“Why do you think he might?” she said. There were left-wing student organizations at every university and Minghua was no different. All the students were interested in politics, or at least pretended to be. Some only knew the names of important people on either side, could repeat a few slogans. A small number, such as Wang Jenmei, were truly serious.

“Students debate politics, of course. That’s normal.” He removed his glasses and pulled out a handkerchief. Spotlessly white, edged with a blue stripe. “But it would be quite the coup for the Communist Party if he joined. It would be humiliating for his family and by extension, the government.”

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this, Mr. Lee,” she said.

“I think Liu Shaoming is fond of you,” he said. He breathed on his lenses and began polishing them. “I want you to keep an eye on him. Let me know if he starts going to Wang Jenmei’s Communist Students Club meetings.”

“You want me to spy for you?” Her expression must’ve betrayed her feelings of shock. And disgust.

Mr. Lee put his glasses back on and leaned in to whisper even more quietly. “You will, if you don’t want your friends to know your father was shot for being a Japanese spy.”

She gasped. “He was a railway engineer. Not a spy.”

“And Shao,” he said. “I wonder how he’d feel about you if he knew. Come now, I’m not asking for much, Miss Hu. Just let me know if you think he’s getting involved in left-wing politics.”

Lian remained on the bench after he left, pretending to read, her eyes stinging. What had gone wrong? Her mother had guarded their privacy so carefully during their years in Peking, sacrificed friendships that could’ve made their lives less lonely. But those efforts had been in vain. They—whoever had given Mr. Lee his information—knew about her father. Which meant he knew their false identities. All her mother’s caution, all her tactics, had been useless.

Hands trembling, she wrapped up Tales of Celestial Deities and stuffed it back in her rucksack. She tried to walk out the library doors calmly. Outside, the temple buildings were shuttered against the cold, the courtyards empty. Winter winds did not encourage lingering in the open. If only she could find a quiet corner, a place where she could think. Perhaps one of the smaller classrooms in the side courtyard.

But when Lian pushed open the heavy wooden door, Professor Kang was at the front of the room, writing on a chalkboard. The creak of hinges made him turn around.

“Miss Hu. You’re not at the market.” His voice was gentle, his smile open and kindly.

“I’ve been already. To read the newspapers,” she said. “I . . . I wanted to spend some time reading my book of Legends. To work on my term paper.”