“Do you hear someone talking in the mountains?” Mr. Yi whispered.

“Yes, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.”

“Every time someone dies in Yun Village, someone talks in the mountains. Now you’ve got another apprentice. They come to you of their own accord. This girl is better than Gray.”

“But Gray is good, too.”

The turning point had arrived unexpectedly. Mrs. Yi’s migraine eased immediately.

In the middle of the night, Mrs. Yi heard the voices from the mountains again. One voice she caught clearly was that of her son Shanbao saying, “Mom, may I sleep with you?” Tears of ecstasy welled up in her eyes, and she fell blissfully asleep amid the vague murmurs.

The chicken moaned in the beautiful moonlight. It seemed to be longing for something. What could that be? The weasel had left, deeply disappointed, and had not returned.

In the small decrepit building in the county town, a fantasy had taken hold of the old director’s mind. He saw a big bird flying to Yun Village. It was a huge carrier pigeon with an urgent letter tied to its leg. The old director couldn’t remember when Chunxiu had last visited. Was it five years ago? He was so pickled in alcohol that he forgot many things. But the carrier pigeon was flying to Yun Village, and he could see it clearly from his doorway. Behind him, someone whispered, “Yun Village, the ideal home!” He sprang from his cane chair and staggered out of the room.

Young girls in white smocks ran toward him from all sides.

“Do I see what I think I’m seeing? Are you my girls?” he asked loudly.

No one answered him. It was dark again, and he could no longer see anything.

But a timid girl’s voice rang out.

“It’s me, director! I—I want in. My name is Mia. Do you remember me? Mrs. Yi will come to see you soon. She’s been awfully busy recently, and so I’ve come instead.”

Mia helped him go inside and made a cup of strong tea for him.

“Thank you, Mia. I can’t see you, but you remind me of Chunxiu back then. How are your hands? Are they strong?”

“They’re okay. I’m exercising them.”

The old director laughed and began to drink the tea.

“Thank you, dear. Go home and rest. I know life is hard for you right now.”

Even a long time after Mia had left, the old director was still talking to the wall: “Is it Chunxiu? Are you all right? Can you keep going? There’s a loose stone here. Be careful not to step on it. Yes, over there . . .” He thought Mia and Mrs. Yi were the same person.

He sat in the dark, climbing mountain after mountain.

Waking up in the morning, Mrs. Yi said to her husband, “The old director sent me a message. The letter is lying at the front gate.”

She ran to the gate and picked up the colorful feather.