The professor had a point, but his absolute contempt for medicine was too much. There was some truth in what he said, but if a judge couldn’t distinguish a natural death from a murder in the first place, how on earth could justice ever be done? Cí considered how best to express his opinion.
“Honorable professor, I’m not here to win a battle. I can’t possibly hope to prevail with the little that I know, nor compare my knowledge with that of the masters and students here. I only want to learn. Knowledge itself knows no limits, no compartmentalizing. Nor does it know prejudice. If you allow me to join the academy, I swear I will give everything to my studies, even leaving aside the question of wounds and entrails if I have to.”
A pudgy professor with a pinched mouth raised his hand to speak. His breathing was heavy, and the few steps he took to come forward left him out of breath. He crossed his hands over his belly as he considered Cí for a few long moments.
“It seems that you tarnished this institution’s honor yesterday, bursting in here like a savage. It brings to mind a saying about a man: ‘Yes, he might be a thief, but he’s also a wonderful flutist.’ Do you know what my reply to that is? ‘Fine. He might be a wonderful flutist, but first and foremost he’s a thief.’” The professor licked his lips and scratched his greasy hair. “What part of this truth do you embody? That of the man who disobeys rules but reads bodies, or he who reads bodies but disobeys rules? Further, can you tell me why we should accept a vagabond like you into the empire’s most respectable academy?”
These questions surprised and worried Cí. He’d thought that, since Ming was the director of the academy, his opinion would prevail. Given the circumstances, though, he decided to change his approach.
“Venerable master,” he said, bowing. “I beg your forgiveness of my unacceptable behavior yesterday. It came out of feeling powerless and desperate. I know this is no excuse, and that the most important thing is for me to demonstrate that I’m worthy of your confidence. So, first, I must ask for your indulgence; I’m a country boy, and I’m eager to learn. Isn’t that what the academy is about? If I already knew all the rules, if I didn’t have the thirst for knowledge, why would I want to study? And how could I then avoid the things that make me imperfect?
“This is the greatest opportunity I’ve ever had. I promise you, I swear, I won’t let you down.”
The pudgy professor took a couple of wheezy breaths; then, nodding, he went slowly back to his place, giving the floor to the last professor. The old, stooped man with dim eyes asked Cí why he had accepted Ming’s invitation.
“Because it’s my dream.”
The old professor shook his head. “Is that all? There was a man who dreamed of flying to the heavens, but after throwing himself off a cliff, he ended up a pile of broken bones on the rocks.”
Cí looked in the old man’s eyes. “When we want something we’ve seen, all we have to do is reach out for it. But when we want something we’ve only dreamed of, it’s our heart we have to stretch.”
“Are you sure? Sometimes our dreams lead us to fall—”
“Possibly. But if our ancestors hadn’t dreamed of better things, we’d still be dressing in rags. My father said to me once”—Cí’s voice quavered at this—“if I was striving to build a palace in the clouds, not to bother. That was clearly where I was meant to be. All I should do is try to build the foundations.”
“Your father? How strange! Ming said you’d lost your memory.”
Cí bit his lip and his eyes moistened.
“That’s the single memory I have.”
The auditorium was swarming with students whispering in excited circles. What was the Corpse Reader’s full name? What was the secret that meant he didn’t have to go through the usual selection process? Some talked about him as a sorcerer; others said he’d learned his skills in a slaughterhouse. But one student kept himself apart and didn’t join in the discussions. When Cí came in with Professor Ming, Gray Fox spat his piece of licorice on the floor and, casting Cí a poisonous look, moved farther away.
Ming carried out the introductions. Cí would be living with these students from now on, all of them vying to join the Imperial Judiciary. Mainly they were aristocratic youths, though their long nails and neat haircuts reminded Cí of courtesans more than anything. There were some disdainful looks, but everyone greeted Cí courteously enough—everyone except the student who stood on his own in the corner. When Ming noticed, he called Gray Fox over. The youth with the distinctive gray-streaked hair approached apathetically.
“I see you don’t share your peers’ curiosity,” said Ming.
“I don’t see what there is to be interested in. I’m here to study, not to be seduced by some swindling beggar.”
“Wonderful, dear boy, wonderful…because you’re going to have the chance to observe Cí up close and check exactly how much truth there is in what he does.”
“Me? I don’t understand.”
“You two are going to be roommates. You’ll share books and a bunk.”
“But Master! I can’t live with some peasant!”
“Silence!” spat Ming. “In this academy, money, business, and family influence don’t matter. Obey me and greet Cí, or go and pack your bags!”
Gray Fox bowed his head, but his eyes drilled into Cí. Then he asked for permission to retire. Ming said he could, but as Gray Fox reached the door, Ming had one more thing to say.
“Before you go, you can pick up that licorice you saw fit to spit on the tiles.”
Cí spent the rest of the day finding out about the daily routine at the academy. He’d be up early for classes all morning; then there would be a brief break for lunch followed by debates in the afternoon and evening. After dinner he’d work in the library to pay for his stay. Ming explained that although the university boards had closed the Faculty of Medicine, part of the program was still dedicated to medical knowledge and, specifically, to causes of death. Sometimes they’d go and sit in on judicial assemblies when they examined corpses, and sometimes they’d attend criminal proceedings to learn firsthand about criminal behavior.
“Exams are four times a year. We have to make sure students are advancing as expected. If not, we initiate proceedings for the expulsion of those who aren’t showing themselves worthy of our efforts. Remember,” said Ming, “your place here is entirely provisional.”
“Don’t worry; you won’t catch me acting like some rich kid.”
“Let me give you some advice. Don’t be fooled just because the other students dress well; don’t confuse their appearance with anything like indolence. Yes, they come from elite families, but they also study extremely hard. If you go up against them, I can assure you they’ll shred you like a rabbit.”
Cí acquiesced. Nonetheless, he doubted that the force of the other students’ motivation was anywhere near as strong as his own.
That evening, the academy assembled in the Apricot Room for dinner, which was adorned with exquisite silks depicting landscapes with summerhouses and fruit trees. All the students had already sat down in groups by the time Cí arrived. He looked hungrily at the abundance of soups, fried fish, sauces, and fruits, but when he tried to sit down at a table, the students there shifted so that there wasn’t any space for him. The same happened at the next table, and the next. It didn’t take long for Cí to work out whose orders they were following; there, at the back of the room, he saw Gray Fox, glaring at him with a sarcastic half-smile.