The Blade of Silence (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 3)

by Mi Lei

  "Just as well." Xiao Wang returned the envelope to this pocket, but almost immediately had an even fatter one in his hand. "But you must take this one."

  "And this is?" Fang Mu asked still on edge, eyeing the envelope.

  "Liang Zehao wanted you to have this," Xiao Wang explained, lowering his voice. "Consider it a thank you."

  "I don't want it!" Fang Mu almost shouted. "Give it back."

  "Don't be silly." Xiao Wang chuckled has he pushed the envelope toward Fang Mu. "That son of a bitch has money to burn."

  "I still don't want it!" Fang Mu did everything but shove Xiao Wang away to distance himself from the envelope. "Tell Liang Zehao that I'm already paid a salary." He composed himself. "I did not save Pei Lan for his money."

  Xiao Wang attempted to laugh, but it sounded hollow and his face flushed with embarrassment. Fang Mu couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him.

  "What about..." Fang Mu was all too eager to change the subject. "What about the thing I asked you to do?"

  "Hey? What thing?" Xiao Wang stared blankly at him.

  "That girl. My relative's..." Fang Mu reminded him.

  "Oh." Xiao Wang had reclaimed his calm. "Nothing new, I'm afraid. But don't worry. I will tell you the moment I come across anything."

  Fang Mu nodded, hiding the sting of disappointment. Of course, if he was honest with himself, he knew that the chances of finding Liao Yafan in an ocean of people were slim at the very best. Even so, every time he thought of her, he felt a keen sense of shame for the meals and the bed he could take for granted, not knowing her circumstances.

  It was moments before midnight when Fang Mu finally made his faltering way back to the hotel. In his room, he rushed to the toilet and hung his head over the bowl. Once he had messily emptied his stomach, he realized that he would have to get back up. With all his remaining strength he managed to push himself to his feet and over to the sink. Having accomplished that task, he let the basin run full of cold water. He plunged his face under the surface. The ice-cold water shocked him into a brief moment of clarity. That bracing feeling came with the price of a million needles driven into his skull. He kept his face under the water for as long as he could before withdrawing from the sink. As the cold water dripped from his face, he closed his eyes. The water slid down his collar and across his chest and back …

  "What happened to you?" an astonished voice suddenly asked from behind.

  Fang Mu forced his eyes open. Through the blur, he could make out the fuzzy image of a girl in the bathroom mirror.

  "I saw that the door was open..." the girl apprehensively added. "Are you all right?"

  Fang Mu neither answered, nor did he turn his head; he only stared at the girl in the mirror. An eternity seemed to pass before he suddenly asked, "Why did you leave?"

  "Huh?" came her confused reply.

  "Where will you go?" Fang Mu whispered hoarsely. "All of us...we can keep Angel Hall together..."

  The girl in the mirror didn't answer, but continued to watch him in silence.

  "Come back. Sister Zhao really misses you. Erbao does too..." Fang Mu slowly turned his head. "And I really miss you..."

  He'd barely half turned before he collapsed silently to the bathroom floor.

  Fang Mu was still in a dazed stupor when Xiao Wang came by the next day to take him and Mi Nan to the train station. Xiao Wang barely acknowledged Mi Nan, but at least helped her with her luggage. Only when they were already on the train did he turn to the girl and ask her to take good care of Fang Mu.

  Once they found their compartment, Fang Mu immediately dropped onto his berth and fell into a deep sleep.

  When he awoke, the sun was already low in the sky. With great effort, he pushed himself upright. For a moment, he had no idea where he was.

  "Water," he croaked, licking his cracked lips as he fumbled about. A figure immediately rose and handed him an open bottle of water.

  Fang Mu sat up on the bed and emptied half the bottle in a single gulp, and then belched. He forcefully shook his head and for the first time in at least a day, he began to feel genuine clarity return to his mind.

  Mi Nan was sitting next to the window. Her hair was tied up to a knot and she was dressed in casual clothes. She might have looked ordinary, but everything about her radiated vibrant energy and life.

  "Are you hungry?" she gently asked him. "Should I get you something to eat?"

  "No," Fang Mu mumbled as he retrieved a cigarette from his pocket. He stood and left the compartment.

