It Was Not a Murder Chapter 2

There is no audience here. No caramel popcorn, seat numbers, projectionists, or even the concept of time or space.

There was only a black curtain, with occasional flashes of snowflake noise and crackling sounds.

Every now and then, an image would flash by, like the satellite TV of my childhood accidentally picking up a strange signal from across the ocean.

Gradually, the light and sound became agitated, pixels were hastily combined and spliced, images lingered, and the curtain projected somewhere in the room: a very lively room, like a concert, or a midnight disco. Many young people gathered here. The spherical colored lights on the ceiling rotated endlessly, and the light was interlaced on the central stage.

A girl was holding a microphone and singing Faye Wong's song. Her voice was dull and no one in the audience looked up.

The song ended and the audience burst into polite applause. The song automatically switched to the next one, Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone", an old English song that was probably older than everyone present.

Many people stopped talking and looked towards the stage curiously.

The host took back the microphone and looked around, "Who ordered this?"

"Oh, it's me." A fat man raised his elbow, pushed the crowd apart like Moses parting the sea, rushed to the front of the stage and grabbed the microphone.

He was short and chubby, probably weighing nearly 200 pounds. Apart from being fat, there was nothing particularly striking about him. He was wearing a brown and gray plaid shirt, an olive green sweater, and washed jeans. Upon closer inspection, everything was cheap. The shirt had many stains, the hem was tucked into the waistband of his pants, and the sweater was pilling everywhere. He looked like a Doberman dog that had wandered on the street.
 
The fat man jumped onto the high chair in the center of the stage, cleared his throat, and inserted the microphone into the stand. "I'll present to you a song called "Rolling Stones". It's from Mr. Bob Dylan. I'm sure you've all heard it, after all, it's a household name. In fact, I wanted to sing a more incomparable song - "Desolation Row", which was also composed by him in 1965. It's really a masterpiece. From the lyrics to the melody, it all bursts out the will to resist reality, like a dagger forged in the fire. It's a pity that I can't find it in the playlist. In this KTV, Mr. Bob's only song is "Rolling Stones". It really lacks the most basic respect for modern music. Don't you think so?"

The fat man's voice was amplified by the audio system and echoed in the room. No one responded, and the noise completely died down.

All the people present were freshmen who had been enrolled for less than half a year. Their skin had not yet recovered from the tan from military training, they had not experienced the torture of gaining and losing credits, and they still had rosy fantasies about campus life. Everyone looked bewildered after listening to his impromptu speech.

That year, Bob Dylan had not yet won a new round of international fame for his Nobel Prize in Literature. Although he was a household name in Western society, freshmen who had just escaped the pressure of the college entrance examination had never heard of his name, let alone his songs.

It is true that his music is profound and meaningful, involving many serious social issues, and is inextricably linked to the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights Movement, and the student movement in contemporary history. But what does it have to do with our younger generation?

For us, the music world is jointly constructed by Hong Kong and Taiwan musicians such as Luo Dayou and Jay Chou. Jazz and rock are all historical dust that should be swept into the garbage dump, just like tape recorders, trams, sanitary napkins and wandering hippies in strange clothes.

Seeing no one responding, the fat man nodded repeatedly and sang in a self-intoxicated manner. Perhaps he misunderstood the silent silence as silent approval. His voice was unnaturally hoarse, obviously intentional. It sounded like a donkey, rubbing its vocal cords with sandpaper while braying.

There were boos everywhere and some people threw orange peels onto the stage, but he closed his eyes and immersed himself in his singing, unmoved.

"It's really hard to watch that conceited fat guy." A young man named Jack Sun sighed in a corner of the audience, "He thinks he's a celebrity just because he learned a few English songs."

"He didn't do anything bad," I reminded him as a freshman in college, sitting to his right.

"But the arrogance is evident in his words."

I had just become an adult that month, and was trying to build my own worldview, keeping a fair attitude towards everything, "Everyone has his own way of living."

Jack laughed. "Here you go again, you always pretend to be objective and rational."

"I just want to live a more upright life."

"Do you think this will make you more popular with girls?"

"Please don't lump me in with a frivolous man like you who talks about s3x every other sentence."

Jack and I met during the military training. Because we were of similar height, it was convenient for us to chat in the front and back rows. In just four months, I witnessed him changing girlfriends five times.

Jack's smile deepened. "Speaking of frivolous guys, someone has been stealing glances at the girl at the next table since he sat down."

"Who is it?"

