Again, she writes out the word when we don’t understand it: decree. Seeing our confused expressions, she explains, There is a decree against your people—or, well, people like you. Those who can’t hear. A number of them live here in the township, but we are discouraged from communicating with them or doing business with them.
Do you know where they came from? I ask eagerly. If there are others like us, those who have made a home in this strange place, I’m suddenly hopeful they might be able to help us.
No, she says. The ones I’ve talked to have been reluctant to describe their past. Mostly I speak to them in order to learn the hand signs. I have an interest in languages. It was my specialty back when I was trying to get into one of the schools in the capital.
If you aren’t supposed to speak to us, why did you pull us aside back in the market? Li Wei asks suspiciously.
It was obvious you two were lost, she says. Outsiders. I watched you using the signs and was intrigued that yours were a little different from the ones I know. When I overheard some soldiers talking about finding two people who matched your description, I knew you needed help. It’s so strange that there are more of you—more without hearing. I wonder if all your ancestors started out with the same sign language and then it changed over time? That would explain why some signs are different. She strikes me as someone whose academic curiosity consumes her so much that it frequently takes her off-topic.
You still didn’t explain why you helped, Li Wei points out, steering her back.
She laughs. I suppose not. Sorry. This is all just so fascinating. I helped because . . . well, part of it’s just curiosity. But also, my father and I aren’t supporters of the king’s regime. Things weren’t so bad with the old king, but when Jianjun came to power, much changed.
Jianjun? I ask. Is that the current king? We’ve always known a king ruled in Beiguo, but our village long lost track of the successors.
Xiu Mei nods. Yes. He treats the army badly, which is why my father resigned—making a lot of enemies when he did. And then Jianjun stopped letting women into the academies, so we left the capital and ended up here in this poor excuse for a city.
Li Wei’s eyes widen. This place is huge!
This makes her laugh again. You really have come from the top of a mountain. This is nothing. There are bigger, grander cities out there, ones where you can go far if you have the right skills and connections. But for a dishonored veteran and his scholar daughter? The options are limited. The man who owns this place needs a bodyguard and someone who can balance the books. He’s not a friendly man, but at least he doesn’t care that I’m a girl.
It must be interesting work, I observe politely.
Very much so, she agrees. We see people from all over Beiguo—even from outside of it. Every day some group is off to a new destination. Every day someone new comes through our doors. Today it’s you. What brought you from the top of your mountain?
We hoped we could speak to the line keeper about getting more food to our village, I explain.
Her puzzled expression answers before she does. I don’t know anything about that. I never even knew your village existed. And who is this line keeper?
The curtain shifts again, and the woman who was serving the tables appears before us. Tall and willowy, she is dressed in silk, but I’m unprepared for it up close. Skirts of purest white—a color rare in everyday dress in our village—are covered by a long robe of the richest green silk imaginable. It is like spring has been spun into fabric. Cranes embroidered in golden thread dance across her robe; their glitter reflects in the sparkling golden pins that hold her hair into two buns. Her hair is equally incredible, the color of sunlight, and her green eyes sparkle. I’ve never seen features like that, not in our village of dark hair and eyes. Some sort of red paint makes her lips shine, and a dusting of powder gives her skin a fair, delicate hue. She is like someone from a story, and she makes me forget what we were talking about.
Beside her, I feel small, dirty, and plain. And that’s before I see how Li Wei is looking at her. His eyes are wide, as though that is the only way he could possibly take in so much beauty. After several awed seconds, he clamps his mouth shut to stop himself from gaping. I’m pretty sure I looked exactly the same way when I saw him emerge covered in gold from the mines so long ago.
She smiles at both of us, lingering on Li Wei a beat longer than me, before turning to Xiu Mei. She speaks, and her voice is high and light, reminding me of the birds I’ve heard singing. Xiu Mei smiles in return, speaks briefly, and then turns toward us. Lu Zhu is curious about you, she signs. Don’t worry—she’s used to me speaking with the others like you. She won’t tell.
Is that her real hair? Li Wei asks.
Xiu Mei says something to Lu Zhu, making both women laugh. Li Wei blushes, guessing the joke was at his expense. Yes, says Xiu Mei. She comes from a land outside of Beiguo, and all her people are like that. She works here now, just as I do. She’s come to see if you want dinner or rice wine, but I’m guessing neither of you has money.
We shake our heads. Xiu Mei opens her mouth to speak, and then a loud noise draws their attention back toward the center of the room. Some of the men in the center have begun moving the heavy wooden tables. Lu Zhu shakes her head in dismay, and Xiu Mei looks annoyed as she gets to her feet.
What’s going on? I ask.
They’re playing that stupid game again, she says. I need to go and make sure no one gets hurt by the . . .
I don’t understand the last word she says because it’s another unknown sign. She hurries over to where a group of men is huddled around one of the tables. Li Wei and I exchange puzzled glances and then rise at the same time to see what is happening.
A man with a gray-streaked black beard holds a small box in front of him. He lifts the lid, and everyone leans forward. I need to get closer to see and am small enough to slip forward between two larger men. My breath catches when I discover what’s in the box: a scorpion. It’s a little smaller than my hand, its carapace gleaming black. The man says something and nods to a boy standing near him. The boy produces a small leather bag and spills its contents onto the table: a pile of gleaming gold coins.
Immediately, there is a flurry of action among the men. They begin speaking at once and offering forward coins of their own, as well as other items. One man hands over a ring. Another has an exquisitely painted fan. After some deliberation, the old man gestures toward a tall young man not much older than Li Wei and me. This causes even more excitement. The assistant begins collecting the various offerings and handing out small pieces of paper that he scrawls small characters on. Leaning forward, I’m able to read a few of them. The slips record what item was offered and then say either for or against.
When all the items have been gathered, the tall chosen man holds out his hand. Silence falls. To my horror, the bearded man lifts out the scorpion and sets it on the chosen one’s outstretched hand. After several tense moments, the bearded man nods, and the silence shatters, making me jump. Everyone gathered starts making noise. Some of it consists of words, some consists of hums and cries and other sounds I don’t know the word for. It grows to a frenzied, uncomfortable level, almost making me want to retreat. But I’m too curious about what’s happening.