As soon as they were off the stony track, the driver pushed down on the gas pedal, eager to get back to civilization. Minghua was setting out for Chengtu the next day. Thanks to the truck, the professor would get there ahead of the main group, but he had to. There was work to do at the new campus, making sure all the arrangements would be ready. Some of the administrative staff were there already, meeting with banks and government officials.

Professor Kang did his best to get comfortable on the hard seat and ignored the smoke from the driver’s cigarette. From the pocket inside his tunic he pulled out a small notebook to review the notes he had been jotting down since he first met the Star. He turned to the question he had been pondering most recently.

The exodus of immortals. “Long overdue.” Why are they leaving? When should they have gone?

The truck bounced in and out of a pothole, making him wince. His spine might not survive the trip. It made writing difficult, but he penciled his thoughts.

Hypothesis based on hierarchy of the universe. The gods in heaven, the emperor here on Earth. Emperors sacrifice to heaven to mediate on behalf of the common people. Fall of the Qing Dynasty 1912. No more sacrifices by an emperor. Gods were therefore freed from their obligation to hear our prayers.

Another jolt. He sighed and waited for a clear stretch of road. The road showed no signs of getting any less bumpy. The professor gave up, put away the notebook and pencil. Closed his eyes. Closed off his sadness at parting from the Library of Legends. Stopped thinking about the Willow Star. Concentrated on his responsibilities to the students, to the university.

IN CHENGTU, IT didn’t take long for Professor Kang to realize how much he disliked the new director of student services. Mr. Lao’s lanky frame, long face, and large teeth gave him a horsey look. He was austere in his habits and drank only hot water, as far as the professor could tell. Kang had yet to hear him laugh. He contrasted this with Mr. Lee, who had enjoyed a good joke and a mug of fine tea. Lee had been genuinely fond of the students. A director of student services appointed during a simpler political climate.

Supposedly Mr. Lao had been working with the rest of Minghua’s administrators to get their offices organized. But mostly, he read student files and took charge of the mail. Letters were beginning to arrive in Chengtu for students and faculty.

“There is nothing quite so good for morale as word from home,” Professor Kang said, when he poked his head into Lao’s office. “Anything for me?”

Mr. Lao was working his way through a small pile of envelopes. Lao pointed to a stack at the corner of his desk. “I believe so. Letters for faculty.”