Skinner's Box (Fang Mu (Eastern Crimes))

by Lei Mi

  "They walked directly over to the flowerbed beneath my window, and the girl's father nodded his head at me in greeting. However, I noticed he wore a very nervous expression, and his daughter kept her head lowered the entire time they were there.

  "This time they did not pick flowers or chase dragonflies. Instead they sat behind the bushes on the concrete step that enclosed the flowerbed with their backs against the wall, completely hidden from view from the playground. But I had a clear line of sight, and what they did next was laid bare before my eyes. The father sat his daughter on his lap, and then…"

  Mr. J swallows with difficulty, his mouth apparently very dry.

  "And then he hiked up her skirt and tore off her panties. "

  The room is thick with shocked silence, time seeming to lag.

  "My mind went blank, and I couldn't move a single muscle, as if my entire body had been frozen by a curse. Right in front of me, the girl's body rose up and down on top of her father, and all I could hear were the man's heavy breathing and his daughter's light moans.

  "They changed positions several times, as if performing: the girl on top, the missionary position, doggy style; finally the girl's daddy growled in climax and wilted behind her. And then they wiped themselves off and put their clothes back on as if nothing unnatural had just happened. The man even placed the handkerchief his daughter had used to wipe her nether regions on the window ledge, flashed a satisfied grin at me, winked, and walked off.

  "I was still staring out the window in a daze long after they had left. The next few hours seemed to fly past in an instant. I didn't wake from my paralysis until close to nightfall, when my mother came to the school hollering at me that it was past time to go home for dinner. Before I left, I secreted that handkerchief into my book bag. Then, head down, I followed my mother home.

  "The next day I went to school very early, and the following day and the day after that I did the same. But for the rest of the summer I never again waited for the father and daughter to appear. My days after that were just the same as ever, but I knew I had changed. After witnessing such an absurd sexual act with my own eyes, I felt I had been forced into becoming aware of a secret of some sort. It was an evil feeling, but one brimming with temptation and excitement. I loathed it from the bottom of my heart, but at the same time I desperately longed for it. If I were to use a scent to describe it, I would say it was a sweetness with a slightly fishy tinge to it—and in fact, most days for the rest of the summer I sat hidden in that classroom, holding that handkerchief to my nose with one hand and masturbating with the other.

  "After that I tested into an elite senior high school and then studied law at university. On the evening of graduation I passed the bar, and after that I got married and we had a daughter. Everything happened smoothly, as if following a prescribed order. And ever since that strange afternoon in the classroom, that handkerchief never left my side; I kept it with me from youth all the way into middle age. I had formed a habit out of masturbating, and that did not change even after I got married. As I grew from a boy to a man, I discovered I had a soft spot for little girls. And even my wife's slender, petite build had undeniably been a factor in my making the decision to marry her.

  "My secret accompanied me, and tormented me, for twenty long years. Every time I saw a coworker or a neighbor's young daughter, I was unable to control my inner passion. No, this was not the caring love and tenderness that a normal grown man might feel toward a little girl; it was blatant perversion! They had no idea what was going through my mind as they called me 'uncle' in their sweet little voices! And while I might have forgiven myself for harboring sexual fantasies about other men's daughters, the birth of my own daughter was, for me, an utterly sweet disaster! "

  Mr. J suddenly falls silent and hangs his head almost down to his knees. It is a long while before he finally looks back up, but he continues to cover half his face with one of his hands.

  "When my daughter was six, she was already very pretty. My wife loved her very much; every day she would think of new ways to dress her up and do her hair. She had no clue that the older our daughter got, the prettier she looked, the more it tortured me. I was too afraid to hug my own daughter. I was worried that after looking into her angelic face with her perky pigtails, and touching her soft, tender body, I would be unable to keep myself from having an erection! But no matter how much I tried to conceal myself, things finally came out the year she turned seven.

