Chapter 7: Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7: The Scholar Who Forgot Her Own Death

The headmaster's study smelled of old paper and burnt incense, a combination that made Bai Su's stomach turn. She stood before the massive rosewood desk, her hands still tingling from the phantom blood, while Headmaster Zhou shuffled through a pile of examination scrolls with the careful deliberation of a man who had already lived too long.

"You've been busy, Miss Bai." He didn't look up. "Visiting the bell tower. Speaking with the dead. Getting yourself covered in blood that isn't yours."

"How do you—"

"I know everything that happens in this academy." He finally raised his eyes, and Bai Su felt the weight of them like stones pressing on her chest. "Including the fact that you've been having dreams. Dreams about falling."

Bai Su's breath caught. She hadn't told anyone about the dreams. Every night for the past week, she had woken up mid-scream, her body jerking as if she had just hit the ground, the sensation of wind rushing past her ears still fresh in her mind.

"I don't—"

"Sit down, Miss Bai. Before you collapse."

She sat. Her legs gave out more than she intended, and she landed hard on the wooden chair opposite the desk. Headmaster Zhou pushed a cup of tea toward her. Steam rose in delicate spirals, carrying the scent of jasmine and something else, something metallic that she couldn't place.

"You're wondering why I called you here."

"The servant said it was urgent."

"It is." He folded his hands on the desk. "But not for the reasons you think. I need to tell you a story. A story about a student who came to Wutong Academy five years ago. A student who died before she ever took the examination."

Bai Su's fingers tightened around the teacup. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because that student was you."

The words hung in the air, sharp and cold as winter frost. Bai Su stared at the headmaster, waiting for him to laugh, to take it back, to reveal it as some cruel joke. But his face remained stone still, his eyes holding a sadness that looked ancient.

"That's impossible." Her voice came out steady, which surprised her. "I'm alive. I breathe. I have a heartbeat. I—"

"You have all the memories of being alive. But memories are just stories we tell ourselves. They're not proof."

"I remember my mother's face. The village I grew up in. The day I left for the academy—"

"Do you remember the examination?" He leaned forward. "Do you remember sitting in the hall, brush in hand, writing your answers? Do you remember the exact questions? The other students around you?"

Bai Su opened her mouth. Closed it. The memories were there, but fuzzy, like looking through frosted glass. She remembered studying. She remembered the long walk to the city. She remembered—

Nothing. The day of the examination was blank.

"I died." She said it flatly, testing the words on her tongue. They felt foreign, like a language she had once known but forgotten.

"Five years ago. You fell from the bell tower. The exact same tower you visited today. The exact same window that Chen Feng fell from."

"The window was already broken when I got there."

"No, Miss Bai. You broke it. Five years ago. When you jumped."

Bai Su's teacup shattered. She hadn't realized she had been squeezing it, but the ceramic pieces lay scattered across the desk, the tea spreading in a dark stain that looked like blood. She stared at her hands. The same hands that had been covered in blood in the bell tower. The same hands that had broken the glass.

"I didn't jump." Her voice cracked. "I wouldn't—"

"You don't remember. That's the problem." Headmaster Zhou pulled a scroll from his drawer and unrolled it across the desk. It was old, yellowed, the ink faded to brown. A list of names. Student records. And there, at the bottom, crossed out with a single red line: Bai Su, Age 16, Deceased.

"I was a ghost. All this time."

"Not exactly." He tapped the scroll. "You were a ghost who forgot she was dead. It happens sometimes, especially with students who die before the examination. The desire to complete what you started is so strong that you keep going, keep studying, keep pretending you're alive. Your qi anchors you to this world, and your mind fills in the gaps."

"But I can touch things. I can eat. I—"

"Strong ghosts can. Especially here, where the qi is thick and the boundary between life and death is thin. You've been living on borrowed time, Miss Bai. Borrowed qi."

The words hit her like a physical blow. Borrowed qi. The same thing the killer was stealing. The same thing that was making the ghost students fade.

"Is that why I can see them? The other ghosts?"

"You see them because you are them." He stood up, walked around the desk, and knelt beside her chair. For the first time, Bai Su noticed how old he looked. How tired. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I was hoping you would remember on your own. The memories usually return after five years."

"Five years." She laughed, but it came out hollow. "There's a timer on forgetting you're dead?"

"Something like that." He hesitated. "There's more. The ghost who's been killing the living students—the one who's been stealing qi—you know them."

