“No.” I hold her tight against the wall. “No, no, no, no.”
It’s all I can say. This one word. Even as I say it I see my chances, my life beyond this, my sister and her stars, Dai and his sea… I see all of it consumed. Swallowed by the dark of Yin Yu’s eyes.
“What are you going to do? Kill me?” Her questions are calm and detached. The same way she floats through life here. “I’m surviving. That’s all you can do here, Mei Yee! Keep your head down and follow the rules! Survive!”
I hold her there, every muscle straining. Every piece of me shaking. She’s right. I can’t stop her. Not without rousing Longwai and Mama-san’s suspicions. Not without condemning Wen Kei and Nuo.
I can’t hold Yin Yu here forever.
“We can get out,” I manage. “We can go back home. See the sea.”
The other girl looks at me as if I’m speaking some foreign language, telling her things she can never understand.
I look back at Nuo and Wen Kei. I let go.
Yin Yu steps aside. My door unlatches and swings loose. She slips into the hall, a flash of red swallowed into the dark.
“Mei Yee…”
My head doesn’t feel like mine anymore. It swivels down toward the rug. Finds Nuo staring at me. Wen Kei is curled next to her, trembling.
“Go,” I tell them. “Before they come back.”
“It’s not right. She can’t do this.” It’s Wen Kei who’s talking. I realize, from the way the words come out, that she’s shaking because she’s angry.
I kneel back onto the bed, knees bending in a half collapse. “Yin Yu is doing what she thinks is right. She’s trying to protect you.”
They look at me. Nuo’s hands are fidgeting again. Wen Kei is breathing fast; her chest heaves in and out.
“Go,” I say again. “Please.”
“But what about the boy?” Wen Kei insists.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.”
Nuo is shaking her head. At first I think she means to disagree with me. Then I see the wet in her eyes. She leans in, wraps her arms around my shoulder. Her hair smells like cinnamon and cloves.
We don’t say anything else. There’s no time. I hug Wen Kei and then they’re gone. Scattered like propeller seeds to the wind.
Dai’s face appears in my memory — glowing and strong behind the window. I think of how he’ll return and wait and never know. How I failed him.
The nautilus is still there, of course. Unchanged by this massive shift in my world. Behind bars and glass, still untouchable.
I look back over my shoulder at this room of useless, beautiful, dying things. Searching for something strong enough to break the glass. On the vanity is a jade hairpin, the ambassador’s second gift to me. I bring it to the grating, its sharp end slides neatly into the gap.
I need to warn Dai. I need to touch it.
My hand jams against the pin, sends it through the window. For a short, stunning second the glass sings. Pieces fly and spin and scatter like jewels across the sill. A few of them even spit and shine across my bed.
Then comes the cold. It swarms through the hole, and I realize just how warm I’ve been. Winter slides under my skin, infecting me with feelings fresh and free.
My fingers slip through the grating, past the glass’s angry edge. They reach all the way to the shell, keep pushing. And for a moment I’m touching the nautilus, feeling its smooth on my skin, hearing Dai’s promises over and over:
I can get you out.
I want you to see it, too.
I will come for you. No matter what it takes.
Then the ledge ends and the shell falls, tumbling far from my sight. Lost and gone.
My finger catches the glass. I don’t even feel the slice. But by the time I stuff one of my silk dresses into the hole, my finger is more blood than not. The curtain falls back for the last time.
I sit still on the edge of my bed, stanch the blood, and wait for them to come.
JIN LING
There are moments you wait for. And then there are moments you wait for. Moments you spend every other moment preparing for. Points of your life that click and turn. Push you in a completely new direction.
Dai and I stand at the end of the alleyway. My breath is short and the never-ending burn keeps digging a hole in my side. I ignore these things. Look down the river of trash. Count how many steps it’ll take to get to my sister.
My limbs shake with too much emotion. Dai leads the way and I follow, using one hand to steady myself on slimy stones. I’m glad Dai’s ahead. I don’t want him to see how hard it is for me to keep up.
A few feet in front of the window, Dai pauses. His body dead still. My foot lands on a loud, crunching soda bottle. His head whips back. Almond eyes narrow at me while he puts a finger to his lips.
My heart picks up: from trot to canter to gallop. Something’s wrong.
We stand still. Listen into the shadows. I hear nothing. Dai takes a few more steps forward. Skips through the trash like a cat. The window’s light colors him unreal scarlet. Dai looks at the shattered glass as if he’s seeing a ghost. He crouches down, fingers diving through old wrappers and bottle caps, picking up something all curled and hard. A shell.
“What’s that?” I hiss. “What’s wrong?”
His jaw clenches. Another finger goes up to his lips and his eyes warn, Be quiet!
I’m angry, ready to hiss again, when a noise rises up from the other side of the jagged glass.
“Has she admitted to anything?” Longwai sounds oddly awake through the curtain. Smart, sharp, alert.
“Mei Yee? Of course not. She’s just sitting there like a dullard.” A woman is speaking, her voice thin and reedy. Horribly bitter. Hearing her say my sister’s name makes me cringe. But it leaves no room for doubt. My sister used to be here. Behind this glass.
“And your search of the room?”
“There’s a hole in the window. It was stuffed up with one of her dresses. No sign of the seashell, though.”
Dai’s fingers lock around my arm. He pushes himself flat against the wall, just under the window. I follow. My stitches slam into cinder block and I try not to cry out. I bite through my lip instead. Salt and iron swim across my tongue. The alley goes blurry with tears.
The light above us changes. Falling from red to a weak yellow. Shadows spring on the opposite wall, shapes of Longwai and the woman bending closer to the glass.
“Even if it broke by accident, why would she keep it a secret?” The woman’s voice is clear. Close.
Dai’s hand is still on my arm, squeezing tight. I don’t dare move. Not even to look over at him. I hear Longwai’s breathing. Heavy and thick. Unbearably close.
“Does she have a cut on her hand?”
“I–I didn’t notice.” The woman sounds startled. “Why?”
“Blood.” Longwai says only one word. But it’s enough.
“Do you think…”
“I’ll send Fung outside to check the alley.”
This time I do look over at Dai. He’s staring at me, too. His face is a scarecrow’s: lips stitched tight, patchworks of feeling all over. His eyes dart to the end of the alley. Keen and meaningful.
We have to get out of here.
“What should we do with Mei Yee?” the woman asks.
“Keep her where she is. I’ll be in to see her in a minute.”
“And if the ambassador shows up?”
“Tell him she’s ill. Offer him another girl.” He says this and I feel sick. I have to swallow it down. Keep that last little roll of rice and tuna the Suns’ maid handed me inside my stomach. I always knew Mei Yee’s hell was worse than mine. But listening to Longwai sell my sister like meat makes it very, very real.