The Corpse Reader (32 page)

Cí pointed to an old man passed out on a divan across the room from them. He had a cane.

“See how he isn’t gripping it? The cane is just resting lightly in his hands. When someone dies, it’s like that; their last breath takes all their life force with it. The only way he could have been gripping the flask was if someone had introduced it into his hands after death and waited for the onset of rigor mortis.”

“A red herring?”

“Essentially,” said Cí, draining the last of his drink.

“You really are a devil,” chuckled Gray Fox.

Cí didn’t know what to say. The drink was making him blurrier and blurrier. A toast, he thought.

“To my new friend,” he said, lifting his cup.

“To mine,” said Gray Fox.

When more drinks came, Cí said he couldn’t possibly. Cups, customers, dancers—everything was spinning. But then he saw a svelte figure approaching and thought he recognized the almond eyes on the face that leaned down to kiss him. And the wet lips full of desire.

As Cí let himself be pulled in by the woman, Gray Fox got up.

If Cí had watched his new friend go, rather than abandoning himself to caresses, he would have been surprised to see Gray Fox suddenly seeming entirely sober as he walked with determination to the door, handed some coins to the man who’d attacked them earlier, and left the Palace of Pleasure.

By the time Cí woke, the sun was high over the rooftops of Lin’an.

The noise of passersby felt like a thousand lightning bolts piercing his tender brain. He got up gingerly, and when he saw the sign for the Palace of Pleasure above the pile of rubbish he’d slept in, a shiver went through him. Clearly his companions from the previous night had left without him, and he began the walk back to the academy alone.

When he got back, the guard told Cí that Ming had convened the pairs who had carried out the examination, and that they were to present their findings to a committee of professors in the Honorable Debating Hall.

“They began some time ago, but don’t you even think of going in looking like that.”

By the time Cí had washed up, changed clothes, and made it to the hall, it was Gray Fox’s turn to present his findings. Everyone in the room looked at Cí as he came in. He nodded at Gray Fox, but his new friend looked disdainfully away. It must be nerves, thought Cí, taking a seat and avoiding Ming’s disapproving gaze.

Gray Fox was at a lectern in the middle of the hall. Cí’s thinking was still very cloudy, and he hadn’t figured out what he would present, given Ming’s reprimand the day before. Cí rummaged in his bag for the report he’d written in the library. It wasn’t there.

Then he began
hearing
what he’d written, presented by Gray Fox.

It can’t be.

The extent of Gray Fox’s betrayal became clear. The night out, the friendliness, the confessions about his loneliness—it was nothing but a ruse. How could Cí have trusted him? It felt as if he were being stabbed over and over again as Gray Fox spoke.

By the time he finished—having repeated Cí’s findings word for word, right down to the conclusion about the flask of liquor and even saying that he hadn’t mentioned the metal bar in the ear because of the need to keep his finding secret—Cí had to force himself not to jump up and clobber him. He couldn’t call Gray Fox out, and he had no idea how he’d be able to prove that he himself wasn’t copying Gray Fox. Luckily, the one thing Cí hadn’t written in his report was
how
he knew Kao had been a sheriff. And that meant, when Ming began quizzing Gray Fox, the student hesitated.

“I…deduced his profession from the fact we were repeatedly told that secrecy was paramount.”

“
Deduced
?” asked Ming. “Don’t you mean
copied
?”

Gray Fox’s eyebrows shot up. Cí held his breath.

“I…I don’t know what you mean, sir,” stammered Gray Fox.

“In that case, perhaps Cí could explain.” Ming nodded for Cí to come forward.

Cí did as he was told, folding up and leaving his notes in his bag. Coming to the lectern, he noted the fear in Gray Fox’s eyes. Clearly, Ming suspected something.

“We’re waiting,” said Ming.

“I’m afraid I don’t know exactly what for, sir.”

“You mean, you have no objections?” said Ming.

“No, venerable master.”

“Cí! Don’t play me for a fool. You don’t even have an opinion?”

Cí saw Gray Fox gulp, and he considered his words.

“My opinion is that someone has carried out some excellent work,” he said finally, gesturing to his partner. “The rest of us should all congratulate Gray Fox and carry on working for our goals.” And without waiting to be told, he stepped away from the lectern and, awash with resentment, left the Honorable Debating Hall.

He cursed himself a thousand times for his stupidity, and a thousand more times for his cowardice.

