Profiler

CHAPTER 22

Fang Mu's wound wasn't long, but it was very deep. After cleaning it out, the tired-looking doctor on duty at the hospital closed it up with two stitches. When Fang Mu left the examination room, Little Zhang, the cop that had escorted him, was on the phone. Seeing Fang Mu emerge, he quickly hung up. He then asked him a few brief questions about his injury, and said that he would take him back to the school.

Fang Mu shook his head. "Take me to the city bureau."

"Absolutely not." Little Zhang's tone was firm. "Captain Tai ordered me to take you back to school."

"I was the victim of this crime. Don't you have to take my statement?"

Little Zhang seemed stumped by the question, but after hesitating for a moment, he still insisted on taking Fang Mu back to his dorm.

"Well, I don't need an escort!" Fang Mu yelled. "I can get there myself!" He stormed out of the hospital.

As soon as he was outside, he hurriedly hid around the side of the building. A few seconds later he saw Little Zhang sprint out after him. The cop looked all around, swearing beneath his breath. Then he hopped into his car, started it up, and sped off.

When Little Zhang was far enough away, Fang Mu left his hiding place and walked straight to the line of cabs waiting outside the hospital.

The entrance to the city bureau was ablaze with light. Cars packed the courtyard. After hopping out of the cab, Fang Mu approached the heavily-armed policeman guarding the entrance.

"Officer Tai asked me to come and give my statement," he told the cop.

The cop nodded and went into his sentry box to make a call. A few minutes later, Little Zhang came running out of the building.

"I knew you were going to follow me here!" Little Zhang snapped at Fang Mu. "Don't say anything else. As soon as you finish your statement you're leaving. Captain Tai said he'll contact you in a few days."

Fang Mu had no choice but to follow him as he walked away.

After bringing Fang Mu to one of the detainment rooms, the cop told him to wait there a moment and to not do anything stupid, and then left the room.

As soon as he left the room, Fang Mu snuck out after him. The corridor was jammed with people. Uniformed and plainclothes police officers hurried from one room to the next. Occasionally someone would look suspiciously at him, but no one ever stopped to say anything. As he walked, he kept hearing things like, "Bring these documents to the third floor as fast as you can" and "To the interrogation room."

Everyone seemed to be paying close attention to what was happening on the third floor.

Doing his best to stay inconspicuous, Fang Mu hurried up to the third floor.

A large iron door stood open at the end of the corridor. Beyond that was another room. Its back wall was all glass. At the moment, over a dozen policemen were standing quietly near the glass wall. Fang Mu could hear Tai Wei's voice coming from within the crowd.

"…At that moment I feigned having diarrhea, and hid in the bathroom and listened for sounds of movement," he was saying. "Sure enough, I soon heard someone climbing the stairs, so I quietly followed behind him. After he entered the third floor hallway, I watched as he walked a few steps, stopped, and then walked a little farther, until he was standing in front of Room Three-Thirteen. There he seemed to either knock or write something on the door — I couldn't tell at the distance. Afterwards the victim spoke briefly to him, and since I figured that they knew each other, I turned to leave. But before I had gone ten feet I heard the sound of fighting, after which I restrained him and then brought him back here…"

Fang Mu walked quietly farther into the room. Everyone was watching Tai Wei with bated breath, so not a single person noticed him.

"Can you guarantee that this is the killer?" asked one of the listeners, a stern-looking man with a beer belly.

"I can!" Tai Wei's voice and expression were both resolute. "First of all, we discovered that he had indicated the number seven on the victim's door; second, one of my men from the special investigation team recently finished checking the scene — including the suspect's room — and he just called me to say they made a huge discovery."

Several female officers now rushed over and handed several thick stacks of documents to Tai Wei. After briefly flipping through them, he turned to the fat, grave-faced man and said, "Director, we can begin."

The director nodded. "Then let's get started."

Everyone turned toward the glass wall. Not daring to get too close, Fang Mu did his best to catch what was happening through a space in the crowd.

The wall was actually a one-way mirror. On the other side of it was the interrogation room.

Inside that room, it was sparsely furnished, containing only a single table with a lamp, two chairs on one side and one on the other. Two policemen sat side by side, one flipping through the documents that had just been given to him, the other writing something on a piece of paper. The chair opposite them was fixed to the floor, appearing horribly cold and uncomfortable. A camera monitored the scene from the ceiling. It was equipped with a microphone, which amplified all the sounds within the interrogation room and transmitted them to the room on the other side of the glass wall where the onlookers observed.

The small door on the right side of the room opened and Meng Fanzhe was led in by two policemen. His hands and feet were shackled.

He kept his head down and appeared extremely weak, swaying when the police forced him into the chair. The blood had already dried around his mouth and his face was covered with dark red splotches.

The two policemen stared at him for several seconds. Then the older one said: "Name?"

Keeping his head down, Meng Fanzhe made no response.

The other officer turned the desk lamp to face Meng Fanzhe. Enveloped by the bright light, Meng Fanzhe's body made a twisted shadow on the back wall of the room.

"Name?"

Meng Fanzhe still said nothing. He was so motionless he could have been sleeping.

