Profiler (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 1) (10 page)

Fang Mu took a sip of water and then lit another cigarette.

"The disorganized serial killer has a few classic characteristics," he said. "These include poor social skills, a tendency toward anxiety, and the inability to hold skilled jobs, among other things. They are also often the youngest son, pay little attention to the news, and live alone, generally near the scenes of their crimes. This is why I felt the killer probably lived nearby. And since Hongyuan District is in the old part of the city, it has very little commercial housing. This is significant. Because the killer would have been unable to hold a high-paying job due to his mental disorder, he also would have been unable to afford an apartment at market price. Therefore, he most likely lived in a house inherited from his parents. This meant that they must have worked for some state-owned company, because back then only state employees received discounted housing."

Fang Mu tapped the ash from his cigarette. "So, to sum things up, the killer was under thirty, emaciated, unkempt, with an apartment near the crime scenes, parents who once worked for a state-owned company, and with a very serious mental disorder."

Tai Wei stared at Fang Mu. He was dumbstruck, and it took him a while to snap out of it.

"My god," he said. "You were right about everything."

Fang Mu smiled faintly. "Not quite. I was initially wrong about the connection between blood and his crimes. I thought his anxiety about blood had something to do with the weather."

"Really?" Tai Wei thought for a moment. "Oh yeah, now I remember. When Tong Hui was taken, you said the killer would probably be wearing thick clothing."

"That's right. Since his first murder was committed just after the end of winter, I had thought he was afraid of his blood freezing, or something along those lines, and was taking various measures to keep warm—like wearing thick clothing, for example. But after seeing where Tong Hui was murdered, I decided he was actually paranoid about his blood being somehow deficient."

Seeing the reverent look on Tai Wei's face, Fang Mu laughed. "Look, I'm not that good. There were still a bunch of things I was unclear about; for example, how he chose his victims, why he cut them open, why he mixed their blood with other liquids, why he carried Tong Hui away from the scene—a ton of stuff."

"Oh…" said Tai Wei, as if he had suddenly realized something. "So that's what you asked Ma Kai during your interview?"

"Exactly."

"You’re so interested and have studied a bunch of cases." Tai Wei gave him a meaningful glance. "Want to be a criminologist in the future?"

Fang Mu was taken aback. "I don't think so," he said after a moment. "Actually, I've never really thought that far ahead."

"So then why are you so interested in this stuff," asked Tai Wei, finally voicing the question that had been puzzling him for so long.

Fang Mu's face fell, and for a while he was silent. At last he spoke: "I don't know."

Tai Wei was a little drunk when they left the restaurant and went to his car. "Little brother," he said, clapping Fang Mu on the shoulder, "you've helped me a hell of a lot. Any reward you want—it's yours!"

Fang Mu smiled and shook his head. "You don't need to do that."

"Yes, I do!" cried Tai Wei gruffly. "You want some kind of material reward? Or should I write a commendatory letter to your school? Oh, right…" Suddenly remembering something, he shook his head. "Oh yeah, perhaps it had better not be me who writes it." He chuckled to himself.

Fang Mu was about to ask him what he was talking about when Tai Wei slapped him heavily on the back and said, "Well if the damn bureau won't reward you, I will! What do you students need these days?" He scratched his head, racking his brain for an answer.

"Don't worry about it," said Fang Mu, waving his hand. "Seriously, I don't need anything." When he saw Tai Wei take out his wallet, his expression dropped. "Tai Wei, would you consider us friends?"

Tai Wei nodded forcefully.

"Well, if that's really the case, don't do this."

Scratching his head, Tai Wei thought for a long moment. Finally, in what seemed an act of great determination, he withdrew his Type-64 pistol from its holster and ejected the clip. Then he removed a single bullet and grasped Fang Mu's hand.

"What are you doing?" asked Fang Mu in surprise.