"I don't—"

"You do. You've known them since before you died. They were your friend. Your study partner. The one who was with you in the bell tower the night you fell."

The room spun. Bai Su gripped the armrests of her chair, her vision swimming with colors that didn't exist. A face floated up from her memory. A girl with sharp eyes and a sharper smile, who always smelled like ink and sandalwood. Who stayed up with her until dawn, drilling examination questions. Who—

"Liang Yue." The name escaped her lips like a curse.

"Liang Yue died three days after you. They said she couldn't bear the guilt. They said she threw herself from the same window."

"No." Bai Su shook her head. "She wouldn't. She was going to pass the examination. She was the smartest person I knew. She—"

"She found your body. She was the one who identified you. And then she was the one who started seeing things. Seeing you."

Bai Su's blood ran cold—or would have, if she still had blood. "She saw me?"

"Everywhere. In the library. In the examination hall. Standing at the window where you fell. She couldn't escape you. And then, one night, she climbed the bell tower and jumped."

"She killed herself because of me."

"She killed herself because she loved you, Miss Bai. And because she couldn't save you."

The study door slammed open. A servant stumbled in, his face white as rice paper. "Headmaster! Headmaster, come quick! The west wing—there's been another one!"

They ran. Through the corridors, past the startled students, into the west wing where a crowd had gathered. The body lay in the center of the study hall, sprawled across a desk covered in examination scrolls. A living student. His eyes were open, his mouth frozen in a scream that never came out.

And written on the wall above him, in what looked like fresh blood:

*"Three down. Six to go. Come find me, Bai Su. I've been waiting."*

The handwriting was elegant. Precise. Painfully familiar.

Bai Su's hands trembled as she read the message. The ink—the blood—dripped down the wall in thin rivulets, pooling on the floor at her feet. She looked at her hands again. Clean. No blood. But she could feel it. Old blood, dried and cracked, staining her palms like rust.

Just like in the bell tower.

"Miss Bai?" The headmaster's voice came from far away. "Miss Bai, are you alright?"

She turned to face him, and the room fell silent.

Her eyes were bleeding.

Not crying blood. Bleeding. Thin streams of crimson running down her cheeks, dripping off her chin, staining her robes. She touched her face, and her fingers came away red.

"I remember," she whispered. "I remember everything."

The memory hit her like a wave of cold water.

She was standing in the bell tower. Night. The stars were out, cold and distant. Liang Yue was beside her, her face wet with tears.

"I can't do this anymore," Bai Su said. "I can't keep pretending I'm going to pass. I've been failing every practice examination. My calligraphy is worse than a child's. I'm not smart enough. I'm not good enough. I'm never going to make it."

"You're being too hard on yourself." Liang Yue reached for her hand. "You're brilliant. You just need more time."

"There is no more time. The examination is in three days."

"Then we'll study harder. I'll help you. I'll—"

"Stop." Bai Su pulled away. "Stop pretending this is going to work. It's not. I'm going to fail. I'm going to go home in disgrace. My family will never forgive me. I'll never forgive myself."

She climbed onto the windowsill. The wind was cold against her skin, pulling at her robes like eager hands.

"Bai Su, don't." Liang Yue's voice was desperate. "Please. Don't do this."

"Tell my mother I'm sorry."

She jumped.

But she didn't fall alone.

Liang Yue grabbed her hand. Tried to pull her back. Lost her balance. And together, they plummeted through the night air, their screams merging into one.

Bai Su hit the ground first. Liang Yue landed on top of her, the impact breaking her neck instantly.

They died together.

But Bai Su didn't stay dead.

She woke up in the infirmary three days later, with no memory of the fall. She walked back to her dormitory. She picked up her brush. She studied for the examination she had already missed.

And Liang Yue—Liang Yue stayed dead. But not gone.

She became the ghost in the shadows. The whisper in the wind. The hand that pushed when no one was looking.

And now she was killing.

"Miss Bai!" The headmaster's voice cut through her memories. "Your eyes—"

Bai Su touched her face. The blood had stopped. But the knowledge remained, heavy and terrible.

Liang Yue wasn't just killing to steal qi.

She was killing to bring Bai Su back to life.

The blood on the wall spelled it out in screaming red:

*"I died for you. Now it's your turn to live for me."*

Bai Su looked at her hands.

For the first time, she could see through them.