Chapter 19: Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19: The Song Before Drowning

The headmaster's office smelled of sandalwood and secrets.

Bai Su stood before the massive rosewood desk, trying to keep her hands still. The phantom blood had faded, but she could still feel it—a tacky residue that no amount of rubbing could remove. The headmaster sat across from her, his fingers steepled, his eyes unreadable.

"You were in the bell tower."

It wasn't a question.

"I heard the bell," Bai Su said. "I went to investigate."

"Alone. At night." His voice carried no accusation, but the weight of his words pressed down on her shoulders. "That was unwise."

"I didn't think—"

"No. You didn't." He stood, walking to the window that overlooked the courtyard. The moon hung low and yellow, casting long shadows across the stones. "What did you see?"

Bai Su hesitated. The ghost scholar's warning echoed in her mind. *They'll become something worse.* But the headmaster was alive. Surely he could be trusted. Surely—

"I saw a ghost," she said. "A scholar. He told me things."

The headmaster's reflection in the glass didn't move. "What things?"

"About the murders. About the qi transfer. About something that's about to start." She took a breath. "He said I needed to find the killer before they break through the veil."

"Did he now." The headmaster turned, his face carved from stone. "And did he tell you who the killer is?"

"No."

"But he showed you something."

It wasn't a question either. Bai Su felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach. "How did you know?"

"Because the bell tower has been sealed for three years. Ever since Chen Feng died." He held up a key—old brass, tarnished black. "I am the only one with access. The only one who has entered since his body was removed."

"That's impossible. The door was open."

"The door is always locked." He set the key on the desk between them. "I checked it myself, two hours ago, after the evening meal. It was secure."

Bai Su's mind raced. "Then someone picked the lock. Or they have a copy."

"Or," the headmaster said slowly, "someone wanted you to see what you saw. Someone who can move through walls and ignore locked doors."

"A ghost."

"A very specific ghost." He sat back down, his movements deliberate, controlled. "Chen Feng was found in that bell tower. He had been studying for the examinations, burning the midnight oil as the saying goes. His tutors said he was anxious, paranoid. He claimed someone was following him."

"Who?"

"He never said. But on the night he died, he locked himself in the bell tower. He rang the bell nine times—the traditional signal for distress. By the time we arrived, the door was locked from the inside. The window was broken. He was on the ground below."

"And you think he was pushed."

"I think many things, Miss Bai. The question is whether I can prove them." He opened a drawer and pulled out a scroll, yellowed with age. "This was found in his sleeve. The examiners assumed it was a study guide. But look closely."

He unrolled it across the desk. Bai Su leaned in, her breath catching.

It was an examination scroll. Perfectly written. Elegant characters flowing across the page like water. The essay was complete, every stroke precise, every argument meticulously structured. It would have earned top marks.

At the bottom, in red ink, was the grade: *Failed.*

"Why?" Bai Su asked. "This is brilliant work."

"Look at the name."

She did. Her blood turned to ice.

The name at the top was not Chen Feng.

It was Bai Su.

She jerked back as if burned. "That's not possible. I've never taken the imperial examinations. I only just arrived at this academy."

"And yet your name is there, written in Chen Feng's hand." The headmaster's eyes bore into her. "He copied this essay from somewhere. Or someone."

"Or someone wrote it for him," Bai Su whispered. "Someone who knew my name before I ever set foot in this place."

The headmaster said nothing. He simply watched her, waiting.

"I don't understand," she said, her voice cracking. "I've never met Chen Feng. I've never been in that tower before tonight. I don't know why he had my name on his scroll."

"Perhaps you should ask him."

"Ask him? He's dead."

"Yes." The headmaster's smile was thin and cold. "But you seem to have a talent for speaking with the dead. So speak with him. Find out what he knew. Find out why he had your name." He rolled the scroll back up and held it out to her. "You have until the next full moon. That's when the veil between worlds grows thin. If the killer hasn't been found by then..."

"What?"

"Then I will be forced to close the academy. Permanently. And all the ghosts within will be exorcised."

Bai Su took the scroll, her hands trembling. "You can't do that. They're students. They're—"

"They're dead, Miss Bai." His voice was hard, final. "And the living come first. Always."

She left the office with the scroll clutched to her chest, her mind a whirlwind of questions. The corridor stretched before her, dark and empty. The oil lamps flickered as she passed, their flames bending toward her like hungry tongues.

She found herself walking toward the library.

The drowned scholar was there, as always, floating among the shelves. He looked up when she entered, his waterlogged eyes widening.

