He tried to swallow some food, but it lodged in his throat. The second pair was already meeting with Ming; soon it would be his and Gray Fox’s turn.
Gods, what should I do? What would father do?
A shove from Gray Fox jolted him out of his thoughts. It was time. Cí got up, straightened his clothes, and followed his partner.
It was Cí’s first time in Ming’s private study. He was surprised to find it so gloomy; there were no windows or paper screens to let in daylight. Old silks with anatomical pictures hung on the rosewood walls. Ming sat at an ebony desk consulting a volume in the semi-darkness, and from a shelf behind him a row of skulls peered out. The professor invited them to approach, and they both knelt down. Ming looked at them, and Cí noticed how weary his eyes were.
“I dearly hope you two have something useful to say. Your classmates haven’t drawn one sensible conclusion. I don’t think I’ve heard such a lot of nonsense in all my days. Well? What can you tell me?”
Gray Fox cleared his throat. He took out his notes and began.
“Most honorable Ming, I thank you with sincere humility for the opportunity—”
“Hold the sincere humilities and get on with it.”
“Of course, sir.” He cleared his throat. “But perhaps Cí should wait outside. As you know, a second judge shouldn’t have his judgment…influenced by another’s.”
“By the gods, will you just get on with it?”
Gray Fox cleared his throat again.
“The first thing to consider is why the case is surrounded by such secrecy. This is highly unusual, and it leads me to think that the deceased must have been a man of some importance, or had links with people of importance.”
“Go on,” said Ming, nodding.
“If that is the case, the next question is why the authorities would be interested in students’ opinions. We must assume that to ask us, they do not know the cause of death, or at least are unsure of their own conclusions.”
“Yes, yes, it could be.”
“Because he was already undressed, we lacked an important source of information, but at least we can surmise from the smoothness of his hands that he was no laborer. At the same time, his short nails tell us he wasn’t a literary person.”
“Good observation.”
“I thought so, too,” said Gray Fox, modest as ever. “And finally, as to the cause of death: The corpse showed no signs of violence, no bruises or wounds, nothing to suggest poisoning. Nor was there any excretion from any of the seven orifices that might have suggested the death was by unnatural causes.”
“And so…”
“And so, we ought to conclude that his death was caused by having fallen in the canal. In my view, the fact that he died of drowning is not the important thing; it’s that he died drunk, as indicated by the fact he was found clutching a liquor bottle.”
“Mm…” Ming’s interest gave way to a frown of disappointment. “Your conclusion, then?”
“Um…” Gray Fox was unsettled by Ming’s response. “As I was saying, the unfortunate man undoubtedly had an important office…His death, clearly unexpected, appeared to them a mishap, and that was what they called us in to confirm.”
Ming puffed out his cheeks. He thanked him and turned to Cí.
“What about you?” he asked, clearly not expecting much.
Gray Fox interrupted. “If we could see the deceased’s clothes, or talk to the person who found him—”
“It’s Cí’s turn now,” said Ming.
Cí stood up. Gray Fox had made the same decent observations he had planned to point out in order to withhold his own terrible discovery. Now, if he merely repeated what Gray Fox had said, he would seem like a dolt in Ming’s eyes. Nonetheless, that was exactly what he decided he had to do.
Afterward, Ming raised an eyebrow.
“That’s all?” he asked.
“That’s all that could be surmised from the corpse. Gray Fox’s observations were, in my opinion, well founded and astute. They match as much as I could determine.”
“In that case you should have paid better attention. All of the students have come to the same conclusions. We don’t keep you here to parrot the stupidity of others.” Ming was silent a moment as he scrutinized Cí. “And even less to try and trick us!”
Cí blushed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, really? Do you honestly think I’m stupid?”
Cí had no idea how much Ming knew he knew. “I don’t understand—”
“By the gods! Stop acting, for once! Don’t you think I was watching when you discovered whatever was in the ear? That I didn’t see what you were doing when you covered the body over, or the satisfaction on your face afterward?”
Cí said nothing.
Ming snorted. “Get out of my sight, both of you! Out!”
As they scrambled out, they could hear Ming muttering, “Damned little liar…”
Cí spent the rest of the day in the library meditating over what seemed an intractable problem. He kept coming to the same conclusion: he was going to have to renounce his dream and flee Lin’an. Finally he picked up a brush and began writing down every detail of what he had really surmised, without deciding what he’d actually do with the report. How he envied Gray Fox. He’d seen him laughing with some classmates, and they’d been drinking, too. It didn’t seem as though the failure mattered in the slightest to Gray Fox. Before going in for dinner, he had come tottering over to Cí. His eyes shining and a stupid grin on his face, he’d offered Cí a drink.
“Come on, partner,” he said when Cí refused. “Forget about Ming. Drink!”
Alcohol was an amazing thing, thought Cí; this was the first time in his months at the academy that Gray Fox had addressed him with something other than an insult. He declined the drink again.
“Know what?” said Gray Fox. “I hated you, right up until this afternoon. Clever Cí, brilliant Cí…But you weren’t clever or brilliant today, were you? How did you put it? ‘Gray Fox’s observations were, in my opinion, well founded and astute.’ Ooh, I liked that. Here.” He thrust the drink at Cí again and laughed heartily.
Cí took a drink, hoping it would make Gray Fox leave him alone, and felt the heat of the rice liquor invade his throat and stomach. He wasn’t used to drinking such strong stuff.
“Brilliant!” laughed Gray Fox. “A bunch of us are going out later for dinner at the Palace of Pleasure. We’ll toast Ming’s health! Why don’t you come?”
“No, thank you. I wouldn’t want Professor Ming to find out.”
“What if he does? We aren’t prisoners here, you know. Ming’s just a bitter old man; nothing’s ever enough for him. Come on, we’ll have a great time! Meet us after the second evening gong, down by the fountain. All right?” He left the pitcher of liquor there and went swaying off, singing to himself.
Cí grabbed the clay pitcher. For all his contemplation, he still didn’t know what to do. If he revealed what he knew, he’d rise in Ming’s estimation again, but the risk was huge. If he kept his mouth shut, he’d forsake his dream of joining the judiciary…He took another drink. And another. There was something comforting in the liquor, and gradually his mind clouded over and his problems floated away.
The second gong struck, and Cí was surprised to find himself still in the library. How much longer would Ming let him stay at the academy?
And could he possibly care less?
He heard the sound of laughter from the gardens, got unsteadily to his feet, and went downstairs. Four students, each of them with a drink, stood around Gray Fox by the fountain. Cí stopped and watched them for a minute before heading toward his room. But he heard Gray Fox calling after him, his voice amiable and persuasive. Then Gray Fox was next to Cí with his arm around him, cajoling him, saying they’d have a great time. Cí reasoned that at least it would be a chance to iron things out with Gray Fox.