"For us cops, our gun is our best friend." Tai Wei's face was very serious as he placed the bullet in Fang Mu's palm, and then closed his hand around it. "I can't give you my gun, so this bullet will have to do. Keep it as a souvenir."

 
Damn, brother
, thought Fang Mu,
isn't this is a little unlucky?
Handing over bullet as if it were no more than a piece of candy and saying, ‘Here, try it!’

Nonetheless, Fang Mu carefully placed the bullet in his pants pocket. Then he waved goodbye to Tai Wei. "I should head back now," he said. "Be careful driving home."

Fang Mu turned to go, but after only a few steps Tai Wei called for him to wait. Fang Mu looked back.

Tai Wei stared at him for several moments, as if examining a specimen. "Fang Mu," he said at last, his voice gravely serious, "have you considered being a policeman in the future?"

"Not once!" Fang Mu said with finality, and then turned and walked away without looking back.

Embarrassed, Tai Wei angrily yanked open the car door, climbed inside, and started the engine. Glancing at the "Policeman's Five Prohibitions"
sign hanging from his rear view mirror, Tai Wei prayed that he wouldn't get stopped, and then he pulled out.
(Translator
’
s note: "Policeman's Five Prohibitions": Gambling, Carrying guns while drunk, Carrying guns off duty, Drinking on duty, and, Drunk driving.)

Instead of returning to his dorm, Fang Mu walked to the bus stop just outside the campus gate. Hiding behind the covered bench, he watched Tai Wei's car fade smaller into the distance, then he hopped on Local Bus 315.

When the bus reached
Eternal Life Road
, Fang Mu got off. After walking up the street for a short way, he reached
Prolonging Life Road
, the site of
Jiangbin
City
's main market for funeral products. Eternal life, prolonging life—in fact, the windows of every store here were filled with wreathes and papier-mâché burial figures. It was common knowledge that too many things on this earth failed to live up to their names.

Twenty minutes later, Fang Mu boarded the bus heading back to school, a bulging black plastic bag in his hands.

1 o’clock a.m.

The plastic bag kept crinkling in Fang Mu's hands as he tiptoed up to the seventh floor. The sound was terribly annoying. This was an all-girls floor, and should some unlucky lady choose this moment to walk to the bathroom, she'd almost certainly faint from fear.

After carefully opening the window that led to the rooftop, Fang Mu tossed the bag out. Then he climbed through without a sound, grabbed the bag, and walked directly to the northeast corner.

It was a pleasant night, silent but for the faint rustle of the wind, which sounded like a group of people quietly chatting. A pile of sand sat in the northeast corner, countless pieces of ash mixed in. Crouching down, Fang Mu reached into his bag and withdrew several bundles of paper burial money. He undid the bundles, took out his lighter and set them aflame. Soon a small bonfire was softly illuminating the midnight rooftop.

With nearly all its students wandering through sweet dreams or vivid nightmares, the darkened campus was unusually tranquil. But should any humans or ghosts have been passing in the night, none would have noticed the strange memorial taking place on the roof of Dorm 5, Unit B—though it was far from the first.

Fang Mu lit a cigarette and took a drag, and then he placed it on a brick beside him. Lighting a second cigarette, he inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, the smoke curling upwards in the firelight like a veil. For a moment it fluttered gently, and then it disappeared into the night air.

Wang Jian, Fourth Brother, how have the two of you been?

 
And you, Chen Xi.

Tears fell from Fang Mu's eyes.

I caught another demon. Are you happy for me? What number was this? Six, I think. He was ruthless, killing women and then sucking their blood. And I did really well: we caught him before he could kill the final girl, and now he'll never kill again. He's going straight to hell.

I'll never be too late again. That nightmare was enough for a lifetime.

And if it really was all just a dream? How wonderful that would be.

Fang Mu whispered softly as he stirred the fire. The flames lit his pale face. His expression was surreal, as if he were in a dream. Large tears rolled down his face. He didn't wipe them away, allowing them to fall to the rooftop.

