Soundless

It is music, I tell Li Wei. He knows the term, but its nature is meaningless to him. It is wonderful . . . like a dream.

I’ve gained new insight as to how sounds can be helpful for communication and survival, but until this moment, it never occurred to me that sounds could be enjoyable too. The birdsong I’ve heard on our journey made me smile, but this reaches into my heart. Lu Zhu’s playing is a type of art. Listening to the pipa, I find myself relaxing as a tranquil joy spreads through me. The tension leaves my body, and I briefly forget about the woes of my village. Li Wei can’t experience the music like I can, but something in my mood must come through to him. He stands very close behind me, putting his arm around my waist to draw me near. At first, I stiffen as a new kind of tension and fear fills me. Moments later I find myself relaxing, leaning into him. There’s an overwhelming rightness to the moment that is difficult for me to articulate.

Forgetting the music, I turn to regard him, lifting my face toward his. He rests his hands on my waist, and his gaze is electric, running over every part of me. I never knew it was possible to be both elated and terrified at the same time. It takes me a moment to recover myself and find the words I need.

You . . . you can’t look at me like that, I tell him.

He lifts his hands to answer, his fingertips brushing my waist. Like what?

You know what, I scold.

Why? he asks, taking a tantalizing step closer. Because you’re an artist and I’m a miner?

I swallow, mesmerized by how close his lips are to mine. Yes, I say. And because . . .

He leans toward me, knowing I’m out of excuses. Because?

My heart thunders in my chest as I close my eyes and lift my face toward his. I feel drunk, not from wine but from being with him in this way. I realize it’s not even about the setting or the clothes or the food. What marks this moment is that for the first time in our acquaintance, there really is no rank here. No artist, no miner. It’s just us.

And Xiu Mei. The sound of the door and her entry into the room end the spell, and I jerk back with a start. Li Wei backs away too, and I know we must look guilty. If she noticed anything between us, she doesn’t comment on it.

How was dinner? she asks.

Incredible, I say honestly, still a little dazed. We’ve never had anything like it.

It was an exquisite experience, Li Wei adds.

I’m glad to hear it, Xiu Mei says. And I’m done with my work, so I can take you to Nuan now.

Li Wei and I exchange brief glances, both of us understanding the same thing. We must wake up from this dream. The interlude is over. It’s time to get back to the business of helping our village.

Your dress is lovely, Xiu Mei tells me. But you’ll probably want to change.

True, I say, wistfully touching the red silk. I wouldn’t want to get it dirty.

It’s less about that than where we’re going. Xiu Mei’s face darkens. Believe me, it isn’t a part of town where you’ll want to stand out. In fact, it’s not a place anyone really wants to go.





CHAPTER 12


PUZZLED BY HER OMINOUS WORDS, I don my artist’s clothes again and help Li Wei gather up our few belongings. Remember, don’t sign or draw attention to yourselves out in public, Xiu Mei warns.

Downstairs, the inn’s master is in the common room, but he pays little attention to us. He is speaking to some patron, his chest puffed with pride as he gestures to the art collection on the wall.

Richelle Mead's books