I blinked, dazed. “Feel what?”
Mistress Ming cast me an exasperated look. “For a ganshi priestess, you still have much to learn about the art of qi.”
“Why are you bringing up qi?” I countered, frustrated at having done something wrong without knowing what it was.
“Because this boy has it.”
I didn’t know what I’d expected the wisewoman to find, butqicertainly hadn’t been on my mind.
“Are you sure?” I glanced at the soldier. “A dead body can’t have any life force. It goes against the most rudimentary laws of nature.”
“You aren’t wrong,” said Mistress Ming, setting the incense in a metal bowl, “but the qi I felt is undeniable. Though faint, qi flows through this soldier’s meridians. My guess is his spirit was clinging to his body when you found him. And when you put that reanimation spell on his head, you sparked his qi, which reversed the fatality of his wound and brought him back to life.”
“So he really isn’t dead?”
“For now, anyway.” Mistress Ming stared at the soldier’s blank face. “Give it another day, and he probably will be. At that time, even the borrowed energy from your reanimation talisman won’t be able to sustain his qi.”
I rubbed the tail of my braid, frowning. How had a single job become so complicated? I was a priestess of the dead, not a priestess of the nearly dead. Could I still bring the soldier home like this? How would his family react to his condition? Would he even still be alive by the time we reached Hulin?
Based on Mistress Ming’s estimation, the answer to that last question was likely a no.
The wisewoman interrupted my thoughts and spoke while counting off her fingers. “Siying, at this point you have two choices: You can wait for the soldier’s qi to fade, letting him die. Or you can do the right thing by saving his life.”
“Save his life?” My finger caught in my plait. “Me?”
Mistress Ming crossed her arms. “You may be a priestess of death, but that doesn’t mean inflicting death upon others.”
“No, of course not,” I said, my surprise fading. “It’s just…”
Do I have time?
I thought of Baba, the entire reason I’d taken Official Yi’s job. Since his own encounter with the fainting fever—the same outbreak that’d stolen Mama—his health had never fully recovered. And recently, it’d only worsened. That was why I needed to complete this job, so I could afford better medical resources.
But what would happen if I didn’t get home as quickly as possible? I’d already lost precious hours bringing the soldier here and talking to Mistress Ming. It wasn’t that I didn’t pity him. Certainly, he deserved another chance at life after the horrible death he’d been dealt. But I couldn’t save him if it meant sacrificing my father.
My father, who’d surely want me to help this soldier if he were here. Who’d be appalled if he knew I was even hesitating.
I taught you better, his familiar voice sounded in my mind.What’s the point of living a human life if you forget your humanity?
Tentatively, I asked Mistress Ming, “What would I have to do to save him?”
Something like relief sparked in the wisewoman’s eyes. “The solution’s simple enough: Replenish his qi.”
“How?”
Mistress Ming spread out her palms. “Qi is a force that exists in every part of the universe—the earth on which this house is built, the blood-marked talismans in your pocket, even the air that hovers around us.”
“I know all this,” I interrupted, impatient for her to get to the point.
She arched an eyebrow, and I mumbled a quick apology.
“As humans,” she continued, purposely slow to spite me, “we strengthen our qi with rest and good food. But this soldier will need more than that to survive. He needs pure human qi to match his own.”
I straightened at that. “You want me to give him my qi?”
“You could,” said Mistress Ming, “but I don’t recommend it. For one, you’d need to give him all your qi to help him live, meaning you’d die in his place. For another, you aren’t skilled enough in the art of qi manipulation to know how to give it, let alone give it correctly.”
“Then what?” I said, trying not to let my frustration show.
