Lei Mi - Profiler

"Are you saying that those names were the suggestive signal?"

"Correct. Meng Fanzhe had a secret that nobody knew about. He was scared of roll call," Fang Mu said. "Most likely nothing else was impressed as deeply on his mind than his own name. At some point he must have gone to see the killer — in his role as the so-called doctor — for psychotherapy. The killer probably then used Meng Fanzhe's fear of roll call to turn his name into a post-hypnotic suggestive signal. There was one time before that night when I spoke to Meng Fanzhe in the bathroom and discovered that when I said his name, he would undergo a very unusual emotional reaction. Then on the night when he tried to kill me, I initially said a few words to him and he barely even responded; but as soon as I called out his name, he suddenly attacked."

"Hey, I just thought of something," said Tai Wei, his face lighting up. "You remember that night in the city bureau, when we were trying to interrogate Meng Fanzhe? At first he didn't respond at all to any of our questions, but then when one of our interrogators said his name, he went absolutely crazy."

"Exactly. I'm thinking that the killer designed the suggestive signal so that when Meng Fanzhe heard his name, he would attack whoever said it."

For a moment Tai Was lost in thought. He pointed under bed. "So then what was the point of him repeatedly carving his name into the bed board?"

Fang Mu thought about this. "In the days before the incident, Meng Fanzhe had probably begun to realize that something wasn't quite right with his mental state. He once told me that he would often forget where he had been or what he had done, and couldn't remember how a bunch of strange things had appeared in his room — meaning all the evidence you guys found. I'm guessing the killer had also hypnotized him into bringing this stuff back. As a result, I believe he had started to become frightened of himself, and especially of his name. And when people are frightened, they will often choose to hide. The space under this bed," he said, patting the bed board beneath him, "was most likely his hiding place. The thing is, he was probably also pretty dissatisfied with how everything was going. Previously, with the help of this doctor, he had nearly overcome the psychological dysfunction relating to his name. So he forced himself to write his name over and over on the bed board, hoping to convince himself that he wasn't scared of it after all."

Fang Mu paused, and then said quietly, "At that point he must have had a very complex relationship with the doctor, doubting him and depending on him at the same time. That's why he wrote his mom the letter."

In a flash, Fang Mu could almost hear the sound of someone under the bed: breathing rapidly, crying softly, and scratching something out onto the bed board, all the while mumbling indistinctly: "Meng Fanzhe, Meng Fanzhe, Meng Fanzhe…"

Fang Mu clenched his fists.

Frowning, Tai Wei smoked a cigarette and said nothing.

Fang Mu watched him. "How about it? You think this evidence will convince the bureau to reopen the case?"

"I'm afraid it will be very difficult." Tai Wei paused to think for a moment. "First, you were the only person to know about that letter and the GR written on the windowpane. Second, because it seems superficial that the sixth and seventh crimes have already been committed, it would be very tough for the bureau to accept that, in fact, the sixth-lane murder was the killer's actual completion of his sixth crime. And besides, as you well know, the bureau is still firmly of the opinion that you should not be participating in the investigation. So no matter what you say, it's unlikely anyone will believe it."

A dejected look crossed Fang Mu's face.

Seeing his expression, Tai Wei couldn't help but feel for the kid. He patted him on the shoulder.

"Anyway," he said, "did you find anything in that textbook excerpt?"

"Nothing so far." Fang Mu shook his head. "I can't tell you how many times I've scrutinized that thing without finding a single clue." He grabbed a book from his shelf and handed it to Tai Wei. "I took the book that the excerpt came from out of the library, hoping that I might find something. It's called Legends of the Hulan River ."

Tai Wei weighed the book in his hands. It didn't feel that heavy. But when he opened it and saw how small the printing was inside, he couldn't help but lose heart. "Jeez, it would take forever to find a clue in here."

"I'm also going to check out the textbook that this excerpt came from. Maybe I'll be able to find something in there."

Tai Wei paused to think for a moment. "You think the killer might have written the clue directly onto the excerpt with disappearing ink or something?"

"I don't think so," Fang Mu said quickly, as if he had long since considered this possibility. "He would have known that the paper would be submerged for some time, and if the ink couldn't reappear then there would be no point of writing it in the first place. I think the clue most likely has something to do with the excerpt itself."

"Jeez, who would have thought that an elementary school textbook would contain the clue to a murder?" Tai Wei stood up and stretched. Suddenly he stopped and said, "You think the next victim is going to be a fourth-grader?"

Fang Mu smiled grimly. "Who knows? Anything is possible."

He looked at the mountain of documents stacked beside his computer. "From tests I've taken in the past, I remember that the last question is frequently the hardest. The teacher would always tell us to first do the easier ones, and then if we still had time, to summon our energy and attempt the final problem."

What was the answer to the seventh question?

It was another cold and dry early winter's morning. Backpack on his back, Fang Mu hurried toward the EducationBuilding. The campus was just as bustling as ever. After slacking off all semester the students were finally getting serious. Final exams were almost there.

During first and second period that day, Professor Qiao had been teaching undergraduate criminology. Because there had been no criminology courses at Changhong City Teacher's College, Fang Mu made a point to sit in whenever he could.

In addition, he hadn't seen Professor Qiao since that time in his apartment. His final sentence, "This will all be over soon," had been making Fang Mu nervous ever since. He really wanted to speak with the professor, but even if they couldn't talk, Fang Mu hoped that Professor Qiao might still give him some unspoken clue.

The classroom was much fuller than usual. Since exams were coming up, students were of the mind that they would be penalized if they didn't show up.

Fang Mu sat down in one of the corners of the room. Recognizing him, some students pointed in his direction, but he just pretended to not see them.

It was already after 8 a.m. and the professor still hadn't showed up.

Up until that point the students had been quietly awaiting the start of class, but now they began to get a little noisy. At 8:15, there was still no sign of Professor Qiao. Some of the more impatient students demanded that the class monitor call him up and see what was going on.

Holding his phone, the class monitor ran into the hall and dialed. He returned a moment later. "His phone's off."

"The dean's office, call the dean's office," someone suggested.

At 8:30, someone from the dean's office hurried into the classroom and announced that class was canceled for the day.

Groaning, the students quickly packed up their stuff and then streamed out of the classroom. Before long, Fang Mu was the only person left.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Professor Qiao's cell. It was off.

He tried his home number. Busy.

He dialed it again and again, but it was busy every time.