"The thought of giving up has never crossed my mind," Yang Jincheng said, his face like a mask of iron. "But above all, I respect my profession!"
Chen Zhe narrowed his eyes and looked Yang Jincheng up and down.
"All you desire is fame, fortune, and status." Yang Jincheng smirked and threw up his hands. "Fine. I can give you all those things. But only on one condition—that you hire me on as a consultant to the Institute. For one thing, I could assist you in the completion of the Scheme; for another, I might be behind the scenes, but at least I would be in a position to watch with my own eyes as my research changes the world."
Chen Zhe nodded. "All right, I agree."
"Okay then. And the other thing you promised?"
Yang Jincheng's words seemed to have erased all worry from Chen Zhe's mind. The former assistant reached right into his pants pocket and came out with a thumb drive, which he handed over to Yang Jincheng. "All the data and notes are there."
Yang Jincheng narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him.
Chen Zhe laughed. "You still don't believe me? I don't have any other tricks up my sleeve. If I were to leak this now, it wouldn't just be your reputation on the line; it would be mine, as well."
Yang Jincheng chuckled bitterly, but it fell short, belied by his somber eyes.
Chen Zhe reached out to pat him on the shoulder. "It's all good, ol' Yang; don't be sad. You want results, and I want fame and fortune—what we've got here is called a win-win situation."
Yang Jincheng leaned sideways to dodge his hand, and gazed around the office, feeling suddenly sentimental. "Chen Zhe, I sincerely hope you keep your promise, and can make the results of the Indoctrination Field experiment applicable to rest of the world."
"Please, call me Director Chen." Chen Zhe looked at Yang Jincheng over the bridge of his nose. "I am happy to allow you to sit a while longer, if you are feeling reluctant to leave this place."
Seeing the teasing smile on Chen Zhe's face, Yang Jincheng stood with difficulty. "No, I want to be alone right now." Grudgingly, he slowly let go of the leather armrest. "I leave all these things to you. However, may I at least take this cup with me?"
Chen Zhe glanced at the precious teacup, and an image leaped into his mind. It was a memory of Yang Jincheng, snarling at him in an arrogant and condescending tone.
"...I warn you, do not touch my teacup.”
Chen Zhe draped his fingers over the lip of the cup. Softly, he gave his answer.
"No."
A bag full of snacks in hand, Fang Mu hurried up the steps to the third floor of the Provincial Hospital and made his way to Room 313 in the Burn Unit. Sister Zhao was not in her bed. He thought for a moment, then turned and strode down the hall to General Surgery.
Sure enough, she was sitting next to Erbao's bed, holding the little boy's hand. Her entire right arm was thickly wrapped in gauze and bandages covered parts of her face. Even so, all of her attention was on Erbao, and from time to time she reached up with a little hand towel and wiped tears or snot from his face.
Fang Mu stood in the doorway a minute longer, then walked over, put the bag down, and gently took the towel from Sister Zhao. As she turned and saw that it was just him, she smiled weakly and made room for him to lean over and touch the little boy's forehead just below the large bandage that wrapped around the back of his head.
Despite his arm being in a splint, as soon as Erbao set eyes on the bag of snacks on the floor, he sat up and reached for it, babbling excitedly. Fang Mu did not want him to exert himself too much, so he picked up the bag, handed it to him, and allowed the boy to gorge himself to his heart's content while he gently wiped his cheeks with the towel.
Sister Zhao eyed the contents of the bag and looked up at Fang Mu reproachfully. "You shouldn't have bought so much."
"You two will be here for at least a few more days." Fang Mu dropped the hand towel into the plastic water basin. "You need to get your strength back up."
"Well, we'll see about that." She gave wan smile as she watched Erbao happily stuffing his face. "I have to go back first thing in the morning. There's just too much that needs doing; I can't leave it all for poor Old Zhou to take care of by himself."
"No, relax. You need to focus on resting up and getting better." Fang Mu finished wringing the hand towel out and draped it over the metal bed railing. "I'm heading over there tomorrow to give him a hand. Oh, by the way, since when did you move your room up to the second floor?"
Sister Zhao grimaced as she massaged her right arm. "With all the ruckus going on lately from those demolition hooligans, Old Zhou and I thought it best to split up and each start sleeping on a different floor so that one of us would always be close to the children. Have you found out who did it yet?"
"The local precinct is on the case." Fang Mu paused. "They suspect it might have had something to do with the demolition and relocation."
Sister Zhao looked suddenly ill at ease. As she looked up at Fang Mu, her bottom lip quavered, as if she were about to say something.
"What's wrong?"
"Fang Mu, Teacher Zhou did not want me to tell you this, but I thought you should know." Her lips tightened. "Someone was trying to kill him."
"Huh?"
Sister Zhao gave a detailed account of how the man had come into her room and attacked her that night. As he listened, the frown on Fang Mu's face deepened into a scowl. He was just thinking of making a call back to the task force when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was Teacher Zhou.
When he answered, however, there was only silence from the other end of the line. Fang Mu said "Hello?" a few times before he finally heard Teacher Zhou speak in an unusually husky voice.
"Little Fang, do me a favor and look after Angel Hall. Look after the children..."
