by Mi Lei
Q: When you shot him, was the man in a prone position?
A: No.
Q: When you shot him, was the man charging you?
A: Yes. (Immediate answer)
Q: Have you ever before been in a situation where you were forced to use your firearm?
A: No. (Slow to respond)
Q: Are you trying to hide something from me?
A: No.
Q: You graduated from the China Criminal Police University in 1973?
A: Yes.
Q: Are you willing to answer all my questions truthfully?
A: I am.
Q: As the man charged you, did you think there was a club in his hand?
A: No.
Q: As the man charged you, did you think there was a gun in his hand?
A: No.
Q: As the man charged you, did you think there was a knife or some cutting tool in his hand?
A: Yes.
Q: In fact it was a spoon, is that correct?
A: Yes.
Q: As you fired your gun, you were aware that it was a spoon, is that correct?
A: No. (Shakes head, immediate answer)
Q: You realized it was a spoon after you fired your gun, is that correct?
A: Yes.
Q: You saw the spoon before you fired your gun?
A: No.
Q: Are you worried about my questions?
A: No. I am telling you all I know. (Moves right shoulder, smiles, looking straight at examiner)
Q: You've been in the force for 26 years now?
A: Let me see… Yep, yes.
Q: Have you committed a crime under the criminal code?
A: No.
Q: Are you worried that there may be more incriminating evidence against you out there?
A: No.
Q: Are you aware that the polygraph equipment can show if your answer is a lie?
A: I am aware of that.
During the course of the entire test Han Weiming's tone remained gentle. He took his time with every question, allowing a good 15 seconds of quiet calm between each answer and the next question. While Fang Mu's eyes never left the instruments and charts during the entire procedure, Han Weiming only occasionally glanced over at them. The polygraph expert seemed far more interested in Xing Zhisen's face. The examinee, for his part, maintained steady eye contact with Han Weiming. Outwardly, he seemed perfectly calm, and according to the instruments, his physiological responses also remained level. Seeing the steady lines, Fang Mu began to relax. There was no sign that Xing Zhisen was lying. Everything looked as if the commissioner would pass the polygraph test with ease.
It was close to noon when Han Weiming declared the first part of the test complete. With Xing Zhisen's approval, he scheduled the second part for the afternoon.
Fang Mu could barely contain his curiosity. The moment Xing Zhisen was led out of the room, he turned to Han Weiming "Master Han, how do you think the test is going?"
Only now did he notice that Han Weiming looked dead tired. For a long while, the polygraph expert did not answer. Instead, he removed his glasses to rub his temples.
"We'll see. We'll see," he said casually as he pushed his glasses back on his nose. He turned to the charts. He had barely begun to study them when a knock on the door interrupted him. It was Bian Ping. Poking his head through the door he asked, "Master Han, how about lunch?"
"Lunch." Han Weiming immediately dropped the charts. "I'm starving." As he looked back to Fang Mu, he saw that the eagerness had not left his young assistant's face. With a smile, he put a hand to Fang Mu's shoulder. "Is it just me, or are you more anxious to see Old Xing's results than he is?"
He pointed at the charts Fang Mu was eyeing.
Fang Mu hadn't realized his zeal had shown through.
"I'm sure that if we put the equipment on you this afternoon," Han Weiming said with a chuckle, "we'll get stronger reactions than what Old Xing has given us."
They had lunch in a private area of the canteen where they were joined by a number of high-ranking officials from the Municipal Bureau. In an effort to avoid any hint of inpropriety, no one talked about the polygraph at all. Instead, they spent lunch chatting idly about management issues.
After a very leisurely meal, Fang Mu walked back into the canteen's main hall alongside Han Weiming and Bian Ping. He noticed Zheng Lin, Young Hai, and Little Zhan sitting at a table by the door. The cold meals in front of them left little doubt that they had been waiting there for quite some time. Zheng Lin attempted to establish eye contact with Fang Mu the moment he came through the door. Fang Mu emptied any expression for his face, eyes lowered as he walked past them.
