by Mi Lei
As the taillights of the truck disappeared behind a rocky bend, Lu Tianchang signaled his men to get onboard. He was worried. Only the solid weight of the plastic bag in his hands managed to smooth some of the deep furrows on his brow. He had told Liang Sihai nothing about Lu Haitao's little trip to the city and he had not mentioned the business with that Fang photographer. There was no doubt in his mind that Lu Village could fall back into poverty overnight should Liang Sihai ever lose faith in him. The man had become indispensable. No, he was more than a man; Liang Sihai was his own personal God of Wealth.
The events of the past few days had left his authority in the village shaken. The cold truth was that money alone no longer kept the villagers in check. But now he had a stick to match his carrot.
Again he squeezed the black plastic bag, tracing the shape of the guns inside. He could almost feel how they made him grow in control.
It was a smooth ride on the expressway for Liang Sihai. Even so, he felt a deep sense of unease claw its way out of the pit of his stomach. He tore at his collar, but it offered no relief. What he needed was a cigarette. He flipped open the storage box and rummaged through its contents. Only Chunghwas.
"Fuck!" Liang Sihai growled loudly. How many times had he told those backwoods brick-heads to take cheaper smokes? Those arrogant little bastards.
When he had first picked out their village, it was because of its remote location and proximity to the border. It had looked like the perfect place to transfer his goods. But the natives were growing restless. Now they wanted guns. Who knew what they would ask for next.
His hand hovered for another moment, then he took one of the cigarettes from its pack and lit up. As the smoke curled from his lips, he felt the maelstrom in his mind begin to calm.
Perhaps it was time to ditch Lu Village altogether.
Money.
Fang Mu had never worried about money, but now it was all he could think about. Three-hundred-thousand was no small sum. Where was he supposed to get that kind of money?
Normally, he would have just applied to the Municipal Bureau for case funds, but not this time. They would never approve a sum like that without knowing exactly where it was going and that meant someone could leak the information. Fang Mu didn't even want to imagine what would happen to the case and Jing Xu if that happened.
He had to somehow manage on his own, but his account was almost empty. Most of the money he didn't need to cover his daily expenses he gave to orphanages. Maybe Bian Ping would lend him the money. No, he knew that the old man was anything but loaded.
Fang Mu sat at his table, staring down at the overflowing ashtray in front of him. He had gone through his organizer a million times, but not one of his friends had anything even approaching that kind of money. Feeling miserable, he began walking up and down his living room. Suddenly, he stopped to stare at his garish wallpaper. He heaved a long sigh.
I'll do it for Old Xing; there's no other way.
Two days later, Fang Mu was sitting in a restaurant. Every few minutes, he turned to the window and nervously peered outside. Finally, he saw the man he was waiting for briskly walk up to the restaurant. Fang Mu felt the tension drain from his body as the man met him.
"Did you bring it?" he didn't even wait for him to sit down.
"Fuck, man!" The man grabbed Fang Mu's cup of tea and downed it one gulp. "Chill. Let me catch my breath."
Fang Mu smiled. Du Yu hadn't changed at all. Sure, the suit his job at the bank afforded him gave him a bit of class, but the moment he opened his mouth, it was clear that he was still the hardboiled, carefree fellow he had always been.
"So, did it go smoothly?" Fang Mu asked.
"Smooth as slick shit," Du Yu grumbled. "You seriously think you can mortgage your shack of a home for three-hundred-thousand? And why is your mother's name on the ownership certificate? Did you steal it?"
His words sucked the hope right out of Fang Mu. Two nights ago, he had paid his parents a rare visit. As they hastily whipped up dinner, Fang Mu had swiped the ownership certificate to his home.
"What do I do now?" Fang Mu asked as he slumped down.
"Dammit, Fang Mu! Lucky for you, a girl from the credit department has a thing for me." Du Yu pulled two bags of cash from his carryall. "My irresistible rakish charm wins the day again!"
"Nice, nice." Fang Mu sat up. A smile grew on his face as he reached out and took the bags. After giving the piles of yuan notes a quick count, he pounded Du Yu on his shoulder. "Thank you so much!"
