by Lei Mi
Based on the previous crimes, the killer should once more be copying the methods of a famous serial killer from history.
But searching through this book – about the lives and customs of people in a small town in northeastern China – for clues to a serial killer's murders was like trying to find secret kung fu techniques in a cookbook. As Fang Mu flipped through the pages, he paid special attention to words like "kill," "hit", and "death", hoping to find some trace of the killer's intentions.
"Another horse drowned in the small lake." He felt this one was unrelated; after all, it was just a horse.
"Horribly embarrassed, the mother grabbed the fire poker from beside the door and struck the child on the shoulder. The child immediately began to cry and ran back into the house." Fire poker? thought Fang Mu. Had something like that ever been used as a murder weapon?
"She stood inside of an enormous vat, screaming and trying to jump out, as if her life were in danger. Three or four people stood around her, scooping hot water from the vat and dumping it on her head. Before long, her face was red from the water; she couldn't struggle anymore and just stood calmly in the vat. She didn't try to jump out again, as if she no longer thought it possible. The vat itself was huge, so that when she stood up only her head poked out." Was the next murder going to take place in a boiler room, or some other place like that?
"Several ghosts of people who had died wrongful deaths lived under that bridge. Whenever it rained, those who crossed the bridge could hear them crying."
Suddenly Fang Mu swept everything in front of him onto the floor.
The papers and books all fell and fluttered to the ground. A bottle of ink was knocked onto his bed, blackening the sheets. A glass cup flew against the wall, shattering with a piercing sound.
Fang Mu tore at his hair, feeling as if his temples were thumping violently.
He couldn't keep doing this.
Professor Qiao's fate was still unknown and the next victim was in great danger. Yet here I am, he thought, guessing at words.
His chest felt painfully constricted, his every organ on fire. All he wanted to do was tear off his clothes, stick his hands into his chest and squeeze, pinch, and twist.
He suddenly stood up and looked out the window. A heavy snow was already beginning to fall.
It was almost midnight and the rooftop was completely empty. This was what Fang Mu wanted.
Already covered with a thick layer of snow, it shined with a bright, cold light. It was a beautiful sight. After hesitating for a long time, he could wait no longer and finally stepped out.
The sound of his feet crunching against the snow was so familiar it made his heart ache.
A slight breeze was blowing and frequently great quantities of snowflakes would float onto his burning face, melting instantly. The water would then drip down his cheeks, turning from cold to warm.
Looking up, he saw a faint light in the formerly pitch-black sky. The snow fell all around him, as far as the eye could see, making only the slightest sound as it floated gracefully into every corner of the world. Was it sighing with sadness at leaving the sky, or rather rejoicing at returning to earth?
The snow gradually covered Fang Mu's body, so lightly that he neither felt its weight nor its cold. He looked back. His footsteps were deep, clearly showing the way he had come.
He looked ahead. Everything was obscured by a boundless curtain of snow. He couldn't make out a thing.
Midnight. Heavy snow. Faint wind.
It swirled around Fang Mu like a spirit, caressing his skin and whispering faintly. The feeling was warm and sincere.
Like his old friends were surrounding him, speaking to him.
All of you, wherever you are, I know that you're looking out for me…
Fang Mu slowly knelt in the snow.
Please give me a little more time.
Please give me a little more help.
Please give me a little more courage.
The dining hall.
Fang Mu was stuffing food in his mouth as he closely read Legends of the Hulan River. He frequently used his pen to mark various parts of the book and now the pages were covered with all kinds of lines and notes. He knew that he would get yelled at when he returned it to the library, but by now he no longer cared.
Someone placed a tray on the table in front of the seat opposite him. Looking up, his eyes met those of Zhao Yonggui's haggard face.
"You're a hardworking guy, huh?" he said mockingly. Still, there was a trace of friendliness in his voice.
Having no desire to talk to him, Fang Mu was about to stand up and leave, but when he thought of how Zhao Yonggui was leading the case, he asked, "Any progress recently?"