There was still more than an hour to go before the afternoon testing was scheduled to begin. When he saw the time, Bian Ping suggested they go for tea in the lounge. Han Weiming seemed keen to the idea and agreed immediately.
Soon they were enjoying their tea and conversation drifted around everything but the case. Between sips, Bian Ping finally made an attempt.
"How did the morning's test go?" he asked, sounding only mildly curious, if at all.
Han Weiming smiled. "Rather well, I must say, but it's far too early to draw any conclusions. Ask me again when we're through with the second round." Perhaps noticing the slight hint of disappointment flash across Bian Ping's face, he added, "But – and this is just my personal impression – I don't think Old Xing is lying."
Bian Ping's face lit up. "Are you saying you're certain Old Xing was setup?"
"How would I know?" Han Weiming laughed as he scratched his head. "I just think that he isn't lying. If you don't believe me, just ask him," he said, pointing at Fang Mu. "Young Fang's eyes never left the charts."
Fang Mu and Bian Ping exchanged a significant glance. Both felt the crushing weight of uncertainty lifted from their shoulders. If Xing Zhisen could prove that he wasn't lying, the investigation would be blown wide open. Perhaps they would very soon be able to clear Old Xing's name.
They returned to the meeting room for the afternoon's session. From all appearances, Xing Zhisen was in good spirits. He had used the break for a hearty lunch and even a short nap. With some time left before the test was scheduled to recommence, he requested a cigarette. Leisurely smoking, he casually joked and chatted with Han Weiming.
At two p.m., the second part of the test began.
Initially Fang Mu felt some of his anxiety return, but he quickly realized that Han Weiming had merely rearranged the order of the neutral and case-relevant questions. Even the control questions remained largely unchanged. Xing Zhisen again answered calmly and again his physiological responses seemed entirely unremarkable.
This part of the test lasted little more than an hour. As Han Weiming asked the final questions, neither examiner nor examinee had any doubts what the results would show. And as the test finally wrapped up, a general sense of relaxation spread through the room.
Han Weiming signaled Fang Mu to remove the various instrument sensors from Xing Zhisen's body. Fang Mu nodded and reached out to unclip the galvanic skin response sensor. Xing Zhisen hastily pointed to the pneumographs. "Get these widgets off me first. They're cutting into my skin."
Han Weiming laughed and threw Xing Zhisen a cigarette. "You need to lose some weight, old friend."
Fang Mu quickly had the chest pneumograph removed, but the abdominal sensor gave him some trouble. As he fiddled with the device, Han Weiming continued to chat with Xing Zhisen.
"Old Xing, will you retire soon?" Han Weiming asked.
"Oh, not for a few years," Xing Zhisen answered off-handedly.
"I want to retire as soon as possible. Finally going back home, after a lifetime of work; living the easy life. All the time in the world, free of worries," Han Weiming said wistfully, seemingly completely absorbed in his reverie.
"Oh, yes." Xing Zhisen laughed.
The abdominal sensor finally came off. With it out of the way, Fang Mu quickly removed the cardiograph from Xing Zhisen's left arm.<
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"Your daughter's name is Xing Na, right? Is she married?" Han Weiming asked as an afterthought.
"Not yet," Xing Zhisen said.
"Is she still working as a teacher?" Han Weiming asked.
"No, she's gone abroad," Xing Zhisen answered.
Suddenly, they all heard the sound of wild scratching from the detector instruments in the corner. Following the noise with his gaze, Fang Mu saw the needle of the galvanic response sensor rapidly swing from one side of the paper to the other.
Xing Zhisen was lying.
Fang Mu's mind went blank. His hand continued straight toward the sensor clipped to Xing Zhisen's finger. Just get the damn thing off, blared through his mind.
"Stop!"
It was Han Weiming. The mild mannered man had vanished. Grim-faced, he stared right into the commissioner's eyes. Xing Zhisen calmly returned his gaze. His face, however, slowly began to flush.
Han Weiming held his stare for a good 10 seconds, and then he began anew:
Han Weiming: You had an appointment at the Bay City Hotel that day, is that correct?
Xing Zhisen: Yes.
Han Weiming: You had your weapon at the ready, correct?