  "That day my wife and daughter were bathing together in the bathroom. When they came out, my daughter's face was flushed pink, her long, dripping wet hair draped over her slender shoulders. All she had on was a thin bath towel. I felt my manhood growing at the sight of her, so in an attempt to hide it – but even more out of an urgent need to release – I rushed into the bathroom. Just as I had my trousers off and was beginning to whack-off, I caught sight of the panties my daughter had just taken off, draped over the lip of the laundry basket. Without thinking, I wrapped the panties around my shaft, then fished out another pair and held it against my nose, breathing in deeply. I was about to ejaculate when my wife suddenly burst through the door to fetch her skin toner. We stared at each other stupidly for a second or two, and just then I came. When my wife realized that the clothes made sticky by my cum were actually our daughter's underwear, she stuck her fingers in her mouth and took a step backward in horror. I reached out and grabbed her other hand, begging her to forgive me, give me a chance to explain. But she just bit down harder on her fingers and shook her head violently; no matter what I said, the only response I got out of her was a muffled screaming sound from deep within her chest. We tore at each other quietly in the cramped little bathroom, not letting go until our daughter walked up and knocked on the door.

  "From that day on, my wife never let me near our daughter. Nor did we ever share the same bed again; she moved into our daughter's bedroom and slept there. Our daughter had no idea that something had happened between us. She continued trying to hug and kiss me as always. But after my wife yelled at her a few times to quit it, she gradually became estranged from me. On the surface, we still appeared to be a peaceful and harmonious family of three. But inside I was suffering unbearably and quite close to breaking point. Several times I thought of approaching my wife and attempting to communicate with her, but every time I saw the profound disgust and disdain in her eyes, I lost the courage to open my mouth. "

  Mr. J's voice becomes more and more choked, and big, thick tears drip from his chin onto his knees.

  "I knew I was not a good father or a good husband. But I couldn't control my urges. After losing my family, the urges seemed to just get more and more intense. I kept trying to think of ways to steal my daughter's underwear and use it to masturbate, and then in the middle of the night I would hide in the bedroom and slap myself in the face over and over. I thought about killing myself, and so I dedicated myself to my work, taking case after case. My plan was to save up 200,000 yuan over the next three years, enough for a mother and daughter to live on. And then after that, I would go off some place and end my life. And so I continued, right up until…"

  Mr. J lifts his tear-stained face and addresses Mr. Z: "Until you came to find me."

  Time seemed to speed up to normal in the room.

  Mr. Z only gave a slight nod. None of the others said a word. This stage, called the warm-up stage by Mr. Z, was, in truth, incomparably cruel. Listening to another person's painful experiences was not at all pleasant. But they had no choice; they had made the decision to help each other, and so they had to keep on going until the end.

  Mr. J had regained his composure and was wiping his face with a tissue. Gauging his mood, Mr. Z spoke slowly. "Based on the angle of this photograph, we determined that it was taken from the roof of the building opposite yours. We staked it out a few times, but no one showed up. So, as for finding the culprit, I'm afraid we're out of options. However we did find him." He placed a handful of photographs on the table in front of Mr. J.
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  The scenes in the photos were all different, but in each one the subject was the same: a shabbily dressed old man, perhaps in his early 60s. Mr. J spread the photos in an arc and scrutinized them. A few minutes later he exhaled in surprise.

  "It's him!" A murderous look flickered across Mr. J's eyes. "And his daughter?"

  "That wasn't his daughter." Mr. Z shook his head. "Back then she was just a child prostitute. She died six years ago of tertiary syphilis."

  He handed a folder to Mr. J. After leafing through its contents a while, Mr. J seemed a little lost.

  Mr. Z read the expression on his face and chuckled. "As far as our plans are concerned, it's enough that we've located him." He pointed at the old man in the photos and his eyes hardened. "Believe you me, very soon you will be able to win back your wife and daughter."

  Mr. J stared at the photos. When he glanced up at Mr. Z again, his face was set with determination.

  "Well, then what are we waiting for?"

