed. There’d always been a spark between us, one we were both hesitant to acknowledge until the day we realized we were being torn apart.

I quickly snatch my hand away and take a step back, hoping my thoughts aren’t obvious. What is your plan then? I ask him. What do you think we should do to save ourselves from darkness and ruin?

He studies me intently for a few more moments, and I’m breathless as that gaze wraps around me. We start by ending this line system, he says at last. It’s what’s enslaving us, what has put us in this miserable situation.

I can’t hide my shock, and for a moment our history is forgotten. And how would we end the line system?

Li Wei points over the cliff’s edge. By going to the line keeper. By getting to the bottom of everything. Either he is a reasonable man who will understand our plight, or he’s a tyrant who must be overthrown.

He isn’t the first person I’ve met who wants to go talk to the line keeper, but as I stare into Li Wei’s eyes, I realize he might be the first person I’ve met who’s truly serious about doing it. And the thought of that suddenly terrifies me. I may have willingly walked away from him when I joined the apprentices, but at least I knew he was still alive and safe in our village—not attempting some impossibly dangerous stunt.

How would you do that? I demand. By climbing down?

Yes, he says, crossing his arms defiantly.

That’s suicide! The climb is too dangerous by hand. No one has done that in centuries! Not since our ancestors stopped being able to hear the falling rocks—

I cut myself off, my hands dropping to my side. The implications of what I’ve just stated hit me like a slap to the face, sending me reeling. For my entire life, my village has accepted that no one can climb down the mountain. It’s too dangerous, both because of the unstable nature of the cliff face and the difficulties of not being able to hear the rocks. Others have stated this fact over and over. I’ve even said it myself, parroting it as an unfortunate truth. And yet . . . here I stand, suddenly realizing it’s not the truth anymore. Someone can hear the rocks now. Me. But what does that even mean? And is it enough to truly make a difference?

Li Wei, not knowing what I’m thinking, assumes I’m simply too afraid and too shocked at his proposition in general.

And that’s why nothing changes, he states imperiously. Everyone clings to the way things have always been. And those ways are killing us. If we’re going to die one way or another, then I’ll face my death trying to make a difference—trying to save myself and others. Just getting by one more day isn’t good enough anymore. There must be more to life, more to hope for.

I don’t answer, and again he reads that as disapproval and fear. I’m normally so quick with a response, but too much has happened this past couple of days. Even if I could trust Li Wei enough to explain how I’m feeling, I don’t know if I really would be able to articulate it correctly. It’s all so strange and new, so I continue standing there, stunned.

A group of miners appears on the trail, and Li Wei stiffens before giving me a formal bow for their benefit. Thank you for your condolences, apprentice, he states properly, and then he turns away and leaves me.

CHAPTER 5

THE REST OF THE DAY, I move around like someone in a dream. I do all the correct things. I return to my post until the miners’ shift ends, then take my notes back to the school so that I can paint the record. To any outward observer, I look the same as ever. But on the inside, everything about me has changed. My whole world has changed, and I don’t know how to come to terms with it.

My sister is no longer at my side. Until this day, it’s never truly struck me how much I took her presence for granted. Everything I do feels incomplete now. At dinner, another student sits beside me in Zhang Jing’s usual spot. In our room, her bed remains empty and stripped of all its covers. But it’s in the workroom where I feel her loss the most keenly. As I dutifully paint my portion of the record, I find myself constantly looking to the spot where she used to work. Each time I see it vacant, the pain hits me all over again.

It’s a mercy when the elders come in and tell us we are excused early from our evening work—until I realize it’s so that we may attend Bao’s funeral if we wish. I’m torn on whether to go. I respected Bao immensely, but the mystery of my new condition weighs on me. Some students choose to continue working. I leave my work, wanting to get away from this room, with its memories. My hope is to sneak back to the library and try to figure out why these sounds are assaulting me—and no one else. I checked the record again, and so far I remain the only person experiencing this phenomenon.