Profiler (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 1) (11 page)

Fang Mu studied Du Yu thoughtfully. The guy's expression was totally sincere.

Man
, thought Fang Mu,
first time I ever give him something and he's touched this deeply?

He smiled. "That's right. We're good friends."

After eating lunch, Fang Mu and Du Yu sat at their desks, each using their computer. Du Yu was once more massacring players in
Counter-Strike
like he didn't know the meaning of exhaustion. As for Fang Mu, he had originally intended to organize his records from the Ma Kai case, but now he found that he had no desire to let that dark and bloody affair occupy his mind that afternoon. So having nothing much else to do, he went online and browsed aimlessly.

The door opened. Holding a basketball, Liu Jianjun burst into the room along with several other students, all of them talking and laughing it up. When they saw Fang Mu their voices suddenly fell.

"Still at it?" asked Liu Jianjun, tossing the ball on the floor. "How many times have you been headshot so far?" He pulled off Du Yu's mic and headphones. "Come on, let's go play."

"Stop, let me just finish this game," said Du Yu distractedly, his eyes on the screen

The basketball rolled over to Fang Mu and rubbed against his pants, leaving a mark.

Fang Mu kicked it away.

Seeing Fang Mu's dirty pant leg, Liu Jianjun looked a little embarrassed.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"No problem," said Fang Mu, waving his hand. Then he turned back to his computer and continued surfing the net.

"Aw, man, this guy is frickin' deadly," said Du Yu, leaning back in his chair in

annoyance. "I'm done. This just isn't my day. Let's go play some ball."

Bending over, he grabbed his basketball shoes from under the bed and pulled them on. Then he turned to Fang Mu. "Hey, let's both go."

"What? Oh, no thanks."

"What? Since you're such a superstar, are we gonna have to give you an appearance fee to play with us?" said Du Yu, laughing.

"Aw, don't listen to him," said Liu Jianjun, politely joining in. "You should just come."

Fang Mu hesitated for a moment, and then grabbed a pair of athletic shorts from his dresser, put them on, and followed the others out.

When it came time choose teams at the court, Du Yu made sure Fang Mu was on his side.

"You all had better watch out," he said, pointing at Fang Mu with a half-serious look on his face. "This guy's a beast."

The game began. It was four on four, half-court, and before long eight people were competing fiercely; cutting to the hoop, leaping for rebounds, and scrambling for the ball. Actually, that wasn’t quite correct; in fact, during the first several minutes of play, only seven people were doing those things, while Fang Mu remained practically rooted in place, unsure what to do.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd played in a game like the one he now found himself in. For who knows how long, all he'd done was practice free throws by himself, and he now found it extremely difficult to adapt. 

Suddenly, Du Yu burst through the crowd towards the hoop, dribbling fast. Leaping into the air, he saw Liu Jianjun's enormous frame come flying at him, arms up and ready to block the ball into the stratosphere. At the last second, he spotted Fang Mu out of the corner of his eye, still standing by the foul line, and with a flick of the wrist he passed the ball.

Stunned, Fang Mu instinctively caught the ball. At that moment, one of his teammates cut under the hoop. No one was nearby. Without thinking, Fang Mu immediately passed him the ball, and the teammate unhurriedly laid it in.

"Beautiful!" cried several players in admiration.

The player who just scored ran excitedly over to Fang Mu with his hand raised. At a loss, Fang Mu lifted his own hand.

Smack!
The two of them high-fived.

This sound sent sparks shooting through Fang Mu's brain, and all of a sudden he was filled with a strange yet familiar feeling.

Sweat-soaked backs and blazing-hot afternoons. Friendly cheers and shouted taunts.

The bygone days of his youth, when he had lived without worry or sadness.

Again someone passed the ball to him. This time he caught it smoothly, dribbled between his legs, and then faked left and crossed hard to the right...

Yes, that's how I used to do it.

Is that Eldest Brother jumping to block me?

Stopping on a dime, he leapt into the air and extended his arm. That old familiar feeling.

Swish.
The ball dropped through the net.

"Nice one!" cheered Liu Jianjun.