  The train was rushing past oceans of wheat. Early autumn bathed the fields in gold. Illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun, they glowed with a truly magnificent warmth. Fang Mu leaned against the train's window and smoked as he watched the peasant women return from the fields. A part of him longed for their life; no expectations and nothing to run from.

  It was not his lot. Before him lay only the unknown and everything behind him was too painful to look back to. The train would end in Harbin, but some things would continue into eternity.

  His search among them.

  When he returned to the compartment, Mi Nan had already prepared a bowl of instant noodles. Next to the bowl lay an open pack of Sichuan vegetables and two hard-boiled eggs. Fang Mu's illusions of not being hungry were instantly shattered as he felt his mouth begin to water.

  He offered a quiet, "Thank you" before sitting down to relish the meal. Just as he finished, Mi Nan put down her book and quickly cleaned up after him. A plastic fork still in hand, Fang Mu stared at her, unsure how to react. When she guessed his next need and quickly handed him a bottle of water, he couldn't help but think, This is what being rich must feel like.

  Throughout Fang Mu and Mi Nan's entire journey, the train outside their door was abuzz with constant bustle and noise. Inside their compartment, there was only silence. The man and the woman seemed to have nothing to talk about, so one read a book and the other looked out the window.

  The curtain of night fell, covering the world outside with its inky black. As Fang Mu turned away from the window, Mi Nan looked up and their eyes met. Quickly, they both looked away.

  A long while later, Mi Nan got up and stretched. "Less than ten hours to go."

  "Mmh," Fang Mu said, then added, "It certainly is slow, but Suijing City doesn't have an airport, otherwise you could have flown back."

  "This is great." She shot him a flustered smile. "This is my first time in a soft-sleeper."

  "Didn't you ever go on trips?" Fang Mu asked.

  "Well, when we did go, we always were in a hard-sleeper, so I've never had a compartment to myself." Mi Nan lowered her eyes. "The money my mother gave me was barely enough to live on."

  "The last time we talked..." he posed, carefully choosing his words, "...it sounded like there was quiet a bit of tension in your relationship with your mother."

  She began prodding the cigarette box on the table as a slight smile crept on to her face. "...Yes." Her reply was quiet, her brow wrinkling at the answer. It sounded as if she was talking to no one but herself.

  "My family is very strange," she elaborated after a thoughtful moment. "I think it's because my parents weren't a good match. My father was a middle school teacher and my mother a shop assistant. When I was very little, I already knew that my mother was having affairs with other men. My father knew, too, but he was helpless; so he just endured it. It was terribly humiliating for him, as a man."

  With every word, Fang Mu noticed her hand clenched more and more into a full fist on the table.

  "He became terribly depressed. When my father died, it was just my mother and me," Mi Nan continued. "That made her lose all sense of shame. I often couldn't get back in the house after school because she was in there with some guy and they had locked the door. I had to sit on the doorstep, staring at the shoes of the guy on the step, guessing what kind of person he was." She made a sudden laugh. "In those days, I developed a special skill: My guesses actually were pretty spot-on."

 
Fang Mu, too, began to chuckle, even though it left a bitter taste in his mouth, feeling hollow. "You should consider joining the police force after you graduate," he said through a pained smile. "You could work in footprint analytics."

  The idea seemed wonderfully absurd and they laughed together, but it didn't break the dry, brittle tension. It was a long, hard laughter verging on the edge of tears.

  "What about you?" Mi Nan could barely control her chortling. "I don't really get you."

  "There is nothing to get," Fang Mu stated simply, without much emotion. "I am called Fang Mu and I am a policeman. That is pretty much all you need to know."

  "Right. Can I ask you something then?" she inquired.

  "Ask away." The laughter had dropped from his tone.

  "Who is Liao Yafan?"

  "What?" he blurted, eyes opening wide at her. He couldn't find the words fast enough. "How...? Why would you ask?"

  "Last night, when you were drunk, you were calling her name." Mi Nan was closely watching his every reaction now. "Is she very important to you?"

  He averted his eyes, collecting himself. Then, after a long while, he replied with a simple, "Yes." It was a struggle to utter even the one word.