A burst of wind whirled the paper ash. Some of it stuck lightly to Fang Mu's face. When he tried to brush it away, his hand was streaked with black. He knew his face couldn't look much better.

He laughed softly.

Was that you, Chen Xi?

All right, I won't cry.

Fang Mu stood and tossed more burial money on the fire. He turned to look at the cigarette. It was almost out.

He lit Wang Jian another one. Then one more for himself.

The fire slowly burned down, until the only thing left was a pile of ash. Fang Mu covered the ashes with sand, and then took another bundle of burial money from his bag and set it aflame.

And with that, his corner of the darkened rooftop was illuminated once more. By now Fang Mu's eyes had long since dried, his mouth was pinched at the corners and his brows were knit. His expression was inscrutable.

Sun Mei, I've come to see you.

Even though he was never particularly fond of Sun Mei, he couldn't deny that she had saved him twice. Her fate had been horrible beyond imagining.

No matter one's luck, life always comes to an end, like the ash from the fire. Whirling through the air, only to be broken to pieces and forgotten.

Love will be there in the next world, too. Just remember to be happy.

Fang Mu held the final bundle of money for a long time. It wasn't until the fire had almost died that he tossed it in.

 
I hope you too can find some happiness there, Wu Han.

When he returned to his dorm room, Fang Mu felt unspeakably exhausted. However, his mind was at peace.

He felt this way every time he memorialized the dead, as if the burden he carried was somehow lightened.

Fang Mu slumped carelessly onto his desk chair. Moonlight shined through the open window. Softly, gently, it blanketed Fang Mu, seeming almost tangible. A light wind brushed his face, the air cool and refreshing. It felt wonderful, as if it were passing right through him, leaving him translucent and pure. He rested his head against the windowpane. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier…

Several minutes later, Fang Mu woke with a start.

Du Yu was talking in his sleep. "Actually, B Cafeteria's spare ribs are the best!"

Rubbing his temples, Fang Mu leaned over and switched on his computer.

The machine buzzed to life. Half a minute later, he opened a folder on his hard drive titled "Ma Kai".

Fang Mu's face was tinted blue in the light of the screen, his eyes once more cold, weary, and incomparably sharp.

CHAPTER
8
Happiness

"O
h, it's you. Come in."

"I'm not disturbing you?"

"Not at all. Some water?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Did you finish those books?"

"Yeah, I actually came by today to return them."

"How were they? Could you understand them?"

"Only some parts. A lot of it I didn't understand at all."

"No problem. That's perfectly normal. Those books really were a little deep for you. How have you been recently?"

"Pretty good."

"Still your complexion's not looking so great. Is it the same thing as before? The thing you're afraid of?"

"Um…yeah, it is."

"Then can you tell me what it is exactly that you're afraid of?"

No response.

"Look at me. I hope that you trust me. I might be able to help."

The student sighed
.

 "All right. I'm…afraid of roll call."

"Roll call?"

"It's really strange, isn't it?"

"No, I actually don't find it strange in the least. I once knew someone who was afraid to cross bridges by himself."

"Really? Afraid to cross bridges?"

"That's right. Eventually he wouldn't even walk down fairly narrow streets alone. His wife had to go with him."

"But why? Was it another phobia?"

"Correct. In fact, it's another manifestation of agoraphobia. This man had been pampered since he was young. Everything was done for him, and after marrying he relied entirely on his wife to take care of things. Therefore, he developed a subconscious need to be near her, like a child. But on the surface he refused to admit this puerile need, so his agoraphobia functioned as a way of forcing his wife to stay by his side."

"Did he get better?"

"Of course. Thanks to a combination of medicinal treatment and behavioral therapy, he was soon completely cured."

"Oh. So he needed to use medication to recover?"

"Of course. So how about it? Will you tell me why you're afraid of roll call?"

"To be honest, I don't really know myself."

"Indeed? Well in that case, when did you first became afraid of it?"

