Skinner's Box (Fang Mu (Eastern Crimes))
Page 1
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE Teachers' Day
CHAPTER 1 Orphanage
CHAPTER 2 Reunion
CHAPTER 3 Compassion
CHAPTER 4 Angel Hall
CHAPTER 5 Luo Jiahai's Story
CHAPTER 6 Direction
CHAPTER 7 Trial
CHAPTER 8 Labyrinth
CHAPTER 9 Prison Break
CHAPTER 10 Coincidence
CHAPTER 11 Skinner's Box
CHAPTER 12 Mark
CHAPTER 13 Miss Q's Story
CHAPTER 14 A Show of Pain ( Part 1 )
CHAPTER 15 A Show of Pain (Part 2)
CHAPTER 16 Ritual
CHAPTER 17 Crash Reenactment
CHAPTER 18 Lost and Validated
CHAPTER 19 Hurt Child
CHAPTER 20 Tool
CHAPTER 21 Memory
CHAPTER 22 Mr. J's Story
CHAPTER 23 He and "She"
CHAPTER 24 Retrieval
CHAPTER 25 Paradise Lost
CHAPTER 26 Chase
CHAPTER 27 Mr. H's Story
CHAPTER 28 Experiment
CHAPTER 29 Broken-Winged Angels
CHAPTER 30 Gun
CHAPTER 31 Donor
CHAPTER 32 Skinner's Box
CHAPTER 33 So-Called Fate
CHAPTER 34 Dead End
CHAPTER 35 Traps within Traps
CHAPTER 36 Dust to Dust
EPILOGUE Some Scenes from the Reverse Side of the City
BONUS
Fang Mu
——Eastern Crime series
SKINNER’S BOX
Author: Lei Mi
Translator: Gaines Post
Editor: Kim Fout, Verbena C.W., Judy Ye
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2012 by Lei Mi.
The English edition copyright © 2013 by Beijing Guomi Digital Technology Co., Ltd.
All rights reserved.
Beijing Guomi Digital Technology Co., Ltd. is a young and vigorous publisher based in China, whose goal is to bring the best Chinese books to global readers.
Website: www.hotinchina.net
Contact: hotinchina@126.com
"There is no so-called fortune; everything is but trial, or punishment, or recompense." ——Voltaire
PROLOGUE
Teachers' Day
The city was still shrouded in afternoon smog. Particles of an indistinct texture seemed to drift through the air, frivolous yet quite real. On the roads that slashed the metropolis into disarray, an armada of cars oozed along like a slow flood of steel as if they, too, were feeling overwhelmed by the oppressive atmosphere. It was the most languid part of the day in this heavily polluted city of industry.
A drop of the flood's water deviated from its original direction of travel, following an overpass to wind steeply downward. After passing over a spider's web of tangled streets, it stopped in front of an old-fashioned three-story building.
Below it, a van door on which was printed Changhong City TV: 'Make Your Dreams Come True' Production Team abruptly slid open and a few people jumped out of the vehicle, their bodies bustling with nimble activity.
One of them, a rather pretty young woman, ran her fingers through her hair and addressed the driver. "You're sure this is the right place?" When he gave an affirmative answer, she turned to the director nearby. "What time did you arrange the meeting with Teacher Qin?"
"Two o'clock." The director was browsing through the recording schedule in his hands. "The old lady said she had to tidy up a bit so the place wouldn't be so messy."
The young woman glanced at her watch. "Hmm. Close enough. Hey, what about Little Luo?" She looked around and then walked to the front of the vehicle and knocked on the passenger-side window.
"Oy, get out. What are you doing staring off into space like that?"
A young man wearing a gloomy expression was sitting inside the van, gazing steadily at the three-story building. Upon hearing the woman shout at him, he took a deep breath, gathered a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums from the backseat, and got out of the van.
The woman had already struck a pose in front of the building with a microphone in her hand and was chattering through her lines in preparation. When she saw Little Luo still standing there not moving, she impatiently waved him over to take a spot next to her.
