Chapter 8: Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8: The Song Beneath the Skin

The headmaster's office was a mausoleum of bureaucratic ambition. Scrolls stacked like coffins against the walls. A desk carved from a single slab of black stone, polished to a mirror shine that reflected nothing clearly. And behind it, Headmaster Zhou waited with the patience of a spider who had long since stopped counting the flies in its web.

Bai Su entered and immediately felt the temperature drop. Not the cold of autumn seeping through cracks, but something deeper. Something that settled into her bones like damp rot.

"Miss Bai." Headmaster Zhou did not rise. He gestured to the chair across from him—a simple wooden thing that looked older than the academy itself. "Please. Sit."

She sat. The wood groaned beneath her, a sound like a dying breath.

"I understand you've been exploring the bell tower." His voice was smooth, practiced. The voice of a man who spent decades learning exactly how much to say and precisely when to say nothing at all. "An interesting choice for a new student. Most prefer the library."

"The library was crowded."

"Was it?" He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those eyes were black stones, flat and ancient. "Tell me, what did you find in the tower?"

Bai Su considered her options. Lie, and risk being caught in a web she couldn't see. Tell the truth, and reveal how much she already knew. She chose a third path.

"I found a window that shouldn't have been broken. A rope that rang a bell by itself. And a footprint that matched my shoe."

The headmaster's smile flickered. Just for a moment. Then it returned, wider than before. "That's quite a collection for one afternoon. Did you also find the student who fell from that window?"

"Chen Feng."

"Ah." He leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him. "So you've heard the story. Let me tell you the version I know. Chen Feng was a promising scholar. Top of his class. Destined for greatness, they said." He paused, his fingers drumming on the desk. "Then one night, he walked to the bell tower and jumped. No note. No warning. No reason anyone could find."

"And you believe that?"

"I believe in evidence, Miss Bai. The evidence said suicide. The case was closed."

"By who?"

The headmaster's eyes narrowed. "By Magistrate Lin, a week after Chen Feng's death. He was thorough. Spoke to every student, every teacher, every servant who might have seen something. He found nothing."

Bai Su's mind raced. Magistrate Lin. The name meant nothing to her, but the timing did. A week after the death. Long enough for evidence to be planted. Long enough for witnesses to be paid off or silenced.

"And his investigation is still on file?"

"Of course. Everything in Wutong Academy is documented. We believe in transparency." He pushed a scroll across the desk. "This is a copy. Read it if you like. But I warn you—it won't give you peace."

Bai Su took the scroll. It was heavy, sealed with red wax stamped with the academy's emblem—a phoenix rising from flames. She didn't open it. Not yet.

"Is there anything else, Headmaster?"

"One more thing." He reached into his desk and pulled out a small wooden box. It was unadorned, the wood dark with age. "This was found among Chen Feng's belongings. The servants thought it was trash, but I had a feeling it might interest you."

He slid it across the desk. Bai Su caught it before it could fall.

"Open it."

She did.

Inside was a lock of hair. Long, black, braided with a single red thread. And beneath it, a slip of paper with characters written in a hand so small and cramped she had to squint to read them.

*The third bell tolls for the living dead.*
*The scholar who remembers what should be forgot.*
*The song beneath the skin.*

Bai Su's blood went cold. The song beneath the skin. She had heard that phrase before. Somewhere. The memory was there, just out of reach, like a word on the tip of her tongue.

"Do you know what it means?" the headmaster asked.

"No."

"Neither do I. But I have a feeling you'll find out." He stood, signaling the end of the audience. "Take it. Study it. And Miss Bai?"

She looked up.

"Be careful what you remember. Some memories are better left buried."

---

Bai Su left the headmaster's office with the box tucked under her arm and the scroll in her hand. She didn't go to her dormitory. She went to the library.

The librarian, a gaunt woman named Mrs. Chen who looked like she hadn't seen sunlight in decades, barely glanced up as Bai Su entered. "Back so soon?"

"I need to see the old records. Anything from three years ago."

"Third shelf, east wing. Don't touch the red scrolls."

Bai Su found the shelf easily enough. It was crammed with dusty tomes and brittle papers, the kind of records that no one had touched in years. She pulled out a stack and began to read.

Three years ago. The year Chen Feng died.

The records were meticulous. Class rosters, examination scores, disciplinary reports. She found Chen Feng's name easily enough—he was at the top of every list, his scores near-perfect, his conduct record spotless.

Too spotless.

She searched for any mention of conflict, of arguments, of enemies. There were none. It was as if Chen Feng had been a ghost long before he died, a perfect student who left no mark on the world except his grades.

But everyone leaves marks.

She dug deeper. Found the servant records, the kitchen logs, the maintenance reports. And there, buried in a list of broken furniture from the east wing, she found something.

