What happened? How did they die? Li Wei asks, his expression urgent. Fei, you said starvation?
I swallow and try to regain my composure. With blindness, their mining output depleted, and just like with us, the township started limiting their food. They weren’t exactly like us—they stopped feeding their beggars altogether. The blindness also resulted in more accidents, so some died that way too. Near the end, their water supply got contaminated. The record keepers believed some of the bodies weren’t disposed of properly and fouled the water. People grew sick and died before they discovered the problem. It was a couple of years ago, so it eventually cleared, I add, seeing him shoot a concerned look at our canteens. By then, there was hardly anyone left. The township stopped food shipments completely, and chaos broke out. Those that didn’t die of starvation attempted to climb down, but it’s unknown how many made it. The elevation is lower, but from what I’ve read, the stone on the cliffs below is softer—more prone to avalanches, less likely to hold ropes and body weight. Some may have escaped. Some didn’t. Some may have thrown themselves over purposefully.
I sink to the ground, unable to shake the thought of this happening to our village. Li Wei paces in front of me, his expression dark. He bravely investigated the ghost village, with all its horrors, but now I can tell his resolve is wavering. Or maybe he’s just losing hope.
Is this what it comes to then? he asks. Is this what our village can expect? Food disappearing altogether? Despair and hopelessness?
We can’t know that, I say. We can’t know anything until we speak to the line keeper. And our village isn’t like theirs . . . not yet.
Isn’t it? he asks angrily. It’s already happening! The blindness has started. The metals have decreased. The food has decreased. Just the other day, the township said they were sending less as “punishment.” How much longer until they stop the food? How long until our own people turn on each other in desperation? Is this what my father died for? How many other villages has the township done this to?
I don’t know. We must talk to the line keeper.
We need to do something, he snaps. But I don’t know if talking is enough.
Li Wei is understandably worked up, and I know it’s from more than just the gruesome discoveries in this village. The pain of his father’s death is still fresh, making everything that much worse . . . and desperate.
He sighs. Perhaps there was some misunderstanding with this village. Perhaps they asked for too much.
Perhaps, I agree.
I can tell we’re both trying to put on good faces for each other. In reality, I know we are both filled with doubts. We want to believe the best, that the line keeper can help us, but we’ve seen and suffered too much. And if the line keeper can’t help, then what? It’s that uncertainty that casts the real pall over us.
I summon an image of Zhang Jing and muster my courage as I follow Li Wei to a spot he deems suitable for continuing our descent down the cliffs. The warnings of the writings stick with us, and he is extra cautious as he begins planting the ropes into the rock face. Some of the stone is softer in this area, and he won’t let us descend until he’s certain each stake and rope will hold.