"What did I say," said Du Yu proudly. "He's untouchable."

"I'll guard him," said Liu Jianjun. He ran over and stuck close to Fang Mu.

As the pace quickened, the game grew more and more intense. Bodies slammed into one another. The ball flew through the air. Pass, catch, shoot, rebound. High-five.

"Jeez, he doesn't miss."

"Man, looking at him you'd never know."

"New teams, new teams. We want Fang Mu!"

Sweat dripped from Fang Mu's forehead. He closed his eyes.

Yes, that's right. Back then, this is how happy I was.

They played until it got so dark they could barely see the ball. At last they gave up, albeit reluctantly. On the way back to the dorm they stopped at a store on campus, where Fang Mu bought a watermelon that had been sitting in a tub of icy water.

The watermelon was still coated with bits of ice when they got back to the dorm room. After slicing it open, everyone grabbed a piece and began to eat. Every now and then someone would cough from choking on one of the seeds, provoking a round of good-natured derision from the others.

"I'm saying, Fang Mu," said Liu Jianjun, wiping watermelon juice from his mouth, "you should join the law school basketball team.
Next
Grad
School
Cup, you'll play shooting guard."

"Me?" said Fang Mu, throwing away his rind. Suddenly he smiled: "I'll need an appearance fee."

Everyone roared with laughter. Liu Jianjun grabbed a watermelon rind and pretended to chuck it at Fang Mu, who laughed and fell back as if it were a direct hit.

Everyone was still carrying on when Meng Fanzhe pushed open the door. As soon as he stepped inside he nearly slipped to the floor on a watermelon rind.

"Jeez, what are you guys up to in here?" he asked.

"Oh, hey," said Du Yu. "Want a piece of watermelon?"

"No thanks," said Du Yu, waving his hand. "I'm just looking for Tom."

"Tom? Who's Tom?" asked Fang Mu, confused.

Liu Jianjun laughed. "Guess you haven't heard. A few days ago this guy got a cat and decided to name it Tom. Which is why," he paused to wink at Fang Mu, "we're all calling Meng Fanzhe 'Jerry'."

As the room once more exploded with laughter, Meng Fanzhe leapt on Liu Jianjun.

"All right, all right," said Du Yu, his voice suddenly serious. "I know where your cat is."

"Where?" said Meng Fanzhe, releasing his hands from Liu Jianjun's throat.

"Here," said Du Yu, lifting his half-finished bowl of meat sauce and noodles. "I saved the tail. Want a taste?"

Meng Fanzhe's face fell. "No way," he said.

"It's so delicious," said Du Yu, licking his lips like he could barely keep from eating it.

"It's okay," Fang Mu quickly butted in, "they're just messing with you." From the look in Meng Fanzhe's eyes, Fang Mu could see he was about to cry.

"You're such a jerk," Meng Fanzhe bit out to Du Yu. He had regained his composure, but his tone was still angry.

"And you're so naive. How could you have believed me?" Du Yu laughed loudly.

Just then a voice shouted angrily from down the hall. "Meng Fanzhe!" it called. "Get over here now! Your stupid cat just shit on my bed!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," said Meng Fanzhe as he whipped around and ran out of the room.

Laughing, several of the others followed him: "Man, this idiot's way too unlucky," they said almost in unison.

"All right, I should be going, too," said Liu Jianjun, climbing to his feet. "Fang Mu, you and I need to play one-on-one sometime."

Fang Mu smiled. "It's a deal."

"As for these watermelon rinds…" Liu Jianjun paused, pretending to be deep in thought, "you guys take care of them!" Then with a laugh he opened the door and slipped out.

Du Yu grabbed a sandal and threw it after him, but it was too late. The sandal merely smacked against the door.

"That jerk," he said, laughing.

Before going to bed, Fang Mu went to the showers to cool down. There, standing beneath the showerhead, his body drenched with ice-cold water, he felt an indescribable happiness well up inside him. Tilting his head back, he let the water wash over him.

Two math students were showering nearby, all the while discussing the "ridiculous body" they'd seen on some girl at the library that day.

