Zhuzhu was drooped over the breakfast table, almost face down in his bowl of rice and meat. “How can it be so hard to breathe?”

It was the end of our first month in the sect, and several of our fellow disciples had ‘graduated’ out of the breathing class, into lectures taught by other inner disciples. There was a certain amount of bragging involved. But I couldn’t entirely blame them. Every one of the classes they described seemed more interesting than what we were doing each morning. And none of the full disciples would speak to us or offer teaching until we had passed this first challenge.

Breathing. Or…failing to breathe. I’d come no closer than that near revelation of the first day of practice. Zhuzhu hadn’t even gotten that far. With one sixth of our time of grace expended, he was looking despondent and desperate by turns. I reached out to pat his shoulder. “We’ll get it. There’s still more than half the class with us.”

He shrugged off the attempt at comfort, sitting up so that he could glare at me. “But there are those who are not. I’ve never failed to master a physical task. I cut the most trees and carry the most logs. I eat the most food. Even Elder Brother admits that I could outwrestle some of the inner disciples. So why is it so difficult to breathe? I have been doing that since I was born!”

“Maybe that’s why,” I said, with a shrug of my own. “We’ve been doing it wrong. Now we have to unlearn the bad habit before we can embrace the good. It’ll come, Zhuzhu. We just have to keep trying.” In truth, I wasn’t nearly as calm as I sounded. While becoming a permanent servant of the sect would give me chances to approach Elder Sun, without the power of cultivation, I would never be able to enact my revenge. But I hated seeing the usually boisterous and optimistic Zhuzhu look this defeated. I searched for something more useful than platitudes. “Maybe we could practice more. Find somewhere that has a good wind resonance. See if it helps?”

“How would we know a good wind resonance?” Zhuzhu muttered. “Until we can see qi as a cultivator can, one place is as good as another.”

“That’s not true,” said Ju Jing on my other side. A few days after his murder of Zhang Feng, the acrobat had approached at breakfast, asking to sit with us. To my surprise, Zhuzhu had been enthusiastic. At least, I’d been surprised until he’d started quizzing Ju Jing on what sort of art he had used to kill with. I quickly realized that Zhuzhu had decided that Ju Jing was one of the ‘strong’ disciples who he looked forward to fighting. Ju Jing seemed to realize it, too. But as Zhuzhu had never disrespected him, so far they hadn’t clashed. Now, Ju Jing’s expression was thoughtful. “Places with a high concentration of an element should be perceptible even with mortal senses. And wind should be easy to find here,” he added, with an amused twist of his mouth.

As if the mountain wished to punctuate the observation, we all braced ourselves as a cold gust blew through the pavilion. I was grateful that every meal was a hot one, because otherwise, the storm-shrouded sect was a cold, wet place to live. “Ju Jing is right,” I said. “It shouldn’t be hard to find somewhere. Maybe outside the walls? You could keep an eye out when you’re on chore duties.”

Zhuzhu immediately brightened. “That’s a good idea. In fact, I may have seen a place or two which would fit. I’ll explore during our break.” He focused on me. “You’ll come with me? Even if it’s after dinner? You are unfriendly in the evenings.”

I flushed. “I’m not! Just tired. Not everyone can be bulging with muscle like you are. I need sleep.” It was only half the truth. I was tired at the end of every day. But my avoidance of the disciples’ evening activities had less to do with exhaustion and more with not wanting to provide anyone with more chances to unravel my deception. The disciples liked to spend evenings in the hot baths, letting the water soak away the day’s aches, or passing around gourds of a strong plum wine that I still wasn’t entirely sure how they’d gotten their hands on in the first place. Nudity and strong drink were both dangerous for me, and so I kept myself apart. But this was different. “I’d go with you,” I assured him. “I need to learn how to do it, too.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Ju Jing put in. “Meditating with the wind might help you connect with the flow of air within your own bodies.” Zhuzhu didn’t invite him along and he didn’t seem to mind. Then again, Ju Jing had produced satisfactory breathing two weeks into the instruction, and now only came to class once or twice a week, spending his other mornings with other disciples. Gossip about his confrontation had gotten around, and he had a veritable list of inner disciples who wished to take him for a lesson or two, if only to see if he might be competition in the future.

Just the act of making a plan seemed to bring Zhuzhu back from his depression. He polished off the last of his breakfast and grinned. “Laoshu has many fine ideas. His brain must be large to compensate for the rest of him.”