The older officer calmly lit a cigarette and opened one of the files in front of him. "Where were you on the morning of July 1, 2002, between one and three a.m.?"

No response.

"Where were you on the morning of August 10, 2002, between eight and nine a.m.?"

Still no response.

The other officer looked at the mirror on the wall behind him. He knew that many of his colleagues as well as the director himself were all watching from the other side. Turning back to Meng Fanzhe, who was still sitting as lifeless as a block of wood, he couldn't help but be shamed into anger.

Slamming a fist down on the table, the interrogator yelled, "Meng Fanzhe! Don't think that if you stay silent everything will be okay. According to the code of criminal procedure — "

Before he could finish what he was saying, Meng Fanzhe's head suddenly jerked up. Although he was facing the bright light, his eyes were wide open. If looks could have killed, the two officers opposite him would have been dead instantly.

"Aghh!" The same wild howl that Fang Mu had heard in the hallway roared again.

Although shackled to the chair, Meng Fanzhe struggled forward with all the strength he had, looking like he might snap his fetters at any moment and leap on the two officers. The younger one was so startled by the outburst that he recoiled back in his seat. The two cops standing behind Meng Fanzhe hurried to hold him down, but in that moment he seemed to have acquired superhuman strength at odds with his feeble appearance. Despite their superior size, the cops were unable to control him as he thrashed about in his confines, and one was nearly bitten in the commotion.

One of them pulled out a police baton and raised it.

Behind that two-way mirror, Fang Mu was in motion. "No!" He suddenly dove against the glass and pounded it with his fists.

Everyone observing froze at his outburst. After standing there stunned for two seconds, Tai Wei blurted, "Fang Mu?"

Fang Mu spun around and grabbed Tai Wei's arm. "Don't hurt him…"

"Who are you?" asked the director, cutting him off.

"Oh, he's the one that the suspect attacked," said Tai Wei quickly. "I asked him here to take his statement." He turned around and whispered to Fang Mu, "Go downstairs, I'll be there in a little bit."

"Tai Wei," said Fang Mu, pulling on his arm almost entreatingly, "let me talk to him. I'm positive something's up. There's no way he's the killer."

"Absolutely not!" Tai Wei threw him off and then whispered sternly, "Where do you think you are? Get downstairs now."

Fang Mu was adamant. "It can't be him; he's nothing like the person I predicted…"

The director, who had been standing to the side and aloofly watching all this, now spoke: "Tai Wei, is this the so-called genius you told me about?"

Realizing that it was already too late to hide anything, Tai Wei had no choice but to tell the truth. "Yes, sir." he said. "This is the one."

The director snorted disdainfully and turned to look into the interrogation room. Meng Fanzhe was still struggling, and had thrown both the cops off of him. One took out his electric baton, turned it on.

"Get out of the way!" he yelled to his comrade. Barely had the other officer moved, than the first officer pressed the baton against Meng Fanzhe's shoulder.

At once Meng Fanzhe's eyes went wide and his body bent like a bow as the current surged through him. The cop prodded him several more times, and after each Meng Fanzhe howled in pain and writhed like a fish on a chopping block. In moments he was no longer struggling, just slumped over in his chair, his whole body shaking.

With a hard look on his face, the observing director said, "We won't interrogate him tonight. Just lock him up for now; tomorrow we'll get some experts over here to give him a psychological assessment." He turned and walked out, glaring furiously at Tai Wei as he passed.

Tai Wei tried to explain, but the director had already passed. Helplessly, he just shook his head and turned back to the interrogation room where Meng Fanzhe was being dragged out of his seat like a dead dog. For a moment Tai Wei stood there with his arms crossed. Without turning his head, he said, "Take him back."

"Yes, sir," said Little Zhang. He grabbed Fang Mu's arm. "Let's go!"

Fang Mu tried to argue, but the cop pulled him roughly away.

The whole way back to the dorm, Little Zhang didn't say a word, just sped through the city streets. Fang Mu didn't want to talk either. He stared at the ink-black sky through the car windshield, his mind blank.

Arriving at the campus, Little Zhang tightly gripped Fang Mu's arm and marched him swiftly up to the third floor of Dormitory 5. By then Fang Mu's whole body ached and he had long since given up resisting.

The hallway was filled with noise and packed with onlookers. Some were students wearing nothing but underwear and a blanket over their shoulders; others were campus security guards who had just heard the news. Through the crowd, Fang Mu could see that all the lights in Meng Fanzhe's room were on and he could hear one of the cops standing outside yell repeatedly for everyone to move back.

The number for Room 313 had already been taken as evidence, and when the cop escorting Fang Mu tried to open the door, he found it was locked.

"Who here lives in Room Three-Thirteen?" Little Zhang yelled into the crowd.

Du Yu was also out watching the commotion, but when he heard this he came running over and opened the door.

Pushing Fang Mu into the room, Little Zhang said, "Don't go running off anywhere." Then he turned to Du Yu and said, "You keep an eye on him." He walked out and slammed the door.

Hands at his sides, Fang Mu just stood there for several seconds. Then he slowly walked over to his bed and collapsed on it.

Giving him a worried look, Du Yu said cautiously, "Fang Mu, you want something to drink?"

