Anyone who saw Lian would think she had tucked her hands inside her sleeves to keep warm. But she did it to hide their trembling. Had her words condemned Jenmei? Was this a warning to students? Was this all it took to pronounce a young woman’s death sentence? Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure anymore that Shao’s family, their wealth and connections, would keep him safe. She wanted to ask Mr. Lee what had happened. But she knew she would never muster the courage.

Just the thought of speaking to Mr. Lee made her choke. He had lied, said Jenmei would only be expelled, perhaps sent to a reeducation camp. Had he been the one who killed Jenmei? Lian ran behind the library warehouse. One hand pressed against the wooden planked walls, she vomited, trying to disgorge her fear with every heave. But even as she retched, she knew Jenmei’s death would never relinquish its hold on her. All she managed to empty onto the hard soil was last night’s supper and none of her guilt.

Lian straightened up, caught her breath. She had to behave as normally as possible for the next little while. It wouldn’t be difficult, it was all right for her to appear nervous and shocked. Frightened, even, because everyone was distressed.

She returned to her room at the courtyard house, where several other girls were already sitting on their beds talking. Meirong sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, silently crying. Lian wanted to put her arm around Meirong, say something comforting, but she couldn’t. Whatever she said would come out stiff and stilted.

“Why does this feel so awful?” Ying-Ying said, her hands twisting a grubby handkerchief. “I didn’t know Jenmei that well. I knew Mr. Shen better because I went to his tutorials. But I wasn’t this upset when Mr. Shen died.”

“It’s because she wasn’t killed during a Japanese air raid,” Meirong said tonelessly, “or from any of the risks we’ve faced together during our evacuation. She was murdered.”

Murdered. Lian clenched her fists to hide their trembling. Jenmei was dead and it was her fault.

Chapter 16

All the books and chalkboards had been packed up, but the faculty did their best anyway to give the students a day of classes while waiting for Professor Kang and Mr. Lee to come back from Hefei. They lectured from memory, organized discussion groups, and assigned short essays. Anything was better than idle time, time for talk that inflamed fear and speculation. For the next several hours, the routine of an ordinary school day dulled the horror of Wang Jenmei’s murder.