Ju Jing’s lips twitched and I kicked him in the ankle to keep him from making any smart remarks. He kicked me back, and somehow, it was unerringly aimed at the tenderest part of my shin, despite there being no way he could even see where my legs were. Before any further escalation could occur, the cinnamon-robed disciples appeared at the edges of the pavilion, and we all hurried to shovel the last bits of food into our mouths before we were led to class.

After yet another class where I spent far too much time trying to breathe correctly, only to be told by Fuxi Wei that I was ‘snorting like a mushroom-hunting pig’, we were split apart for chores. I didn’t see Zhuzhu until much later that day, by which time I’d almost forgotten all about the breakfast conversation. I’d retreated back to my barren little dome directly after dinner. The woodcutting group often was missing from the disciples’ evening meal. Not only did they travel the furthest from the sect, but they had to haul and arrange the logs that they’d cut that day. So Zhuzhu’s absence there wasn’t surprising. When there was impatient tapping on the thin screen that was my door just after I’d settled in to practice my calligraphy, I about jumped out of my skin. Luckily, I hadn’t removed the bindings on my breasts just yet.

I hastily slipped on my robes and approached the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s Zhuzhu. I’ve found a place for us to meditate. Come on.”

Tonight? The protest died unsaid. I had promised. Besides, it did neither of us any good to put things off. Five months remained. “Be right there.” I hastily packed my equipment, then slipped out the door. Zhuzhu loomed in the darkness, bouncing on his toes.

“We must go. They’re waiting.” He grabbed my arm and began hauling me away.

“Who?”

There was no answer, he just picked up the pace. His legs were significantly longer than mine, so I shortly had no breath for questions as we ran through the sect. There were inner disciples here and there who watched us with amusement. I’d been startled to learn that we had no official curfew, nor were there any public places in the sect we couldn’t go. Some sections of the sect library were restricted to ranked disciples, and of course, private rooms and ritual spaces were off limits. But otherwise, we had freedom. It was just that the rigorous daily schedules didn’t leave us much time or energy to explore. Unless you skipped practice or chores. Already, some of the outers had started to do so. It made me think about what Wen Gao had said when he’d been about to kill me. Cultivation was the path, and if you didn’t have a destination, you couldn’t succeed. I couldn’t imagine putting myself through all of this and then letting the opportunity slip through my fingers. But perhaps others were more confident of their practice than I was.

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“There you are!” Zhuzhu’s booming voice startled me out of my musings. We were approaching the timber gate, and there were two figures waiting for us. I brightened when I recognized them: the Kohs, Older and Younger. Younger Koh grinned when he saw us. Older Koh just grunted and said, “We’ve been waiting since the last bell.”

Younger rolled his eyes. “Hardly. We just got here.” Older punched him in the arm with enough force that I winced in sympathy, but Younger hardly seemed to notice. The older Koh was almost as tall as Zhuzhu, and just as broad, although where Zhuzhu was prone to optimism and boisterous good cheer, I’d thus far found Older Koh to be dour and grumpy. Only his younger brother swam effortlessly through his foul tempers.

Zhuzhu released me and offered Older Koh a breezy smile. “We’ve yet to learn the windriding art, friend. But we’re here now. It’s a bit of a walk, so let’s go.”

Older Koh grunted, again, but didn’t say anything more. We headed out the timber gate, which I couldn’t help but notice was much less grandly decorated than the main sect gate we’d been introduced through. Zhuzhu and Older Koh knew where we were going and took the lead. I settled in beside Younger Koh. As soon as we passed through the gate, the wind picked up. It had a malicious sort of sentience to it; breezes sent wayward hairs into our eyes, and gusted whenever the path grew narrow. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was trying to push us to our deaths. I clung close to the cliffs and trees wherever I could. “Do you have any idea where we’re going?” I asked Younger Koh.

“Brother wouldn’t tell me. Just that it was a place they’d,” a nod to the two broad backs ahead of us, half-obscured by mist, “found during chores. He was very excited.”

I tried to imagine Older Koh being excited about anything. “Must be good.”

“I hope so,” Younger admitted quietly. “I was looking forward to sleeping. And these woods are unsettling.”