Scooping some rice into his mouth, Zhao Yonggui shook his head tiredly.
Fang Mu said nothing, just buried his face in his food and ate, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.
Zhao Yonggui, on the other hand, wasn't hurried at all, and he watched Fang Mu as he slowly chewed his food. After a while, he spoke. "Tai Wei came to talk to me a few days ago. He said you have a different opinion about this case."
Fang Mu looked up at him. Zhao Yonggui was frowning and closely watching him, sizing him up.
Fang Mu didn't see a hint of trust in his eyes. Annoyed, he dropped his head and continued wolfing down his food.
Seeing that Fang Mu wasn't going to say a thing, Zhao Yonggui continued. "Do you still think we handled that last case incorrectly?"
Fang Mu said nothing.
"Do you still believe we treated that homicidal maniac unjustly?"
Fang Mu threw his spoon onto his tray with a sharp clatter, causing food to splatter across the table. Several grains of rice stuck Zhao Yonggui's shirt.
Suppressing his anger, Fang Mu did his best to speak in an even tone. "Officer Zhao, if you don't believe me, then there's nothing I can do about that. However, my opinion will not change; Meng Fanzhe was innocent, and the killer is someone else. You have your ideas, and I have my methods – "
"Your methods?" Zhao Yonggui said, breaking in. "Still those same old tricks? Baseless criminal profiles?" He lifted up Legends of the Hulan River with his thumb and forefinger like it was a dirty object. "This is what you're relying on? You think you can catch a killer by reading a novel?"
Fang Mu snatched the book back from him and slammed it onto the table. "Whether or not you believe me, the clue to the seventh crime is in here!"
"There's a serial killer in Legends of the Hulan River? Ha!" Zhao Yonggui leaned back and laughed loudly at him. His laugh was almost immediately cut short, as if he had suddenly realized something. A slight change of visage came over him.
Fang Mu no longer wanted to say anything else to him. If he did, he was afraid that he'd curse him out. He stuck his pen in his pocket and put the book beneath his armpit, and then grabbed his tray and started to leave. Before he could take two steps, Zhao Yonggui snatched his arm and pulled him back.
"Get the hell off of me!" he yelled at the officer, no longer able to control himself.
But just as the words left his mouth, he was shocked to discover that Zhao Yonggui now seemed a completely different person than he had been only moments before. He was frowning deeply, a look of astonishment on his face, as if he was thinking about something that he didn't dare believe.
"Sit!" He pointed at the chair opposite, his tone of voice making it clear that Fang Mu had no choice in the matter. At the same time, he pulled Legends of the Hulan River from Fang Mu's arm and began scrutinizing it.
Fang Mu sat down.
"Hulan River…Hulan River…" Zhao Yonggui muttered himself, his frown deepening. "Just now you said this book had something to do with a serial killer?"
Puzzled by the officer's behavior, Fang Mu couldn't help but nod.
For several seconds Zhao Yonggui appeared lost in thought. Then with what seemed a great deal of determination, he looked up and asked, "Have you ever heard of the Great Knight of Hulan?"
&
nbsp; "The Great Knight of Hulan? Never heard of him. Why?" Fang Mu asked impatiently. "Who was he?"
"This was back in the eighties, in Hulan County, Heilongjiang. He was a fierce bandit who committed a number of terrible murder cases."
"Then why do I feel like I've never heard of him before?"
"Of course you've never heard of him, because at the time they were never able to crack the case, so they sealed away all information about it. Only us old-timers know about this one."
"So what kind of crimes did the Great Knight of Hulan commit exactly? And why is he called the great knight?"
"Great Knight? That was just the title he gave himself," Zhao Yonggui said. "The guy was a savage criminal, nothing at all like a great knight. Because he was dissatisfied with the social system that was in place back then, he shot a number of people to death. There was also a common characteristic to many of his crimes: he made a point of specifically attacking the police…"
Before Zhao Yonggui had even finished speaking, he saw Fang Mu begin frantically searching his pockets. Not finding what he needed, Fang Mu's hand shot out to the officer.