As soon as the director signaled to start recording, the woman's face broke into a professional smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Guan Li, program host for 'Make Your Dreams Come True.' We are now standing right downstairs from the home of Little Luo's homeroom teacher from high school, Teacher Qin. In a moment we will take Little Luo to visit Teacher Qin, whom he has looked forward to seeing for a very long time." She positioned the microphone in front of Little Luo. "Little Luo, it's Teachers' Day today; if you don't mind my asking, are you excited to be seeing your mentor on such a special day as this? The teacher who once so profoundly changed your destiny?"
Little Luo stared woodenly at the camera lens for a long while before a single word squeezed past his teeth: "Yep."
Guan Li felt extremely vexed at his lack of expression, but a smile still beamed across her own face. She gave a small laugh. "Little Luo's classmates must be so excited. I don't think anyone would be able to describe in words how it must feel to be moments away from meeting a mentor you haven't seen in years. So okay, I'll just ask our viewing friends to please follow our camera with us as we go pay a visit to this kindly and venerable old teacher."
As soon as the director said "Cut," the smile on Guan Li's face disappeared. Knitting her brows, she barked at Little Luo. "Little Luo, your face just now was too rigid. You need to show an expression that says you are so excited you can't wait. Don't be nervous; loosen up a bit."
Little Luo did not answer. He just stood there stiffly, holding the bouquet and staring at the building, not moving.
"And these flowers, yellow chrysanthemums…" Guan Li's mouth twitched. "Never mind; there's no time to get something different." She wrung her hands. "Okay, let's go upstairs."
After passing through a grimy narrow corridor on the third floor, the file of people stopped in front of a metal door set into the left wall. The director signaled that they should shoot a scene of everyone entering the apartment. When everything was ready, Guan Li's face recovered its smile as she raised her hand to knock, and the camera went into action.
"Who's there?" an aged female voice sounded from the other side of the door.
"We're from the TV network. If you please, is Teacher Qin home?"
The door opened to reveal a thin, withered woman standing in the door frame. The smile that appeared on her face seemed a bit forced and from time to time she glanced at the camera out of the corner of her eye.
"Please, come in; please, come in."
It was an old-fashioned two-bedroom apartment. The furniture in the room was old but had all been neatly arranged. Everyone stood in the living room, making what had already been an extremely narrow space feel suddenly overcrowded. Teacher Qin, upon seeing the smiling Guan Li and the video camera with its flashing red lights, appeared quite overwhelmed.
Guan Li took Teacher Qin by the hand and spoke to the camera in a sweet voice. "Teacher Qin, first of all, happy Teachers' Day to you! In celebration of this day, we've brought you a special present." She pointed a finger at the crowd of people. "A student who has come all the way here just to see you."
Little Luo walked out from behind the cameraman, still holding the bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums in his hands. He stood in front of Teacher Qin and looked her up and down in silence.
Guan Li glared hard at Little Luo and gestured with her hands for him to advance. H
adn't it been agreed in advance that he should embrace the teacher warmly?
Little Luo paid no attention to her. Suddenly he opened his mouth and asked, "Are you Teacher Qin Yumei?"
Teacher Qin seemed puzzled by his behavior. "Yes. Ah, you…"
"From the high school attended by children of people working at the paper?"
"That's right. What year did you graduate?"
Little Luo's expression suddenly relaxed. He even smiled. "No, I wasn't a student of yours. Do you know Shen Xiang?"
Teacher Qin's brows wrinkled slightly, as if struggling to find a long-forgotten name in the depths of her memory. "Shen Xiang… Shen Xiang…" Her eyes widened. "You… you're…"
Without answering, Little Luo extended the bouquet of flowers toward her. Absently, Teacher Qin reached out to accept them, but before her fingers touched the stems, Little Luo had drawn a knife out from behind the bouquet.
She immediately felt an icy cold object pierce her abdomen.
CHAPTER
1
Orphanage
Fang Mu took the paper docket from the bank's counter. On it was a clear record that the 800 yuan had been deposited in the account. He gave it a cursory glance, and then ripped it to pieces and threw them into the waste basket.