"You're an awful, awful person." Du Yu smiled broadly. "I haven't seen you in years and now you pop up only because you want something from me. Where are your manners?"
"I thought we were beyond that." Fang Mu paused. His smile faded as he asked, "Are you married?"
Back in Jiangbin City University, a serial killer had killed Du Yu's girlfriend for no other reason than to torment Fang Mu. That tragedy had almost put an end to their friendship. Many things had changed since then and Du Yu had long forgiven him, but Fang Mu would never be free of the guilt or the terrible memories.
"Not yet." Du Yu gave him a wink and a grin. "I'll tell you before I get hitched. I'm expecting one big, fat, money-filled red envelope from you. After all, you've got plenty to stuff it with now."
"You got it!" Fang Mu smiled back at him.
"And what about you? I haven't seen you in years; everything all right?" For the first time, Du Yu sounded somewhat serious. "I see you ended up in the police after all."
"I've got nothing to complain about," Fang Mu answered as he took out his cell phone. He quickly punched in Jing Xu's number.
"Nothing to complain about? You're in trouble aren't you? Why else would you be in such a hurry to get all that cash?"
Fang Mu didn't answer, but a worried frown creased his brow. Jing Xu was not answering his phone. Finally, he hung up. Apologetically, he looked to Du Yu. "Brother," he said, not really wanting to cut short their visit. "Brother, I..."
"Go. Get out of here!" Du Yu demanded with a swipe of the hand. "You owe me lunch. And this time I ain't waiting years."
Fang Mu clapped a hand on Du Yu's shoulder and quickly left the restaurant.
Outside, Fang Mu hailed a cab. After he had given the driver directions, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
He needed to make a decision. Finally, he gave Xiao Wang a call.
When he arrived at Jing Xu's building, Xiao Wang was already there, waiting for him. Fang Mu hurried toward him. In a low voice, he asked, "Does anyone else know you're here?"
"No. You specifically told me not to tell anyone, so why would I?" Xiao Wang shook his head. "But what are we doing here?"
Instead of answering, Fang Mu motioned him to follow. He opened the door and they went inside the building.
Xiao Wang had not been his first choice. His original plan had been to take Chief Bian along as a witness. Jing Xu was not answering his phone. It was suspicious enough for Fang Mu to make a last minute change of plans and call Xiao Wang instead. If things really did turn ugly, the young officer would be the much better partner than Bian Ping.
The two quietly made their way up to the third floor. Fang Mu checked the corridor and then knocked at the door.
The apartment remained eerily quiet.
Cold sweat beaded on Fang Mu's forehead. Trembling ever so slightly, he took his cell phone from his pocket and called Jing Xu's number again.
Nothing has happened, he tried to tell himself. Nothing. Nothing!
Inside the apartment, a phone rang. Outside, Fang Mu stood frozen. Xiao Wang put his ear to the door and exchanged a quick look with Fang Mu. He gave the door a push.
It opened with a loud creak.
Xiao Wang pulled his gun from its holster and cocked the hammer. Moving quietly, he stepped into the apartment. Fang Mu hung up his phone and followed him inside.
It wasn't yet afternoon, but all the blinds were drawn. Other than the light shining through the open door, the place w
as shrouded in darkness. Xiao Wang inhaled deeply. A familiar, dreadful odor hit him. He spun around to look at Fang Mu. He could smell it, too.
Fresh blood.
Fang Mu's hand was trembling in earnest now. He rushed to the bedroom. It was shrouded in shadows, too. Vague outlines only hinted at what lay within. Fang Mu groped for the light switch. He found it and in an instant, the room was bathed in light. The sudden brightness and his racing thoughts sent his head spinning, but he shook it off and stepped inside.
The bedroom was a mess. Fang Mu pulled the sheets off the bed; there was no body beneath. He ducked down and looked under the bed; nothing but magazines and old socks.
Fang Mu cursed.
"Fang Mu," Xiao Wang called out to him.
Fang Mu hurried out of the bedroom. Xiao Wang was standing in the bathroom doorway, staring at what lay inside.
Fang Mu felt his heart grow cold. Weakly, he stepped forward. The moment he joined Xiao Wang on the threshold, his legs began to shake.
