“I understand it’s a steep climb,” he said, “otherwise I’d love to see them. Perhaps you could make some sketches to show me.”

An opportunity to see ancient wall paintings. A chance to get away from the campus for a day. Away from Shao and Jenmei. And Mr. Lee.

AFTER A NIGHT of rain, the air was still and the skies clear. An hour of walking took Lian and Sparrow off the main road onto a quiet trail that led up a hill, layers of pine needles soft underfoot. Openings between the trees gave them glimpses of Chaohu Lake, its green water and the pale sandy crescent moon of shoreline beside Zhongmiao Village. Lian breathed in the bracing resinous scent of pine, free of anxiety for the first time in days.

A plain brick wall and open wooden gates marked the nunnery’s entrance. The pebbled path beyond the gates was tidy, swept meticulously clean of pine needles. A nun in dove-gray robes put down her broom when she saw Lian and Sparrow. Head shaven and smooth-skinned, it was hard to tell her age, but when she smiled her greeting, Lian thought the nun might’ve been nineteen or twenty.

“We’ve come to see the Willow Star murals,” Sparrow said.

The nun pointed to a bench by the wall to indicate that they should sit, then vanished up the pebbled path. Fifteen minutes later, an older nun came out. She was lean and wiry, her face a withered oval, her plain gray gown stained at the hems. One veined hand carried a covered bowl. She looked them over, her eyes resting speculatively on Sparrow.

“It’s a steep walk,” she warned, pointing at a narrow track leading away from the nunnery gates. “Twenty minutes to get up there. The cave is also a temple. We ask for donations.”

Lian dug into her rucksack but Sparrow stopped her. “Professor Kang gave me money,” she said and handed the nun a silver coin.

Lian and Sparrow followed the old woman up the hill, a steep ascent as warned. The track would’ve been wide enough for two had the shrubs and trees on either side been trimmed. They walked beneath rhododendron and pine, stout trunks of loquat and slender canes of bamboo. Yellow poplar leaves lay scattered on the path in front of them like gold coins. They brushed against branches still dripping with last night’s rain and soon their hair and shoulders were damp.

Then the air-raid siren sounded.

“The trees are too dense up here,” Lian said, heart pounding. “We can’t see the beacons. We won’t know if the bombers are really coming.”

“We’re safer here than in the village below,” the old nun called back with a dismissive wave of her hand. “They’re not interested in a small place like Zhongmiao, anyway, not when Hefei is so close.”

“Keep walking, Miss Hu,” Sparrow said. “There’s nothing else we can do.”