Chapter 18: Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18: The Song Before the Fall

The headmaster's study smelled of ink and ash, a combination that made Bai Su's stomach turn. She stood before his desk, trying not to look at her hands, trying not to remember the blood that had been there only minutes ago.

"There's been another incident," Headmaster Zhou said, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had said those words too many times. He pushed a scroll across the desk. "Found this morning. In the east library."

Bai Su unrolled it with trembling fingers. The paper was ancient, yellowed at the edges, but the characters written on it were fresh. Red ink. So dark it was almost black.

*The scholar who burns the midnight oil*
*Will find his flame extinguished*
*When the fourth watch comes*
*And the bell rings nine times*

"It's a poem," she said, her voice hollow.

"It's a death threat." Headmaster Zhou's eyes were bloodshot, the circles beneath them so dark they looked like bruises. "We found it pinned to Liang Wei's desk. He's one of our top students. Living."

"Where is he now?"

"Gone. Disappeared sometime last night." The headmaster's hands shook as he reached for a cup of tea. "His roommate said he heard someone singing. A folk song. Around the fourth watch."

Bai Su's blood turned to ice. She had heard that song too. In the bell chamber. On the stairs.

"What song?"

"I don't know the name." Headmaster Zhou's voice cracked. "But the roommate remembered the lyrics. He wrote them down before he forgot."

He slid another piece of paper toward her. The handwriting was shaky, barely legible:

*White moon on the water*
*Where does my shadow go?*
*Follow the bell, follow the bell*
*Down where the river flows*
*One for the living, two for the dead*
*Three for the soul that's left unsaid*

Bai Su's vision blurred. The words swam before her eyes, rearranging themselves into patterns she almost recognized. She had heard this before. Not in this life. In another—

"Miss Bai?" The headmaster's voice pulled her back. "Are you alright?"

"I need to see Liang Wei's room."

---

The east dormitory was quieter than it should have been. Students moved through the hallways like ghosts themselves, their eyes downcast, their footsteps muffled. The living and the dead had always maintained an uneasy coexistence at Wutong Academy, but now the balance had shifted. Fear was the great equalizer.

Liang Wei's room was on the third floor. The door was unlocked, the space inside untouched since his disappearance. A half-finished essay sat on his desk, the brush still resting in its inkstone. His bed was made. His clothes hung neatly in the wardrobe.

It looked like he had stepped out for a moment and simply never returned.

Bai Su moved through the room slowly, her fingers brushing over objects, searching for anything out of place. The window was closed. The lock was intact. No signs of struggle.

"He just vanished," said a voice behind her.

She turned. A young man stood in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes red-rimmed. The roommate, she guessed. Living.

"You heard the song?"

He nodded, his throat working as he swallowed. "It was beautiful. That's the worst part. I woke up and I just... listened. I wanted to follow it. I was getting out of bed when I saw Liang Wei. He was already at the door. His eyes were open, but he wasn't looking at anything. He was smiling."

"Smiling?"

"Like he was hearing something wonderful. Something only he could hear." The roommate's voice dropped to a whisper. "I called his name. He didn't respond. He just walked out. I followed him to the stairs, but when I got there, he was gone. The song stopped. And I couldn't remember how it went."

Bai Su looked down at the paper in her hands. The lyrics were already fading, the ink growing fainter as she watched.

"Write it down again," she said. "Quickly."

The roommate scrambled for a brush. His hands shook so badly he could barely hold it.

"I can't," he whispered. "I've already forgotten."

---

The ghost scholar was waiting for her in the garden.

Bai Su found him sitting beneath the withered plum tree, his translucent hands folded in his lap, his eyes fixed on something she couldn't see. He didn't look up when she approached.

"You found the poem," he said.

"Were you following me?"

"I don't need to follow you. The academy tells me everything." He finally turned to look at her, and there was something different in his eyes. Something ancient. Something sad. "The east library is where I died."

Bai Su's breath caught. "You were killed in the east library?"

"I was killed at my desk. Studying for the imperial exams." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "I wanted to be the best. I studied through the night, every night. I memorized the classics until my eyes bled. And one night, someone decided that my dedication was an insult to their own laziness."

"Who?"

"I never saw their face. But I heard them sing." His voice dropped, becoming something else entirely. Not his voice. A voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once. *"White moon on the water. Where does my shadow go?"*

Bai Su stumbled backward. The song filled her ears, louder now, drowning out the wind, the birds, the beating of her own heart.