  CHAPTER

  23

  He and "She"

  Fang Mu asked Bian Ping for a day off. He did not say where he was going, and Bian Ping did not ask. He simply barked an order into his cell phone and the vacation was granted.

  Two hours later, Fang Mu was driving his jeep onto Jiangbin University campus.

  After more than half a year of not having visited the place, the changes to the school were quite noticeable. Several new buildings loomed overhead, making the campus feel more like a cold, heartless construction zone than a quiet shelter for the ivory towers of academia and leisure.

  Fang Mu reduced his speed and cruised aimlessly around the campus in his jeep. He drove past the athletics fields, past the dining hall, past the swimming pools. Finally, he parked in front of the South Commons No. 5 Dormitory.

  Still sitting in the vehicle, Fang Mu stared out the window at the building in front of him, his eyes moving upward to take in each of its seven stories in turn. It still looked the same as it had; the only differences seemed to lie in the faces of the students entering and exiting. Some of them gawked curiously at the parked jeep; some of them completely ignored it and walked on, heads held high. Perhaps there were those among them who had heard stories about what happened there. For them it might provide their dull, everyday lives with a moment's thrill or a novelty conversation piece. For the people involved, however, it was a memory they would try in vain to forget for the rest of their lives.

  The faces of many people from the past suddenly leaped into Fang Mu's mind. He thought of the Du Yu, the Zou Tuanjie, and Liu Jianjun; he thought of Chen Yao, of Meng Fanzhe. Some of them were happily living elsewhere; some of them, however, Fang Mu would rather believe had already returned to the cycle of life and had been reincarnated as fetuses growing in their joyful expecting mothers, or opening innocent eyes to the warmth of infancy.

  Whatever you do, please, all of you, forget everything. If any of us absolutely must remember, then let that person be me.

  Fang Mu started the engine and drove toward the northeast corner of campus.

  The lawn near the basement was overgrown with weeds. Fang Mu remembered how lush the place was in spring and summer; it was probably the largest green area in the entire campus. For whatever reason, whether the university had been unwilling to renovate or just plain afraid to, nothing had changed. The building and grounds still appeared exactly the same as they had when Fang Mu, with Tai Wei leaning on his arm, had walked out that day. Even the withered, flat-lying grass crowding around the entrance was still there. Fang Mu strolled over to the double iron doors, touched their wrought iron mesh screen. His fingers came away icy cold and stained with rust.

  "Want to go in and take a look?"

  Fang Mu turned at the words.

  It was Tai Wei.

  The pair of them locked eyes in silence for a while, studying each other, neither showing a hint of surprise. It was as if they had planned for some time to meet there like this.

  Tai Wei kicked at the dry grass as he walked over. He leaned his face close to the doors and peered inside through the iron screen.

  "Too dark to see anything." He turned his head and looked at Fang Mu. "If you want to go inside and take a look around, I can go get the building manager."

  Fang Mu shook his head. "No need."

  "I knew you would come back." Tai Wei glanced pensively around the overgrown lawn for a moment. "Whenever I get too stressed out with work, I, too, come back to see this place." He shrugged. "I come here and sit for a while and it relaxes me. I think to myself, if I could survive such evil, witness such brutality as I did back then, well, then what do my worries over these petty vermin amount to by comparison?"

  He motioned for Fang Mu to take a seat next to him on a slightly raised piece of turf and lit them each a cigarette.

  Tai Wei had not changed any more than the place around them had. If there was anything different about him, perhaps a few more lines etched his face now. But they did nothing to impede Fang Mu's crystal clear memory of the expression that had been on Tai Wei's face, what he had done, what he had said.

  "You know, I actually envy you quite a bit."

  "Envy me?" Tai Wei raised his eyebrows. "Envy me why, exactly?"

  "It's not just anyone who can maintain a normal state of mind after having encountered such a thing."

  Tai Wei chuckled, appearing pleased with himself. "Are you saying I'm strong-willed?"

  "No." Fang Mu laughed. "I call it being cold and heartless."

