The entire scene was like a worn memory fading away to nothing.
For a moment, Ling worried that she wouldn’t be able to reach Henry at all. There was a muffled cry—“Murder!”—and a few seconds later, the veiled woman sprinted past, her presence so minimal it opened just the slightest wobbling space in the wall. Ling dove in quickly after her, praying it wouldn’t close as she attempted her pass. Without Henry at her side, the walk through the ghostly underground was dark and lonely and frightening. But Ling couldn’t waver now. At last, she reached the train station. It was aglow and welcoming, as if expecting her, but Ling took no comfort from it now that she knew the source of its making. Ling plinked a key on the piano.
“Henry?” she called. “Henry? It’s Ling. I’m coming for you.”
The train’s lamp blazed in the dark, announcing its arrival, and then Ling was on board, alone, traveling back to the private dream world and Wai-Mae.
When Ling arrived in the meadow, she found Wai-Mae sitting in the grass near the dogwood tree they’d made, singing happily to herself, and for just a moment, Ling’s resolve ebbed. Wai-Mae wore the jeweled headpiece of a royal concubine, like one of her beloved romantic opera heroines. Seeing Ling, she smiled. “Hello, sister! How do you like it?” she said, turning her head left and right to show off the headpiece with pride.
A day ago, Ling would’ve found it sweetly charming.
“It must’ve taken a lot of energy to make that,” Ling said coolly.
“But worth the effort,” Wai-Mae said, smiling, and Ling felt a bit sick. “I’m glad you came back. Will you take some tea with me?” Wai-Mae poured a cup and held it out to Ling.
Ling didn’t take it. “I can’t stay long. I’ve come to talk.”
Wai-Mae swept her hand through the air as if she were clearing the last tendrils of smoke from a room. “About last night?”
“Yes. And other matters.”
“That’s all forgotten, sister. I’ve forgiven you for what you did. I know you meant well. But I don’t want to talk about such unhappy things anymore. Here. Sit with me and I will tell you all about tonight’s opera, and you will play whatever role you wish—except for the role I play, naturally.”
Ling didn’t move. “Wai-Mae, where’s Henry?”
“Henry? He’s with Louis, of course.”
“Wai-Mae. You need to let him go.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He is happy with Louis in their dream.”
“No. He’s trapped inside a dream. You can’t stay here, Wai-Mae. None of us can live inside a dream. You’re… hurting people. You’re hurting Henry.”
“I would never hurt Henry.”
“All of this”—Ling gestured wide—“is draining him of his Qi. He’ll die, Wai-Mae. And then he’ll become one of those burned-up, discarded things, those hungry ghosts, loose in our world.”
Wai-Mae put her hands over her ears. “Nothing you say makes sense! Go away if you only want to trouble me.”
Ling needed to find a way to break through Wai-Mae’s clouded mind and make her see. She offered her hand. “I want to show you something. It’s important. Will you walk with me… sister?”
At the word sister, Wai-Mae smiled. “Is this a new game?”
“It’s an experiment,” Ling said.
“Science again.” Wai-Mae sighed. “Very well, Little Warrior. But then we must make our opera.”
Ling led the way through the forest. For once, Wai-Mae wasn’t chattering, and Ling could sense her wariness.
“Where are you taking me?” Wai-Mae asked.
“Just a little farther now.”
As they broke through the line of trees, the entrance to the tunnel loomed.
Wai-Mae stepped back, scowling. “Why have you brought me to this cursed place?”
“Why don’t you want to go inside?”
“I’ve told you! Something terrible happened there. She lives there now.”
“The veiled woman. The one who cries.”
“Yes, yes. I’ve told you all of this before,” Wai-Mae said, looking away.
“How do you know this?”
“I-I just do! I can… feel her.”
“Why is it that you can feel her emotions but Henry and I can’t?”
“How should I know?” Wai-Mae snapped. She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to stay here. Let’s go back.”