“This is a volume of the Jingtai Encyclopedia, a masterpiece of scholarship documenting China’s art, culture, and literature,” Kang said. “During the Ming Dynasty nearly five hundred years ago, the Jingtai emperor commissioned this work. The encyclopedia originally consisted of 11,000 volumes. We carry with us 147 volumes, the section known as the Library of Legends. The Library of Legends records our myths and folklore. It is all that remains of the Jingtai Encyclopedia. We are guardians of a national treasure.”

There was an audible intake of breath.

“The Legends are part of our identity,” the professor continued. “Now I have a task for each of you. I ask you each to carry one book from the Library so that you’re responsible not only for your own safety but the safety of our heritage. I’m also giving you all the assignment to read the stories as we travel.”

There was excited conversation as the students queued up. Shen handed out the precious books, each volume wrapped in brown paper. Some students put away the books in their rucksacks, others sat down to read, turning the pages with great care.

Three whistles again and a different voice called out for attention. Minghua’s director of student services climbed onto the stage. His square, ruddy face shone down at the students.

“Students of Minghua!” Mr. Lee said. “Our group includes 114 students and 9 professors, 123 in all. Plus 16 servants and laborers. On this historic journey, we’re not just a school. We’re also comrades in arms.”

There was scattered applause and the stocky man beamed again. “Before we leave, let’s give our group a name,” he said. “It adds a bit of team spirit.”

Suggestions came from all sides. Minghua Departments of Agriculture and Literature Wartime Campus was shouted down as too unwieldy. Minghua Refugee Convoy sounded too dismal. All agreed that using “Minghua” without qualification implied their group represented all of Minghua. In the end, Minghua 123 won the vote, the “123” for the number of students and faculty in the group.

The clatter of idling engines and squeal of gears told the assembly that trucks had pulled into the campus. The professor walked outside to greet the young army officer who had been organizing their evacuation. Then a last roll call, and the vehicles rumbled out the gates. Riding at the front of the jeep with the young officer, Professor Kang resolutely resisted turning around for a last look at the campus he had come to think of as home.

THE PADDED VEST Professor Kang wore over his long scholar’s gown kept out the night chill but couldn’t hide his thin frame. One hand tugged absentmindedly at his wispy goatee as he gazed at the skies, then over to the barges where workers were unloading wagons and carts.