As it turned out, nothing could be more aggravating than spending an afternoon with this kid.
From start to finish, Fang Mu sat in silence, reading through the materials. At first, Tai Wei patiently assumed a posture of being ready to listen attentively at any time. However, as time dragged on, his shoulders grew painfully sore, and he became antsy. Stretching out his limbs, he leaned comfortably against the bleachers and gazed around, bored out of his mind.
The court where Fang Mu had just been shooting hoops was now occupied by several other young men. They looked not much older than twenty, 20 and spared nothing as they sprinted up and down the court, fighting for the ball, yelling with excitement, and occasionally arguing loudly about whether a foul had been committed or a point counted. Watching their energetic play, Tai Wei couldn't help but think back to his days studying at the police academy, and gradually the corners of his mouth curled into a faint smile.
Suddenly he realized that the person sitting beside him was also a young student, just like the carefree boys now running the court, and yet how dissimilar they were! It was as if there was some mark on him that made him totally different from all the people around him. Once more, Tai Wei couldn't help but turn and look at Fang Mu.
He was reading very slowly. His head bent over, his eyes focused nonstop on the photographs, crime scene reports, and autopsy reports in his hands. Every now and then he glanced up, and Tai Wei, thinking he was about to say something, would look at him hopefully. But Fang Mu just stared at the distant scenery, not saying a word, and then a moment later would drop his head and continue poring over the data. Tai Wei noticed that he was paying particular attention to a few of the crime scene photographs.
Finally, Fang Mu stood up and let out a deep breath. He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and handed the sheaf of papers back to Tai Wei, who was staring at him.
"The person you're looking for is male, between twenty-five- and thirty-five-years-old, under five-feet nine-inches, and probably rather thin."
Tai Wei stared at him. Several seconds passed before he couldn't bear it any longer: "That's it?"
"That's it."
Tai Wei felt greatly disappointed. He had originally thought that Fang Mu's analysis would be just as Ding Shucheng claimed-a specific, detailed description of the killer's appearance, living circumstances, and family background, but the verdict Fang Mu had just given was brief and entirely ambiguous. And to be honest, it really didn't offer any valuable new clues; given the brutality of the crimes, the perpetrator was almost certain to be male, and the vast majority of serial killers are less than 40-year-old. As for the suspect's height and weight, both could be determined by footprints found at the crime scenes. And since there was also evidence of a struggle between the killer and his victims, he probably wasn't all that strong.
"Based on the reports and photographs, that's all I can see," said Fang Mu, seemingly aware of what Tai Wei was thinking. However, a moment later he added, "I also feel like this guy has some kind of mental problem, but as for what this problem is, I can't say for certain."
Humph, thought Tai Wei, even an idiot could see this killer’s a psycho!
"Being a psycho and having a psychological disorder are not the same."
Tai Wei's mouth nearly dropped open-it was clear that in less than a minute Fang Mu had already seen through him twice. To conceal his surprise, he stood up and extended his hand toward the young man.
"All right, then. Thanks for the help. If we need your assistance on something else, we'll contact you. See you later."
Fang Mu grasped Tai Wei's hand. The young man's hand was cold-Tai Wei couldn't even feel a hint of warmth.
"It would be best if we don't see each other again."
"Oh?" Tai Wei's eyebrows rose.
"If we see each other again, it means someone else has died."
Tai Wei opened his mouth to respond, however nothing came out. At last, unable to do anything else, he simply nodded, turned and walked away.
As he left the basketball courts, Tai Wei couldn't resist looking back. Fang Mu was no longer beside the bleachers. Instead he was on one of the distant courts, his back to Tai Wei, shooting by himself. Dusk had fallen, and only a few players remained on the courts. As the darkness deepened, Fang Mu's silhouette became increasingly faint, until all that could be seen was the continuous rising motion of his arms and the ball as it flew through the air towards the hoop.
CHAPTER 3
Today was the first day of Criminal Procedure class. Its professor, Song Yaoyang, had only just returned from an exchange trip to Japan, delaying the start of the class.
As usual, Fang Mu was sitting in the last row. Although class was supposed to begin over a month ago, Professor Song was hardly anxious to begin teaching; instead he kept going on and on about Japan's high level of economic development and comfortable lifestyle. Then he launched into several stories he "just had to tell" about his exploits with some Japanese criminal procedure specialists. As he continued to boast enthusiastically, a student knocked on the half-open classroom door. With a self-satisfied look on his face, Professor Yang beckoned the student inside with a magnanimous sweep of his arm.
The student walked briskly to the back row, sat heavily beside Fang Mu, and gave him a friendly nod.
Fang Mu recognized him. He was Meng Fanzhe, a Civil Law graduate student.
Arriving late to class was as common as could be,and professors were generally quick to forgive the offending students. What gave Fang Mu pause was the expression on Meng Fanzhe's face: he looked far more relieved than he should be, as if-
As if he had just escaped some terrible trial.
Once Professor Song finally finished what seemed to be his" Reflections on Traveling in Japan" lecture, he grabbed the attendance sheet and, with a feigned show of affection, gave a wink and said, "Before beginning class, why don't we first get to know one another?"
All the students who, a moment before, were about to fall asleep immediately perked up. This was a required course and nobody wanted to lose credit points. As Professor Song went down the list, reading name after name, the word "Here" sounded again and again from every corner of the classroom. Inadvertently, Fang Mu's eyes fell on Meng Fanzhe. What he saw took him completely by surprise.
Only moments before Meng Fanzhe had appeared exceptionally relaxed; now he looked as nervous as if he were confronting a mortal enemy. His hands tightly gripped the corners of his desk, knuckles white, and his eyes were wide and fixed on Professor Song. He gnawed tensely on his upper lip. It was as if Professor Song, rather than speaking students' names, was actually shooting bullets from his open mouth.
What was up with him? Fang Mu wondered.
"Meng Fanzhe."
Big drops of sweat streamed down Meng Fanzhe's face; his lips fluttered open and closed. But he made not the slightest sound. Professor Song scanned the classroom. Then he read the name once more: "Meng Fanzhe."
Several of Meng Fanzhe's acquaintances called softly to him, but he seemed not to hear. He continued to stare rigidly at Professor Song, leaning forward, his mouth half open, as if he were anxious to speak but powerless to actually do so.
"Absent? Cutting class on the first day?" An angry look on his face, Professor Song withdrew a fountain pen and prepared to make a note on the attendance sheet.
At that moment, Meng Fanzhe leaped to his feet. Although still unable to speak, he raised his arm high in the air.
"Oh, are you Meng Fanzhe?"
At last two words tumbled out of the student's mouth: "I am."