“We’ve only gotten through half of them?” Jing Lan groaned. “How can there possibly be this many papers?”

“There’s no other way. Papers from every grade are all mixed together with no organization whatsoever. We have no choice but to do it the slow way.” Yan Qing rubbed her tired eyes. “Let’s stop for tonight and come back tomorrow. It’s getting late — you should head home too.”

“Are Yu Xiaozhen’s papers really that important?” Jing Lan asked, exhausted.

“I can’t say for certain. There hasn’t been a single lead about Yu Xiaozhen’s background. Perhaps these papers hold some faint trace of something. Think about it — our school’s essay topics are mostly personal narrative pieces meant to express feelings. Yu Xiaozhen was a girl of few words; she might have let something true slip out in one of these compositions.”

As she said it, Yan Qing shook her head at herself. “I’m just grasping at straws. There may not be anything here at all.”

Stepping out of the school’s records room, Jing Lan checked the door lock, confirmed it was secure, and then walked away with Yan Qing.

—

The following day, Shi Ting received Yan Qing’s telephone call in his office. After three consecutive days without a decent night’s sleep, the man looked visibly worn — but the moment he picked up the phone, a sharp light came into his eyes, like a leopard poised and ready to spring.

He hung up, picked up his police cap from the side and put it on, then strode swiftly out of the office.

Beyond the high walls of the nursing women’s school was a low hill, and at its base lay an open space where two sets of parallel bars had been installed, one to the south and one to the north. People used to come here to exercise and take walks, but ever since word spread that the women’s school was haunted, fewer and fewer came to play.

When Shi Ting arrived, he found Yan Qing’s wheelchair stopped beneath one set of parallel bars. She was sitting there with her head tilted back, as though estimating the height of the bars by eye.

Only when she heard his footsteps did she look up, and in the dazzling morning light she turned to him with a quiet, tranquil smile.

Shi Ting walked up to her in long strides. “I didn’t explain clearly on the phone — that’s why I suggested we meet in person.”

Yan Qing shook her head. The smile at the corner of her mouth softened into a look of quiet worry. “I suspect the killer is lurking somewhere close to me.”

“You said some papers went missing — important papers?”

“I found some old papers from last year in the school’s records room. I was hoping to find some lead related to Yu Xiaozhen. But this morning, when I went back to the records room, I found that the papers had been moved.” When Yan Qing left the night before, she had made a discreet mark that only she knew about. “I asked the gatekeeper, and he said I was the first person to enter the records room today. The room has only two keys — one with him, and one with the teacher in charge of records. That teacher requested leave two days ago and hasn’t come in since.”

“Who else knew you were looking for the papers?” Shi Ting’s expression sharpened.

“Jing Lan was helping me yesterday. But the upper half of the records room door is a glass pane — anyone passing through the corridor could see what was going on inside.”

Seeing Shi Ting’s eyes drop in thoughtful calculation, and then watching his gaze return to her a moment later with something held back — his lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak.

Yan Qing guessed what he wanted to say and shook her head quickly. “It wasn’t Jing Lan.”

“Why are you so certain it wasn’t her? Because she’s your friend?”

“I already said — anyone passing through the corridor could see me going through the papers.” Yan Qing’s tone, usually so measured, carried a trace of agitation.

—