The Nanking City God nodded. Then he bowed to the Star, one celestial being to another. As he straightened up, his silk gown shimmered into transparency. He made his way out of the courtyard, the tall figure growing mistier until it vanished altogether.

“There will be other departures,” the Star said, still looking at the spot where the Nanking City God had been. “Animal and guardian spirits. Minor deities. Creatures of protection. It’s long overdue.”

“If so many are coming out into the open I wonder that more people aren’t seeing them,” the professor said. “Well, even if others can see spirits, how would I know anyway?”

“There is one other person at Minghua who can see spirits,” the Star said. “Hu Lian. But she’s not quite ready.”

“Ah,” the professor said. “I did wonder.”

“She loves reading the Legends but to her they’re just part of China’s mythology,” the Star said. “Her mind finds ways to deny what her heart perceives. But perhaps, one day.” She shrugged, a graceful lift of the shoulders.

Professor Kang nodded. One had to be open to gifts from the gods, otherwise a Fox spirit was just an animal, the Goddess of Mercy only a cloud. And a Star merely a servant girl. Beyond plain dumb luck, the professor couldn’t say why he’d been given the gift to see supernatural beings. Yet he sagged under the recognition of what he’d just seen and heard.

China and Japan had been fighting for decades, battles both nations politely described as “incidents.” Now they were openly at war. Professor Kang realized he’d been hoping the gods might intervene. Perhaps not to end the war, but a small miracle of some sort to reduce the suffering.

But now he knew that prayer and pleas would not move the gods. Now he knew there was another evacuation underway.

Chapter 8

Minghua 123 left the monastery an hour after dark. Shao looked up at the night sky, grateful that only a tiny sliver of crescent moon added its light to that of the stars. The students wore white handkerchiefs knotted around their arms, the only tokens of mourning they could muster for Mr. Shen.

In retrospect, it was a miracle that Mr. Shen had been the only victim. There had been a short debate about changing the name Minghua 123 since they were no longer 123 people.

“If we change to ‘Minghua 122,’ then we exclude Mr. Shen,” Shao argued. “Keeping our name the same pays tribute to his memory, that he is still part of our group.”

“And do we want to change our group name every time someone dies?” Shorty said. “It would be so demoralizing.”

His words were shouted down and Ying-Ying slapped his shoulder. “How can you even talk about such things?” she said indignantly. “Implying that others in our group might die?”

“Don’t yell at me,” Shorty said. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.” He rubbed his shoulder.