Profiler (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Lei Mi
Tags: Mystery & Crime
nothing came out. At last, unable to do anything else, he simply nodded, turned and walked away.
As he left the basketball courts, Tai Wei couldn't resist looking back. Fang Mu was no longer beside the bleachers. Instead he was on one of the distant courts, his back to Tai Wei, shooting by himself. Dusk had fallen, and only a few players remained on the courts. As the darkness deepened, Fang Mu's silhouette became increasingly faint, until all that could be seen was the continuous rising motion of his arms and the ball as it flew through the air towards the hoop.
CHAPTER
3 The Meaning of Fear
T oday was the first day of Criminal Procedure class. Its professor, Song Yaoyang, had only just returned from an exchange trip to Japan , delaying the start of the class.
As usual, Fang Mu was sitting in the last row. Although class was supposed to begin over a month ago, Professor Song was hardly anxious to begin teaching; instead he kept going on and on about Japan's high level of economic development and comfortable lifestyle. Then he launched into several stories he "just had to tell" about his exploits with some Japanese criminal procedure specialists. As he continued to boast enthusiastically, a student knocked on the half-open classroom door. With a self-satisfied look on his face, Professor Yang beckoned the student inside with a magnanimous sweep of his arm.
The student walked briskly to the back row, sat heavily beside Fang Mu, and gave him a friendly nod.
Fang Mu recognized him. He was Meng Fanzhe, a Civil Law graduate student.
Arriving late to class was as common as could be, ,and professors were generally quick to forgive the offending students. What gave Fang Mu pause was the expression on Meng Fanzhe's face: he looked far more relieved than he should be, as if—
As if he had just escaped some terrible trial.
Once Professor Song finally finished what seemed to be his"Reflections on Traveling in Japan " lecture, he grabbed the attendance sheet and, with a feigned show of affection, gave a wink and said, "Before beginning class, why don't we first get to know one another?"
All the students who, a moment before, were about to fall asleep immediately perked up. This was a required course and nobody wanted to lose credit points. As Professor Song went down the list, reading name after name, the word "Here" sounded again and again from every corner of the classroom. Inadvertently, Fang Mu's eyes fell on Meng Fanzhe. What he saw took him completely by surprise.
Only moments before Meng Fanzhe had appeared exceptionally relaxed; now he looked as nervous as if he were confronting a mortal enemy. His hands tightly gripped the corners of his desk, knuckles white, and his eyes were wide and fixed on Professor Song. He gnawed tensely on his upper lip. It was as if Professor Song, rather than speaking students' names, was actually shooting bullets from his open mouth.
What was up with him? Fang Mu wondered.
"Meng Fanzhe."
Big drops of sweat streamed down Meng Fanzhe's face; his lips fluttered open and closed. But he made not the slightest sound. Professor Song scanned the classroom. Then he read the name once more: "Meng Fanzhe."
Several of Meng Fanzhe's acquaintances called softly to him, but he seemed not to hear. He continued to stare rigidly at Professor Song, leaning forward, his mouth half open, as if he were anxious to speak but powerless to actually do so.
"Absent? Cutting class on the first day?" An angry look on his face, Professor Song withdrew a fountain pen and prepared to make a note on the attendance sheet.
At that moment, Meng Fanzhe leaped to his feet. Although still unable to speak, he raised his arm high in the air.
"Oh, are you Meng Fanzhe?"
At last two words tumbled out of the student's mouth: "I am."
"Then please sit down. Next time try to pay a little bit more attention."
Meng Fanzhe flopped exhaustedly into his seat, as if speaking those two words had used up every
As he left the basketball courts, Tai Wei couldn't resist looking back. Fang Mu was no longer beside the bleachers. Instead he was on one of the distant courts, his back to Tai Wei, shooting by himself. Dusk had fallen, and only a few players remained on the courts. As the darkness deepened, Fang Mu's silhouette became increasingly faint, until all that could be seen was the continuous rising motion of his arms and the ball as it flew through the air towards the hoop.
CHAPTER
3 The Meaning of Fear
T oday was the first day of Criminal Procedure class. Its professor, Song Yaoyang, had only just returned from an exchange trip to Japan , delaying the start of the class.
As usual, Fang Mu was sitting in the last row. Although class was supposed to begin over a month ago, Professor Song was hardly anxious to begin teaching; instead he kept going on and on about Japan's high level of economic development and comfortable lifestyle. Then he launched into several stories he "just had to tell" about his exploits with some Japanese criminal procedure specialists. As he continued to boast enthusiastically, a student knocked on the half-open classroom door. With a self-satisfied look on his face, Professor Yang beckoned the student inside with a magnanimous sweep of his arm.
The student walked briskly to the back row, sat heavily beside Fang Mu, and gave him a friendly nod.
Fang Mu recognized him. He was Meng Fanzhe, a Civil Law graduate student.
Arriving late to class was as common as could be, ,and professors were generally quick to forgive the offending students. What gave Fang Mu pause was the expression on Meng Fanzhe's face: he looked far more relieved than he should be, as if—
As if he had just escaped some terrible trial.
Once Professor Song finally finished what seemed to be his"Reflections on Traveling in Japan " lecture, he grabbed the attendance sheet and, with a feigned show of affection, gave a wink and said, "Before beginning class, why don't we first get to know one another?"
All the students who, a moment before, were about to fall asleep immediately perked up. This was a required course and nobody wanted to lose credit points. As Professor Song went down the list, reading name after name, the word "Here" sounded again and again from every corner of the classroom. Inadvertently, Fang Mu's eyes fell on Meng Fanzhe. What he saw took him completely by surprise.
Only moments before Meng Fanzhe had appeared exceptionally relaxed; now he looked as nervous as if he were confronting a mortal enemy. His hands tightly gripped the corners of his desk, knuckles white, and his eyes were wide and fixed on Professor Song. He gnawed tensely on his upper lip. It was as if Professor Song, rather than speaking students' names, was actually shooting bullets from his open mouth.
What was up with him? Fang Mu wondered.
"Meng Fanzhe."
Big drops of sweat streamed down Meng Fanzhe's face; his lips fluttered open and closed. But he made not the slightest sound. Professor Song scanned the classroom. Then he read the name once more: "Meng Fanzhe."
Several of Meng Fanzhe's acquaintances called softly to him, but he seemed not to hear. He continued to stare rigidly at Professor Song, leaning forward, his mouth half open, as if he were anxious to speak but powerless to actually do so.
"Absent? Cutting class on the first day?" An angry look on his face, Professor Song withdrew a fountain pen and prepared to make a note on the attendance sheet.
At that moment, Meng Fanzhe leaped to his feet. Although still unable to speak, he raised his arm high in the air.
"Oh, are you Meng Fanzhe?"
At last two words tumbled out of the student's mouth: "I am."
"Then please sit down. Next time try to pay a little bit more attention."
Meng Fanzhe flopped exhaustedly into his seat, as if speaking those two words had used up every
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