"Your cell phone, now!"
Startled, Zhao Yonggui unconsciously pulled out his phone.
Fang Mu practically tore it out of his hands, and then punched in a number as fast as he could.
Several seconds later, a faint voice from the phone relayed: "The phone you are dialing is powered off."
Swearing under his breath, Fang Mu redialed the number. He got the same message. He tossed the phone back to Zhao Yonggui. "We need to go find Tai Wei now!"
He leapt to his feet and ran out of the dining hall.
Fang Mu ran as fast as he could to the northeastern end of campus.
He needed to find Tai Wei immediately.
The next victim was none other than him!
It had been nearly two days since Tai Wei had last come to see him. That wasn't like him. Having focused all his energy on decoding Legends of the Hulan River, Fang Mu hadn't even realized what was happening.
And the fact that Tai Wei's phone had been off the whole time gave Fang Mu a faintly ominous feeling.
Please don't let anything have happened, please!
The road seemed unbearably long. Luckily he could already see the old KMT bunker. Fifty feet past that was a low fence marking the edge of the campus. Once he climbed over it, he could grab a cab in the small street beyond and take it to the PSB headquarters.
As he ran past the colossal concrete structure, it seemed to be silently gazing around at the lonely corner of campus.
Fang Mu's steps suddenly slowed.
He stared blankly at the section of bunker that rose above ground.
Seven?
As if drawn, Fang Mu walked slowly forward.
When he reached the entrance he saw that the bunker's rust-covered doors were unlocked. The iron chain that usually fastened them shut was nowhere to be seen.
He walked cautiously up to the doors, grabbed the rusty handle, and pushed hard.
The doors were old and would only open wide enough for one person to fit through. Cold, moldy air blew against Fang Mu's face. Inside it was pitch-black. He could only make out the space just beyond the entrance.
Taking a deep breath, he walked inside.
CHAPTER
28
Hell
Thanks to the sunlight filtering through the doorway, Fang Mu could see that an approximately 30-step-long cement stairway descended before him. He carefully began walking down one step at a time, but before long, the way was completely engulfed in darkness. When he looked back, he could only make out the thinnest ray of light coming from the doorway. After hesitating for several seconds, he gritted his teeth and carefully lowered one foot down until it reached the next stair. Continuing on this way for over a minute, he finally reached a section of flat cement.
His surroundings were pitch-black and terrifyingly silent. He stood in place for several seconds and did his best to look around, but in every direction it was too dark to even see his own fingers.
The darkness seemed to have a mass of its own, and as layer upon layer of it wrapped around him, Fang Mu quickly sensed its weight. His body felt heavier and heavier and his legs started to go limp.
Whether from fear or the cold air inside the bunker, Fang Mu's whole body began to tremble. He could even hear his teeth start to chatter. Suddenly, he remembered that he had his lighter in his pocket and he hurriedly pulled it out.
He flipped open the lid, flicked the wheel, and a small bright flame appeared in his hand.
No longer surrounded by darkness, Fang Mu discovered that he was standing in a large hall, roughly 360-square-feet in size.
The room was rectangular, made entirely of concrete, and empty except for some old desks stacked in the corners. A section of the wall directly in front of Fang Mu seemed a little different than the dark gray concrete around it. In the flickering light of the flame, it appeared to be a door.
The little flame actually made Fang Mu feel a lot warmer, and his body stopped shaking so violently. Pulling out his dagger, he took a deep breath and ventured forward.
It really was a door, or rather a pair of rust-covered doors shut together. Putting his hand on the crude, ice-cold door handle, he could tell it was free of dust. Someone had come that way recently.
Giving it a try, Fang Mu pulled hard on the door. It opened with an ear-piercing creak.