"Hmm. I—don't remember that either. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Here, come lie down on this couch. How is it? Comfortable?"

"Yeah, really comfortable."

"Would you like to listen to some music?"

"Okay."

"Let's listen to this one first."

The sound of Mozart's
Cradle Song
filled the room. Next was Mendelssohn's
A Midsummer Night's Dream
. Then Tsai Chin's
Lost Time
.

"Which was the most relaxing?"

"The last one. I couldn't understand the first two."

"Okay. How many classes did you attend this afternoon?"

"What? Oh, um, two classes."

"Then what did you do?"

"Played some basketball."

" That's a pretty packed day. Do you feel tired?"

"A little."

"That's good. I want you to imagine that you're just relaxing. Now please follow what I say. First, get as comfortable as possible. Then relax your body and begin taking deep breaths."

"…Like this?"

"Yes, very good. Breathe out slowly, just like that. Excellent. Now one more time. Take a deep breath, and then exhale. Good. What sort of environment do you like?"

"Um, how about the beach?"

"All right, then imagine that you're lying on the beach right now. The sea breeze is cool and refreshing. Very pleasant. The waves crash rhythmically against the shore. Whoosh, whoosh, like that, one after another. Can you sense your inner mind? Very good. Use it to feel every part of your body. When you feel your head, your head will relax. When you feel your chest and back, your body will relax. As you relax your torso, your breathing will become smoother and smoother. When you feel your arms, your arms will relax. When you feel your legs, your legs will relax. Your body is becoming more and more relaxed, more and more relaxed… Good. How do you feel now?"

"Very…comfortable. My mind feels so… so at ease. My body—it's like there's a…white light."

His voice was low, as if every word required a huge effort.

"Very good. Quietly enjoy it."

Five minutes passed.

"Okay. I will now count slowly from one to ten. When I reach ten, your subconscious will return you to a time in the past, and you will witness an event that has had an enormous impact on you. When I reach ten, no matter what you see or feel, you will speak it aloud. Afterwards, if it is a happy memory you will remember it, and if it's not a happy memory, you will let it go. All right?"

The student slowly nodded.

"Okay, then let's begin. 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10."

Suddenly, the student's eyeballs began moving rapidly beneath his eyelids. The man smiled. Very good. This meant his subconscious was already giving him information.

"We're in the courtyard… I can smell roasted grasshoppers… Dad took me home on his bike… I have to finish my homework before I can go play… Wooden gun… Much better than Big Meng's."

He must not be older than ten in this memory,
the man thought
.

"I'm in a sandpit, playing machine gun war with my friends." His voice was now more childish, livelier. "…Little Fatty is such a cheater; he never lies down when he dies… I can see PLA soldiers drilling over there." His voice was full of admiration and longing. "They're so awesome… Left, right, left; left, right, left… Roll call.… Wang Libo, here. Meng Fanzhe, here… Huh, what's wrong with him? Why won't he answer when they say his name? Oh, no, now the officer is angry." His voice became fearful. "They're calling his name again… Why can't he say it? They're calling him again… Come on, you can do it… Is he stuttering? No, don't hurt him. His body began to shake. "…So much blood… They punished him; he's running alone around the field…"

 Suddenly his breathing became fast and his body began to convulse.

"What do you see?"

"I've fallen." He began to cry. "… My forehead… The blood won't stop… Gym teacher… Roll call… He hits me… Please no…"

"That's enough; this memory is over. Now then, the things you saw just now are imprinted deep in your consciousness, and at all times are never far from your mind, correct?"

"Yes… yes, that's right."

"Can you still feel the white light?"

"…I can."

"Very good. The white light will now gradually disappear, and you will gradually regain consciousness. I am going to count backwards from ten. When I reach one, you will wake up. Do you understand?"

"…I do."