Jing Xu was lying in the bathtub, curled up in a ball: Legs folded above his head, left hand on his chest, head tilted to the right, both eyes half-shut, mouth slightly open, a clothesline around his neck, with dark strangulation marks.
Fang Mu's mind went blank. Propelled by reflex alone, he approached the bathtub; the body had to be examined. He was stopped with a jerk as Xiao Wang grabbed hold of his arm.
Fang Mu barely realized that he was being dragged into the living room, and then that he was being pushed down onto the sofa.
Xiao Wang squatted down in front of him. He squarely fixed his gaze on Fang Mu. "What's going on here?"
There was no way Fang Mu could keep it a secret now. Resigned, he recounted every detail of his deal with Jing Xu. Xiao Wang liked none of it. As Fang Mu finished his account, Xiao Wang stood up and returned his gun to its holster.
He continued to stare at Fang Mu, hands on his hips. "Why didn't you tell me?" Xiao Wang stressed every syllable.
Fang Mu had no answers. All he could do was bury his face in his palms and heave a long sigh.
"You don't trust me, do you?" Anger rose in Xiao Wang's voice. "If you'd told me, one of us could have raised the money and the other could have stayed with Jing Xu. But now?" He gave one of the pornographic magazines on the floor a kick. "We almost had a shot at the case!"
"Please, shut up!" Fang Mu leapt to his feet. Without looking back, he rushed into the bathroom.
"Don't do anything stupid!" Xiao Wang called out from behind. "Let's get out of here."
But Fang Mu was beyond being reasoned with. He walked up to the tub and began to examine Jing Xu's corpse more closely. The security guard had been dead for at least 24 hours. The cause of death was obviously ligature strangulation. But there were also bloodstains on his clothes. When Fang Mu stood back up, there was a deep frown on his face.
Jing Xu had been strangled with a clothesline, so what was blood doing on his shirt?
Fang Mu picked up the toilet plunger and forced the handle under the body. With a heave, he turned it over. Jing Xu's stiff corpse rolled on its side.
Fang Mu gasped in shock.
The corpse's right hand was a bloody mess. Every finger except for the thumb and index finger had been removed. Below the dried blood, he could see pieces of bones jutting from mangled flesh. He bent back down and carefully examined the torn tendons and flesh. It looked like something was lodged where the fingers should have been. With one hand Fang Mu stabilized the corpse and with the other he retrieved his keys. Using the nail clipper on his key ring, he carefully removed one of the strange objects.
It was a toothpick.
The killer had cut off Jing Xu's fingers and then pushed toothpicks into raw flesh and cartilage.
"They forced him to talk," Xiao Wang said.
Fang Mu hadn't even noticed him enter the bathroom.
Xiao Wang plucked the toothpick from Fang Mu's hand and carefully stuck it back into the wound. "You want to keep your deal with him a secret, don't you?"
"Yes." Fang Mu nodded.
"His killer was looking for something," Xiao Wang said as he studied Jing Xu's corpse. "Maybe it was the tapes."
Fang Mu's face blanched of all color. He let go of Jing Xu's corpse and hastily returned to the living room to begin a desperate search.
"Don't bother." Xiao Wang nodded toward the bathroom. "That guy wouldn't have lasted long. Three fingers were probably more than enough. And anyway, they would've hardly left two fingers if he hadn't talked."
Fang Mu stopped in his tracks and slumped against the doorframe. He felt the energy drain from his body. Of course Xiao Wang was right. The tapes were gone.
"Help me." Xiao Wang was wiping the plunger with a towel. "We need to wipe down everything we touched. And don't forget the surfaces. We can't leave any traces."
Fifteen minutes later, Fang Mu and Xiao Wang arrived in the middle of nowhere. Xiao Wang double-checked that they were alone, then he soaked the towel they'd brought with them in fuel and burned it. Fang Mu remained in the car. In silence, he watched the fabric curl up and turn to ash. Like all his hopes, the towel's sorry remains soon scattered to nothingness.
Xiao Wang returned to the car and handed Fang Mu a cigarette. He stared out to the horizon as he helped himself to a cigarette as well. After a long silence, he asked, "He's been dead twenty-four hours now. Did you try to contact him yesterday?"