  "Has she gone missing?" For a moment Mi Nan was lost in thought. "From a place called," again she hesitated, then asked, "Angel Hall?"

  Fang Mu pressed out another, "Yes."

  "She's..." She paused, studying him, unsure whether to ask. "...Your girlfriend?"

  She had barely finished the question before the compartment was plunged into sudden blackness. The main lights had been turned off for the night.

  The two sat across from each other, relieved that darkness now hid their faces, her question hanging in the air. The only sound was the running of the train along the tracks.

  Many minutes passed before Fang Mu quietly said, "Let's get some sleep."

  Without another word or even sound, he lay down on his berth.

  It was five o'clock when Fang Mu and Mi Nan stepped out of the train and into Harbin Station. Dawn had not yet broken. Their first stop was at a local restaurant for breakfast.

  They ate in silence. Mi Nan seemed hardly aware of her food, and more than once her spoon slowly stopped in mid-scoop as her mind drifted somewhere else entirely. Fang Mu could see the sure signs of worry, even fear, in her eyes.

  "What's the matter?" he finally asked.

  "Oh, nothing, nothing." She turned back to her food, hurriedly ladling porridge into her mouth. It didn't take long, however, before the enigmatic expression crept back onto her face.

  "Come on, what's wrong?" he asked again, brow creasing. "Tell me."

  "I was thinking..." she said, lowering her head, "...if I really should go back."

  "What?" Fang Mu felt his mouth twitched.

  "Even though the thing with the baby..." Her gaze drifted off into the distance. "Even though that is all done, I still..." She nervously swirled the coffee in her cup. "I've still missed too many courses. I'm afraid of what the school is going to do with me."

  He chuckled easily. "Oh, that is what you are worried about?" He dug a piece of paper from his bag and handed it to her.

  Confused, Mi Nan took it. It was an Internship Evaluation Form adorned with the seal of the Suijing City Municipal Public Security Bureau.

  "You spent your summer with the Suijing PSB for an internship," he told her. "You were assigned to a team that was working on a very important case. In fact, the matter is so serious that the details have to remain confidential. In other words, if anyone asks you about your internship, you can just refuse to answer. The number of the Personnel Department of the Suijing Public Security Bureau is on the form. If your school doesn't believe you, just have them call it." He smiled at her surprise. "Don't worry; I've cleared it with them. They won't mess it up for you. And..." He retrieved an envelope from his pocket. "Here are three thousand yuan. If you spend it wisely, it should cover your living expenses for half a year."

  Mi Nan's lips quivered as she took the envelope. She didn't know what to say.

  "You…?" she finally began.

  Fang Mu waved it off, making it clear he didn't need her to say anything. "Well, now that that is taken care of."

  He stood and picked up his backpack. He was about to walk off when she caught hold of his wrist.

  "I..." Her face was covered in tears. "When will I see you again?"

  "Oh, I am afraid we will not meet again." Fang Mu gently removed her hand. "Seeing me will probably just remind you of this terrible summer. Just forget me, and the entire summer," he added with a smile. "Have a good life. I wish you luck."

  Mi Nan watched him walk away.

  He never looked back.

  Fang Mu made his way straight out and onto the square in front of the train station. Only after two blocks did he begin to slow his steps. It was all done now. Relief flooded him, but it was relief tinged with a shallow sense of emptiness. He stood by the roadside, watching the pedestrians, gazing at the buildings they passed.

  He was wondering if he should stay for the day or immediately head back to Changhong City when his cell phone rang. It was Bian Ping.

  Fang Mu grimaced, cursing inwardly. How would he explain this delay to the old man? He weighed his options as he pressed the answer key.

  "Where are you?" There was an edge to Bian Ping's voice. "Why aren't you back with the team?"

  "Well," Fang Mu stumbled over his own words, "there was this matter—"

  "Well, come back, fast! Something happened to Old Xing!"

  "What?" Fang Mu stared straight ahead. "What happened?"

  "It's hard to explain. Just get back here quickly." Bian Ping hesitated for a moment, his gruff voice sharpening. "Old Xing specifically requested to see you!"