"Stop pretending." Jack said, "Is this the first day I met you?"

Of course I know who he is talking about.

This was a party held in a KTV box. The original intention was to celebrate someone on the track and field team winning the championship, and only the sports department was allowed to attend. As a result, too many people signed up, so the scale was repeatedly expanded, and eventually it became a party that anyone in the grade could attend after paying a fee.

Maybe it’s because everyone has been lacking group entertainment since the start of the school year.

Jack signed up to meet girls, but I was attracted by the promotion of "pay 50 yuan, eat and drink as much as you want". I still remember the first time I went to KTV after my high school graduation ceremony, I ordered a fruit plate and was charged 58 yuan.

When we arrived, the event had already begun. The private room was packed with people, many of whom sat directly on the floor. A lot of beer was being poured, and people holding glasses were walking back and forth between the tables, shouting loudly from time to time. We paid the entrance fee, avoided the drunk troublemakers, and finally found an empty seat in the corner. There were all kinds of fried snacks on the table: sausages, French fries, popcorn chicken, onion rings... The portions were pitifully small. I guess "eat and drink as you like" is just a gimmick to attract customers. But I didn't have time to be depressed, because the moment I sat down, a girl at the next table took away all my attention.

It was an overwhelming attraction. I felt dizzy and my heartbeat quickened. The music, laughter, and clinking of bottles in the box all disappeared, as if someone had turned the volume knob all the way down. My eyes continued to be drawn to the face of the girl at the next table, unable to escape, like a wandering comet caught by the gravity of a planet. Granted, she was a beauty in the secular sense, but not as beautiful as a magazine cover model or a movie star. But even the latter had never given me such a love-at-first-sight experience, so why was it so?

I think it's her nose.

Generally speaking, no one pays attention to what kind of nose the people around them have. If I ask the professor in my afternoon course what the shape of his nose is, I can't remember it, and I can't even remember whether he has a nose.

But the girl in front of me is different. Her nose is straight, with unrestrained lines cutting through the light and shadow on both sides of the nose. The tip of her nose is slightly upturned, tender and cute. Her skin is white and crystal, like glazed ceramics. The entire nose shape shows an incomparable elegant outline, which complements her exquisite face, just like a dream.

It wasn't until the fat man abruptly requested Bob Dylan that I finally took a breath and quickly withdrew my gaze from her nose like a paratrooper cutting off his parachute.

"Seven seconds, a full seven seconds. While you were staring at that girl, I finished all the French fries on the table." Jack said bluntly.

My face flushed and I lied to cover it up: "It's not true, I just seemed to have seen her somewhere before and couldn't help but look at her a few more times."
 
"Really? I don't have that impression." Jack said, "She and I are probably not from the same college. Otherwise, with such a striking appearance, she should have left a deep impression at the opening ceremony."

I agree with him. Even though she was sitting in a booth at the edge of the corner, the girl's every move still attracted attention as if she was at the center of the stage. I could even feel the eager eyes focused on her in the box.

Jack also stole a glance at her profile from time to time. He was silent for two or three minutes, and suddenly said, "The opportunity has come."

"You want to order a song?"

"No, just keep an eye out."

I didn't even look at him, "You want to go to the bathroom?"

"Who said that?" Jack explained impatiently. "Did you see that? The girl's companion just went out, probably to the bathroom. Now she's sipping juice by herself, it's a good opportunity to strike up a conversation with her."

"Who wants to chat up?"

"Of course it's me, plus you." Jack stood up, pinching the neck of the beer bottle.

I was speechless. I didn't expect him to be so capable of taking action.

"Let's go." Jack urged, "If you don't go with me, I won't give you your contact information even if I ask for it."

To put it bluntly, Jack's pick-up strategy is very simple. He pretends to care about the lonely people who are not integrated into the KTV atmosphere as a classmate. However, because it is straightforward, it is open and aboveboard, and the people being cared for find it difficult to refuse. Combined with his handsome appearance and humorous conversation, the success rate is often very high.

However, this time is an exception.

She didn't mean to resist, but no matter how Jack changed the topic, the girl only gave a brief response and smiled silently the rest of the time. So the so-called chatting up became Jack's monologue. During the three songs she sang on the stage, all we knew was that her name was Olivia and that she was studying foreign languages.

"Which language should I learn?" Jack asked tentatively.

"French."

"Wow, romance languages, Bonjour!"

Jack said this with an exaggerated expression, and Olivia's face turned slightly red.