"You found something," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Chen Feng's scroll." She held it up. "He had my name on it."

The scholar drifted closer, his movements leaving trails of moisture on the floor. "May I?"

She handed it over. He unrolled it with careful, reverent hands, his spectral fingers passing through the paper without touching it. His expression shifted—surprise, then recognition, then something darker.

"This isn't Chen Feng's handwriting."

"What?"

"Look." He pointed to the character for "Bai." "The stroke order is wrong. And here, the pressure changes mid-stroke, as if someone else took over." He looked up, his face pale. "Two people wrote this. One started. One finished."

"Who finished it?"

"Someone who knew your name. Someone who wanted Chen Feng to have it." He rolled the scroll back up. "Chen Feng didn't write this essay. He copied it. From another scroll. And that scroll was written by someone who knew you before you arrived."

Bai Su's skin crawled. "That's impossible. I've never—"

"Been to this academy before tonight? So you say." The scholar's voice was soft, almost sympathetic. "But memory is a tricky thing, Miss Bai. Especially for the living. You forget. You misremember. You convince yourself that things happened differently than they did."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that maybe you've been here before. Maybe you just don't remember."

The words hit her like a physical blow. She stumbled back, her hand pressing against her chest where her heart hammered wildly. "That's insane. I would remember."

"Would you?" He floated closer, his face inches from hers. "What's the first thing you remember? Your earliest memory. Can you see it clearly?"

She tried. She reached back, further and further, searching for the beginning of her story.

There was nothing.

A void. A blank space where childhood should have been. She remembered Wutong Academy. She remembered her parents sending her here. She remembered...

She remembered nothing before the age of twelve.

"The ghost scholar wiped your memory," the drowned scholar said softly. "Or someone did. Someone powerful enough to reach into your mind and take what they wanted."

"Who?"

"I don't know. But I know why."

"Why?"

"Because you wrote that essay." He pointed at the scroll. "You wrote it, years ago, as a practice examination. And someone stole it. Someone used it to frame you for Chen Feng's death."

"Frame me? I didn't kill anyone."

"Doesn't matter. If the headmaster finds out that scroll was written in your hand, he'll have no choice but to expel you. And once you're outside the academy walls, the killer can take your qi without interference."

Bai Su's mind raced. "But why would they want my qi specifically?"

The drowned scholar's face twisted with something like pity. "Because you're not just a student, Miss Bai. You're a vessel."

"A vessel for what?"

"For something that died a long time ago. Something that wants to live again." He reached out and touched her forehead. His fingers were cold, so cold they burned.

And then she saw.

A room. Dark. Stone walls. Candles flickering in a circle. A body lying in the center—a girl, young, her throat cut from ear to ear. And standing over her, a figure in white, holding a bloodstained brush.

The figure turned.

It was her.

Bai Su screamed and jerked back, the vision dissolving like smoke. She was on the floor, the scroll scattered beside her, her hands pressed to her face.

"Now you remember," the drowned scholar said.

"That wasn't real. That wasn't—"

"It was. It is. You died, Miss Bai. Five years ago, in a ritual that went wrong. And someone brought you back." He knelt beside her, his voice gentle. "But resurrection has a price. The soul that was meant to pass on stayed. And the soul that was meant to stay passed on."

"You're saying I'm a ghost."

"I'm saying you're both. Living and dead. Stuck between worlds." He looked at her with something like sympathy. "That's why you can see us. That's why the killer wants your qi. You have enough of both worlds to tear the veil apart."

Bai Su stared at her hands. They were solid. Warm. Alive.

But beneath the skin, she could feel something else. Something cold. Something waiting.

"I need to find Chen Feng," she said, her voice hollow. "I need to ask him what he knew."

"He won't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because he's the one who killed you the first time."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

Bai Su looked up at the drowned scholar, searching for any sign of deception. But his face was open, honest, and terribly sad.

"He was my friend," she whispered. "The ghost in the bell tower. He was my friend."

"Yes." The scholar floated back, giving her space. "And he's the one who cut your throat."

The library fell silent. Bai Su stood slowly, her legs shaking beneath her. She picked up the scroll, rolling it carefully, her movements mechanical.

"Where is he now?"

"Waiting for you in the bell tower. He always knew you'd come back."

Bai Su turned and walked out of the library, the scroll clutched to her chest like a lifeline. Behind her, the drowned scholar watched her go, his expression unreadable.

Above her, in the bell tower, the rope began to sway.

The bell rang once.

Then twice.

Then it did not stop.