Fang Mu didn't say anything, just slowly shook his head. He lay there only seconds before he suddenly leapt out of bed, threw open the door, and ran toward Meng Fanzhe's room. He pushed through the crowd gathered there until he had reached the doorway. He lifted the police tape stretched across it and headed inside.

A number of police were already inside inspecting the scene. Little Zhang was among them. Seeing Fang Mu enter, he rushed over to stop him.

"What the hell are you trying to do now?" he asked.

"What have you guys found?" asked Fang Mu anxiously.

The other cops just looked at one another.

Now Little Zhang was angry and he turned Fang Mu around and led him towards the door. "Get out of here. This isn't your business. If we find anything, Tai Wei will let you know.

Fang Mu shoved the cop's hand off of him and darted back into the room, yelling, "Just what have you guys found?"

"Fang Mu!" Little Zhang yelled, sliding a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "You're obstructing police business. Don't make me do this!"

Pushing through the crowd, Du Yu grabbed Fang Mu and pulled him away, saying quietly, "Brother, let's head back now; you can figure the rest out tomorrow."

Still fuming, Little Zhang turned to one of the security guards standing nearby. "Make all these students return to their dorms! They're getting in the way of our work!"

One after another, the security guards sprang into action. "Everyone back to your dorms," they told the curious students. "Anyone who sticks his head out again will receive a public criticism… No, a demerit in their permanent record!"

After being dragged by Du Yu back inside their room, Fang Mu stood by the door for a long time, his breath coming heavily. Before he could even catch his breath, he suddenly tore open one of his desk drawers, grabbed several thick brown paper folders, and tossed them on the desktop with a thud. He pulled several stacks of files out of them and began studying each in silence.

Du Yu stood some distance away, cautiously trying to see what Fang Mu was looking at. He could just barely make out several pictures of blood-soaked murder scenes and could hear his roommate whispering to himself.

"Impossible," Fang Mu murmured. "It can't be him… It can't be him…"

Where am I?

My head hurts so bad, like it's gonna explode…

What did I do…?

…

"Do you have a lucky number?"

"No, I don't really believe in that kind of stuff. Anyway, the reason I came this time was — "

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Do you know which number the majority of people like the most?"

"I don't know. Is it…eight?"

"Only Chinese people think that way. And mainly just the nouveau riche and low-class, rural moneybags. (Translator’s note: The Chinese word for eight is pronounced ba, meaning "to get rich.") Look, you're smiling. I told you, don't be anxious."

"I'm not anxious, it's just that I feel…I feel like we've sort of taken a step backward. Because the past few days in class, I started to be afraid of roll call again."

"Oh? When did this begin?"

"The last time…the last time we met."

"Don't worry; this is very normal. Some things need to be repeatedly reinforced before you can reach the optimum result."

"I hope you can help me."

"All right, but you must follow what I say exactly. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

…

My God, now I remember…

Fang Mu, are you dead?

…

"What should I do? Tell me, what should I do?"

"Don't worry; let me think."

"I embarrassed myself so badly today. I was in front of so many people and I just couldn't say 'here'…"

"Perhaps we should change tactics; however, this other tactic will probably seem a little harsh. Are you sure you can handle it?"

"I…"

"If you can succeed, you will eliminate this fear forever."

There was a pause.

"But if you feel that you are simply a weak person, then forget it. I can't help you."

"…I…I'm willing to try."

"Very good. Now I want you to lie down on that couch. Relax, and then we will began."

There was a moment.

"You are now in class. Try and imagine it. Your classmates are all around you. There are so many people… The teacher takes the attendance sheet…begins reading the names one by one…Meng Fanzhe!"

Pause.

"Meng Fanzhe!"

He writhed uncontrollably, sweat pouring down his face.

"Meng Fanzhe!"

"Meng Fanzhe!"

"Meng Fanzhe!"

"Meng Fanzhe!"

"Aghh!"

…

It's so cold…

My arms and legs won't move. I want to hold my shoulders, but I can't…

Help me, help me…

…

"Are you scared of death?"

"Of course; who isn't scared of death?"

"Actually, there's nothing scary about death. What do you do when you feel unhappy?"

"Um, play video games, or hole up and sleep for a long time."

"Is that so? Actually, death is just a much longer kind of sleep. In it you can forget all your troubles. Many people would rather die than lose their dignity. Have you heard of Hemingway?"

"Yeah, The Old Man and the Sea."

"When faced with an incurable disease, he chose to kill himself rather than forfeit his dignity. To be honest, sometimes I really envy him."

A pause.

…

What should I do?

Did I kill someone?

I'm finished…

…

"Have you ever noticed that seven is a very interesting number?"

"Oh, is that so?"

"Think about it. There are seven days in the week, seven colors in the spectrum, seven notes in the diatonic scale. Therefore, seven symbolizes satisfaction."

"Oh, is that so?"

"And when you're satisfied, there's nothing else to worry about, isn't that right?"

…

I'm a murderer…

Everyone will know that I'm a murderer…

For the rest of her life my mother will be filled with shame…

I'm twenty-four…

My life, this is how it ends…

…

"Take this…go back to your dorm room…search your surroundings, find the number seven…there you will fulfill all your desires…"

…

It's hopeless…

It's hopeless…

…

Fang Mu didn't fall asleep until nearly four in the morning, and he was still at his desk.

