During their time at Chuanjiao Monastery, Mr. Lee had asked for volunteers. He appointed a dozen of the seniors, including Shao, as scouts. The scouts drilled Minghua 123 on the actions they would follow when under aerial attack. The feeling was unanimous that they should light as few lanterns as possible. They had to learn how to walk safely in the dark. They coordinated getting carts and barrows off the road, donkeys and all, giving priority to the precious library carts. They practiced throwing tarps over the wagons to camouflage them. They knew to run for cover, scattering as widely as possible, heading for trees and ditches, outcroppings of rock, whatever might offer protection.

Whether this was of real use or not, Shao couldn’t tell. Was there really anything they could do to be safe? But it was all they could do. It was all they had.

The property where they would stay was only a few hours’ walk from the monastery. When they reached it, the walls of the vacant estate were surrounded by stands of bamboo, barely visible from the road. Minghua 123 would’ve missed it completely if not for their guide, a young monk who had accompanied them from Chuanjiao Monastery.

The students settled in quickly, the routine now familiar. There was a head count upon arrival. Then the search for sleeping quarters, the female students given first pick of rooms. Each group of roommates carried out another head count of the students in their room. Afterward, they ate. The cook, his assistant, and the kitchen cart had left a few hours in advance so that meals would be underway by the time the rest of Minghua 123 arrived.

Then at last, they slept.

MORNINGS WERE COLDER now and, like everyone else, Shao had slept in his clothes and spread his coat on top of the blanket. His eyes opened to coffered wooden ceilings painted in green and gold with figures of lucky animals. He counted off each one. Bats for good luck. Cranes for long life. Phoenixes for success. Horses for swift advancement. Bears for courage. And qilin unicorns for the birth of talented sons. He smiled, remembering his nanny, Amah Fu, and her stories. How she believed absolutely in the existence of supernatural creatures.

It will be an easy walk this evening, he thought. Their next destination was only a short distance away. Mr. Lee had told them Minghua 123 would rest at Shangma Temple for ten days, giving the professors time to teach a few classes before getting back on the road. Shao suspected the lessons were to keep their minds off Mr. Shen’s death as much as anything else.