The first rays of the autumn sun slipped through a narrow window, plucking dancing motes of dust from the half-darkness. Instead of the fresh scent of grass and the fragrant forest air that once filled her lungs, the room smelled of old wood, dried herbs, and faint stove smoke.

  As always, Xue opened her eyes first. She lay still, listening to the quiet creaking of the old house, the peaceful breathing of Mingzhu beside her, and the sound of a broom in the courtyard, where Yun Hao was beginning the day by sweeping fallen leaves. Wrapped in a soft straw mattress and a warm blanket, she did not want to wake up or even stick her feet out. Her heart filled, against her will, with the comfort and calm of human habitation.

  She and her sister slept on the floor, straw pallets serving as their bed, and the appearance of a blanket had turned her world upside down. Xue was not used to such luxury. A sense of wrongness, mixed with faint guilt, never left her, like wearing someone else’s ill-fitting shirt, something she did not deserve. Not long ago, she had been woken by dew collecting in her hair or dripping from tree leaves, exactly as it should be.

  Waking now in unfamiliar warmth and comfort, her thoughts often returned to the day they arrived here. Old Master Ji Shen had led them to a large estate, and his maid had met them at the threshold. Rainwater was still streaming from their clothes, pooling on the floor beneath them.

  “Eat first and dry off,” Ji Shen had said. “Then we’ll talk.”

  “But…,” Xue had hesitated, glancing hungrily at the plates of hot food. “That’s not right. You said you needed help…”

  “That’s true. I do need help,” the old man said, lowering himself into a seat with a grunt and gesturing for them to sit as well.

  “Your tea, sir,” the maid said at once, pouring him a cup.

  “As you can see, I’m no longer young,” Ji Shen said with a heavy sigh, rubbing his back with his one remaining hand. “I need helpers around the house and for small errands. Hei Xun barely manages the household, and that boy is of no use at all. Isn’t that right?” He turned to the maid. With her eyes half-closed, she nodded calmly. “In exchange, you may live here. What do you say?”

  “If that’s the case, then of course we’ll help,” Mingzhu agreed, looking at her sister.

  “Yes, we agree,” Xue confirmed. “We’ll help with the house, and in return we’ll live here.”

  “The Master is being so kind to you, and you’re still hesitating,” Yun Hao muttered under his breath.

  “Our father taught us not to take kindness for granted,” Xue replied at once.

  “And he also said that free cheese exists only in a mousetrap,” Mingzhu added. “But Grandfather, you’re a good person, right?”

  “That’s true,” the old man smiled. Behind him, the maid nodded just as calmly as before, then cast a stern glance at Yun Hao, who immediately hunched his shoulders.

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  Several days had passed since then, yet this new life still felt foreign to Xue. Reluctantly slipping her legs out from under the blanket, she sat up and gently nudged her sister awake.

  “Get up. It’s time.”

  “Mmh,” Mingzhu answered.

  Sleepy and tousled, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Squinting against the bright light from the window, Mingzhu checked on her sister, their father’s daggers, and the purple plant in its pot. Once she was sure everything was in place, she crawled out of bed and padded barefoot to put on her woven sandals. Somewhere nearby, a rooster crowed, announcing the start of a new day.

  After washing with cold well water in the courtyard, the girls made their beds, helped Hei Xun light the hearth, and set the table. Following breakfast, delicious rice porridge with a pinch of salt and dried berries, Xue and Mingzhu moved on to other household chores. Armed with cloths, they wiped down the furniture they could reach, then cleaned the floor. They sorted laundry into separate baskets so that Hei Xun would only need to wash them.

  “You’re going to the market again today?” the woman asked.

  “New caravans are always coming and going,” Xue nodded. “Father might arrive with one of them.”

  “He wants to earn a lot of money so he won’t have to wander anymore,” Mingzhu added.

  “I see,” Hei Xun replied simply. “On your way back, stop by Master Zhou and pick up the new brushes, paper, and ink.”

  “Mmh,” Xue nodded. “We’re heading out.”

  A day full of tasks brought them joy, and more importantly, kept unwanted thoughts at bay. Every morning, they walked through new districts of the enormous city, asking after their father. At the market, they spoke with caravan guards, merchants, even porters at the docks. From time to time, someone tried to rob or abduct them, but always unsuccessfully. The sisters never let down their guard and fled at the first hint of danger. Naturally, they told the old master nothing of this.

  Finishing their morning chores quickly, the girls hurried beyond the gates of Puyang. They no longer fished, unwilling to risk carrying fish through the massive crowd of refugees gathered around the city. Instead, they wandered the forest, gathering nuts or berries, sometimes digging up edible roots, and if luck favored them, finding wild potatoes.

  The endurance and strength they had gained after breaking through to the first level allowed them to venture farther than ordinary people, searching parts of the forest not yet stripped bare by human hands. Like seasoned hunters, the sisters noticed signs of wild beasts, fur caught on tree bark, the scent of musk drifting from bushes. Such places they avoided at once.

  They did still set one fish trap, but only for themselves, to eat upon returning from their forest walks, though sometimes it yielded nothing. Each time they returned to the city, Xue and Mingzhu saw the refugees, tattered tents, gaunt faces, thin arms, and felt uneasy.

  Not long ago, they had been in the same position. Now they lived richly, almost like queens. The wind no longer blew through their home; they slept on straw mattresses and even had blankets. They owned towels, something their father often spoke of but had never possessed. Like true wealthy folk, they ate twice, sometimes three times a day.

  “I want to help,” Mingzhu confessed to her sister.

  “It’s better not to,” Xue frowned.

  “Wait here. I’ll be quick…”

  In her hand was a piece of roasted fish wrapped in a leaf. She already knew who she would give it to. Carefully stepping between clusters of refugee tents, Mingzhu approached a thin child with empty eyes and handed him the bundle.

  “Here. Eat,” she said softly, yet she was still heard.

  “Food! You have food!” A woman sitting nearby leapt to her feet. “Give it to me! Give it!”

  “There’s nothing left!” Mingzhu cried in panic, backing away.

  Other hungry eyes began to turn toward her, as if the dead were awakening and rising from their graves. A chill ran down the girl’s spine. Like a frightened rabbit, she fled toward the shelter of the forest. Her small body seemed weightless as she leapt over tents with ease. Within a few breaths, she vanished beneath the trees and clutched her sister tightly.

  “Why… what’s wrong with them…?”