Fang Mu's heart sank. "Teacher Zhou, where are you?"
"...It was I who sowed this evil seed, so I'm the one who must take care of it." No sooner had he said the words than the call suddenly ended.
Fang Mu hastily tried to call him back, but Teacher Zhou had apparently turned off his phone.
Noticing the pale pallor on Fang Mu's face, Sister Zhao asked anxiously, "Is Old Zhou all right?"
"I think he might be about to do something stupid," Fang Mu said as he stood and ran out the door.
He sprinted all the way to the parking lot. When he had started the jeep and was reversing out, he saw Sister Zhao appear in his rearview mirror, hobbling toward the vehicle and holding her bandaged arm painfully.
Fang Mu rolled down the window and shouted at her. "What are you doing? Go back inside!"
But Sister Zhao kept coming. She opened the passenger-side door, climbed into the seat, and screamed at him. "Go! Go!
Hurry!
"
Fang Mu did not bother arguing. He finished reversing out, put the jeep in drive, and gunned the engine, sending the vehicle nearly flying toward the exit.
Two intersections later, Fang Mu suddenly did a U-turn, put on his police lights, and accelerated back in the opposite direction. When she realized they were getting farther and farther away from Angel Hall, Sister Zhao looked at him and shouted. "What are you doing?!"
Fang Mu gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on the traffic ahead as his foot pressed the accelerator all the way to the floor.
He knew exactly where Teacher Zhou was.
Teacher Zhou pushed open the Institute's spotless glass doors and headed straight for the elevator. The security guard at the front desk was halfway to his feet to stop him when he realized the intruder was the same old man at whom Director Yang had pointed and said, "...you are to treat him with every bit of respect you show me, understood?" So the security guard stopped short, and raised his hand in an awkward salute. Teacher Zhou walked straight past without even looking at him and disappeared into one of the waiting elevators.
He walked the familiar corridors of the top floor and easily located the Director's office. As he pushed through the door, he saw Yang Jincheng lying back in his chair, a facial mask draped over his face, meditating with his eyes closed.
The whole way there, the hatred had been building inside of Teacher Zhou with every step. When he saw the cleansing mask on his former colleague's face, that loathing threatened to boil over.
How dare you sit there worrying so much about your complexion after mercilessly killing all those people?
Teacher Zhou strode up to the desk and fixed his eyes on the ghost-white face. "You wanted to kill me, right? Well, here I am."
Yang Jincheng gave no response. When Teacher Zhou leaned closer to listen, he could hear slight snoring sounds coming from his nose. He was asleep.
Teacher Zhou could not believe how easy this was. His jaw set, he walked around to the other side of the desk and pulled a length of steel wire from his coat pocket.
This man had once been his smartest, most outstanding student. But without the slightest hesitation, Teacher Zhou looped the wire around Yang Jincheng's neck and pulled back on it with all his might.
The sleeping man abruptly convulsed and began struggling to break free. Teacher Zhou pulled on the wire even harder, until Yang Jincheng's body gradually went limp.
Tears flooded Teacher Zhou's eyes. He leaned down and whispered into Yang Jincheng's ear. "Our little Skinner's Box is no more, and the same is true of Angel Hall. A scientist who believes he is God will end up creating nothing but hell…"
A soft cracking sound came from Yang Jincheng's throat, and he stopped breathing.
Teacher Zhou did not let go of the wire for a long time. When he finally did, he stood slowly and let out a long, deep sigh, a sound that was at once relief and despair.
Reaching down to smooth Yang Jincheng's disheveled hair, he stared for a while at the face that would never wake up again. With a trembling hand, he began to remove the white facial mask. He had just lifted a corner of it when the door was kicked open with a crash.
Fang Mu rushed in, his gun leveled straight at the old man's head. "Don't move!"
Teacher Zhou stepped over to the large French windows, undid the latch, and swung them open. "Stay where you are!" he hollered over his shoulder.
Fang Mu glanced at the lifeless body in the chair and the wire looped around his neck. A chill ran down his spine. "Is that…Yang Jincheng?"
Hands on the window frame, Teacher Zhou nodded solemnly.
A chaos of thoughts raced through Fang Mu's mind. He lowered his gun and was about to say something else when he heard a shrill scream come from behind him. Sister Zhao was standing in the doorway with her good hand over her mouth, staring in horror at Yang Jincheng's corpse. When she saw Teacher Zhou standing in the open French windows, she took a step in his direction.
"Stay back!" Teacher Zhou let go of the window frame with one of his hands and leaned halfway out of the window.
Fang Mu grabbed Sister Zhao around the middle to restrain her, then slowly holstered his gun. He held that hand up for Teacher Zhou to see, five fingers spread wide. "Teacher Zhou, please, don't get too excited now. How 'bout you just step away from the window? Things aren't as bad as you think they are; I can help you. Trust me."
Teacher Zhou smiled a sad smile. "I don't want to be helped."
A frigid gust of wind ripped past Teacher Zhou into the office, mussing his hair and causing his shabby old coat to billow open. Beneath the leaden sky, he looked like a dilapidated toy about to be tossed into the garbage.