He awoke later that day to the noise of people bustling about outside. A feeling of discomfort hung over him. His chest hurt from having been pressed against the edge of the desk and his body felt heavy. He struggled to stand up. A blanket lay on the floor behind him. He figured Du Yu must have placed it over his shoulders.

His finger ached, too. Blood had leaked through the gauze. He must have reopened it in the commotion last night.

But he didn't care about any of this. Reaching unsteadily for the cup on his desk, he downed the lukewarm water in one gulp.

Too impatient to wash his face, he quickly organized his things and got ready to leave.

He had to see Meng Fanzhe that day. All the clues indicated that he could not be the killer. However, some questions remained, and only Meng Fanzhe could answer them.

As Fang Mu opened the door to leave, he bumped into someone standing the hallway.

It was Tai Wei.

"You're just in time. Take me to see Meng Fanzhe." Saying no more, Fang Mu took hold of Tai Wei's elbow and tried leading him toward the door.

But Tai Wei didn't move. "It's too late."

"Huh?" Fang Mu stopped and looked back at him.

"Meng Fanzhe is dead," Tai Wei said somberly.

Fang Mu stared at him for nearly half a minute, until Tai Wei pulled him back inside the room.

"We'd better talk in here," he said.

Fang Mu stood in the center of his room, staring blankly out the window. He didn't look at Tai Wei, didn't say a word.

"This morning before dawn — " Tai Wei began.

Fang Mu suddenly raised his hand to stop him from going on. He crouched down and put his head between his knees as the events caught up with him, his whole body shaking fiercely.

Tai Wei waited for Fang Mu to calm down a little before slowly helping him to sit on the bed. He handed him a cigarette and lit it for him.

With a dull look on his face, Fang Mu put the cigarette in his mouth and inhaled viciously. He smoked the cigarette before turning to Tai Wei. His voice was hoarse as he asked, "How did he die?"

"He smashed his head against the wall," Tai Wei said simply.

"Why did no one stop him?" Fang Mu asked in an almost demanding tone.

"We had already taken all the necessary precautions," Tai Wei insisted. "We shut him inside the detainment room and shackled his hands and feet to the chair. At first, the guard on duty heard him crying, and then he heard something thumping. But when he ran inside it was already too late."

"His hands and feet were both shackled, so then how…?"

Tai Wei smiled wryly. "You're not going to believe this. Meng Fanzhe managed to get both his hands and feet out of the shackles. In all these years, I've never seen anything like it." He shook his head. "The skin on his hands and feet was torn off, and the metacarpal bones in both his hands were broken." He gestured with his hands. "It's hard to imagine just how determined this kid was to die."

The room was silent for some time. At last, Fang Mu asked without expression, "What's the bureau's opinion on this?"

Tai Wei hesitated for a moment. "The preliminary conclusion is that he killed himself to escape punishment."

"On what basis? Don't tell me you decided he was the killer because of what happened last night."

Doing his best to keep a calm tone, Tai Wei said, "Fang Mu, I understand how you're feeling. However, we wouldn't just suspect someone without any evidence. Meng Fanzhe may not have said anything to us during the interrogation, but we discovered these in his dorm room." He took a stack of documents out of his briefcase and handed them to Fang Mu.

As Fang Mu looked through the files, Tai Wei explained further.

"This picture is of a black sheet," he said as Fang Mu examined a photo. "After comparing it to the one that Jin Qiao was lying on in the video, we feel they're very similar. We also found a number of possible bloodstains on it. They're examining it at the crime lab right now and the results should be in by this afternoon…" He nodded to the next photo Fang Mu studied. "This is a hammer. After Liu Jianjun was attacked, we analyzed the wound and made a rough prediction of the weapon that could have caused it. This size hammer is exactly what we were thinking of. And there's this, look here," he said as he pointed at a picture of over a dozen books. "These were also found in Meng Fanzhe's dorm room. They're all about human anatomy, Western criminal history, and serial killers. You remember all those books we looked through in the library? Well, they were all in his room. We've already sent someone to check out Meng Fanzhe's library record… This little plastic bag we found in the pocket of one of Meng Fanzhe's jackets. Inside was a small amount of powder. The lab already determined that it's heroin — "

Fang Mu cut him off. "What about the car? The killer needed a car to commit his crimes, so where's Meng Fanzhe's? And you don't expect me to believe that he killed Jin Qiao and skinned Xin Tingting in his own dorm room, do you?"

"Renting a car would not have been a problem. And he most likely also rented a place somewhere off-campus to commit his crimes."

"Rented a place? Then why'd he bring all this stuff to his dorm room? Wouldn't it be a lot safer to just leave it in his apartment?"

For a moment Tai Wei couldn't respond.

The door suddenly opened and Deng Linyue ran in, breathing heavily. Du Yu followed behind her, a tray of food in his hands.

Deng Linyue froze when she saw Tai Wei, but rather than say hello to him, she immediately turned to Fang Mu. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

Seeing the gauze on his finger, she made an alarmed outcry, rushed closer and took his hand.

