By all means, Elder Chen says. Continue.
Once they realized Fei had made it back up here, they decided to do a forced march up the passes with the soldiers and some of the other village’s prisoners. They’ve apparently had this explosive powder for a while and could have cleared the passes long ago.
This leaves all of us dumbfounded for a moment. By now, I shouldn’t be surprised by the township’s cruelty . . . but it still comes as a shock. We’ve been beholden to the zip line system for so long, given no future except to mine for our survival. If the passes had been clear, we would have had access to trade and travel, not to mention the fertile valleys our ancestors allegedly grew crops in. But then, if we’d had those freedoms, the king and the township would have lost their source of metals.
Why open it now? I ask. It costs them their hold on us: If we can leave the mountain, we no longer have to mine for our food. They no longer get their metals.
That’s why they brought the soldiers and the other prisoners, Li Wei explains. They plan on doing one big push in the mines, using our people and the other displaced miners to get as much metal as possible while the soldiers stand guard and enforce their rule. They want to deplete the mine as quickly as possible, even if it kills the rest of us in the process.
All this because we found out the truth? I say in disbelief. Because I came back and told everyone what was going on?
Now Li Wei turns unexpectedly hesitant, glancing between our audience and me. It’s more than that.
What more can there be? I ask incredulously.
The soldiers interrogated Nuan, he says. They know your secret.
He is speaking carefully, I realize, to protect me. At this point, however, the secret he’s referring to is the least of our worries. I can hear, I tell the others, bracing myself for the disbelief to come. Most of them look as though they think they misunderstood, so I elaborate: It’s true. I have my hearing, just as our ancestors did.
What kind of lies are you spreading now? Sheng asks.
I’m not lying, I reply. I don’t understand how it happened, and I know it sounds crazy. But I can do any test you like to prove it.
It’s true, Li Wei confirms. I’ve seen her prove it. He gives my hand a brief, encouraging squeeze.
The others’ faces are a mix of reactions, both wonder and outright skepticism. Elder Chen looks thoughtful. Did it happen the day you stayed back sick at the school?
Yes, master.It had come to me the previous night in a dream. I was adjusting to it and had a headache. I pause to reconsider my words. Actually, I’m still adjusting. It’s a very . . . disconcerting experience.
Many in the room still look skeptical, but Elder Chen appears to take me at my word, and that faith in me means more than I can say. I would imagine so, he replies. And you think this has something to do with the township’s reaction?
Li Wei nods. When Nuan told them Fei could hear, panic arose among some of their leaders. Apparently the king has been afraid of this happening, that one of us would regain hearing. It’s supposed to be an omen of something, but I’m not sure what. I couldn’t follow all the other prisoners’ signs—they’re different from ours. But the king fears what Fei’s hearing could mean, and that’s why he wanted the mine emptied as quickly as possible. Fei’s hearing is a sign of some change, of something returning that could be a threat to him.
I remember Nuan’s reaction to my hearing and the sign she made. I mimic it and ask Li Wei, Was this part of what they thought was coming? What they feared?
He nods. Yes, something with wings. But I don’t know the sign.
I hear a sharp intake of breath and turn toward Elder Lian. She has gone very pale and looks at Elder Chen, who seems equally shocked. Do you think it could be true? he asks her.
It could be, if what has happened to Fei is real, Elder Lian says.
An apprentice leans on a rack of scrolls in the back of the room, causing them to fall with a clatter. It is out of everyone else’s eyesight, and I jump, startled by the noise.
Elder Chen smiles when he sees what made me flinch. I’d say what’s happened to her is real. And if the rest is as well . . . this could change much.
My patience is rapidly disappearing, and I’m itching to know what he means. I’m grateful that he believes us, that the others here have accepted us for the time being, but now that we’re out of immediate danger, I am growing restless. Zhang Jing is not here. Based on what Li Wei has said, the odds seem good she may have been rounded up with the others being forced to work in the mines. The thought of my sister captured and terrified nauseates me. I worry also about what will happen if they learn her sight is diminished. If they want to empty the mines as quickly as possible, they’re only going to want to keep the healthiest workers. I can’t abandon her and keep myself in this safety.
But the old habits of respecting my master are hard to shake off. And although I shift restlessly from foot to foot, wanting to go out and fight the soldiers, I force myself to wait patiently as Elder Chen gets up and walks to the other side of the room. Along with the scrolls, there are stacks and stacks of what look like old records. The amount of information stored in here rivals the library up in the school.
What is this place? Li Wei asks.
It is our emergency storage facility, to preserve our history, Elder Lian says, her eyes flicking to Elder Chen as he continues searching for something in the documents. In case something happens to the school, we keep copies of important documents as well as one record from each week down here. Admittedly, I don’t think any of its builders envisioned some catastrophe like this.
Elder Chen makes his way over to us, one of the scrolls in hand. He gives it to another apprentice, who kneels on the floor and spreads it open flat so we can read it. The illustrations practically jump from the page. Whoever made them was a fine artist. It is a scroll about mythical animals, a copy of the one he showed me that day in the library. There are dragons, phoenixes, and more, but it is the creature on the top of the page that he points to.
The pixiu, he says.
And as he makes the sign, I suddenly see how it derived from the one Nuan used.
I study the illustration. At a glance, the creature looks like some variant of a lion—another animal I’ve never seen in real life—complete with a mane. But closer examination reveals the head to have some similarities to that of a dragon, and there is a broad, sturdy nature to the creature’s back that reminds me of a horse’s. Then, of course, there are the feathered wings, which make it completely unlike a lion.
Beside me, Li Wei has grown excited. It’s like the story my mother used to tell, isn’t it? That the pixius made all hearing disappear when they went to sleep, so that they would have peace and quiet.
We know that’s not true, I say, thinking it would be a cruel thing for one creature to do to another. It’s the metals that deprive us of our senses.
Yes, I believe that part, about why we lost our hearing, is simply myth. But the rest of this scroll . . . Elder Chen gestures to it. There are certain details in it that make more sense now. It claims the pixius used to roam here, eating metal and protecting humans from “dangerous consequences.” It doesn’t specify what those are, but I think somehow the pixius’ presence must have protected us from the metals’ toxicity. It’s only when the pixius left that hearing began to disappear. He meets my gaze squarely. Fei, tell me exactly what happened the night you regained your hearing.