Walking out of the front entrance to the bank, he looked at his watch. It was already nearly three o'clock. He hesitated a moment, but then decided not to go back to the office. Better to drive around outside than to sit at his desk sipping tea until five o'clock.
It was not until he got in his jeep that Fang Mu discovered he was at a bit of a loss as to what to do with the two extra hours he suddenly had to kill. Where should he go? He placed his hands on the steering wheel and gazed at the tall buildings standing like a forest in the distance. Those hard, cold, drab buildings loomed from a swath of viscous gray mist, barely discernable. The sky seemed to hang lower than usual, as if slowly pressing the last drops of juice out of the city.
For some reason Fang Mu thought of a kind of fruit that was sweet and brightly colored, but at the same time was frail and weak. He returned from his reverie and started the car.
Half an hour later he had parked along a small street in the outskirts. He got out of the jeep and walked over to a courtyard that opened along the side of the street.
The courtyard occupied an area of just under 1000-square-yards. Through an iron fence, a two-story building could be seen standing tall and upright dead center in the yard. The space had been carefully divided into several sections; the one right in front of the building was big and empty except for two swing sets and a few concrete benches. A few five- or six-year-old children were there running around and chasing each other. A middle-aged woman in her forties held a baby in her arms that was only a few months old, shading it from the non-existent sun while watching nervously as the children ran in circles around her.
Neatly partitioned vegetable and flower gardens lay on both sides of the clearing. Green leaves were accompanied by brilliant blossoms and fruit that seemed to overflow with vitality. Even in the dim afternoon light, they still had a sincerely cheerful effect. Fang Mu couldn't help but smile as he gripped the bars of the fence with his hands.
A little figure appeared suddenly in his peripheral vision. He turned and saw a child, 10-year-old or so, standing in the exact same posture as he himself was: hands on the bars of the fence, staring in at the courtyard.
The child noticed Fang Mu looking at him and turned his head. The boy's hair was slightly curly, and the skin of his face was quite fair but extremely dirty. He wore a loosely-fitting school uniform, and a huge school bag hung crookedly from one shoulder.
Fang Mu smiled amiably at him. "Is school out?"
The boy dodged his gaze in a panic, but then after a while he stole another glance at Fang Mu. Fang Mu was amused, so for the quirk of it he turned and looked squarely at the boy. Appearing even more at a loss, the boy blushed. He turned away and sweat began to ooze from the tip of his tiny nose.
The little boy's nervous manner made Fang Mu feel sympathetic toward him. He decided to tease the kid. Glancing surreptitiously at the boy's school bag, he suddenly made a face and barked, "He Jing, have you finished your homework?"
Surprised, the boy took a step back, looking Fang Mu up and down, eyes full of suspicion. "How…how did you know…?"
Fang Mu laughed. "I know everything."
The boy stared at Fang Mu in fright for a moment. Then, suddenly understanding, he dumped the school bag from his shoulder. On the side of the bag in black marker was written the name He Jing.
"You saw this." The boy grinned, but the grin was exactly like one of a child who was making fun of a fellow classmate. "Actually, my name's not He Jing."
No sooner had the words left the boy's lips than he turned and ran off.
Fang Mu stared blankly after him for a moment, and was just about to open his mouth when he heard someone calling out behind him.
"Officer Fang, hello!"
Fang Mu turned around. It was the middle-aged woman holding the baby. She nodded over in the direction in which the boy had disappeared. "You know that kid?"
"Huh?" Fang Mu was startled. "Hello, Ms. Zhao. Doesn't that boy go here?"
She shook her head. "No. And I don't know whose child he is, either; he always shows up here when he has nothing better to do. But he won't come in; he just stands outside and watches. As soon as I go out to say hi to him, he runs away."
"Oh." He nodded thoughtfully. "Is Teacher Zhou here?"
"Yes, he is." She pointed at the courtyard behind her. "He's working in the garden. Want me to go get him for you?"
"No need," he said hastily. "I'll just head over there."