"No," Fang Mu mumbled.
"Today, how many times did you try to call him?" Xiao Wang asked, his voice devoid of all emotion.
"Twice," came Fang Mu's dull response.
"Hm, our people will check the phone records." Xiao Wang started the engine. "Today, the two of us were doing some field work. We called Jing Xu to make an inquiry about the security tapes. You remember, right?"
Fang Mu let his head slowly nod.
As he drove, Xiao Wang kept an eye on Fang Mu. The young criminal psychology expert barely moved and his face remained a pale shade of hopeless despair.
With a smile, Xiao Wang offered a sliver of hope. "Look at the bright side; you just saved yourself three-hundred-thousand." He paused. "I wanted to ask you, where did you get that kind of money?"
Fang Mu licked his cracked lips. "I took out a mortgage on my home."
"Oh?" Xiao Wang raised an eyebrow. "You really are fucking loyal..." He stopped himself. "I mean that in a good way." When that did nothing to soften Fang Mu's stare, he quickly added, "What I really mean is, Old Xing is really lucky to have a friend like you."
Silence hung in the car.
After the pause, Xiao Wang quietly said, "I just hope that you will see me like..."
"Please, just stop!" Fang Mu interrupted more harshly than he'd meant. He couldn't take another word – or even another thought – of Old Xing.
Fang Mu felt like he was drowning.
Xing Zhisen poured the cabbage and tofu soup onto his lunch tray and stirred it into the rice. He then gingerly began to eat. Whenever he opened his mouth too far or chewed too quickly, muted pain shot through the many wounds on his cheeks.
Yesterday some of his fellow convicts had managed to slip a soap bar under his feet during shower time. He had hit his head on a water pipe, leaving his face covered in blood. After they had patched him up in the infirmary, the prison staff had asked him what had happened. He told them that he had been clumsy.
Telling the truth would have only invited more violence from his fellow inmates.
He had no choice but to endure and to wait
Wait for the boy to drag it all into the light.
Several inmates sat down across from him. Xing Zhisen continued to chew, but he watched the newcomers closely out of the corner of his eye. They were watching him, too. Xing Zhisen hadn't seen these particular prisoners before; chances were that they had only just arrived. Even so, he had to be careful. As a former Commissioner of the Public Security Bureau he was never short of enemies in the cell blocks. Once Xing Zhisen was sure that they wer
en't going to start something in the mess hall, he turned away and focused his attention back on his food.
A guard approached. With a rap on the table, he harshly informed the man eating, "Old Xing, you have a visitor."
Lockup always made Yang Min want to cry. The moment she saw Xing Zhisen walk up to the other side of the glass, she choked her tears and wiped the wetness from her eyes.
"Love, why are you crying?" Xing Zhisen asked her through the microphone. "I was just at lunch."
"Was it good?" With all her might, Yang Min forced a smile onto her face. The many wounds on Xing Zhisen's face looked even worse than last time, but she didn't want to, didn't dare, ask.
"Not bad." He feigned a smile. "Fish, meat—they give us everything in here."
Yang Min wiped her eyes again. She stood up and lifted a large plastic bag off the floor. She was obviously struggling with its weight. "I brought you a few things. Food, cigarettes, and tea," she told him. Then, she added, "Give what you don't need to the other inmates..."
She knew her husband well. He would never ingratiate himself to these people on his own initiative. But if he could spread small gifts among them in the name of sharing, it might just make his time there a little bit easier.
Of course, Xing Zhisen understood his wife's motives. With a smile, he nodded.
For a while, the two held their microphones in silence. They just looked at each other, longingly seeking the familiar warmth in the other's face. It was a dark, long night. Behind those walls, outside, it hardly mattered. Husband and wife had nothing but their memories as they clung to the hope that dawn would come.
Yang Min was the first to cry. "When are you coming home, love?"
She reached out to him. Her once soft, now wrinkled, hands stroked the glass. As she touched the barrier between them, she could almost feel his countless bruises and cuts.
Xing Zhisen placed his hand on the glass over hers.
"Don't worry. They'll soon see that I'm innocent," he told her. He looked over his shoulder, then turned and whispered, "Do you know what Fang Mu is up to?"