"Sorry to keep you waiting, Captain Bian."
Fang Mu and Summer's mother both stood as well. Upon seeing them, Yang Jincheng appeared surprised. He chuckled a little. "Ah, I see you're here, too, Officer Fang. And you two are...?"
Chen Zhe interjected from behind him. "They were referred over from Dr. Liang at the Children's Hospital."
Yang Jincheng nodded and told Summer's mother he would not be long. She nodded, but Summer still sat there, unmoving.
Bian Ping handed the certificate of recognition to Yang Jincheng and summed up the purpose of their visit. Yang Jincheng kept mumbling "It's more than I deserve," but he seemed very happy. When Bian Ping asked him to come to the precinct and give a talk on psychological crisis intervention, Yang Jincheng readily agreed.
"No problem. Any time is fine; just give me a week's advance notice."
"Okay, well, we'll be going now. I wouldn't want to take up any more of your time." Bian Ping and Fang Mu got up to leave.
On their way out the door Fang Mu noticed Summer had turned his head and was staring at him through a pair of black, bean-like eyes that followed him until he had exited the room.
Fang Mu stared out the car window the whole way back to the precinct, lost in thought, only somewhat aware of Bian Ping's occasional glances his way while driving. While they were stopped at a red light, he threw a cigarette at Fang Mu.
"Thinking about that kid?"
"Yeah." Fang Mu did not have the energy to disguise his emotions, so he just lit the cigarette and took a drag.
"Poor guy." The light turned green and Bian Ping put his foot on the accelerator. "I'm guessing it might be PTSD."
Fang Mu shut his tired eyes, but in the darkness he could still see the look that had been in Summer's eyes as they left. He had looked like an injured animal.
The chance encounter with Summer had sent Fang Mu into a dreary mood, and over the next few days there was no news about the cases to alleviate it. After a series of investigations by the police, Fang Mu's couple of leads had still turned up nothing.
Although the labyrinth case victim, Jiang Peiyao, had hardly been anyone's paragon of virtue, he had been a good man with a docile temperament. He had held a teaching position at the Commercial College since he graduated from university 17 years ago. Though it was true that the majority of students at that school were undisciplined and wayward, no one had ever heard of any conflicts occurring between Professor Jiang and his students. Quite the contrary; when mentioning Jiang Peiyao, many students said that they had liked him a lot. Fang Mu's hypothesis had been that Jiang Peiyao had been overly critical of a student, and that that had led to the sense of being "lost" which was conveyed by the murder scene in the labyrinth. But now it looked as though that theory was completely off target. So, could something Jiang Peiyao had done unintentionally have caused the murderer to feel intensely lost and aroused a deep-seated hatred in him?
It seemed a hopeless train of thought to Fang Mu. Jiang Peiyao had died at the age of 39; in those 39 years, how many countless thousands of people had he crossed paths with? It would take much longer than 39 years to document every unintentional act he might have done to all those people during his lifetime.
The research into Shen Baoqiang, the victim in the Fushima Mall case, was even more disappointing. Shen Baoqiang had graduated from university with a bachelor's degree and worked as a technician at a state-owned machine parts manufacturing plant. When he was 29-year-old, he quit his job and joined the private sector; a year later he fell on hard times when the company he worked for went bankrupt due to poor management. The following year his wife divorced him; because they had no children together, it was a simple division of property case. After that Shen Baoqiang remained unmarried and had trouble finding a stable source of income. A few years later he got a job as a manager at a friend's wholesale fruit company, and according to statements from employees there, Mr. Shen had had a hard life. As a result, he was very considerate and understanding toward his subordinates, most of whom remembered him fondly. The police had looked into the years between his former company's bankruptcy and when he got the job at the wholesale fruit company and had conducted interviews with people who had known him during that time. They learned that Shen Baoqiang had been self-employed as an in-house tutor, had part-time employment as an assistant to a lawyer, and as an insurance salesman, but had never worked for an advertising company, not even as a temp.
Thus, it appeared that there was no discernable connection between Shen Baoqiang and the teddy bear suit. Had he simply been a victim of sacrifice chosen at random by the murderers? Since ancient times, most victims of ritual sacrifice had been women, children, or young, healthy males. Why would they choose an ordinary man who had fast been approaching middle age?
Fang Mu still had a vague but unshakable feeling that the two cases were somehow related; there were rituals behind each of them, and although the details of those rituals were not known, the symbolic significance of vengeance and validation in both of them left Fang Mu without a doubt in his mind.
CHAPTER
20
Tool
T
he date for the lecture on psychological counseling was soon finalized, and the theme would be Practical Applications of Psychological Crisis Intervention. The lecture was to be hosted by the Changhong City Public Security Bureau, and a notice was sent out to all precincts to organize for a representative to attend. The enthusiastic response took the Municipal Bureau by surprise; more people showed up to the lecture than had been anticipated, and so they had to move the event from the Municipal Bureau's main conference room into a small auditorium.