Xing Zhisen: I am a policeman. I regularly carry a weapon on my person.
Han Weiming: You had the weapon with you and you intended to use it, am I right?
Xing Zhisen: No. (Shakes head, but only after a barely visible nod. Galvanic skin sensor shows a non-standard response)
Han Weiming: Not to shoot that man, but for some other person, am I right?
Xing Zhisen: Are we back to the test now? (Slight smile, pupils rapidly expanding)
Han Weiming: Answer my question, Old Xing.
Xing Zhisen: No, I did not. (Averts gaze, lightly scratches his nostril with his right index finger. Galvanic skin sensor shows a non-standard response)
Fang Mu suddenly realized that Han Weiming must have formulated a whole new set of questions in those mere seconds he had stared at Xing Zhisen.
Han Weiming: The man you shot knew your daughter?
Xing Zhisen: He did not.
Han Weiming: But the person you wanted to shoot knows your daughter, am I correct?
Xing Zhisen: Please leave her out of this. This case has nothing to do with her! (Sits up, raises chin. Galvanic skin sensor shows a non-standard response)
Han Weiming: The person you wanted to shoot is a man, correct?
Xing Zhisen: I had no intentions of killing anyone! (Galvanic skin sensor shows a non-standard response)
Han Weiming silently stared at Xing Zhisen, and then he quietly asked, "What happened to your daughter?"
Xing Zhisen: Nothing! (Leans back, averts gaze. Galvanic skin response sensor shows a non-standard response)
Han Weiming: You wanted to shoot him for what he did to her, correct?
Xing Zhisen: No (Right hand clenched. Galvanic skin sensor shows a non-standard response)
Han Weiming: The person you wanted to shoot hurt your daughter. You wanted to take revenge, correct?
Xing Zhisen: No! (Lips pressed together. Galvanic skin sensor shows a non-standard response)
Han Weiming: Old Xing, you had your weapon on you because you were planning to shoot someone, correct?
Xing Zhisen: No! (Re-establishes eye contact, tone of voice rising; galvanic skin sensor shows a non-standard response)
Han Weiming: What happened at the scene was completely unexpected. The person you wanted to shoot never showed up, correct?
Xing Zhisen: No, I didn't want to kill anyone! (Sits up straight, leans forward. Galvanic skin sensor shows a non-standard response)
Han Weiming: What really happened to your daughter?
Xing Zhisen suddenly leapt to his feet. Every muscle on his face contracted and his eyeballs looked ready to pop out of their sockets. "Leave my daughter out of this!"
For a second, Fang Mu was sure that Old Xing would choke the life right out of Han Weiming then and there. He never got the chance. Two officers seized Xing Zhisen from behind and pushed him back into the chair.
Han Weiming hadn't moved an inch. Only his eyebrows had drawn together as he continued to look at Xing Zhisen in silence. After a while, he quietly urged, "Tell us the truth. We can help you."
Xing Zhisen had fallen into a strange stillness. It almost seemed as if the outburst had exhausted every last drop of energy in his bruised body. He took a long breath and then whispered, "I have nothing to say."
Han Weiming stared straight at him for another few seconds, and then he raised his head with a sigh. He looked to the camera and said, "The test is over."
Fang Mu had frozen in mid-motion when the horror had begun to unfold; now he felt rooted to the spot, unable to even blink. All he could do was stare blankly at Xing Zhisen. He knew that everybody in the room full of high-ranking officers and officials on the other end of the meeting room's camera were probably just as dumbstruck as he was. It all meant nothing to him. His mind only had room for one question:
Why did you lie to me?
Xing Zhisen did not look up at Fang Mu. In fact, he looked at nobody. He only hung his head, lost within himself. He exhaled slowly for what seemed like forever. It looked as if he wanted to empty every last bit of air from his lungs.
Finally, he whispered, "Oh heavens, oh heavens..."
CHAPTER
10
Buddha and Hell
The Prajna Temple was located near the city center. It had been a tiny, dilapidated shrine destined only to crumble to nothing until the faithful began to flock there one day. One by one they had come, and now Prajna Temple was the Buddhists' place of worship for all of Changhong City. Now the thick clouds of incense and countless well-contented monks told the tale of the temple's ever-growing prosperity and success.