  Tai Wei gave Fang Mu's shoulder a playful punch, nearly knocking him off balance.

  The gesture seemed to have broken through a wall of some kind, and Tai Wei was chuckling as he put Fang Mu in a good-natured headlock. "How'd a puny little twerp like you get to be a police officer anyways? Tell me that."

  "I can't help it," Fang Mu said, breaking free and rubbing his sore shoulder. "I was born like this."

  Tai Wei fell silent and looked Fang Mu up and down, the smile on his face gradually draining away. "I never told you something. Before you graduated, I was given a couple of very tough cases, and even Zhao Yonggui tried to get me to ask for your help on them. But I never did."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I didn't want to make you get involved with any more of this sort of business." Tai Wei's tone grew earnest. "I was hoping you'd become a university professor, or a pencil-pusher for the government, or even a lawyer or something. I didn't want you to become a cop."

  Fang Mu barked a brisk laugh, then hung his head and stared at the grass near his shoes.

  "Maybe what you said a moment ago shows how you and I differ from each other." Tai Wei continued on, as if to himself. "But if you absolutely must pursue this line of work, I'll give you a word of advice: do your best, but watch your back."

  After a long time, Fang Mu finally whispered, "I will."

  Tai Wei broke into another loud laugh, and using Fang Mu's shoulder for support, pushed himself to his feet. "Let's go. I'll take you."

  "Take me where?"

  "Do you really need to ask? Surely you didn't come here just to see this place?"

  Tai Wei brought his white jeep over, and after a moment's consideration, Fang Mu decided to leave his own vehicle on campus. Grabbing the bouquet he had prepared from the passenger seat on his jeep, he locked the doors and hopped into Tai Wei's vehicle.

  Sitting there next to Tai Wei as the cop gripped the steering wheel in his large hands, Fang Mu suddenly felt as if he had traveled back in time. It felt as if they were on their way to investigate some aspect of Ma Kai's case together, or on their way back from Meng Fanzhe's place of residence.

  Forget? How could he forget?

  Rest Park was Jiangbin City’s only public cemetery. In the past it only accommodated cremation urns, but ever since the funeral industry had been privatized, it had opened up a large area for graves. Seen from afar, headstones of various sizes lined the base of the hill in densely packed rows that wound around in patterns like peb
bles in a tranquil Zen garden.

  Tai Wei parked on the side of the street but chose to stay in the car, giving Fang Mu a chance to enter the cemetery on his own. Fang Mu understood his intention and felt grateful to him for the thought.

  Professor Qiao's grave lay in the middle of the vast forest of stones, in a spot that appeared no different from any of the others. The plot had been purchased with funds raised by Professor Qiao's former students. At first they had wanted to buy him his own separate section, but his wife had protested, saying that while alive, Professor Qiao had hated waste with a passion. So they had arranged for him to be buried in a basic plot in the main section of the cemetery.

  Professor Qiao's grave appeared very tidy, as if someone had kept it clean of dirt and weeds on a regular basis. Fang Mu leaned the bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums against the headstone, opened a pack of Furongwang cigarettes, lit one, and placed it on the little step at the base of the headstone. Then he stood as straight as he could, and bending at the waist, gave Professor Qiao's grave three deep bows.

  He had not been able to attend Professor Qiao's memorial service, for at the time he had still been in the detention center. But it had been a closed-casket service, because the professor's mortal remains had been completely destroyed down in that basement. In fact, Fang Mu had been the last person to see Professor Qiao's body. He did not know whether he should feel glad or sorrowful about that.

  Fang Mu stared at the tombstone's inlaid funerary photograph. The straight-backed, stern-faced old man in it seemed to be standing right in front of him. As Fang Mu reached a hand out to touch the photo, his vision blurred a little.

  He sat down and leaned against the side of the tombstone. The sun was directly overhead and the heated marble stone felt warm against his back. The heat slowly spread from his shoulder blades to envelope his torso with a sense of peace and stability.