There was small wonder that the topic was so popular and drew such a large crowd, as during peacetime, the police held the most dangerous jobs and tended to be under the most pressure. Facing accidents, death, and cruel, cunning criminals on a daily basis, a policeman's psyche was bound to be profoundly affected. This was especially true of the younger and more inexperienced cops; after shooting their guns for the first time on a mission, it usually took several days just for their nerves to calm down. Some people in the police profession were alcoholics or chronic gamblers, but the real reason behind these activities was that such people tended to feel a deep inner need to distract themselves from the psychological pressures of their demanding jobs. Because of this, the lecture had attracted the interest of a great number of police officers.
That Wednesday afternoon there was not an empty seat in the PSB auditorium and even the aisles were crowded. The PSB and Municipal Bureau leadership filled the front row, and behind them sat the members from the Criminal Psychology Research Institute. Originally Lu Xu had been planning to sit with his colleagues from the Municipal Bureau, but the PSB leadership had arranged for him to sit in the front row with them instead.
At 1:30 sharp Yang Jincheng, wearing an immaculate black suit, began his lecture. After some brief introductory remarks he dove straight into the topic at hand, first outlining the psychological crisis intervention system used by police in Western countries in contrast to the present reality in China under which the mental health of police officers was neglected more often than not. He brought up the argument that helping police officers maintain a healthy state of mind was every bit as important as keeping their equipment up to date. It was apparent that Yang Jincheng had prepared his lecture with a great degree of care; its content was intelligent and well-versed, and he explained the psychology involved in a manner that was both thorough as well as accessible to those in the room who did not have much of a background in the subject.
Due to time limitations, Yang Jincheng quickly narrowed the main focus of the lecture down to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Objectively speaking, it was quite a fitting topic. For most of the cops present, every day brought the possibility of encountering a sudden violent situation of some sort and so they had a much higher than average chance of developing PTSD. Perhaps it was precisely for this reason that as Yang Jincheng spoke, his audience grew so attentive that, apart from his voice, not a single sound could be heard throughout the auditorium.
Fang Mu, however, felt uncomfortable. Several times he craned his neck around to take a furtive glance at the expression on Lu Xu's face. The motorcycle cop was now holding a bouquet of flowers, which had no doubt been given him by the PSB so that he could get on stage and present them to Yang Jincheng at the conclusion of the lecture. In contrast to the nodding, grinning faces of those around him, Lu Xu's expression was blank. He just sat there behind the flowers, unmoving, staring at the stage at the excessively animated Yang Jincheng.
Yang Jincheng finally began to use case studies to illustrate his points. This was what Fang Mu had been most worried about; he had been hoping the lecture would not touch on certain specifics.
"We have among us a certain police officer—for our purposes here, I'll keep his name confidential. Let's just refer to him as X for now. While on duty, X was involved in a sudden and very severe traffic accident..."
Fang Mu could not listen any further, nor could he bear the sight of Lu Xu's expression any longer. He stood, made his way along the crowded aisle to the doors, and left the auditorium.
The afternoon sunshine felt good; it was warm on his skin. If it had not been for the autumn leaves littering the courtyard, it would have felt like a spring day. Fang Mu leaned against a bicycle rack for a long time, chain-smoking cigarette after cigarette.
As a researcher trying to expound on a point of view, using concrete examples to help illustrate it was understandable; but the use of someone whom just about everyone in the auditorium was very familiar with by now had put Fang Mu in low spirits. Yang Jincheng had intentionally omitted Lu Xu's name, but because the accident had happened so recently, there was no way anyone in the audience could have missed the fact that the patient in the example given was none other than Lu Xu, not to mention the fact that he had called the patient by the letter "X". Thinking of how Yang Jincheng would be talking about Lu Xu's erectile dysfunction to an auditorium full of people made Fang Mu feel extremely embarrassed for the man.
Remembering how Yang Jincheng had used him as a simple prop during Lu Xu's psychodrama therapy, Fang Mu’s respect for the scientist had diminished a bit. However, when he thought about how effective the treatment had been overall, he could not help but feel reassured. Perhaps this was simply Dr. Yang's style; perhaps he was one to prioritize scientific research over all else. Perhaps he felt Lu Xu should be brave enough to face such a thing…
It was just that, as a psychologist, how could he be so negligent as to risk the possibility of bringing about an unhealthy state of mind in his patient?
Fang Mu had a vague feeling that the precise motive for Yang Jincheng's reason for having set the stage, so to speak, was that at that very moment
he
was in the limelight, and was fully aware of that fact.
Well, so be it
, Fang Mu thought. If this could help more policemen be cured of their psychological disorders, or even be relieved of some psychological stress, then perhaps Lu Xu's embarrassment and Fang Mu's own temporary discomfort were acceptable side effects.
