JIN LING
I’ve never slept this long. Nights in the Walled City are short. Dreamless. But here—swallowed in feathers, sheets, and tubes—I can’t tell what’s dream and what’s reality. So many faces pass. Some visit and talk: Dai, my mother, Mei Yee. Others—the nurse and Dai’s father—just stare and fill the room with their footsteps. Sometimes I feel Chma curled against me, warmth and purrs. Other times my father looms over the bed. When he disappears, I wake up soaked in sweat and shivering.
Then the waking truly hits. My eyes open and my head is clear. Fogless. I look up and see that the bags of medicine are finally gone. No more drugged sleep. I sit up, stretching my muscles slowly. There’s still pain just under my shoulder. Hot and harsh, but bearable. My tendons and joints are stiff. Like rope left too long in the sun. Bones grind and pop all over my body.
“Hello?” My voice cracks. It must be days since I spoke aloud. Maybe longer.
My call echoes against the bare wood floors. It’s weird to be in a place so quiet after years of city song. Even at the farm there was always wind blowing or the bubble of water boiling for tea.
This place is as silent as a grave.
“Hello!” I try again, this time louder.
A woman steps into the room. She’s not old, but she isn’t young, either. She looks the same age as my mother—just less worn. Untouched by sun and a drunken husband. I look for traces of Dai in her face. There aren’t any.
She bows when she reaches my bed, and I decide she’s the family maid. “What can I get for you?”
“Is… is Dai here?”
The maid frowns. “He left some time ago. I can get Mrs. Sun if you would like. She’s here preparing for the New Year’s party.”
My stomach gives a sick, empty lurch. At first I’m not sure why. But then the memory leaks back. New Year’s: the day everything will change. The day Dai has to get the ledger. The ledger I promised to help him steal.
Dai saying good-bye. Leaving without me.
“When… how long is it until New Year’s?” I start clawing at the tape. My teeth grit as it tears back, tugging out hairs, jerking the needle under my skin.
“Two days.” The maid’s eyes widen.
I freeze. Half-peeled tape hangs from my hand. A brownish bruise peeks from under it. Two days until New Year’s? That can’t be right. I’m dreaming again.…
“You’ve been here for eight days,” the maid says, eyeing the torn tape.
I stare at the old hurt on my hand. Try to understand what she’s saying. Eight days. How did I lose an entire week?
“Are you feeling all right? Should I call in the nurse?”
My fingers tear the tape. This time it pulls all the way off. I tug the tube next. The needle slides out. I ignore the burn in my hand and the worse pain in my shoulder. Climb out of bed.
“What—what are you doing?” The maid puts her hands up. Tries to block me. Not that she needs to. My head spins, makes it hard to stay on my feet. I shut my eyes, wait for the spell to pass.
“I have to go back to the Walled City. Now.”
The maid’s face falls apart with panic. Her arms start flapping, like a bird dancing over a pile of gutted fish. “You can’t go back. You’re supposed to rest. The doctor wants you here another four weeks. He has to take out your stitches.”
The world feels steadier when I open my eyes. I look down and realize I’m not wearing much—just a thin, cottony shift. Rest. I should rest. That’s what Dai told me to do. My body still feels like chicken meat beaten tender with a mallet. But the window of time to find my sister is slipping… slipping away. And Dai might think he can steal the ledger alone, but I’ve been inside Longwai’s den. I’ve seen how impossible it is.
“No!” I force out the word as loud as I can. I can’t fail Dai now. My body might be hurt and aching, but I can’t lose this last chance to find my sister. I’ll rest when she’s safe. “Where are my clothes?”
The maid frowns, moves between me and the door. “You’re in no condition to be going back to that place.”
My first instinct is to run. I consider dodging her. But the long, low burn in my side tells me not to. Plus I have no idea where we are. We could be miles, maybe even provinces, from the Walled City. Without my orange envelope and my boots, I’m as good as chained here.
The only weapon I have left is the truth. “I have to go help Dai. He has things to do before New Year’s. Very important things.” I swallow. My throat feels ground to its nerves. Raw from talking so fast. “If I’m not there to help him… it could end very badly for him.”
The maid’s weight shifts. Foot to foot. The floor groans under her. She’s eyeing me like I’m a mangy dog. I wait for her to say no. To run for the nurse.
But she keeps shifting. It’s as if the wood is talking to us in its own tortured language. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until finally, “I couldn’t get all the blood out of your garments. I had to dispose of them.”
I feel the thin shift under my fingers. I wouldn’t survive ten minutes in this. “Is there anything else I can wear?”
“Hiro was about your size when he left for school. They’re boys’ clothes.…”
“They’ll do.” I can’t imagine going back to the Walled City in a dress. Not after all this. “What about my boots? The envelope and the knife?”
“There was no knife.” Her look changes. Instead of a dirty mutt, I’m a wolf with bared yellow teeth. “The rest of your things are on that chair.”
She’s right. My boots sit on shiny wood—two beaten leather soldiers. The envelope is wedged between them. Still orange. Still fat. And behind that, the star book Dai gave me.
“I’ll bring you some clothes. Then I’ll see about getting you a car.” The maid bows her way out the door.
I walk to the chair. My steps are slower than I’d like. Every breath reminds me of the fight. A flashback to the empty, gaping awfulness of Kuen’s face. Of course my knife isn’t here. It’s back in some alley. Buried deep in his muscle and bone. Rotting away with everything else.
City blurs past the windows of the Suns’ car. There’s so much sky and sun. The only clouds above are the tiny scars left by airplanes, notching white numerals. Everything seems clean. Women walk around in pointy heels and nice dresses. Tiny white dogs pull on jeweled leashes. Men clutch their briefcases, steering through sidewalks of food stands and electronics hawkers. Buses and taxis weave and merge across smooth asphalt. Lanes come together and part like zippers.
All around are signs of my lost time. Shops are covered with scarlet lanterns and elaborate paper cutouts of snakes. Vendors walk around with carts full of mandarin oranges and incense. In two days the streets will be bursting with red, cakes, and drumbeats. Fireworks will explode. Lions and dragons will dance over pavement—men in costumes warding off evil spirits.
The Walled City isn’t hard to miss. Apartments stack high like shabby bricks. All of them are covered in bars. Cages on top of cages. After the Suns’ mansion, the place looks uglier. I can’t imagine how Dai felt, coming here after a lifetime on the hill.
The driver stays seated after he pulls up to the Old South Gate. I open the door, let myself out. Trash, mildew, and waste flood my nose all at once. They smell horrible. But they smell like home.
It takes a long time to reach the doorway to Dai’s apartment. Every five steps or so I have to stop, catch my breath. The fire in my side grows. Burns my back and ribs. The air shimmers cool, but my face still shines with sweat.
The front gate is locked tight when I reach it. I slouch on the step, almost relieved. There’s no way I could’ve made it up all those stairs. My head is swimming again. Blue and yellow bursts paint my vision.
There’s a seafood restaurant next door. Full of sea salt, sliced fish, and smoking patrons. I watch the customers talk to one another over blue plastic tables. They pick at steamed snapper and garlic-covered eel with their chopsticks. Shove them thoughtlessly into their mouths. Like every other meal they’ve ever eaten.
Will this really be over in just two days? It’s hard to believe. Sitting here, I wonder, if these people knew about the ordinance, what would they be doing instead? Would they search for new jobs and homes? Or would they carry on until change forced them elsewhere?
Both searching and carrying on seem too much for me—here on the step. I suck in the pain of my side and ignore the stars in my eyes. I can’t run. I can’t fight. I can’t look for my sister.
All I can do is sit and wait.