  CHAPTER

  6

  The Motive

  On September 22, a homicide occurred in the Bay City Hotel. The victim was Hu Yingbo, a 39-year-old unemployed male. He had been shot dead on the landing between the ninth and tenth floors of the hotel. Around the same time, the criminal investigation team of the Public Security Bureau had received a call advising them that a group of individuals was engaging in lewd activities at the Bay City Hotel. The officers had just arrived to investigate the report when they heard a gunshot. They rushed to the scene and were quickly able to apprehend a suspect and take him back to the Bureau for questioning. The suspect was Xing Zhisen, the 56-year-old Deputy Commissioner of the Changhong Public Security Bureau.

  Xing Zhisen professed that the man he shot, Hu Yingbo, had killed a woman in Room 624 and that he had chased him from there. He further claimed that Hu Yingbo had attacked him during this pursuit with what Xing Zhisen thought was a knife. Feeling his life threatened, Xing Zhisen had fired his gun in self-defense.

  When the police inspected the crime scene, however, they were unable to find a body or any other signs of suspicious activity in Room 624. The "knife" Hu Yingbo was supposedly carrying turned out to be nothing but a stainless steel spoon. And when the officers asked Xing Zhisen why he had been at the scene, the suspect had refused to answer.

  During the course of the investigation, further details emerged. The victim had at one time worked in a cement plant, but he had been fired for gambling. He never again picked up any sort of legal employment and later accumulated a long list of run-ins with the law. Despite his frequent contact with the police, the investigators were unable to establish any direct point of contact between the victim and Xing Zhisen. In regard to the Bay City Hotel, the person manning the front desk that afternoon testified that the victim had gone to his room alone, requesting that the staff not disturb him. Five hours later, Xing Zhisen had arrived by car and gone straight up to Room 624.

  Due to the significance of the crime, the fact that a police commissioner was involved, and the potential social fallout, the Committee for Disciplinary Inspection had already become involved in the case. But even as the evidence mounting against him appeared ever more damning
, Xing Zhisen maintained his silence on key questions—most importantly, what he was doing in the Bay City Hotel.

  After Chief Bian Ping finished explaining the situation, Fang Mu fell into a deep silence.

  Finished contemplating the new information, he broke that silence abruptly. "What is the Bureau's view on all this?"

  "We are trying to make the best of it," Bian Ping said as he leaned back, wearily smoothing his hair. "I don't need to remind you of the Five Prohibitions for the police officers, do I? Carrying a gun off-duty is just as much one of them as drinking on duty, drunk driving, carrying a gun while drunk, or gambling. That alone would probably get him dismissed from the force. And the entire matter is highly sensitive." He paused, looking straight at Fang Mu. "A commissioner of the Bureau has shot and killed a man. The press is watching this one very closely."

  Fang Mu jumped to his feet cursing. He planted his hands firmly on the table and demanded, "Do you really think the Old Xing would just kill a man?"

  "I do." Bian Ping met Fang Mu's gaze head on. "If Old Xing is telling the truth about the matter, faced with those circumstances, I, too, would have shot the man. The real problem is this: There is no evidence to back up anything Old Xing has told us."

  Fang Mu could think of no reply, so he sat back down and quietly smoked a cigarette. "What is the current status of the case?" he asked after a moment as he stubbed the butt into the ashtray.

  "We are still in the investigative phase. Old Xing still won't talk; I have no idea what he is thinking. But," Bian Ping said, giving Fang Mu a long, meaningful look, "when Old Xing's wife came by, she told me one thing." His gaze seemed to drill right into Fang Mu. "He wants to see you."

  When Bian Ping finished, Fang Mu had already turned and was walking out of the room.

  Bian Ping called after him, "Where are you going?"

  Fang Mu didn't turn around. "To see him."

  Because of Xing Zhisen's prominent position in Changhong City, the police had decided to keep him in an offsite lockup facility. Six hours later, Fang Mu was finally sitting in the visitor room at that location. As he waited, it occurred to him that in his rush he had completely forgotten to pick up something for Old Xing. He rummaged through his pockets, but all he could come up with was a pack of cigarettes. With a sigh of frustration, he took one out and popped it into his mouth and then carefully closed the pack again. He would give the rest to Old Xing.