AFTER DINNER, THE students assembled in the former library warehouse. Mr. Lee’s jovial smile was missing. To Lian’s eyes, he seemed genuinely distraught. Most of the girls were in a huddle at the center of the space, holding on to one another. She stood behind them, wary of what Mr. Lee might say, not wanting to catch his eye. She looked around for Shao and found him at the very front of the gathering.

“Professor Kang is staying overnight in Hefei,” the director of student services said, “where he’s arranging for Wang Jenmei’s burial. He must deal with some officials and contact her family. What I want you to know is that our plans haven’t changed, only delayed by a day. Unpack only what you need to use tonight. We leave for Lu’an tomorrow as soon as the professor returns.”

“Sir,” one of the senior students called out, “what about the investigation into Jenmei’s murder? What will the police do?”

Mr. Lee shook his head. “There won’t be an investigation. We’re at war with both Japan and the Communist Party of China.”

He didn’t need to say more. Jenmei had been an outspoken Communist. The military police had no incentive to look into her murder. Whoever killed Jenmei had nothing to fear. It might’ve been Mr. Lee, it might’ve been an outsider. It could even have been some other member of Minghua 123. But they would not be apprehended. They could do anything. To Jenmei, to Shao. To her.

The students dawdled, delayed going back to their rooms for the night.

“Do you think the murderer was one of the villagers?” one of the girls said.

“In such a small place?” Ying-Ying scoffed. “It must’ve been an outsider, a Nationalist agent who slipped in and out to do the deed. Think of all the refugees who’ve camped here.”

Lian didn’t mention the unthinkable. That the murderer might still be among them.

“Those military policemen hardly spent any time here,” Meirong said, finally speaking. “The murder of a left-wing student hardly matters to them. What’s the purpose of a university if we can’t exchange ideas? If Jenmei was killed just for talking about her beliefs, they might as well kill us all.”

“Please, Meirong,” Lian said, looking around. “Don’t say such things.”

“I won’t let this affect the newspaper,” Meirong said. “Minghua 123 News is Wang Jenmei’s legacy. Lian, can you put in more time?”

“Of course,” Lian said. Not because she wanted to, but at a time like this, how could she refuse Meirong?