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.
But when I get to the hallway with the others who have chosen to leave, I spot Zhang Jing, sweeping up the dirt in the hallway. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in her new role, and my heart nearly stops. She wears the dull uniform of a servant, and her face is deferentially lowered as the others pass by her. I tense, waiting to see if anyone will say anything or comment on her new station—but no one says a thing. Really, it’s as if no one sees her at all. In some ways, that’s worse than if someone had made a derogatory comment. She has become invisible to everyone else. Beyond that—she’s become nothing to them.