The lecture drew to a close just as Fang Mu returned to the auditorium. Everyone in the place stood and directed a warm, extended applause to Yang Jincheng. He stepped down from the dais in the center of the stage, gave a slight bow, and waved at his audience. Just then Lu Xu, his features stretched taut in a stiff smile, climbed onto the stage via the steps on the left and walked over to stop in front of Yang Jincheng. He then gave a formal salute and presented the scientist with the bouquet.
Yang Jincheng placed a hand on Lu Xu's shoulder and turned to face the flashing cameras…
Afterward, Fang Mu returned to the office. It was an hour later before Bian Ping, who had remained by Yang Jincheng's side ever since the lecture, finally arrived.
Brows slightly knitted and exhaustion draining his face, Bian Ping greeted Fang Mu minimally and then sat behind his desk to smoke in silence.
When he had finished his cigarette, he looked up and met Fang Mu's gaze. As they locked eyes for a moment, the two men smirked; each knew what the other was thinking.
"Dr. Yang's, uh..." Bian Ping weighed his words. "It wasn't exactly the most tactful performance in the world, was it?"
"Not just that," Fang Mu barked, at last finding an outlet for his pent-up frustration. "He didn't give a single thought to Lu Xu's feelings!"
"Forget it," Bian Ping said with a wave of his hand. His tone was conciliatory. "He was probably just thinking about his career too much. In any case, Lu Xu's treatment was successful."
Fang Mu was in no mood to argue, so he changed the subject. "Have all the top brass left?"
"Yep." Bian Ping glanced at his watch. "It's nearly time to punch out. Why don't you go ahead and get out of here?"
On his way out of the compound to go home to his apartment, Fang Mu spotted a solitary figure leaning against the railing leading to the main entrance to the courtyard. It was Lu Xu.
He hesitated, then picked up his step and strode over. Lu Xu smiled and straightened when he saw him.
"Still here?"
"Uh-huh. I stayed behind to say goodbye to Dr. Yang." Lu Xu nodded in the direction of the gate. "My colleagues already left. We were carpooling."
"Well, how about I give you a lift then?"
"No, no; it's fine," Lu Xu said, waving his hands. "I'll just catch a cab back."
"It's no big deal. I was on my way out anyway," Fang Mu lied.
"Well…okay then." Lu Xu hesitated a moment before nodding his head. "Thank you."
Lu Xu was quiet in the car. He unbuttoned the top button of his long-sleeved shirt, loosened his tie, and leaned back against the seat, looking utterly dejected.
Fang Mu noticed a tiny wad of paper between Lu Xu's fingertips, gone dark from his fiddling.
"What's that?"
"Oh…" Lu Xu chuckled. "A guy from my precinct slipped it to me. Apparently it's a recipe for an aphrodisiac."
He rolled down the window and flicked the wad of paper outside. "They must think I'm useless."
Feeling awkward, Fang Mu searched for the best words to comfort the motorcycle cop. It was a long, drawn-out moment before he finally said, "No, that's not how it is, I'm sure."
Lu Xu continued to stare at the road in front of them and did not answer. As they turned onto a narrow street, he suddenly asked, "Fang Mu, have you eaten?"
"No, why?" Fang Mu slowed the car.
"I'll buy you a drink. And something to eat."
"What, now?" Fang Mu eyed the uniform Lu Xu was wearing. "Some other time perhaps. If you drink with that on, all you'll do is make trouble for yourself."
"It's all good." Lu Xu removed his cap, shrugged off his jacket, slipped his tie from around his collar, and tossed the garments in the backseat. "Good to go now, see?"
"Damn, you're gonna freeze like that." Fang Mu glanced around the car. "I don't have anything warm to lend you."
"Don't worry about it," Lu Xu said as he pointed excitedly at a little street-side eatery. "Let's go there."
Even though he had taken off his jacket with its numerous police emblems and patches, the light blue shirt and navy trousers Lu Xu still wore made it look like he was still on duty. The shiny police badge covering his belt buckle only worsened that impression. As Lu Xu strode into the little eatery, Fang Mu trailed a step or two behind, feeling more than a little nervous.
While they were ordering, Lu Xu first asked for ten bottles of beer before pointing out a few side dishes. It seemed his main reason for stopping by the eatery was to drink.
After finishing a bottle, Fang Mu politely declined the next by saying he needed to remain sober in order to drive.
Lu Xu widened his eyes. "Aw, come on, you can drink more than that!"
"I still have to drive…" Fang Mu repeated, holding a hand up in objection.
"Don't worry about it." Lu Xu brushed his hand aside and shoved an open beer bottle at him. "No one leaves until these are all gone!"
It turned out Lu Xu had more bark than bite; his tolerance to alcohol was not actually very high. With only two beers in his belly, his tongue was already slurring words. Feeling sympathetic to the man's situation, Fang Mu decided it would be no big deal to simply leave his car there and catch a cab home. And so he began drinking with Lu Xu in earnest.
After they jabbered about this and that for a while, the topic turned inevitably to that day's lecture.