Lei Mi - Profiler

Doors made of iron bars stood open several feet ahead of him, one on either side of the hallway. Rooms approximately 60-square-feet in size lay beyond them. Fang Mu could vaguely make out the shapes of dilapidated chairs and desks stacked inside.

A section of the arch above the door to the right had faded slightly. Looking closer, he saw that it was a heavily stained image of the KMT flag, below which was written a nearly illegible "1".

Fang Mu looked at the door on the right. The same symbol was on the arch, only this time the number "2" was written below it.

He understood. These were prison cells.

Unless he was wrong, Tai Wei should be in the fourth cell on the right.

Cell 7.

The thought of this made Fang Mu grow anxious. Raising the already burning-hot lighter, he walked slowly forward.

The floor beneath his feet was no longer cement, and as he walked, the gravel wedged in the soles of his shoes ground piercingly against its surface. It sounded like metal on metal. Looking down, he could vaguely see that he was standing atop a grate-work iron walkway.

He figured it was probably designed so that the guards at the time could monitor both floors at once.

Fang Mu continued with these thoughts as he walked forward, staring at prison cell number three. He drew closer and closer, no longer stopping. Suddenly he felt the ground change beneath his feet. Just as he realized that he had probably stepped on a section of rotting wooden floorboards, his whole body abruptly fell through.

With an enormous crash, Fang Mu and the boards he had been standing on dropped heavily to the bottom floor of the bunker. He landed abruptly. He'd fallen hard, and for several seconds his chest hurt so much he couldn't breathe. After writhing in pain on the cement floor for some time, he finally forced himself to breathe out, and then a moment later he began to cough violently.

With difficulty he managed to stop coughing. He sat up, still gasping for air. The fall had knocked his glasses off and dust was in his eyes. Fiercely rubbing his eyes with one hand, he grasped about blindly with the other for his glasses. All wasn't lost; he quickly grabbed hold of his dagger.

Holding it, he felt a little more at ease. Soon he found his lighter as well.

Flicking on the lighter, Fang Mu shined it overhead. Approximately nine feet above him was a large rectangular hole, from which descended a metal ladder.

It had once been used for people to travel from floor to floor. Originally, there had likely been a removable metal lid, which had disappeared by the time the bunker was discovered by the CCP. Fearing that someone might accidentally fall through, several boards had been placed over the opening. Over time, the damp atmosphere had rotted the boards, making them weak.

Fang Mu stretched his arms and legs, deciding he had not been badly hurt. He looked around.

He was in the water dungeon. He found he was standing atop a cement platform before an enormous cement pool at least six feet deep. The pool was completely empty except for a number of iron rings that Fang Mu could faintly make out attached to the pool walls. He knew they had probably been used to shackle prisoners back when the place was still in operation.

He could see another pool farther ahead. He walked slowly toward it along the platform, guided by the faint light of the flame. Gradually the outline of the second pool began to sharpen.

Suddenly something at the bottom of the pool took shape. Fang Mu carefully stepped closer.

Amid the darkness, the object looked like some kind of box. Tightening his grip on the knife, he cautiously walked closer. When he was standing directly opposite it, he extended his hand holding the lighter as far as it would go, simultaneously straining to see what it was below.

His breath caught in his throat, and his heartbeat started to race as the object took definition.

It was an iron cage. And someone was sprawled inside. He tried to compose himself. Shakily he yelled, "Hello?"

In the vastness of the water dungeon, the sound was infinitely amplified. Bouncing off the walls, it echoed back at him with terrifying clarity. But the person in the cage didn't move at all.

Who was he?

And was he still alive? These questions ran through Fang Mu's mind as he used his lighter to illuminate his surroundings. The flame didn't reveal any stairs leading into the pool. After hesitating for a moment, he squatted down and shined the bottom of the pool. He gritted his teeth and leapt inside. He landed with an awkward thud.

The pool was deeper than he had imagined and his legs shook with pain. He decided it best not to walk immediately over, so he squatted down and listened for any sounds of movement, at the same time quickly illuminating his surroundings with the lighter. Once he was certain that the place was empty, he slowly stood up, gripped his dagger, and carefully advanced on the cage. He had been right. Someone was lying inside.

In the faint light of the lighter flame, he couldn't be certain whether it was a man or a woman. Straining to see the person more clearly, he cautiously approached.

Was it Tai Wei? It didn't seem like it. This person was a little shorter, a little heavier.

Who was it? As he drew closer to the cage, the person's outline became more defined.

It was a man, curled on his side, with his back to Fang Mu. Something about his gray sweater looked very familiar…

The flickering flame shone on the man's gray hair.

Fang Mu's eyes went wide as he hoped against hope.

Throwing caution to the wind, he ran to the other side of the cage and squatted down. He held the lighter flame up to the man's face.

It was Professor Qiao.

For a moment, Fang Mu didn't know whether he was startled or relieved, disheartened or enraged. Kneeling down, he shook the cage as hard as he could. "Professor Qiao!" he yelled. "Professor Qiao!"

His hair disheveled and face so thin he no longer looked like himself, Professor Qiao rocked back and forth in time with Fang Mu's movements. His tightly shut eyes never opened.

Was he dead?

No, please no!

Fang Mu reached inside the cage and placed his fingers beneath Professor Qiao's nose. Fortunately, he was still breathing, if faintly.

Pocketing his knife, Fang Mu grabbed onto the cage with one hand, while using the other to press his thumb against Professor Qiao's philtrum, digging in as hard as he could, hoping to apply the proper pressure. (Translator’s note: The philtrum is the indented spot between a person's mouth and nose. In traditional Chinese medicine, it is considered a very important acupressure point.)

"Wake up, Professor Qiao, wake up…"

After what seemed to Fang Mu to be an agonizingly long time, Professor Qiao's hand moved slightly and a faint sound emerged from his lips.

Overjoyed, Fang Mu hurried to support Professor Qiao's head and then struggled to raise him to a sitting position.

Coughing, Professor Qiao leaned weakly against the bars of the cage.

After the coughing fit ended, he gasped for breath. "Water…water…" he mumbled, once more closing his eyes.

Water? Where can I find water around here? Agitated, Fang Mu looked around. In the corner of the cage he spied a bottle of water. He hurriedly reached in and grabbed it. He sighed with relief; there was still about half left. After twisting off the cap, he supported Professor Qiao's upper body with one arm while he used the other hand to raise the bottle to Professor Qiao's lips.

Once he had gulped down several mouthfuls of water, Professor Qiao's breathing relaxed slightly, and his eyes slowly opened.

Professor Qiao's eyes, which had once been bright with keen intelligence, were now dazed and glassy. He slowly turned them to look at Fang Mu. After staring at him dully for several seconds, he finally recognized him.