An even stronger odor of mold burst forth, choking him until he could barely breathe. He stood in place, holding up the thin flame of the lighter and surveying what was in front of him.
He seemed to be standing at one end of a long corridor. Suddenly he felt overcome by a nearly uncontrollable panic and his hand holding the lighter began to shake.
In the light of the flickering flame, the walls of the corridor appeared to sway. Feeling himself go lightheaded, Fang Mu quickly grabbed onto the door to steady himself.
His hand gripped the rough handle of the dagger in his palm, a contact that gradually calmed him. Composing himself, he did his best not to look at the pitch-black far end of the corridor and used the lighter to survey his surroundings.
Doors made of iron bars stood open several feet ahead of him, one on either side of the hallway. Rooms approximately 60-square-feet in size lay beyond them. Fang Mu could vaguely make out the shapes of dilapidated chairs and desks stacked inside.
A section of the arch above the door to the right had faded slightly. Looking closer, he saw that it was a heavily stained image of the KMT flag, below which was written a nearly illegible "1".
Fang Mu looked at the door on the right. The same symbol was on the arch, only this time the number "2" was written below it.
He understood. These were prison cells.
Unless he was wrong, Tai Wei should be in the fourth cell on the right.
Cell 7.
The thought of this made Fang Mu grow anxious. Raising the already burning-hot lighter, he walked slowly forward.
The floor beneath his feet was no longer cement, and as he walked, the gravel wedged in the soles of his shoes ground piercingly against its surface. It sounded like metal on metal. Looking down, he could vaguely see that he was standing atop a grate-work iron walkway.
He figured it was probably designed so that the guards at the time could monitor both floors at once.
Fang Mu continued with these thoughts as he walked forward, staring at prison cell number three. He drew closer and closer, no longer stopping. Suddenly he felt the ground change beneath his feet. Just as he realized that he had probably stepped on a section of rotting wooden floorboards, his whole body abruptly fell through.
With an enormous crash, Fang Mu and the boards he had been standing on dropped heavily to the bottom floor of the bunker. He landed abruptly. He'd fallen hard, and for several seconds his chest hurt so much he couldn't breathe. After writhing in pain on the cement floor for some time, he finally forced himself to breathe out, and
then a moment later he began to cough violently.
With difficulty he managed to stop coughing. He sat up, still gasping for air. The fall had knocked his glasses off and dust was in his eyes. Fiercely rubbing his eyes with one hand, he grasped about blindly with the other for his glasses. All wasn't lost; he quickly grabbed hold of his dagger.
Holding it, he felt a little more at ease. Soon he found his lighter as well.
Flicking on the lighter, Fang Mu shined it overhead. Approximately nine feet above him was a large rectangular hole, from which descended a metal ladder.
It had once been used for people to travel from floor to floor. Originally, there had likely been a removable metal lid, which had disappeared by the time the bunker was discovered by the CCP. Fearing that someone might accidentally fall through, several boards had been placed over the opening. Over time, the damp atmosphere had rotted the boards, making them weak.
Fang Mu stretched his arms and legs, deciding he had not been badly hurt. He looked around.
He was in the water dungeon. He found he was standing atop a cement platform before an enormous cement pool at least six feet deep. The pool was completely empty except for a number of iron rings that Fang Mu could faintly make out attached to the pool walls. He knew they had probably been used to shackle prisoners back when the place was still in operation.
He could see another pool farther ahead. He walked slowly toward it along the platform, guided by the faint light of the flame. Gradually the outline of the second pool began to sharpen.
Suddenly something at the bottom of the pool took shape. Fang Mu carefully stepped closer.
Amid the darkness, the object looked like some kind of box. Tightening his grip on the knife, he cautiously walked closer. When he was standing directly opposite it, he extended his hand holding the lighter as far as it would go, simultaneously straining to see what it was below.
His breath caught in his throat, and his heartbeat started to race as the object took definition.