"Good. Now then. Ten, the white light is becoming fainter and fainter, your body and mind are very relaxed. Nine, you're becoming more and more awake. Eight, your body is gradually regaining normal sensations. Seven, feeling is returning to your fingers. Six, your heart is tranquil and serene, you feel very happy. Five, more and more awake now. Four, your neck gradually begins to move. Three, you feel an enormous energy throughout your body. Two, wake up, the way out is in front of you. One, you're now fully awake; open your eyes!"

 The sound of a deep breathing commenced.

"My god, was I just…hypnotized?"

"More or less."

"I remembered all of it. When I was nine, I saw them beat a stuttering soldier."

"Yes, that's what it sounded like."

"But then why couldn't I think of it before?"

"This is called Psychogenic Memory Loss. This kind of memory loss comes from a sort of choice. In other words, you have chosen to forget these painful experiences. To be perfectly honest, it's an escape."

"Is it good for me to remember this stuff?"

"Of course. To solve any problem you must locate its source, especially psychological problems. Once we find the cause, it's easy to fix."

"Will you help me?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course, but will you?"

"Haven't I been helping you all along?"

"Yes, you're right. Thank you."

"No need to be so polite. However, I do have one request. Will you keep our sessions a secret?"

"Yes."

Sleep. Read. Class. Basketball occasionally.

No worrying about who might be killed. No coming face to face with a bloodsucking madman. Even the old nightmares were few and far between.

This was happiness.

Fang Mu passed that week like a normal student, his days filled with study and leisure. Life was peaceful. When the weekend came, he used the time to visit home, where he filled up on his mother's cooking and gained four pounds.

The weather grew hotter. And though he did not know why, his spirits improved.

Riding the bus back to school, he felt the wind brush softly against his face. His skin tingled delightfully. The sun was blazing down outside, and the smell of green grass filled the air. He felt the bottles and jars stuffed inside his bag, filled with meat sauce and pickled vegetables that his mom had prepared for him. Leaning lazily against the seat back, he closed his eyes and dozed off.

How long had it been since he'd last felt this way?

When Fang Mu walked into the dorm room, Du Yu was playing
Counter-Strike
.

"You're back?" he asked when he heard the door open, though he didn't take his eyes off the screen.

"Why aren't you out with Zhang Yao? The weather's perfect today."

Du Yu laughed. "She's at her private tutoring job. Anyway, it's nice having some time to myself."

Fang Mu took out a jar of meat sauce and placed it on Du Yu's desk. "Here, this is for you. My mom made it. You should try some."

"Huh?" Taken off guard, Du Yu turned to look at it. "Oh, thanks."

"Watch out!" Fang Mu yelled, pointing at the screen.

"Wha—?" Du Yu spun around and grabbed for the mouse and keyboard. But he was too late. With a bang, his character's head exploded. 

"Shit. That's it, I'm done." Du Yu exited the game. Then he withdrew a pair of chopsticks from his desk drawer and opened the jar of meat sauce. Sticking his chopsticks in, he stirred the sauce around, and then grabbed a few chunks of meat and ate them.

"Oh, man!" he cried, chewing. "This stuff is good! Your mom is a serious cook."

"Then eat up. I've got a bunch more over here."

"All right, tonight I'll eat noodles for dinner. Mixed with some of this sauce, it'll be delicious." Du Yu grabbed another big piece and ate it.

"Guess you like salty things, too." Fang Mu smiled.

"You know, brother," said Du Yu, chewing as he spoke, "recently you've seemed pretty happy."

"Yeah?" said Fang Mu, only half paying attention as he put away his things.

"I think it's good for you, being around other people more. No reason to be so standoffish all the time."

Fang Mu laughed. "Everyone thinks I'm pretty weird, don't they?"

"Um…" Du Yu hesitated for a moment. "I wouldn't put it that way. Really they just think you're too introverted."

Fang Mu laughed. "Yeah, I understand."

"Over the past little while it always seemed like something was troubling you. Liu Jianjun told me he once saw you walking alone in the hallway in the middle of the night. You know if there's ever anything on your mind you can talk to me. We're good friends, aren't we?"