*Room 47. Desk destroyed. Cause unknown. No disciplinary action taken.*

Room 47. Chen Feng's room.

She found the key in the librarian's office and made her way to the east wing. The building was older than the rest of the academy, its walls stained with damp and its floorboards warped from centuries of footsteps. Room 47 was at the end of a long, dark hallway, its door sealed with a padlock that looked new.

Bai Su unlocked it and stepped inside.

The room was exactly as it had been left. A bed, stripped of sheets. A desk, its surface scarred with knife marks. A window that looked out onto the courtyard where Chen Feng had died.

She walked to the desk and ran her fingers over the cuts. They were deep, deliberate. Some formed characters, others were just lines, as if someone had been trying to carve something out of the wood.

And then she saw it.

*You are not the first to see.*

The words were carved into the underside of the desk, hidden from anyone who didn't think to look. The strokes were uneven, desperate, like a man writing in the dark.

Bai Su knelt down and read the rest.

*They are watching. Always watching. The song comes at night, when the bells are silent. It calls to you. It knows your name. It knows the name you had before you were born.*

*Do not answer.*

She felt a cold hand on her shoulder and spun around.

No one was there.

But the air had changed. It was heavier now, thick with something that pressed against her skin like damp cloth. And she heard it.

A song.

Faint at first, barely audible over the beating of her heart. But it grew louder, sweeter, a melody that curled around her thoughts like smoke.

*The moon is round, the night is long,*
*Come with me, I'll sing you a song.*
*Of scholars dead and scholars born,*
*Of souls that wait until the morn.*

Bai Su clamped her hands over her ears. The song didn't stop. It seeped through her fingers, through her skin, through her skull, until it was inside her, a voice that was not her own but felt like it had always been there.

She stumbled out of the room and slammed the door shut. The song stopped.

But the echo remained.

---

That night, Bai Su sat in her dormitory, staring at the lock of hair and the slip of paper. The headmaster's words echoed in her mind. *Be careful what you remember.*

She didn't know what she was supposed to remember. She didn't know why the song felt familiar. She didn't know why the footprint in the bell tower had matched her shoe.

But she knew one thing.

She had been to Wutong Academy before.

The memory surfaced like a corpse rising from water. A girl, no older than twelve, standing in the courtyard. Her mother beside her, squeezing her hand too tightly. The headmaster—the same headmaster, though younger then—smiling down at her.

*"Welcome to Wutong Academy, Miss Bai. I hope you will be happy here."*

She had been a student here. Years ago. Before she left. Before she forgot.

But why had she left? And why couldn't she remember?

The lock of hair glinted in the candlelight. The red thread seemed to pulse, alive with a warmth that had nothing to do with fire.

Bai Su picked it up and held it to her nose.

It smelled of incense. And blood.

A knock at the door made her jump.

"Miss Bai?" It was the servant girl from earlier. "Miss Bai, there's someone here to see you. A visitor."

"A visitor? At this hour?"

"She says it's urgent. She says—" The servant paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. "She says she knew Chen Feng."

Bai Su's heart stopped.

"Where is she?"

"The east gate. She wouldn't come inside. She said she'd wait."

Bai Su grabbed her cloak and ran.

---

The east gate was a relic, rusted and half-swallowed by ivy. No one used it anymore. No one had used it in years.

But someone was waiting there.

A woman, young, her face hidden beneath a hood. She stood in the shadows, her hands clasped in front of her, her posture rigid with fear.

"You're Bai Su?" Her voice was a whisper, barely audible over the wind.

"I am. Who are you?"

The woman pulled back her hood.

Bai Su's blood froze.

The face was young, pretty, with delicate features and dark eyes that held a depth of sorrow that seemed ancient. But it was the scar that drew Bai Su's attention—a thin, white line that ran from the woman's temple to her jaw, as if someone had tried to carve her face off.

"My name is Lin Yue. I was Chen Feng's betrothed."

Bai Su stared at her. "Chen Feng was engaged?"

"Secretly. His family didn't approve. Mine didn't either. But we loved each other." She took a shaky breath. "And I know he didn't jump."

"How?"

"Because I was there."

The words hung in the air, heavy as stones.

"I was in the bell tower that night," Lin Yue continued. "We had arranged to meet. He had something to tell me. Something important. But when I arrived, he was already—" Her voice broke. "He was already falling."

"Who pushed him?"

"I don't know. I didn't see. But I heard something."

"What?"

Lin Yue's eyes met hers. "A song. Sweet and familiar. Like something I had heard before I was born."

Bai Su's blood ran cold.

*The song beneath the skin.*

"Do you remember the words?"

Lin Yue nodded. She opened her mouth to sing—

And stopped.

Her eyes went wide. Her face went pale. She