There was nothing to do but nod in agreement to that. We had passed from the narrow barrier of cleared land around the sect walls, into the mountain forest. It should have been dark, especially with the cloud cover. Instead, the tall, gnarled trees that jutted at odd angles from the slopes of the mountain were wreathed in a pale blue light. I knew the cause; a certain breed of mold. Unassuming in the daylight, the flaky white substance spread slowly across stone and wood. Corpselight, my mother used to call it, because at lower altitudes, it would sometimes infect the tombs and monuments to the dead. She had used it for certain inks, the secrets of their making and powers now forever lost in her death. In the curtains of the mist, the corpselight’s glow refracted and intensified, bathing us in cold blue.

Worse, there were things watching us. I could feel their eyes, but whenever I looked where the sensation was strongest, there was nothing there. “Is it always like this?”

“In the daylight, it doesn’t glow,” Zhuzhu said. “Otherwise? Yes.” He laughed. “There are spirits in the woods, or that is what the servants say. But until we can perceive qi, we will not be able to see any but the greater spirits. The ones who can take fleshly forms. I kept hoping for a spirit beast to attack the loggers. I’ve never killed one before.”

Older Koh grumbled, “Should a spirit beast attack, we’re far more likely to die than they are. A collection of outer disciples and servants cannot hope to best such a foe.”

“I don’t believe that,” Zhuzhu said, cheerfully. “I have wrestled oxen, and that was when I was but a child. With a dozen stout men such as you to back me up, even a spirit beast would fall before us.”

“You’ve never seen a spirit beast, have you?” Older Koh’s voice was rough. It sank into a growl as he continued, “I have. During a drought, the huodou came to our village. As big as an ox, black from nose to tail, spitting fire from its mouth. Its every footstep burned. Our militia stood against it–twenty men, and two as tall as you, I’d say. The huodou howled and leapt into the fray. They slashed with scythes, battered with staves, jabbed with spears. Every wound they made wept fire, but the beast healed as soon as the blow was dealt. And then it struck back.” He shook his head. “There was barely time for them to scream before their throats and limbs were torn from their bodies. The huodou grasped them in its jaws and shook them to pieces while they burned. Those of us who survived will never forget.”

I shuddered. “How did you beat it?”

“We didn’t,” Younger Koh said. “All of those who survived grabbed what could be saved from the huodou’s fires, and we fled the village. We came to the city as refugees.”

The life of a refugee was a hard one. Often pushed to the worst quarters of the city, or even forced to live outside the walls, refugees were considered to be criminals or shiftless, those who could find no kin willing or able to claim them. “I’m sorry,” I said.

Younger Koh shrugged. “It is as the gods willed it. We would not be here had our village not suffered.”

“The point is that even a lesser spirit beast is a great foe,” the Older said. “You can’t just–Han Fu, are you even listening?” It took me a moment to remember that Han Fu was Zhuzhu, and look in that direction.

Zhuzhu had disappeared into the mist, and we scrambled to catch up. The wind’s howl grew shrill in our ears, a ghostly wail that emanated from a great crack in the side of the mountain. I couldn’t help but think of the houdou and shiver. Wind gusted from it in waves, and I had to grab the nearest tree, smearing my palms with blue corpselight, to keep from being blown away with the force of it. “We’re here,” he proclaimed, and gestured grandly at the gouge in the moaning earth.

Sharp teeth of stone jutted around the fissure, making its resemblance to a giant, hungry mouth unmistakable. The gullet of stone was wide and deep enough that it could swallow us all–even Zhuzhu–without any trouble at all. I looked to Zhuzhu. He was clearly quite proud of himself. Even Koh the Older looked delighted at the find. Only Koh the Younger seemed to share my apprehension. Slowly, I said, “It does seem to have a lot of wind resonance, if anything does.” Another howling gust from the stone mouth had me scrambling for a better grip on my tree. “Is it safe?”

“Of course not!” Offense that I would even ask the question colored Zhuzhu’s response. “We’ll never progress if we want to be safe. But here, we will meditate with the wind, and learn to breathe.” His jaw set. “Or die trying. Unless you are truly a Mouse after all?”

“I’m not a mouse,” I muttered. Some of the corpselight was growing around the base of the jagged rocks on the bottom of the mouth, like luminescent drool.

“We could continue to practice in the morning sessions,” Koh the Younger offered, tentatively.

“No,” his brother said. He grabbed the younger by the arm and began hauling him towards the mouth. “If other disciples find this place, they will steal it from us. We must use it while we can.”

Zhuzhu reached for me, and I dodged away. “I’m going, I’m going! You don’t have to haul me around. I promised, didn’t I?”

“Excellent!” Zhuzhu gestured, and together–with varying degrees of enthusiasm–we entered the stone mouth.