In September, Beiping should have been enjoying crisp autumn breezes and streets carpeted with ginkgo leaves. But in the autumn of 1937, the air in the ancient capital was thick with smoke and tension. Dust from Japanese cavalry hooves still clung to the white marble pillars of Tsinghua University’s Second Gate. The familiar sound of students reciting their lessons had been torn apart by sporadic cannon fire from Lugou Bridge, scattering over the stone paths strewn with fallen leaves.
Lin Mo carried a bulging blue cloth bundle and hurried across the lawn in front of Gongzi Hall. Inside were his treasured General Treatise on Electromagnetism, several rolls of handwritten experimental data, and two shirts his mother had sewn overnight. He had just left the physics lab. A little rosin dust clung to the cuffs of his white shirt, and fine beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His eyes, however, were sharp as an eagle’s as he warily scanned his surroundings.
“Lin Mo! Wait for me!”
A breathless shout came from behind. Lin Mo turned to see his classmate Zhao Lei running toward him, clutching a heavy wooden box, his face flushed. “I finally caught up with you. Professor Zhou asked me to give you this. He said to hide it well and make sure it doesn’t fall into Japanese hands.”