"My God! You're injured and it's still bleeding! We need to get you to the hospital." She looked Fang Mu up and down, speaking rapidly before he could reply. "You're not hurt anywhere else, are you? I'm sorry, I'm sorry; I only just heard the news. I came too late."

She seemed about to cry, but Fang Mu pushed away her hand and continued to stare at Tai Wei, waiting for him to answer his last question.

Tai Wei ignored Fang Mu's questioning look and opened the documents to the photo of the hammer.

"You came just in time," he said to Deng Linyue. "Look here. Was this what the killer was holding on the night of the crime?"

Deng Linyue looked at the photo. "It seems…like it was. Yes, it does look like it." But noticing Fang Mu's stern expression, she quickly added, "I'm not really sure. Aren't all hammers the same? Oh, I don't know, I don't know!"

Tai Wei glared angrily at Fang Mu, slammed the folder closed, and then stood up. "I'm going to go. Keep your phone on and don't run off anywhere in the next few days. As soon as there's any news, I'll let you know." He grabbed his briefcase and left.

The dorm was enveloped in silence. Du Yu looked at Deng Linyue, and then at Fang Mu. He pointed to the food on the desk. "You should eat something, Fang Mu. I bought you breakfast."

When Fang Mu didn't say anything, Deng Linyue smiled apologetically and said, "Thank you, Du Yu."

"I guess I'll be going then," Du Yu said, grabbing his backpack. On the way out, he whispered to Deng Linyue, "Make sure you look after him."

After Du Yu left, the dorm room fell into an even more unbearable silence. For a while Deng Linyue sat quietly beside Fang Mu, but when she saw that he wasn't going to say anything, she took the food tray and tried to hand it to him. "You should really eat something."

When Fang Mu wouldn't take it, she scooped a spoonful of rice porridge and lifted it toward his mouth.

He turned his head away. "I don't want to eat. You should go. I want to be alone for a while."

Having no other choice, Deng Linyue placed the tray back on the desk. In a soft voice, she said, "I'll stay with you."

He shook his head. "Don't bother. You should head back."

She bit her lip. Her voice rose despite herself. "Do you really…find me so awful?"

He considered her for a moment, and then said helplessly, "No. There's just nothing you can do to help me."

"There's nothing I can do to help? How can you not need my help at a time like this?" She suddenly stood up. "I know your emotions are painfully raw at this moment, and although I don't understand what happened or why that person wanted to kill you, I still want to be a consoling shoulder for you. Can't you be a little warmer to me?"

"No!" His voice leapt to an angry tone. "Do you really understand me? Do you know what kind of person I am? Do you know the burden you'll have to bear if you're with me? You can't do it!"

"What makes you think I can't? After what I went through, what else could be too much for me?"

Not wanting to argue with her any further, he stood up and opened the door. "Either go or don't go, but if you stay, I'm leaving!"

Tears were now running down her face. Deng Linyue could only stand there and stare at him for several seconds. Then she bolted past him and ran out of the room.

As Fang Mu watched her figure disappear down the end of the hall, he was awash in both unspeakable guilt and exhaustion.

Deng Linyue, you don't understand. The scariest part isn't knowing what he's going to do; it's having no idea when he's going to do it.

One day later, Tai Wei called to tell Fang Mu that the blood on the black sheet was proven to be Jin Qiao's. This, combined with Tai Wei's account of the killer's appearance from when he'd chased him through the gymnasium and the library record which proved that Meng Fanzhe had taken out all the books in May of 2002 — which closely conformed to the dates of the murders — made it appear Meng Fanzhe really had been the perpetrator.

That day, Meng Fanzhe's mother arrived at the school.

Meng Fanzhe's father had been dead for a long time, so his mother was there alone. As soon as she heard the news, she hopped on a train and rushed to JiangbinCity. Because her heart was not strong, she had already fainted twice in the university president's office.

It was Zou Tuanjie who told Fang Mu the news. When Fang Mu saw the woman himself, it was noon of that same day.

An older, white-haired woman, she was escorted by two policemen up to Meng Fanzhe's room to gather his effects. As soon as she saw the police tape outside his door, she began to sob.

Several students from the law school, including Fang Mu, stood outside Meng Fanzhe's room and watched his mother haltingly open the door. As soon as she walked inside, she looked all around, as if she was expecting to see Meng Fanzhe and hear him say, "Mom, you've come." After her gaze swept the room, she knelt beside his bed, pulled his blanket beneath her nose and inhaled as intensely as she could. She began to wail, an anguished cry of misery and loss. After she cried for a long time, the policemen reminded her why she was there. She slowly stood up and organized her dead son's belongings.

Because the majority of Meng Fanzhe's things had been taken by the police as evidence, there only remained enough affects to fill his mother's small travel bag. As she left the room, holding the last things her son had left on this earth, she suddenly said to one of the policemen, "Would I be able to see the boy that my son attacked? I just can't believe my son could ever kill someone."

The man's eyes rested for a second on Fang Mu's face down the hall before he said tersely to the woman, "No, that won't be possible."

At once everyone's eyes fell on Fang Mu.

He paid no attention to them, just watched as Meng Fanzhe's mother hobbled down the hall and then disappeared through the door at the end.

