She awoke an hour later, the time estimated based on the sun. She was alone on a small rowboat, with two oars, her sword, and a box. Inside the box were some foodstuffs, a cheap silver bracelet that would have been at home on one of Mei’s regular sexual partners, and a bar of chocolate. On the bottom of the box was a note.

“Lian,

I’m sorry for all the hassle. You were a grade A partner though, and I hope these small treats are enough to get you on your way.

And don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten. I do owe you quite a debt. You’ve saved my life twice – well, it was more of a team exercise on the ship but I’ll spot you one – and I only had the chance to break you out of prison once. So I’m still most certainly in the debtor column with you. I look forward to repaying you one day.

Yours,

Mei”

The shore was out of sight, and Mei’s ship was a small dot on the horizon, heading east. She set down the note and watched it disappear entirely, the sun reflecting off the water and a vague sense of the beauty therein eating away at her.

She began rowing west. Chongqing was on an inlet, and there would be smaller villages along the coast. It took her almost two days and most of the food, but she eventually made it to a small fishing village which treated her well and sent her along her way.

She was only three weeks and a few hundred miles west, heading towards Northern Shu, when she confirmed what had happened to her. She changed direction at the next town she came across, sold the bracelet and her sword for a horse and enough food for a few months journey. She bought warm clothes and prepared for a trek. It took her three and a half months, but when the Zhosian Mountains first appeared before her – a warm morning for the fall months, their tips just visible like daggers pointed towards a clear, crystalline blue sky – she knew she was on the right path.

She stopped at a small town just south of Daming and spent the last of her money on a good pair of shoes. When she reached the base of the mountains she sold her horse and began the long climb.

The Tiendu Shu pilgrims she met called it “The Climb of Ultimate Atonement” and each of them carried some form of sin with them on the way up: a family member they hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to, a crime they’d committed that they hadn’t been properly punished for, a hatred in their heart that they could not rid themselves of. The people were kind and patient, shared their food and blankets with one another when it grew cold, and asked her what she was seeking atonement for. When she took off her heaviest robes and they saw how much she was showing, they didn’t ask again.

Halfway up the mountain, at the shrine to Pingying, one of the Tiendu Shu’s holiest saints, the rest of the pilgrims turned back, but Lian found a monk to take her the rest of the way up. He initially told her the path would be too covered in snow, and that she should wait out the winter. She told him she couldn’t, and that she was sure she could handle the climb if he could. His pride insulted, he said he would take her. They had good luck and managed to avoid the worst of the early winter snowfall.

She reached the Zhosian Plateau on the 36th of Zai, as the end of the year was approaching. The Zhosian capital of Bhuo was only a few miles into the plateau, and she was shown to the head monk of The Keepers: a hundred and ten year old man who reportedly had demi-god blood and had reached internal peace at the age of fourteen.

By that point Lian’s body was distorted to the point that everything hurt. After a month long climb up a mountain in winter, her legs and back were exceptionally sore. She imagined she looked like any other pregnant woman two months shy of her expected date at that point – swollen and angry and fattening – but the monk took one look at her and was taken aback.

“A Shuli Go?” He asked.

She nodded, relieved that he had spotted it so easily.

“How?” He asked.

“Well,” she replied, “it’s a bit of a long story. But let’s just say, I have a large debt coming due.”