“A poor but handsome young man falls in love with a beautiful mysterious maiden,” she said, “and his fortunes improve dramatically. They live together happily until the day he discovers she’s actually a shape-shifting Fox spirit. Whereupon he rejects her and all his fortunes vanish.”

“In some stories the man accepts her for what she is,” he said, “and they live together happily until he dies. Then the Fox disappears, presumably to find love with some other young man.”

“I think the saga of the Library of Legends itself is wonderfully intriguing,” she said. “It’s amazing that even a single volume managed to survive.”

“Yes, that’s how I feel too,” he said. “Did you read Professor Kang’s pamphlet about the Legends? It almost makes one believe in heavenly intervention. That the scholar responsible for editing the volumes kept a copy for himself, and it stayed in his family for centuries.”

“The reason I wanted to attend Minghua was because of the Library of Legends.” Her words were eager, her voice passionate. “It’s all that’s left of the Jingtai Encyclopedia, from a time when China represented the peak of human civilization. Did you know about the Legends before coming to Minghua?”

“My father bought the Minghua University Press edition for his library at home,” he said. “I used to spend hours reading the Legends. It’s a relief to know that even if something happens to the books we carry, at least the stories inside them won’t be lost.”

“But to hold the originals in your hand,” Lian said. “To read those stories in the actual handwriting of scholars who copied them out five hundred years ago. To see notes scribbled in the margins by the imperial scholar Yao himself. What enchantments those books must hold to have survived so long.”

“That’s exactly how I feel,” he said. It pleased him to hear her voice so animated. To know she appreciated the Legends as much as he did.

“My father also owned a Minghua edition of the Library of Legends,” she said, and her voice grew subdued. “He would’ve loved to see the real Library but . . . well, he died when I was a child.”

They walked together in silence. It was a companionable silence. Shao liked that Lian didn’t demand anything of him, that he didn’t have to make polite, trivial conversation.

A lamp and footsteps. “Young Master, the other scouts are asking for you,” Sparrow said, holding out a lamp. “They’re going to confirm the arrangements for our stay in the next town.”

Ahead of them, some students had detached from the main group, lanterns casting small pools of brightness along the road.

“Lian, let’s walk together again sometime,” Shao said, taking the lamp. “Sparrow, see you in town.”