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.
In the late afternoon, the students rushed out to the yard, drawn out of their classes by the rattling vibrations of an engine in poor repair. A dusty black police car drove through the gates and two military policemen climbed out, followed by Mr. Lee and Professor Kang. From the sergeant’s irritated demeanor, Shao could tell he considered this trip to Zhongmiao Village highly inconvenient.
The sergeant made a tour of the campus with Mr. Lee and Professor Kang. He went to the courtyard house and the room where Jenmei had slept and came out with a bundle of papers and notebooks. Then they all climbed back into the black car and drove down to Chaohu Lake. Some of the students followed at a run, trailed at a more sedate pace by a servant driving one of the donkey carts. Fishermen helped lift Jenmei’s covered body onto the cart, which then set out for Hefei. Professor Kang rode back to Hefei in the police car and Mr. Lee stayed behind.
From start to finish, the policemen’s visit had taken less than an hour.
Cook Tam and his assistant unpacked some equipment from the kitchen wagon and made an unusually substantial meal, fresh lake fish steamed with ginger and soy sauce, plenty of rice, and pickled vegetables. Students scraped leftovers into tin lunch boxes for the next day, not trusting they’d have time to eat on the road.
“The police sergeant yelled at the coffin maker,” Shorty said, over a second helping of rice. “He was angry they had brought the body into the shop instead of leaving it by the lake. Disturbing the crime scene, he called it.”
Already they were referring to Jenmei as “the body.”
“The fishermen were being kind,” Chen Ping said. “They didn’t want to leave her just lying there.”
“The sergeant kept complaining it was pointless and a waste of time to investigate since the body had been moved,” Shorty said. “But I got the feeling he was glad of an excuse.”
Shao cupped his hands around a mug of tea. He hadn’t trooped down to the lake with the others. Jenmei was dead. Murdered. It was horrible. He felt ashamed of the rush of relief, the moment of lightness he’d felt when he first realized he would never have to face her again. Her knowing smile, the proprietary way she put her hand on his arm. Her determination to lay claim to him, mind, body, and ideology.
“The villagers asked Professor Kang to pay for a priest to exorcise the spot where Jenmei was found,” Shorty said. “They’re afraid her drowned ghost will haunt their waterfront.”
“I don’t believe in spirits,” Shao said. “But I’m sure the professor will do it to make them feel better.”
“The professor will do it,” Chen Ping said seriously, “because he doesn’t want Jenmei’s ghost to wander the lakeshore for eternity.”
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?
She left the warehouse with her classmates and crossed the yard to return to the courtyard house. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Jenmei had been killed for her politics. The murder was a knife stab of a reminder—as if they needed reminding—that China wasn’t just at war with the Japanese, but also fighting a civil war.
Lian’s eyes were drawn to the entrance of the dining hall where Mr. Lee stood, surveying the yard. Cook Tam emerged from the kitchen and joined him. They spoke, their heads close together. As she turned back to her friends Lian felt, rather than saw, the two men gaze in her direction.