The watching students weren't yet ready to leave. They continued to crowd the hall, and every now and then one would look over at Fang Mu and whisper something to the people around him.

With what seemed to be a great deal of determination, Zou Tuanjie walked over to him. "Fang Mu, why did Meng Fanzhe want to kill you?"

Fang Mu stared at him for a few seconds. "I don't know."

Fang Mu really didn't know. For the past two days, he had been going over and over everything that had happened between him and Meng Fanzhe, and he couldn't find a single motive for the guy to want to kill him. There was also too much of a disparity between Meng Fanzhe and the killer Fang Mu had theorized; while he often reminded himself that his profiles were never going to be perfectly spot-on, these differences were simply too great.

However, a few things were undeniable: Meng Fanzhe had marked the equation of "7" on Fang Mu's door, and then tried to kill him. Also, a lot of evidence had been discovered in his dorm room.

Still, Fang Mu couldn't picture Fang Mu as the sly and ruthless individual who had committed all the crimes, especially not after seeing him pressed against the window of the police car, crying soundlessly. Fang Mu just kept telling himself again and again, It's not him, it's not him.

In that instant in the police car, Meng Fanzhe was obviously begging for him to help.

Was this really how the killer would behave?

Soon after, the special investigation team began pulling out of JiangbinCityUniversity campus. Prior to their departure, Tai Wei went to tell Fang Mu about the latest developments in the case. After searching through Meng Fanzhe's belongings, police had not found any sort of receipt from a car or apartment rental, nor had they discovered anything else that indicated he had rented either of these things. Still, based on the rest of the evidence, they were positive that the murders were his doing. Since he was now dead, the police decided to close the case.

After listening to this, Fang Mu was silent for a moment. "In other words, your conclusion is that Meng Fanzhe was the killer?"

Tai Wei nodded. "That's right."

"Do you really believe he was the killer? Or would you just prefer to believe it?"

Tai Wei made an effort at self-control at what sounded much like an accusation. "What do you mean?"

"Meng Fanzhe was not the killer!"

"What's your evidence?"

Fang Mu hesitated.

"Intuition? What's more reliable: intuition or facts?" Tai Wei's annoyance turned to a low level of rage. "Do you take us all for idiots?" he asked testily. "There's no denying that you've been a huge help to this case, but we've done our part as well!"

"How about the motive? What was Meng Fanzhe's motive?"

"Shit! Can't you see the guy was a lunatic? Since when do lunatics need a reason to kill people?"

Fang Mu scowled back at him. "Could a lunatic have planned such precise murders? Could he have copied all those other serial killers?"

"He…he probably didn't lose his mind all at once…"

"Really?" Fang Mu flung his cigarette far away.

Tai Wei continued to smoke impatiently. Suddenly his eyes narrowed on Fang Mu. "Maybe you're just being difficult because you're simply ashamed that the profile you predicted fit someone completely different than Meng Fanzhe. Is that really it?" He laughed, and then added in a stinging tone, "And especially since all this happened in front of your girlfriend?"

"Go fuck yourself!" Fang Mu bit back at him, and stormed off.

Rather than return to his dorm, Fang Mu headed to the library. For the past few days he had practically lived there, taking out all the books that had been found in Meng Fanzhe's dorm room and reading through them one by one. He hoped to find some clues about the course of Meng Fanzhe's psychological transformation, and although he knew it was probably hopeless, at the moment it was the only thing he could do.

Actually, he could completely understand where Tai Wei was coming from. They had been working on the case for nearly half a year; add to that the foreign pressure from the Thomas Gill murder, and everyone was just hoping to solve it as soon as possible. However, he refused to accept the verdict. Meng Fanzhe was not the killer — of that he was sure; but he had no way of proving it.

Suddenly his phone rang. All the students reading nearby glared in his direction. Frowning at him, Librarian Sun nodded toward the hall, indicating to answer it outside.

Fang Mu waved at him apologetically, grabbed his phone and ran out into the hall.

Flipping open his phone, Fang Mu saw the number wasn't in his phone book. When he looked at the area code, his heart skipped a beat — it was from SuijingCity.

Meng Fanzhe's hometown.

"Hello?" he said into it.

He heard an old woman's voice on the other end. "Excuse me, is this Fang Mu?"

"That's right. Who am I speaking to?" he asked politely.

"I'm Meng Fanzhe's mother."

His mouth fell open. How did she get his number? "Oh, hello, Auntie. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, I believe you already know what happened with Meng Fanzhe. Yesterday I finished organizing his final affairs…" Her voice choked with sobs. "And I just got home earlier today. After resting for several hours, I unexpectedly discovered that there was a letter in our mailbox. When I looked at it, I saw that it was from Fanzhe, and that he had sent it several days ago. I checked the date and it was the very day that all this happened."

He felt as if his heart was about to stop. "Meng Fanzhe…sent you a letter?"

"That's right. The letter is really confusing. He mentioned a bunch of strange things and said they had to with some doctor that he had met recently. He also wrote that if anything ever happened to him that I should give the letter to you, and he gave me your phone number and said that you were the only one who could help him…" At this point, she began to moan in pain.

"Auntie, Auntie, are you still there?" he asked anxiously. "What's wrong?"

