“You are never allowed to do this again,” Jiang Cheng’s mother said, her voice harsh in the way that means she was scared, because she hated being scared. “Never again, you hear me?” “I hear you, a-niang,” Jiang Cheng said. “Did it live?” “Yes, of course it lived,” Madame Yu snapped. “You’re the one that nearly died! You can’t – death-sharing is a rare gift, A-Cheng, but you can’t use it too often, you hear me? Every time you use it, your own life gets shorter. You must never do it again. And you mustn’t tell anyone else about it! No one at all! Swear to me!” “I swear,” he said. “No one at all.”