Lei Mi - Profiler

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.

When the doorbell rang, Mrs. Qiao was sitting on the couch watching TV. Seeing the somber expression on her husband's face, she sighed, stood up, and answered the door.

"Oh, hello, Fang Mu. Please come in."

"Hello, Mrs. Qiao," he said politely.

"Oh my, what's all this?" she said, seeing the bags he carried. "You shouldn't have. Fang Mu, you're just too much!"

"It's nothing. Anyway, I barely paid a thing for it."

Mrs. Qiao took the two bags of fruit from Fang Mu. Then turning toward the living room, she called, "Old Qiao, Fang Mu is here to see you."

Professor Qiao continued to stare out the window, saying nothing, a cigarette in his hand. There was a hard look in his eyes.

Feeling a little awkward, Fang Mu forced himself to smile as he exchanged his shoes for slippers. Pulling lightly on Fang Mu's sleeve, Mrs. Qiao leaned in and whispered, "My husband is in a bit of a mood again today, so just humor him a little. No matter what he says to you, don't argue."

Fang Mu nodded, and then walked into the living room.

Looking away from the window, Professor Qiao glanced at Fang Mu only long enough to note his presence, and then rose and walked into the study. Fang Mu had no choice but to follow him. Once they were inside he paused for a moment, and then turned and shut the door.

Professor Qiao took a seat in a swivel chair and puffed on his cigarette. He didn't say a word. Fang Mu didn't dare take a seat, so he just stood there with his arms hanging at his sides. When Professor Qiao finished his cigarette he motioned to the chair in front of him, then he lifted his cigarette pack and offered one to Fang Mu. After cautiously sitting down, Fang Mu hesitated for a moment, but then he removed a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

As the two of them smoked in silence, the air seemed to grow heavy. At last it was Professor Qiao who was first to speak.

"Is what Provost Qi said this afternoon true?"

Fang Mu felt his heart skip a beat, although he had already guessed on his way over that this was why Professor Qiao wanted to speak to him. Of course, the events of the day had made Fang Mu plenty angry himself; Tai Wei giving his name to Xu Jie's family without permission, Provost Qi calling him onstage to speak in front of the whole school. In all fairness, he realized that helping the Public Security Bureau solve a case was nothing to be ashamed of; still, he didn't want to become famous for it. In other words, the real reason Fang Mu was so furious had everything to do with his own personality. But as to why Professor Qiao should be so upset about it, Fang Mu had no idea.

"Um, so, about that…" Fang Mu didn't quite know how to respond.

"Just be straight with me!" said Professor Qiao, his voice rattling the apartment. "Is it true or not?"

"It's true."

"So then tell me, what exactly happened?"

Having no other option, Fang Mu related the details of the Ma Kai case to Professor Qiao, from beginning to end.

After he had finished, Professor Qiao was silent for a moment. At last he asked,

"Was this your first time doing something like this?"

Fang Mu hesitated. Then he shook his head. "No."

Professor Qiao snorted but said nothing. Then he took another cigarette from the pack, lit it, and began puffing away, a frown on his face.

Although Fang Mu wanted to ask him what he was so upset about, he didn't dare open his mouth. All he could do was sitting there, at a total loss.

"Fang Mu," said Professor Qiao all of a sudden, "what is the essence of criminal profiling?"

"Um," Fang Mu was momentarily taken aback, but he quickly recovered. "Criminal profiling is a way of making certain inferences about a crime that requires special training." He paused. "Its conclusions cannot be considered scientific fact."

"In that case, do you believe you are a well-trained criminal profiler?"

"…No," said Fang Mu quietly. He hung his head.

Suddenly Professor Qiao was irate. "Then what were you doing giving your so-called 'conclusions' to the police, influencing their case," he yelled, "and profiling their suspect?"

Fang Mu said nothing, but by now he had a pretty good idea why Professor Qiao was so angry.

"A good criminologist reveres his discipline and object of study," said Professor Qiao, his expression heatedly animated. "This is especially true when he is using his knowledge to direct the police in solving real-life crimes. First, he must have a deep understanding of the fundamentals of theory, and second, he must take a careful, serious-minded approach. As you are surely aware, our opinions can affect people's rights, their freedom-even their very lives." Professor Qiao rapped his finger against the desk to emphasize his words. "This is not child's play. The measure of a criminologist is not found in the number of papers he has published, or the abstract problems he has solved, but by looking at whether he has taken his years of learning, ironclad grasp of theory, and rich experience and used these to serve the public." His glare met Fang Mu's stare head-on. "All of which has absolutely nothing to do with having read a few books, thinking oneself a so-called genius, and going out and trying one's luck!"