"Stop," she gasped. "Please stop."

The ghost scholar fell silent. The song faded.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"What was that? How do you know that song?"

"Because I heard it before I died. And I hear it every night, in the moments between sleep and waking." He stood, his form flickering like a candle in the wind. "The singer is not human. It's not a ghost either. It's something older. Something that has been in this academy since before the first stone was laid."

"The bell tower," Bai Su whispered. "I saw something there. A shadow. It sang to me."

"No." The ghost scholar's voice was sharp. Urgent. "The bell tower is safe. Whatever you saw there was not what you think."

"Then what did I see?"

He didn't answer. His eyes had fixed on something behind her. Bai Su turned.

A figure stood at the edge of the garden. A girl in white robes, her hair loose and flowing, her feet bare on the cold stone path. She was beautiful in the way that moonlight was beautiful—distant, cold, indifferent to the warmth of the living.

Bai Su had never seen her before. But she knew her.

*The drowned scholar in the library.*

"Bai Su," the girl said, and her voice was the song. "You have been looking for me."

---

The garden changed.

The withered plum tree burst into bloom, pink petals raining down like snow. The dead grass turned green. The air filled with the scent of jasmine and rain. And the girl in white stepped forward, her feet leaving no prints on the path.

"I am Lin Yue," she said. "I died in the academy well, three hundred years ago. I have been waiting for someone who could see."

"See what?"

"The truth." Lin Yue's eyes were black from edge to edge, no whites, no pupils. Just endless darkness that seemed to swallow light. "The killer is not a ghost. It is not a student. It is the academy itself."

Headmaster Zhou's words echoed in Bai Su's mind. *The academy has stood for a thousand years. It remembers everything.*

"What do you mean?"

"The examination system is built on suffering. The living study until their bodies break. The dead study until their souls forget what it means to exist. The academy feeds on that suffering. It grows stronger with every tear, every sleepless night, every dream abandoned for the sake of a passing grade."

Lin Yue's voice was calm, almost gentle, but her words cut like blades.

"The ghost that is killing students is not acting alone. It is being guided. By the academy. By the headmaster. By the very walls that surround us."

"That's impossible," Bai Su said. "The headmaster wants to stop the killings."

"No." Lin Yue shook her head slowly. "He wants to control them. He has known about the killer from the beginning. He has been feeding them students. The living ones. The ones who were too ambitious, who studied too hard, who might have surpassed the academy's control."

The ghost scholar stepped forward, positioning himself between Bai Su and Lin Yue. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Lin Yue smiled, and it was the most terrible thing Bai Su had ever seen. "Then why did the headmaster assign Chen Feng to the bell tower on the night he died? Why did he send Liang Wei to the east library, knowing the east library was where the first victim was found? Why did he tell Bai Su to investigate the killings, knowing she would walk right into the killer's path?"

Bai Su's mind raced. The assignments. The clues. The way the headmaster had seemed to know exactly where she would go, what she would find.

"You're saying he's been using me."

"Like a brush," Lin Yue said. "Like paper. Like ink. You are writing his story, Bai Su. And when you reach the final chapter, he will discard you."

The ghost scholar grabbed her arm. His touch was cold, but it grounded her. "Don't listen to her. She's the one who's been singing. She's the one who's been luring students to their deaths."

"Have I?" Lin Yue's smile widened. "Then why haven't I lured you?"

The ghost scholar froze.

"Because you're already dead," Lin Yue whispered. "And the dead cannot be killed again."

Bai Su looked between them. The garden was still beautiful. The petals were still falling. But beneath the beauty, she could feel something stirring. Something hungry.

"Who do I trust?" she asked. The question was not directed at anyone. It was simply the thought that escaped her lips.

"Trust yourself," Lin Yue said.

"Trust the living," the ghost scholar said.

They spoke at the same time, their words colliding in the air like opposing winds.

Bai Su closed her eyes.

And in the darkness behind her lids, she saw it. The memory that was not hers. The memory that had been waiting in the bell tower, in the dried blood on her hands, in the footprint that matched her shoe.

She had been here before.

She had been the killer.

She opened her eyes.

"I know who's doing this," she said.

Lin Yue and the ghost scholar stared at her.

"Who?" they asked together.

Bai Su looked at her hands. Clean now. But she knew what they were capable of. What they had done.

"It's me."

The wind died. The petals stopped falling. The garden held its breath.

And in the distance, the bell began to ring.