Through the frosted glass of the window beside him, Fang Mu could faintly make out the lights of the dormitory opposite. Although blurry, the view seemed somehow warm and cozy.

Actually, life really is full of happiness—it's just that I never felt myself worthy of enjoying it.

Du Yu was already snoring when Fang Mu returned to the dorm, but he'd still been thoughtful enough to leave the desk light on for him.

Fang Mu was exhausted. He hadn't exercised in forever, and his legs and shoulders were already painfully sore. Without waiting for his hair to dry, he climbed immediately into bed.

Feeling something hard beneath his head, he reached under the pillow. It was the dagger.

Lying there, Fang Mu turned the dagger in his hands, inspecting it. The handle was dark green and rough and partly scarred from where it had been burned in the fire. He took the blade from its sheath. It shone cold as death in the light of the desk lamp.

Rolling out of bed, Fang Mu sheathed the knife and stuffed it underneath some clothes in his dresser.

He then lay down once more, switched off the light, and went to sleep.

Later that night, Du Yu woke to the sound of his roommate tossing and turning in his sleep.

"This guy's not having a nightmare again, is he?" he mumbled softly, before once more falling fast asleep.

At 1 o’clock in the morning, Fang Mu suddenly woke with a start, got out of bed and grabbed the knife from the dresser.

Expressionlessly, he slid it underneath his pillow, and then lay back down and pulled the covers overhead.

At last, drowsiness swept over him like a heavy black curtain, and he fell asleep.

CHAPTER
9
Exposed

I
t was Wednesday afternoon, and
Jiangbin
City
University
was holding a school-wide assembly.

The topic at hand was how to implement the State Education Commission's new principle: "Study for the Purpose of Application, and Use Technology to Promote Great Enterprises." In addition to the students, all of the school's teachers and administrative staff were there, too, filling the auditorium to the limit. 

The university president spoke. The school's party secretary spoke. Now it was the provost of research and Education's turn.

Provost Qi had only just been promoted from his former position as head of the Department of Scientific Research, so this was probably his first time addressing the whole school. He seemed both very nervous and very excited. While the two previous speakers had talked for less than 30 minutes combined, this guy had already been at the mic for nearly an hour when he finally began discussing "the second aspect of the second issue."

In the audience, Fang Mu was drifting in and out of sleep. The auditorium was extremely hot. He could feel the sweat dripping down his neck and sticking uncomfortably to the back of his shirt. Forcing himself to open his eyes, he fanned himself with his collar and looked around.

Du Yu was sleeping soundly in the seat to his right, head tilted to the side and saliva dripping on his shoulder. Fang Mu smiled. The poor guy had no idea. The person sitting to his left was actually still awake, though his head kept slowly nodding. He seemed unable to last much longer.

"Comrade Deng Xiaoping once said that 'Science and technology are our primary forces of production.' This demonstrates the importance of science and technology in a modernizing socialist economy, but it also raises a question for those of us engaged in scientific research. That is: Why do we research?" Provost Qi paused for a moment, but the sleepers in the audience before him kept right on sleeping, while those still awake were barely even paying attention. Since this pause was doing nothing to elicit the moment of deep thought that Provost Qi had intended, he had no choice but to answer his own question: "To serve society."

To cover up his embarrassment, he lifted his cup of tea, took a sip, and then spit out the tea leaves. Newly invigorated, he continued. "In this we are not doing nearly enough. In search of personal and professional gain, our professors diligently research the most abstract issues, but very rarely do they consider whether their work will offer anything of significance to society at large. This has caused scientific research to become seriously out of touch with practical reality. If no one makes use of your discoveries, then they are useless. And if your discoveries are useless, then what is the point of all the hard work you have put into them?"

Provost Qi withdrew an envelope from his coat pocket and waved it back and forth in an exaggerated manner. "I have here a commendatory letter, and while it was written on behalf of a student, I believe that this student can nonetheless serve as a model for all those present!"

At once the auditorium became silent. Many of those who had been dozing off opened their eyes.

Provost Qi was obviously pleased with this result. He opened the envelope and took out the letter. "As I'm sure everyone is aware, over the past few months a series of brutal murders were committed here in
Jiangbin
City
. For a long time the police were stumped and the killer remained at large. But then one of our students, armed with knowledge he had learned at our school, put it to practical use by helping the public security bureau crack the case."

