We did not Reforge any of the other pencils. All I remember taking away from that night was a deep unease and a flinching terror whenever I saw a police uniform. I became all too eager to hide behind the graphite boxes.

It was also the first night we experienced a story that did not connect, that hurt us instead. The story told a truth I could not face, a truth that showed us a brutality we had been sheltered from.

We did not tell our mothers about that night. I think they might have known somehow, noticed our trepidation. I was sure Mother Reforged the rest of the pencils the policemen had thrown at us, hiding their darkness within herself.

Then, two months after our occupation, in the early months of 1942, Mr. Gao showed up at the pencil company. It was three years since I had last seen him, when I had delivered a box of pencils to him and he sent my father away. He looked largely the same, young and severe, though a bit gaunter in the face. Mother immediately let him inside, not wanting anybody to see him at our door, then promptly told him to leave.

“We need your help,” he said. He took off his hat. He stood tall and imposing. Though he was younger than our mothers, he showed no deference.

“We are already under suspicion.”

“We can help divert their attention from you.”

Our mothers looked at each other.

“Is it messages you want?” Mother asked quietly.

“Yes. Messages keep getting intercepted, and we lose people, plans get foiled. But if the message could be passed by pencil—”

“I understand,” Mother cut in. I wondered how it was Mr. Gao knew of our abilities, if my father had told him. “And if I don’t agree to your proposal?”

Mr. Gao took out a cigarette. He had to have been very rich to still buy cigarettes. His voice was slow and calm, completely in control.

“I can easily let slip who your husband is and where his loyalties lie.”

“I can turn you in at the same time.”

“I am well protected. Don’t do this to your girls.” He cast a pitying glance at us. “Help us, and you will have my protection. Surely you believe in our cause? Of a free China?” He exhaled smoke, cloudy and wavering.

Mother did not take long to respond. I think she may have known this was always what was going to happen.

“Yun,” she said eventually. “Please bring some tea for Mr. Gao.”

I slipped out of the storefront. You followed me. We did not say a word to each other as we pattered through the courtyard. No words were safe.