Does your master inspect his art each day? I ask.

No, but he will instantly be able to tell something is missing from the wall, Xiu Mei says.

I look up to where the shelf is on the opposite side of the room. It is prominent enough to be noticed but too high for whatever’s on it to be viewed too closely. Glancing down, I study the design again. Do you have paints? I ask. If you got me a bowl from the kitchen, I could re-create this. Your master would never know.

Xiu Mei looks at me like I’m a crazy person. That’s impossible.

Not for her, says Li Wei proudly, catching on to my plan. If you replace the bowl, you and your father won’t have to run away.

That would be great, she says grudgingly, but even if you could do such a thing, we only have a few hours at most.

Just get me the supplies I need, I say.

Disbelievingly, Xiu Mei gets up to speak to her father and Lu Zhu. Minutes later, they have gathered at our table, bringing me a clean bowl from the kitchen, the fragments of the broken one, and as many paints as they could muster. Some look like household paints, the kinds used for repairs. Others are of a more delicate quality, and Xiu Mei explains that those are used for paperwork and documents. The colors aren’t an exact match, but I have enough of a variety to feel confident in what I can do. I arrange all the broken pieces together to get a sense of the original and then dive into my work.

All is silent for a while, and then Lu Zhu says something that makes Xiu Mei nod. She turns to Li Wei, and I see her sign in my periphery: You weren’t kidding. Where did she learn that?

In our village, Li Wei says. She is the most talented artist of all our people.

I set down my brush long enough to say, Hush. That’s not true.

Lu Zhu returns to serving tables. Xiu Mei and her father have a conversation, and then she tells us, I’ll go talk to my contact among the silent ones and see if she will meet with you.

Silent ones? Li Wei asks.

It’s what we call your kind, she explains. As long as you stay concealed here, you should be fine. My father and Lu Zhu will keep watch. Get one of them if you have any issues. I will return shortly.

She leaves the inn, and her father resumes his watch of the common room. I continue my work with mixed feelings. Part of me is anxious for Xiu Mei. Will my work be good enough? Will I only get them into more trouble? At the same time, I feel a secret thrill at being able to paint something that is simply beautiful. Until now, I’ve only ever dreamed of that, and it is a delight to imitate the intricate pattern of phoenixes and plum blossoms on the bowl.

I lose track of my surroundings and am startled by a soft sound that I recognize as Li Wei laughing. I glance up and see him watching me intently. What? I ask, pausing to set down my brush.

I think you’re tenser working on this than I was with the scorpion, he tells me.

I can’t help it, I say. There’s a lot at stake.

He nods, his smile fading. But you’re also into it—I can see it. There’s a light in your face as you work.

I can’t help that either, I tell him. I always see things—imagine them, I mean. Beautiful scenes. They burn in me, and I have to get them out.

Keeping you from this life and forcing you to work in the mines would have been a tragedy, he says solemnly.

I’m unprepared for that. With the recent flurry of activity since coming to the township, I’ve had little time to ruminate on all the unresolved issues between us. Now, looking at him, I’m surprised to see a mix of admiration . . . and an almost reluctant acceptance.

There’s more to it than that, I say. It wasn’t easy, that decision. Never think it was easy. I still—

You still what? he prompts when I don’t finish.

I shake my head and look away, unable to convey what’s truly in my heart. How can I explain that I have thought about him every day since we parted? That in that first year of officially being an apprentice, I constantly questioned whether I’d made the right choice in walking away from him? My desire to make art and for Zhang Jing’s security got me through many low moments.

My eyes come to rest on the bowl, and I suddenly stiffen. Now that I’m looking at the larger picture and not the individual shards, I notice that although the main design depicts a phoenix, the border appears to be a mix of all sorts of animals, both real and imagined. I see tigers, qilins, cranes, elephants, dragons, and more. I pick up each piece one by one and feel that strange tugging in my chest.

What’s wrong? Li Wei asks.

I set down a shard with a pixiu and a deer on it. This one in particular seems to resonate with me. Nothing. Just something from a dream.

The same dream that keeps disturbing your sleep? he asks sagely.

It’s not important, I say. I start to avoid his gaze again, and he reaches out, tipping my chin up so that I must meet his eyes.

Fei, you know you can trust me. I’m here for you. I always have been and always will be. Tell me what’s wrong.

You can’t keep rescuing me, I say.

Of course not, he agrees. You can rescue yourself—but perhaps I can give you a hand now and then.

I smile faintly, but there is an ache in my chest as I think back to that long-ago day, trapped in the rubble when a beautiful, glittering boy held out his hand to pull me out. A moment later I find myself telling him everything about the night my hearing came to me and the dream I had of everyone in our village opening their mouths in a single cry.

You think this pull you’ve been feeling is tied to your hearing? To why it returned? he asks.

I don’t know, I admit. I don’t understand why any of this happened to me.

I want to say more, but over his shoulder, I see Lu Zhu going about her work. Her pretty face is drawn with worry, and I remind myself I must help these people first. I can give in to my own worries later. I paint with a renewed vigor, conscious that time is pressing upon us. When I finally finish and compare my copy to the broken one, I am more than pleased at what I’ve wrought.

You did it, Li Wei says. It’s a perfect match.

Not a perfect match, I say. My blue is darker than the original.

Well, I’m no painter, but it looks amazing to me. His eyes lift to something behind me. And not a moment too soon.

I turn and see Xiu Mei hurrying through the door toward us. Our master is returning! she tells us once she reaches our table. I saw him on the way back and was just able to get ahead of him and— She stops when she sees my bowl, looking back and forth between it and the broken pieces I copied. That’s it? You did this?

I nod, suddenly feeling flustered. I can’t interpret her expression, and I fear the worst, that she’ll tell me it’s a ridiculous imitation and that I’ve just given her and her father a death sentence.

I don’t know what’s more incredible, she says, that you did it at all or that you did it in so short a time. There are renowned masters in the capital who would fight to take you on as an apprentice.

I already have a great master, I say proudly, thinking of Master Chen.

Xiu Mei gets rid of the broken pieces and then hands the copied bowl to her father. Careful of the wet paint, he cautiously places it on the shelf just minutes before the inn’s master returns. When he walks in the door, I can immediately see how he might order someone beaten for an accident. His face is narrow and drawn, and he has the expression of someone who is perpetually displeased with everything he sees. He scrutinizes the room as he enters, taking in the number of guests and how his employees work. His pinched eyes scan the wall of art but find nothing amiss, and I exhale a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. Continuing on his way, he snaps something loud and hostile-sounding at the kitchen boy, who scurries away in fear. The master then approaches Xiu Mei at the podium, and she greets him with a bow. A conversation ensues between them, and after another wary survey, the man stalks away.