Fang Mu's mouth fell open.

"One of the victims, a little girl, was successfully rescued by the police and our student, and her father wrote this letter in thanks. Reading it, I was deeply moved. To think that one of our students could boldly act in the face of danger and hardship, merging the theoretical and the actual into a most effective tool—this sort of spirit deserves our most vigorous encouragement and praise!"

Whispering excitedly, the crowd began looking around at one another, scanning the auditorium.

"Settle down, please!" Practically glowing, Provost Qi extended his arms in a motion meant to pacify the murmuring crowd. "Now, we would like to invite Fang Mu, Class of 2004 at the law school's criminology department, to come to the stage and say a few words." He leaned in close to the microphone and intoned, "Fang Mu, Fang Mu, where are you in attendance today?"

Fang Mu's mind had gone completely blank, and it wasn't until Du Yu gave him several sharp nudges that he snapped out of it and dazedly raised his hand.

Click
. A spotlight was immediately shined on him, illuminating Fang Mu and all those nearby.

"All right then, come on up here," said Provost Qi, brimming with enthusiasm as he beckoned Fang Mu.

The light was painfully bright. At a loss, Fang Mu looked back and forth. The students in his row were already standing to give him room to get out. Seeing that he had no other choice, he struggled past them and then walked down the aisle toward the stage. The spotlight followed him the whole time. Cameras flashed on either side.

How long is this aisle
?
How have I not yet reached the stage
? He found himself wondering. White light filled his eyes; he could barely see a thing. He felt dizzy and astonished and certain that he might fall over at any moment.

Run away—just go for it. Turn and disappear like a cloud of smoke.

Anxious to begin, Provost Qi was already standing at the corner of the stage. As soon as Fang Mu arrived, the provost reached out, grabbed Fang Mu's hand, and pulled him up. Then with one arm on Fang Mu's shoulder, he half-pulled, half-pushed him over to the microphone.

"Very good, very good," he said. "Now please, Fang Mu, tell us your thoughts."

Fang Mu froze. He looked helplessly at the crowd sitting before him. They were all staring at him, everyone's face expressing something different: curiosity, surprise, scorn, admiration—and jealousy.

This has to be a nightmare. Make it all go away and let me disappear.

After more than 30 seconds, Fang Mu forced open his mouth, and a single word tumbled out: "I…"

Standing beside him, Provost Qi couldn't wait any longer. "Tell everyone how you helped the Public Security Bureau crack the case."

Fang Mu's face looked white as paper in the spotlight. A river of sweat dripped down his forehead. His teeth were clenched tightly together as if he were having a spasm.

Holding its collective breath, the audience quietly watched him. He didn't say another word.

"All right then," said Provost Qi, finally losing his patience. He walked over to the microphone and forced a smile. "Right now it would seem that silence is superior to speech. While I am certain that Fang Mu has many things he would like to tell us, at the moment he appears to be a little too nervous. Okay, Fang Mu, please return to your seat."

In an instant, energy seemed to return to Fang Mu's body, and he stepped stiffly away from the microphone and left the stage. But rather than return to his seat, he continued down the aisle, past all the whispered comments and prying eyes, and walked straight out of the auditorium.

"Hello?" Tai Wei's voice was cold and detached. There was silence on the other end of the phone line. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Was it you who gave my name to the little girl's father?"

"So it's you." Tai Wei laughed and his voice became cheerful despite Fang Mu’s frustrated tone. "Well, how was it? Did you get the thank you letter?"

"You—!"

Tai Wei laughed. "So did the school commend you?"

"What were you thinking?" Not wanting to swear, Fang Mu forced himself to keep his cool.

"What do you mean, what was I thinking?" asked Tai Wei, a little shocked. "I just wanted to give you a nice surprise is all. What's wrong? You afraid someone will try and get revenge? Well, rest easy, because there's no way. Ma Kai's family is long gone and he doesn't have a friend in the world."

 Fang Mu angrily hung up the phone.