A white-haired old man with trousers rolled up over his ankles was squatting in the vegetable garden, working busily with both hands covered in mud. Upon hearing footsteps, he lifted his head. Presently, a faint smile climbed across his face.
"You've come."
"Yeah; hello, Teacher Zhou." Fang Mu squatted down next to him. "What are you working on?"
"Loosening the soil for some seedlings," he said with a chuckle.
"What kind of sprouts are these?"
"Strawberries. Planted them myself; they have a different taste. I think you tried some last time. Not bad, eh?"
A wave of sweet and sour suddenly washed over Fang Mu's tongue. He swallowed. "It's okay; a little sour, that's all."
Teacher Zhou laughed. "Well, at least you didn't spit it out, so it must be all right. This little pack of brats couldn't wait for them to get ripe, so they went ahead and picked them."
He stood with some effort, his feet obviously a bit numb from his having squatted for too long. Fang Mu quickly held out a hand to steady him.
"Oh, I'm fine. I've got mud on my hands; don't get your clothes dirty."
Not letting go, Fang Mu helped him over to one of the concrete benches. Teacher Zhou stretched his legs out, massaging his thigh with his right hand and emitting a series of sighs and moans.
"Teacher Zhou, is your leg okay?"
"I got shot here during the Cultural Revolution; every time the weather changes, it aches. Oh, thank you." Teacher Zhou accepted Fang Mu's proffered cigarette. When it was lit he inhaled deeply and exhaled with great satisfaction.
Fang Mu lit one as well and watched as the children ran around chasing each other tirelessly through the yard.
"No work this afternoon?" Teacher Zhou asked.
"Oh, I went and made a deposit for you all, and after that I didn't have to go back and do anything, so I decided to come over and see you."
"Ah." Teacher Zhou flicked away his cigarette butt, and then turned to him and said very earnestly, "I thank you on behalf of Yafan."
"No need, Teacher Zhou," Fang Mu replied quickly. "It's hard enough for you to have to keep such a large orphanage going all by yourself."
Teacher Zhou laughed and asked, "Still want me to keep your secret for you?"
"Yes
." Fang Mu nodded. "Until she has finished school and found a job. I don't make a lot of money right now, so for the time being this is all I can take out each month. But if Yafan ever needs more money, just let me know."
"Mind if I ask..." Teacher Zhou chose his words carefully. "Why are you subsidizing Liao Yafan, anyway? Why her alone, I mean."
Fang Mu stared into the smoke curling upwards above him. After a while, he lowered his head and said, "I'm sorry, Teacher Zhou."
"It's fine." The older man gave him a pat on the shoulder, a slow chuckle trickling out of him. "Everyone has secrets. You're helping Liao Yafan, and I know you wouldn't be doing it out of any evil intentions. Ah, speak of the devil."
Fang Mu followed Teacher Zhou’s gaze toward the gate to see a girl with a backpack walking up to them. Flustered, he stood to leave, but the teacher restrained him. "It's not like she's ever seen you before. What are you afraid of?" he looked to the girl and waved. "Liao Yafan!"
Startled, Liao Yafan stopped in her tracks. When she saw that it was Teacher Zhou calling her, she walked over obediently.
"Hello, Teacher Zhou." She gave a slight bow, her gaze wandering in Fang Mu's direction. Not knowing how to address him, she nodded at him. Fang Mu squinted amicably and returned the nod.
"Is school out?" Teacher Zhou chuckled and sized Liao Yafan up. "Finished with your homework?"
"I finished it in class." She stood straight as a pen in front of Teacher Zhou, one hand repeatedly fingering the strap of her backpack.
"Ah, good girl. Don't forget to help little Yong on the first floor go over his math this evening. Oh, that's right; do you like your new backpack?"
A shy smile spread across Liao Yafan's face. "I do."
"Ah, well, that's good. Go back and have a rest."
Blushing, Liao Yafan nodded in compliance, turned, and ran off, the energy of youth in her steps.
She did not go back and rest as Teacher Zhou had told her, however; five minutes Fang Mu later saw she was back out in the courtyard with a large aluminum basin full of potatoes and was soon peeling them one after another.