He would happily have beaten Gray Fox to a pulp, but that would only get him expelled. He went to the library to look over his notes for anything he could use to prove Gray Fox’s guilt without jeopardizing himself. Then someone came up from behind, making him jump. It was Ming. Shaking his head, the professor sat down across from him.

“You’re leaving me no option,” he said. “If you don’t tell the truth, I’m going to have no choice but to expel you. What’s going on with you, boy? How could you let him present your findings like that?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Cí, trying to hide his notes in his sleeve.

“What’s that? Hand it over.” He snatched the paper. As he scanned the notes, his face changed. “Exactly as I thought! Gray Fox would never have written a report using those terms. Don’t you think I know his style by now? And yours?” He paused, expecting Cí to answer. “Gods! You’re only here because I trusted you, so now you have to trust me. Tell me what happened. You aren’t on your own in the world, Cí.”

Yes, I am. Alone is exactly what I am.

Cí tried to take the notes back, but Ming held them out of his reach.

He hung his head and said nothing as rage swelled through him. How could he possibly explain that everyone he’d ever trusted had let him down, even his own father?

Over the following days, Cí did his best to avoid both Ming and Gray Fox—no easy task, especially with Gray Fox, given their shared room. Luckily, though, Gray Fox kept his distance, too. They ignored each other when they crossed paths in the hallways; at mealtimes, they sat at separate tables. Cí imagined Gray Fox must have been worrying about some sort of reprisal and would therefore be feeling like a caged animal that might be attacked at any moment.

As for Ming, he hadn’t mentioned the report again, which also disconcerted Cí.

No news didn’t feel at all like good news.

In the evening, after his classes, Cí began working on a document that he led his classmates to believe would prove Gray Fox’s deceit, hoping word would reach his rival. Cí was certain he’d take the bait and succumb to the temptation to steal the notes, just as he’d done with the report.

When the notes were complete, Cí let it be known that he planned to present them to the council the next day; Gray Fox would be exposed. Cí went back to their room and sat waiting.

Not long after, Gray Fox came in. He collapsed on his bed as if exhausted, but Cí could tell he was only pretending to sleep. After a little while Cí got up, put the new set of notes in his bag—rustling
them so his rival would know exactly where they were. Then he put his bag in his dresser and left the room.

Ming was out in the passageway, just as Cí had asked him to be.

“I don’t know how I let you talk me into this,” whispered the professor, stepping behind a pillar.

Cí bowed in thanks, then hid behind an adjacent pillar. The light from the only lantern flickered at the far end of the passageway. Moments passed slowly, but then Gray Fox’s head appeared in the doorway; he checked to make sure no one was around and then went back inside, shutting the screen door behind him. Cí and Ming stayed hidden until they heard the dresser creaking open.

“He’s going to do it!” hissed Ming, starting forward.

But Cí shook his head, gesturing for Ming to wait; he counted to ten.

“Now!” shouted Cí.

They burst into the room, catching Gray Fox fishing in Cí’s bag for the notes.

He looked up, startled, and then cursed. “You!” He leaped at Cí, knocking him over. Gray Fox pinned Cí down, and though Cí managed to push him off, Gray Fox punched him in the gut. When Cí didn’t flinch, Gray Fox hit him again and stood up.

“Surprised?” shouted Cí as he jumped up and punched Gray Fox in the face. “Weren’t you trying to get my proof?” He hit him again, splitting his lip. Another blow knocked Gray Fox to the ground. Finally Ming managed to step between them.

Cí staggered, panting, his clothes and hair a mess; Gray Fox groaned, his face covered in blood. Cí couldn’t have cared less; Gray Fox had done plenty to make his life a misery, and he wasn’t going to take it anymore.

The next day, Cí went to watch Gray Fox leave the academy. No one had come to see him off, not even the students who usually hung around with him. There was a retinue waiting for him at the entrance, and their expensive attire was straight out of an imperial celebration. Cí gritted his teeth. Maybe he’d given up the chance of a lifetime, but at least he felt he’d gotten even. To his surprise, Gray Fox smiled when he saw him.

“I suppose you know I’m leaving…”

“Shame,” said Cí, with all the sarcasm he could muster.

Gray Fox grimaced, then bowed, coming close to Cí’s ear.

“Enjoy your studies, and try not to forget me, because I certainly won’t forget you.”

Cí watched scornfully as his rival departed.