Tai Wei was baffled. "What's wrong with this kid?" he mused, looking at his cell phone. His good intentions had been taken for malice, and now he felt more than a little angry himself.

Fang Mu kept his head down on the way to his dorm. Doing his best to remain inconspicuous, he took the long way back, walking along the campus wall.

The assembly had ended by now. All around him packs of students were rushing to the dining hall or back to their dorms. They shot him curious looks when they recognized him. Staring at his shoes, Fang Mu hurried back to Room 313.

It seemed like an inordinately long walk, but he finally reached his dorm room. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, only to be confronted by a room full of people.

They seemed to have been in the midst of an intense discussion, but as soon as they saw him, they went silent. Seconds later, however, they all crowded around him and began asking a million questions at once.

"Fang Mu, was what the provost said true?"

"What did the guy look like?"

"I heard he even sucked their blood; is that true?"

"Did the public security bureau give you a cash reward?"

Pushing them forcefully aside, Fang Mu walked over to his desk. Then he turned back, his gaze sweeping across the hopeful faces of the crowd. When he spoke, his voice was suddenly cold. "Get out."

When some of them still seemed about to say something, he roared, "Get out!"

Everyone leaped in surprise. Dissatisfied, some of them began to grumble.

"What's the big deal?" one mumbled. "All you did was crack the case, right?"

Fang Mu turned away from them and sat at his desk. He did not look back.

The crowd stood there awkwardly until Du Yu quietly ushered them out. "He's not feeling so well today," he said. "You guys had better go."

At last Fang Mu and Du Yu were the only people left in the room. Fang Mu took out a cigarette, lit it shakily, and took several deep drags. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, exhausted.

Du Yu cautiously watched Fang Mu’s expression. After a thoughtful moment, he spoke. "That provost is too much, making you go onstage like that and say something. No matter what, he should have at least given you time to prepare. Doing it cold is just too awkward."

"Thanks," said Fang Mu listlessly, "but please shut up or else I'll have to leave, too."

Taken aback, Du Yu seemed about to respond. Thinking again, he said nothing more.

The phone rang. Seeing that his roommate wasn't about to move, Du Yu walked over and picked it up. After asking who was calling, he handed the phone to Fang Mu.

"It's Professor Qiao. He wants to speak to you."

Rousing himself, Fang Mu took the phone. "Hello, Professor. How are you?"

"Hi, Fang Mu. Are you busy now?" Professor Qiao's voice was as deep as ever, but today it was also very stern, with none of the warmth Fang Mu had come to expect.

"No, I'm not busy."

"Good. Then please come over to my house." Before Fang Mu could respond, Professor Qiao had already hung up the phone.

Professor Qiao Yunping sat in his living room smoking one cigarette after another. Before long he began feeling a tightness in his chest, so he stood up, walked over to his French window, and looked off into the distance. Dark clouds filled the gray sky. It was not a sight to make one feel at ease. Looking down, he saw Fang Mu haggling with the boss of the fruit stand just outside his building.

The youth’s face was dripping with sweat. It looked like he had run the whole way. After bargaining a little longer, he bought a bunch of bananas, two pineapples, as well as several peaches and mangosteens.

Seeing the anxious look on Fang Mu's face, Qiao Yunping's anger began to subside.

Of all of his students, Fang Mu was his favorite. Qiao Yunping still remembered how Fang Mu's scores on the general Graduate Entrance Exam had been mediocre, but when he came in for the oral examination at the beginning of school, his performance had been genius. When Qiao Yunping asked him several questions about Western criminal history, Fang Mu responded without a hitch. Not only did his answers demonstrate a sturdy grasp of the fundamentals, but his personal opinions were unique and incisive. Qiao Yunping decided at once to be his graduate advisor. As he later found out, Fang Mu was much more hardworking than the majority of graduate students, many of whom simply idled away their time after getting into school. In addition to his required homework, Fang Mu would often comb through old cases in the judicial archives. Qiao Yunping wholeheartedly approved of this style of work, for he had always believed that when it came to criminological research, it was best to let the facts speak for themselves. Today, however, his most adored pupil had made him incredibly angry.