Lei Mi - Profiler

Tai Wei watched Old Zhao's slightly hunched form disappear into the darkness at the end of the hallway. The guy was over 50 and had only just been promoted to deputy division chief. During this mess, the pressure had to be unimaginable.

At that moment, Fang Mu was sitting in class and spacing out, watching the same raindrops patter against the windowpane.

Rain always caused people to daydream-or at the very least, seemed to make it impossible to pay attention to what was going on in front of them.

It was Professor Song's class again. Because the professor worked as a lawyer during the day, he had no choice but to teach his graduate lessons outside of normal class hours. Dinnertime had already passed, but the professor showed no sign of finishing. Instead he just told everyone to take a short break.

Grumbling, some students braved the rain and sprinted to a nearby market to buy bread and other snacks to stave off hunger. The gutsier ones, on the other hand, covertly packed up their belongings and slipped out. After drinking some tea and smoking a cigarette in his office, Professor Song returned to class in great spirits, but when he saw how many students had left, his face went red and he pulled the attendance sheet from his briefcase.

The sound of students responding "Here" from every corner of the classroom brought Fang Mu back to reality, and he involuntarily glanced over at Meng Fanzhe. This was the first time the professor had taken attendance in a long time, and it had also been a long time since Fang Mu and Meng Fanzhe had sat next to each other. Meng Fanzhe was now too far away to help, and Fang Mu felt both worried for him and unwilling to watch another of those incredibly awkward scenes.

It was clear Meng Fanzhe was nervous himself. He sat stiffly, his back straight and his eyes focused unblinkingly on the attendance sheet in Professor Song's hands.

"Wang Degang."

"Here."

"Chen Liang."

"Here."

"Chu Xiaoxu."

"Here."

Unable to do anything, Fang Mu forced himself to look away.

It was good breeding not to knock over one's tableware at dinner. But when someone else knocked over their tableware, it was even better breeding to pretend not to see.

Next time, man. Right now there's nothing I can do.

"Meng Fanzhe."

Meng Fanzhe hesitated for about a second. Then he stood halfway up and spoke very clearly: "Here."

Astounded, Fang Mu looked back over, only to meet Meng Fanzhe's eyes. Meng Fanzhe smiled brightly at him, and gave a cheerful, victorious wink.

Before going to bed, Fang Mu ran into Meng Fanzhe in the bathroom. Meng Fanzhe was carrying two large kettles that he had just filled with boiling water.

"What are you doing with those?" Fang Mu asked, pointing at the kettles as he scrubbed his face at a sink.

"I'm giving Tom a bath," said Meng Fanzhe with a smile.

"Then you really don't need that much. It's a waste."

"You don't understand. Tom is so naughty. He always gets himself filthy from head to toe." Hearing Meng Fanzhe cheerfully complain about Tom, Fang Mu remembered how Liu Jianjun had called Meng Fanzhe Jerry , and he couldn't help but smile. Looking to either side, he made sure no one else was in the bathroom.

He turned to Meng Fanzhe and said quietly, "It seems like you're no longer afraid of roll call."

"Yep!" Meng Fanzhe nodded vigorously. "That seems to be the case." He placed the kettles on the floor and reached out to shake Fang Mu's hand, a serious look on his face. "Fang Mu, I want to thank you so much for the help you gave me."

Fang Mu smiled and shook his hand. "Don't mention it."

"When you're free, you'll have to come visit me in my room," said Meng Fanzhe. Then he waved goodbye, picked up his kettles and left.

Seeing Meng Fanzhe so relaxed made Fang Mu deeply happy. As he looked in the mirror, a slight smile gradually climbed his face.

That's right, he thought. Nothing is impossible.

It rained for two days straight, and as September began there was an unexpected chill in the air.

Umbrella overhead, Fang Mu carefully climbed the rain-slick library steps. He glanced at a piece of paper on the wall. It looked like a missing person notice. Momentarily distracted, he nearly slipped on some fallen leaves. He looked up. It seemed like only yesterday that the big tree had been covered in green. Now the leaves were all golden yellow, and as another gust of wind blew, several more floated down.

Five minutes earlier, he had received a call from Professor Qiao telling him to meet in the Psychological Consultation Room. He had not said what was going on, only that Fang Mu should hurry.

The Psychological Consultation Room was on the second floor of the library. It was the first of its kind to be located in any of the city's universities, and Professor Qiao was the man in charge. In 2000, the members of the Provincial Education Commission had held a meeting concerning university students' mental health, at which they called for all schools of higher education to establish mental health services for the benefit of their students. JiangbinCityUniversity administrators had then tapped several professors from the schools of law and education to form the staff of a psychological consultation room located at the university. Being the eldest staff member, Professor Qiao Yunping had been chosen to be the project's director. But in the two years since its founding, very few people had come in for a consultation. Of course, this did not in the least mean that no one at JiangbinCityUniversity had psychological issues; just that most would rather not confront them head-on. And since Professor Qiao usually had many things to attend to, he began showing up at the center less and less, until he was rarely there. So Fang Mu found it very puzzling that this was where the professor wanted to meet that day.

After Fang Mu knocked on the door, he heard Professor Qiao's distinctly calm voice. "Come in."

Fang Mu opened the door and walked inside, only to find that Professor Qiao was not alone.

On the sofa against the wall sat two visitors wearing police uniforms. One of them wore the stripes of a top-ranked officer. Both men turned to look at Fang Mu as he entered, obviously sizing him up.

Professor Qiao sat behind his desk. Several thick folders were stacked in front of him. He held one open in his hands. Glancing at Fang Mu from over the top of his presbyopic glasses, he motioned for him to sit in a nearby chair, and then handed him one of the folders.

The two policemen glanced at one another.

Without looking up, Professor Qiao said, "My student."

This didn't seem to ease their doubts in the least.

Feeling a little awkward, Fang Mu had no choice but to take a seat and open the folder.

Once he saw the first page, he knew exactly what they were: the files from the Qu Weiqiang and Wang Qian murder case.

Preliminary case notes. Autopsy reports. Crime scene investigation details and photographs. Interview transcriptions. Almost casually, Fang Mu flipped through it all.

Qu Weiqiang face down on the turf, arms extended, severed bones sticking out of either wrist.

His hands beside the goalposts, pale white and bloodless, like they had been chopped off a plastic mannequin.

Beneath his caved-in skull, his face wore a serene expression.

In a flash, Fang Mu’s mind returned to that night he had stood alone in front of the goal. Everything around him became quiet. The overflowing bookshelves, Professor Qiao and the two policemen sitting up straight on the sofa, the large oil painting of Sigmund Freud on the wall-all of it now seemed very far away.

A single person now slowly took shape before Fang Mu, as if raised from the pit of his stomach. The person extended his vine-like arms farther and farther until they were wrapped tightly around Fang Mu, and then they burrowed under his skin, without leaving a mark or making a sound. Then a moment later a piercing pain spread throughout his body, and with it a calm, clear sort of feeling gradually emerged from within.