"I'm here. My heart isn't doing too well. Just now…it felt a little agitated…"

"Is your medication nearby?"

"Yes. Wait a moment, I'm going to go take some."

Through the receiver, Fang Mu could hear the sound of footsteps. Then a drawer was opened, pills rattled in a bottle, and a faucet was turned on.

After a little while, Fang Mu again heard Meng Fanzhe's mother's voice. "Hello?"

"Auntie, I'm here."

"How can I get you the letter?"

"Auntie, please tell me your address. I'll come get it now."

"Okay, write this down: apartment four-zero-one, building three of number six, Golden Pedestal residential area, eighty-three North Riverbend Street, Baita District in Suijing City. Got that?"

After copying down the address, Fang Mu read it back to Meng Fanzhe's mother. Then he warned her: "Auntie, whatever you do, don't leave the house. Wait for me and then we'll figure everything out."

"Okay."

After hanging up, Fang Mu went back into the reading room and returned all the books to their shelves. He quickly collected his things and hurried back to his room.

It was already 3:50 p.m. and it would probably take him around three hours to get to SuijingCity. Fang Mu doubted he would be able to make it back that night. After returning to his dorm, he opened his drawer to find that he had only a little over 100 renminbi. He packed himself a small bag, left Du Yu a note saying that he wouldn't be back until tomorrow, and grabbed his bank card and ran to the local sub-branch at the campus gate.

The bank was filled with elderly men and women collecting their pensions, and there was a long line at the ATM outside. Fang Mu looked at all the old people in their thick glasses who were checking the figures in their bankbooks again and again, and weighed his options. At last, feeling helpless, he lined up at the back of the queue for the ATM.

The line wriggled slowly forward. Fang Mu kept looking nervously from his watch to the distant ATM. When it was finally his turn, he took out 1,000 renminbi and then sprinted over to the cab stand in front of the school gates.

By the time Fang Mu reached the long-distance bus station it was already 4:30. With a sinking feeling, he learned from the attendant at the ticket counter that the last bus for SuijingCity had just left. Hearing this, Fang Mu jumped in a cab and headed to the train station.

Luckily, there was still another train to SuijingCity leaving at 5:10. After buying a ticket, Fang Mu went to the train station supermarket and bought some bread and a bottle of water, and then sat quietly in the waiting room until his train arrived.

When he had seen Meng Fanzhe eating his cat alive in the bathroom that night, he had had a feeling that someone was giving Meng Fanzhe psychotherapy — and that there had been an error in his treatment, bringing his mind to the brink of collapse. Then on the night when Meng Fanzhe had gone raging mad and tried to kill him, Fang Mu began to suspect that someone might be controlling his classmate.

Meng Fanzhe's mother had just told him that the letter mentioned a doctor. This seemed to give preliminary proof to Fang Mu's suspicions. And if this person really did exist, then he was certain to have had something to do with the murders.

Fang Mu could feel he was getting closer and closer to the truth.

It made him burn with impatience, and as he waited, time seemed to pass much slower than usual.

The train traveled steadily along the tracks, sounding its horn with a kind of rhythm.

The train was much emptier than Fang Mu had expected, and he was even able to find himself a seat. The train attendant told him that it was a local train, making all the stops, so they wouldn't be arriving at SuijingCity for another four hours and 40 minutes.

It was hardly a long journey, but since Fang Mu knew that at its end laid the answers he had long been searching for, the wait felt unbearable.

He sat next to the window, watching the sky gradually darken. Every now and then the train would stop at a station and a smattering of passengers would get on, holding bags of all sizes.

The dress and social status of the each of the passengers was different, but almost everyone looked anxious to return home.

What was home? Hot food, warm slippers, a familiar bed, and the affectionate scolding of one's family members.

Perhaps Meng Fanzhe had thought these same thoughts when he took this train home, maybe even wearing the same sort of expression.

Fang Mu laid his head against the cold window as the image of Meng Fanzhe pressing his tear-streaked, frightened face against the cop car window appeared in his mind.

Save me, save me, Fang Mu.

Fang Mu closed his eyes.

Fang Mu walked out of the SuijingCity train station at a little before 10 p.m. He bypassed all the pimps incessantly touting, "Lodgings, pretty girls, very cheap," and hurried out to the public square where the cabs were parked.

His cell phone suddenly rang. He pulled it out and looked at it. It was Deng Linyue. After thinking about it for a moment, he decided to answer.

"Hey."

"Where are you?" Deng Linyue hadn't contacted him for a few days, and her voice was a little cold.

"I'm off-campus."

"Where? I'll come meet you."

"It's too far. I'm outside the city, in SuijingCity."

"Suijing? What are you doing there?" Her voice sounded surprised.

"Don't worry about that right now," he said, hailing a cab as he spoke. "I've got some pretty important stuff I need to take care of. I'll tell you about it when I get back."

"Oh…all right. Well, make sure you look after yourself." She paused, and then added, "I'll be waiting for you."

After hanging up, Fang Mu told the driver where he wanted to go, and then suddenly realized that he should probably give Meng Fanzhe's mother a call.

He dialed her number and the phone rang and rang. No one picked up. It didn't seem right at all, so Fang Mu urged the driver to hurry up.

