Antonio Garrido - The Corpse Reader

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.

That same afternoon, there was a staff meeting to discuss the question of Cí’s expulsion.

A number of the professors were of the mind that, no matter how talented Cí was, nothing could excuse his behavior. His presence reduced the academy’s credibility, and it was costing them money. His latest outburst had jeopardized the generous donation given annually by Gray Fox’s family.

“In fact,” said one of them, “we had to guarantee Gray Fox’s place in the judiciary to avoid losing all of their funding, which would have been a disaster.”

Ming argued Cí’s case. There was ample proof, he said, that Cí was the author of the report Gray Fox had tried to claim as his own. Others pointed out, though, that Cí had accepted his partner’s authority, and that his subsequent lines of argument, and the way in which he had sought to uphold them, were unacceptable. The majority was clearly in favor of Cí’s immediate expulsion.

But Ming was tenacious, and he expressed his conviction that Cí would eventually be more beneficial to the academy than all the grants in the world. He went further, suggesting that to save the academy money, the professors ought to take Cí on as a personal assistant.

A murmur of disapproval went around. One of the more outspoken professors jumped up and said Cí was a charlatan and that Ming’s interest in the boy was anything but professional. Ming just hung his head at this; for quite some time there had been a faction seeking his dismissal. Before he could respond, the eldest member of the committee stood up.

“Such insinuations are entirely inappropriate.” His voice was booming and authoritative. “Professor Ming is director of this academy and a laudable scholar whose scruples are unquestionable. He has always carried out his work impeccably, and any rumors as to his personal tastes, or anything that occurs beyond these walls, are matters for him and his family.”

Tense silence filled the room. Ming requested the floor, and the elder master ceded it to him.

“It isn’t my reputation, but Cí’s, that we’re here to discuss. Since the moment he arrived, he’s worked night and day, he’s carried out the lowest of tasks, and he’s applied himself to his studies with great gusto. In a few months he’s absorbed more knowledge than many of his peers learn in all their years here. He’s rough, he’s impulsive, but he is brimming with a special and rare talent. I agree that his behavior from time to time deserves our disapproval, absolutely, but the boy is also more than deserving of our generosity.”