In a second, my decision is made.

I wiggle my way out of the loose safety ropes, an action that costs me some elevation as I’m jerked back down the line. I suppose now I don’t have to worry about whether the ropes will hold my weight anymore. Once free, I grit my teeth and summon more of that desperate strength to climb forward against the pull, enough to get myself in a safe position over the ledge. It is grueling work, made more terrifying by the knowledge that I have no security and will plummet to the depths below if my hands fail me.

I manage, barely getting situated above the outcropping before my strength gives out and I let go of the zip line, dropping down to the ledge, making sure to pull the security rope along with me. It and I land in an ungraceful, jarring heap, and it’s a relief not to be fighting anymore. That relief is short-lived, however, as the force of swinging into the cliff triggers a cascade of rocks from above. I cringe against the mountain’s side until the avalanche passes, praying the ledge I’m standing on won’t crumble beneath me as well.

When the avalanche finally ceases, I’m almost too afraid to move for fear of what might happen next. The muscles in my arms and legs are weak and shaking from their exertion, and as I gaze down across the vast blackness of the mountain slope, I’m a bit in awe of the distance I’ve managed to cover. I can only just make out a tiny point of light at what I think is the zip line’s terminus; presumably it’s held by whoever pulled me back. I shudder to think of what would have happened if I hadn’t been able to jump to safety.

Of course, now I have a whole new set of problems.

In the phantom lighting, I can see the face of the mountain leading up to my village. It is jagged and irregular, filled with places to get a hand- or foothold or even use the rope for support. The distance is also a fraction of what I’ve already covered, but it’s still going to be painstaking work. I can’t do it just yet, no matter the press of time. I sit down to catch my breath, rummaging through the pack for some water and a bite to eat. As I search, I find one of the game pieces—the general—and I smile. Just before we parted, Li Wei had considered giving me the pixiu for luck. It ended up staying with him because of weight issues, but apparently he still wanted me to have some token of fortune. I squeeze the wooden disc tight in my hand, willing myself to be worthy of his regard. Then I say a prayer to all the gods I know, hoping that we all come out of this safely.

When I feel as rested as I think I’m going to get, given the conditions, I steel myself for the next part of this journey: getting back to my village. Li Wei told me a little about how we’d ascend the mountain again, and I know some of the basic principles. My destination is within my sight; it’s just a matter of getting to it. I have the rope I salvaged from the zip line, and I use it to begin the first part of the climb. I am able to throw it high and hook it around a jagged rock outcropping, locking it securely so that I can scale the cliff face.

But when I reach the rope’s end, there is no other place to secure a rope. The zip line’s start is still far out of reach. I must climb with my hands now, praying I make the right choices and that my holds won’t crumble to dust in my fingers and send me plummeting back below. Amazingly, everything holds, but just as I’m almost finally near the end, I hear the rumblings of a small rock fall from above. Unlike before, there is nowhere to seek shelter, no rope to swing out of danger on. All I can do is cling to the mountain and hide my face, hoping this avalanche will miss me.

Several sharp rocks strike my arms and face, causing me to flinch, and I must summon all my resolve simply to hold on and maintain my hand- and footholds. When silence returns again, I slowly lift my head, listening for further signs of trouble. None come, and I make my move, scrambling up as quickly as I dare, needing to reach the top. When I see the zip line station, I nearly cry in relief. With trembling arms, I pull myself up and grip an outcropping of rock that will let me pull myself over onto solid ground. Almost immediately, I feel the rock crumble in my hands. There’s nothing else to grasp, and I scream as I fall backward, back down the cliff into the blackness below.

I land back-first on the ledge I was on earlier, hitting with an impact so great that it momentarily knocks the wind out of me. I lay there, gasping, staring up at all the distance I just lost. Tears spring to my eyes, and the urge to give up threatens to engulf me. I feel despair not only for myself but for Li Wei. Out on the line, I couldn’t allow myself to worry too much about him, not with my survival in the balance. Now all those fears come tumbling back. What has happened to him? Is he even alive? Worse still is the guilt of knowing that if I’d simply run away with him, I could have saved him from his fate. That would have meant abandoning Zhang Jing . . . but what does it matter? I’ve failed everyone now.

Stop that, Fei, I tell myself sternly. All is not lost. Make Li Wei proud. You climbed down the mountain. You want to go back up it. You can see your goal—don’t give up now.

Sniffling, hurting everywhere, I manage to make my way to my feet. I have bruises and aches in parts of my body I didn’t even know existed, but I refuse to let them master me. Gritting my teeth, I retrace this last, painstaking climb up to the top. My hands are bloodied by the time I make it up, and without the outcropping from earlier, pulling myself up at the end is much more difficult. I must rely on the strength of the rest of my body—a body pushed past its limits. For a brief moment, as I try to haul myself up and onto the mountain’s top, my muscles can’t quite do it. I am stuck there, clinging to the cliff, knowing it will take only the briefest of slips to send me plummeting back to the ledge below—or worse.

Do it for Zhang Jing. Do it for Li Wei.

The feel of their names in my mind gives me courage. I cry out, pulling myself over the edge, touching the rocky—but solid—ground with gratitude. It’s now the middle of the night, but against all odds, I have made it to the zip line station. I have made it home.

I rise to my feet, my legs still weak and shaking, knowing I have no time to rest—despite how much my body is screaming to. I need to alert the others to what is happening. I press forward and nearly trip over several dark bundles on the ground near the zip line station. I can’t tell what they are in the darkness, so I kneel down to unwrap one and am astonished to find it full of glittering gold ore. Another bag reveals silver. These are mined metals, a day’s work, waiting to go down. Why are they still here, just sitting out? These would provide the day’s food.

I know I won’t find out by sticking around. I make my way back to the heart of the village, more relieved than I can say to be in my homeland after the adventures of these last couple of days. I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to fix things or alert people, but my feet take me, almost of their own volition, back to the one place I feel safest: the Peacock Court.

Getting inside presents a new challenge. I’m not yet ready to announce my return to the others, so I don’t want to use any of the doors that might alert one of the servants on watch. Instead, I go to an out-of-the-way window in the back of the building, one that opens near a storage room where we keep art supplies. A latticework of narrow wooden slats covers the paper windowpane, and with a grimace, I begin breaking and prying out the wooden guards. It makes a terrible amount of noise—as does the paper windowpane, when I’m finally able to rip it out—but I at least have the reassurance of knowing I’m the only one who can hear it.

When I’ve created a big enough opening, I climb through and land just outside the supply room, as expected. From there, it’s just a matter of making my way through the school to the servants’ wing. Along the way, I dodge more servants on patrol than I recall seeing last time, which seems odd. Fortunately, their sounds alert me, and no one is on guard in the servants’ actual sleeping wing. I sneak into the women’s room, and there, just as I last saw her, is Zhang Jing sleeping in her bed.