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Zhang Jing and I finish assembling my record just as the eastern sky turns purple. Soon the villagers will be waking. Soon they will see what I’ve created.
You must go back before anyone realizes you’ve been a part of this , I tell her. Go wake with the others, have breakfast as normal. Then we will see what happens.
My sister gives me a sweet, sad smile. I would rather stand with you. Besides, there is no food for breakfast.
The words hit me hard. I kneel down on the dais and open up my pack, pulling out some of the rations I brought back with me to show the others. Zhang Jing gasps at the sight of it, her hunger obvious in her eyes. I give her some fruit and the last bun.
Take these and go back , I insist. I know you support me, but I’ll feel better if you’re back at the school. I don’t know how people are going to react to this—to me. Especially if they think I’ve cost them their food.
Zhang Jing places her hand over mine as I begin repacking my bag, giving me a brief squeeze. If you need me, tell me.
I will. The best way you can help at this point is to stay safe.
What is that? she asks, pointing at a flash of red in my bag.
I clench some of the red silk dress in my hand, my heart swelling as I think of Li Wei. It’s a gamble that paid off. Pray ours does as well. Now go.
After another fierce, quick hug, Zhang Jing obeys and hurries off down the main village track, back to the school. I know I should probably eat as well, but for once I have no appetite. I’m too keyed up, my nerves frayed and on edge. I settle for water and then sit cross-legged, watching as the sky grows lighter and lighter, waiting for my village to waken.
The first person I see, aside from the sleeping beggars, is the lamplighter. He trudges down the main track with his torch, stifling a yawn. He’s usually the first person up in our village, lighting the various lamps that will illuminate our paths until the sun is up. When he reaches the village’s center, he comes to a complete standstill, frozen as he recognizes me and undoubtedly thinks of all that I’ve been accused of. Then, slowly, his eyes shift to the record beside me. Although it is still early, the stark black-on-white calligraphy is easy to discern. He reads, his jaw dropping as he goes further and further.
When he finishes, he says nothing to me, but his astonishment is obvious. The torch slips from his hand, burning harmlessly in the packed dirt. He turns around and goes running as fast as he can, back toward the residential part of town.
It isn’t long before others begin filing in to the center. Some appear to be people out on their normal morning errands. Others arrive in haste, and I suspect they have heard the lamplighter’s story. Word is spreading quickly, and when I see the elders and artist apprentices hurrying in ahead of their normal time, I know that my presence and unexpected creation have completely thrown the village off its schedule. Zhang Jing stands with the other servants behind the apprentices, and much to my relief, no one seems to be paying her any special attention.
The crowd swells, and soon I’m fairly certain the entire village is here. This isn’t the first time I’ve stood on the dais, facing them all beside a completed record. But this is the first time that I’m as much of the draw as what’s on the canvas. I meet their gazes as impassively as I can, proud of what I’ve done—both in ink and in my recent journey. I stand by my actions and what I must do to help these people.
For a long time, the gathering crowd simply takes me and my story in. A few brief signed conversations flutter, but for the most part, everyone seems to be coming to terms with what I’m telling them. This emboldens me enough to step forward and address the crowd. I’d originally thought I would let my work speak for me. But now I realize I must add my own plea to it. Facing all these people is terrifying, but I remind myself I can be no less brave than Li Wei, trapped somewhere in the township. I don’t know what happened after the soldiers seized him, but I refuse to believe he’s in some horrible prison—or dead. It strengthens me to think he’s just waiting in one of those tents with Nuan, waiting for me to come join them with our people. Or maybe he’s escaped, run far away, already planning a new life free of all this. It is the memory of his face, of the strength in his eyes, that pushes me as I speak.
Everything you see here is true , I sign to the crowd. This is what Li Wei and I have learned over the last few days, what we have risked our lives for. The township is deceiving you. We need to come together and think of a way to save ourselves and our future. I know it is difficult to hear. I know how overwhelming it must seem. We can’t let fear—or the township—rule us any longer. It may seem impossible, but it’s not—not if we unite and work together.
My hands slowly return to my side, and my heart aches as I recall Li Wei’s brave, handsome face telling me: We’re pretty good at the impossible. I have to force myself to remain calm and serious as I regard my people.
No one responds right away. Mostly they seem to again be processing what I’ve told them. Hope rises in me, and I dare to believe that my people are taking heed and will believe me so that we can all find a reasonable course to save ourselves.
As it turns out, I am wrong.
CHAPTER 16
A MAN I DISTANTLY KNOW, an older miner, is the first to act. He storms up onto the dais and tears down a section of my painting, hurling it to the ground. Tension has been building and swelling in the crowd as I speak, and it’s as though that one defiant action spurs everyone to action. Chaos breaks out.
People storm the stage, attacking the rest of my record. Some simply want it down, others furiously work to destroy it, tearing it into unrecognizable pieces. And some people aren’t interested in the painting at all—they come for me. Suddenly, getting my message across is no longer my primary goal. Staying alive is.