It wasn't exactly clear why, but the more materially satisfied people became, the less spiritually fulfilled they seemed to be.
Unsurprisingly, the temple shop was absolutely jam-packed. Mr. Jin cursed loudly as he tried to squeeze his way through the crowd. He was carrying a large bundle of incense sticks. "Fuck, do these people have no home?" he demanded, giving a woman in front of him a good shove. Liang Sihai frowned, revealing the cold, hard lines that framed his mouth. Seeing this was enough to shut up Mr. Jin. He carefully handed Liang Sihai the incense.
"Eighteen-hundred-eighteen yuan." Noticing Liang Sihai's questioning look at the price, Mr. Jin quickly added, "They're the most expensive ones."
It seemed good enough for Liang Sihai. "It's not about the money we spend. It's what's in your heart that matters," he pointed out.
Mr. Jin could just blink at him in confusion.
With a smile, Liang Sihai turned to the courtyard and walked toward the temple's grand incense-burner.
His appearance immediately caused a small commotion; after all, a temple like this rarely saw wealthy and powerful devotees like him. Liang Sihai did not pay them any mind. He had long grown accustomed to the whispers and stares. For a while, he stood before the incense-burner, his hands held in prayer. He next made his way to the Mahavira Hall, the main building of any traditional Buddhist temple.
Inside the hall, Liang Sihai reverently approached the main statue of the Buddha. At its side, he devoutly greeted a drowsy monk holding a metal bell. The monk's eyes came to life the moment he realized it was Liang Sihai. After he had returned the greeting, the monk forcefully struck the bell. Its clear ring seemed to hang in air, drawing the eyes of every worshiper in the hall. Liang Sihai was the only one who didn't seem affected. He only had eyes for the Buddha. Slowly, he walked over to a prayer cushion in front of the statue. There he folded his hands together in prayer and carefully adjusted his stance.
He moved his heels together and his toes out, and then bowed at the waist while his eyes remained focused on the tips of his fingers. As he bent forward, he reached down with his right hand, leaving his left hand fixed in the praying position. With his right hand on the center of the praye
r cushion, he bent his knees into a full kneel on the cushion. His left arm moved to place the palm on the cushion, about half-a-hand's breadth above his right. With his left settled, his right moved up to rest beside his left on the cushion. Hands in position, he reverently placed his forehead in the space between them and turned his palms up in deference.
His textbook supplication did not go unnoticed. A couple praying on the cushions next to him stared at the whole process in rapt amazement. The woman could hardly contain herself, jabbing her kneeling husband with a finger. "Now look at him—such skill, such sincerity. We could learn from that."
It was much the same for Mr. Jin as he, too, stared in wonder at Liang Sihai's prayer. He could see the older man's mouth move in rhythm to his head as it rose and fell in prayer. He strained his ears, but he couldn't catch the subject of his boss's devout prayer.
After a few prostrations, Liang Sihai turned his hands palms-down on the cushion and raised his head. His right hand moved back to the cushion's middle and he lifted his left hand up to a prayer position in front of his chest. He pushed to his feet and slowly straightened his body, ending with his palms touched together.
His prayer complete, Liang Sihai turned to an old monk who had arrived in the hall while he was prostrate and had since silently waited near the statue. "Abbot Jingneng," he addressed the monk with a bow.
The abbot smiled broadly as he returned the bow. "Benefactor Liang, you have returned to our temple."
"Yes," Liang Sihai said simply.
"The last time, you donated three-hundred-thousand yuan and this humble monk has not had the opportunity to thank you."
"There is no need, Master," Liang Sihai quickly replied. "I only did as I should."
"You have turned to the Buddha with all your heart and so the Buddha will bless and protect you," the abbot promised warmly.
Fear and reverence in his voice and face, Liang Sihai responded with, "Amitabha." It was the sacred name of the Buddha of the Western Pureland. All who recited this name and focused their mind on the Buddha would be reborn into a perfect paradise, where they would achieve complete enlightenment.