They crossed the city, the streets gradually emptying out. At last the driver stopped in front of a residential neighborhood.

"Seventeen bucks," the driver said, pointing at the meter. As Fang Mu handed him a 50, he looked off at the nearby apartment buildings.

"A fifty? You don't have any change?"

"No, just keep twenty for yourself," said Fang Mu hurriedly, not wanting to delay any longer.

"Sure thing, boss," said the driver with a smile. "Wait a second, I'll give you a receipt." The printer attached to the meter buzzed to life and spat out a receipt. Ripping it off, the driver handed it to Fang Mu along with 30 renminbi.

Fang Mu got out and walked inside the Golden Pedestal residential area. The place had obviously been around for a while. The buildings were all made in the old style, with outdoor walkways running alongside the apartments. Squinting, he did his best to make out the cracked and faded building numbers. Luckily the place wasn't that big and he quickly found building six.

After reaching unit three, Fang Mu carefully climbed the stairs. He soon reached the fourth floor. He looked around. Apartment 402 was to the left, 403 to the right. He walked left and found the apartment all the way at the end of the hall.

He was met by an old-fashioned wooden door. New Year's blessings from the beginning of 2002 were still stuck to the outside. He knocked lightly. When there was no response, he glanced at the window beside the door. All the lights inside appeared to be off.

Could she already be asleep?

Fang Mu knocked again. Still no response. He pulled lightly on the door handle and to his surprise, it opened.

"Anyone here?" he yelled, sticking his head inside.

No answer.

A sense of foreboding suddenly came over Fang Mu. He pulled the dagger from his pocket, unsheathed it, and slowly entered the apartment.

The apartment was pitch-black. Not a single light was on. Fang Mu stood in the entryway for several seconds. He could vaguely make out a hallway ahead of him. A door was to his left. Through it he could see the dim shapes of a stove and range hood. He assumed it was the kitchen. To his right was a small window. A few potted plants sat on the sill.

Fang Mu walked carefully forward. The hallway was about 16 feet long. When he reached the end everything was just as dark as before, but he could tell that the space in front of him had opened up. Probably the living room.

Fang Mu stopped at the entrance to the living room and forced his eyes to adjust to the darkness. At the same time, he listened closely for any sounds of movement.

Gradually, he began to hear strange rustling noises coming from within the living room. It sounded like someone turning the pages of a book, or tiny claws moving across cotton.

Fang Mu was focusing as hard as he could on the sound when he suddenly felt something scurry across his foot. Startled, he jumped back and slammed into the wall, feeling as if his heart was about to leap out of his chest.

It was then that he remembered the lighter in his pocket. He pulled it out and flicked it on. A small flame emerged and the scene before him was finally revealed.

It was in fact the living room. At its front sat a cabinet with a TV inside. Facing the TV was a couch, the back of it before Fang Mu.

From the thin light of the flame, he could vaguely make out several strands of gray hair hanging over the back of the couch.

"Auntie?" he asked haltingly.

The hair didn't move at all.

The lighter had already begun to burn Fang Mu's hand, but he ignored this and walked slowly toward the sofa, gripping the knife as tightly as he could.

As he got closer to the sofa, his heartbeat sped up, his teeth chattering nervously, and his hand began to shake so badly that he thought for sure he would drop the lighter.

Just when he was about to reach the sofa, the lighter suddenly went out and Fang Mu's eyes were plunged once more into darkness. Flicking at the burning-hot lighter, he shuffled forward. Right as his knee brushed against the sofa, the lighter clicked on and a huge flame shot out.

A bloodless face, its eyes and mouth wide open, suddenly appeared before him.

Meng Fanzhe's mother was half-sitting, half-lying on the sofa, her face upright and her hair falling over the back. One of her hands gripped her chest, the other held onto the sofa cover. Her eyes were bulging and her mouth was gaping wide, a terrified look on her face.

And she was dead.

A big black rat sat on one of her legs. Provoked by the flame from Fang Mu's lighter, it didn't try to hide at all, just stared at Fang Mu with its small red eyes.

When the lighter began to burn Fang Mu's hand, he was finally shaken out of his state of terror and forced back to reality. Panicking, he swung his dagger all around in blind defense, frantically searching his pocket for his cell phone.

At last he found it. Flipping the phone open, he was about to dial Emergency when he heard hurried footsteps outside the apartment.

Suddenly several flashlight beams shot into the apartment through the window beside the door. Blinded by the light, Fang Mu covered his eyes with his hand.

In that instant, he noticed that two strange symbols had been written in the condensation on the window glass. It had been too dark to notice them before.

"Who's there? Put the knife down now!" a man shouted. "Now! Or we will open fire!"

Fang Mu heard the sound of guns being cocked. He hurriedly tossed his dagger on the floor and put his hands up.

Several cops pounced on him and forced him to the ground. Struggling to lift his head, Fang Mu tried to see what exactly had been written on the window.

"Goddammit, you still don't want to cooperate, huh?" Someone struck Fang Mu across the face.

He tasted blood. With his head still spinning, he twisted weakly around. "The window…" He mumbled repeatedly over and over: "The window… What's on the window…?"