"Can you please tell me any sentence? Please, I've always heard that French has beautiful syllables."

"Sorry, I just started learning... I can't pronounce it correctly."

Jack waited for a moment, and realized that she would not continue talking, so he had to change the subject.

"So, did you choose to learn French because you like French culture?"

She lowered her head and thought.

"For example, movies," Jack suggested, "I like Luc Besson. He is probably one of the few people who has brought French romance to its fullest. Whether it is a commercial film like The Fifth Element or an art film like The Big Blue, he can always create his own unique aesthetic elements. I like almost every one of his films."

She pondered over Jack's words for a moment, and finally gave an answer that was completely irrelevant: "I seldom go to the cinema, so I'm not sure."

This cycle went on and on, and the conversation was going in circles at a dead end. As for whether she was usually so taciturn, I couldn't guess, maybe she just wanted to make the person who was trying to talk to her give up. Jack's smile gradually stiffened, and she winked at me, probably signaling me to say something.

But I couldn't say anything.

Looking closely, the girl's beauty revealed details as if under a magnifying glass. When she smiled shyly, something hit my heart like a bullet. Her eyes were like independent life forms, and her rainbow-like eyelashes trembled slightly. Men also have eyelashes, but why are they not as long and soft as these? I felt the air in my chest heavy, my mouth dry, and I couldn't speak at all.

Jack looked away awkwardly, patted his knees and tried to get up, "I suddenly remembered that I had ordered Jay Chou's "Coral Sea", it's almost my turn."

At this time, an unexpected savior appeared.

As the shrill donkey bray sounded again, there was a commotion in the box.

Without exception, we all looked towards the stage and saw the fat man sitting in front of the microphone and roaring, his tone getting higher and higher, as if he was auditioning.

"Didn't we agree that each person can only order one song?" a boy with a buzz cut couldn't help but shout out.

This statement resonated widely, with voices of approval rising one after another:

"That's right, it's against the rules!"

"And the singing is so bad."

"Get him out!"

The fat man swallowed the song and raised his hand like a big shot in a movie, signaling silence. "Don't get excited, let's listen to this song first. I found it by accident on the jukebox, Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind". This is an immortal monument in the history of folk songs, and even to some extent influenced history and promoted the end of the Vietnam War. Shouldn't such a great song be treated differently? Shouldn't it also follow the rule of only one song?"

The buzz cut guy got excited, "Who cares about you? Who is that old guy called Polyester?"

The fat man ignored him and continued singing. I don't know if it was a psychological effect, but it sounded worse than the previous song, with inaccurate pronunciation and the tones running wildly on the staff.

Several boys came up to him and tried to take the microphone from him. The fat man struggled hard, twisting their arms. The stage was in chaos, and everyone in the audience was stunned and at a loss. Olivia was no exception. She covered her mouth with an incredible look on her face.

"Have you heard of the fat man's deeds? He's quite famous." Jack took the opportunity to cut into the topic, like a robber taking advantage of the chaos.

Olivia shook his head to deny it.

"Do you take English classes, too?"

"On, as a second foreign language."

"Then the teacher must be a man."

"How did you know?"

Jack smiled mysteriously, "There is only one female English teacher in the whole school, and everyone who has taken her class knows the fat guy. His name is Max, and he is very famous."

"He was arguing with the professor in class." I managed to speak up when I had the chance.

Olivia looked at me, his eyes flickering, as if he was expecting what was to come.
 
I hurriedly sorted out the memories of that English class in my mind and converted them into words.

Our English professor is surnamed Huang, a woman in her 40s or 50s. She is always talking nonsense and is nicknamed Huang Daxian.

Of course, I don’t know about the nickname or reputation.

When she was young, the professor went to Europe and the United States to study on public funds. She often talked about irrelevant topics in class, mostly about what she had seen and heard abroad - how foreigners do things with individuality, how high-end their lifestyles are, and how superior the educational environment is abroad.

Although she has been back to China for many years, when sharing her experiences, Professor Huang always behaves like a foreigner living abroad. When talking about her life in California, she chose to start with "you Chinese people". "When you Chinese people travel abroad, you always travel in groups of three or five, shouting loudly and without any manners..."

I often couldn't concentrate on her classes, so I had to secretly put on headphones and listen to music.

News reports from CNN, BBC, and the New York Times are golden reading materials that the professor often recommends. Recently, the US presidential election happened, and she paid special attention to it, and even compiled the information of the candidates into teaching materials to introduce them to us.

"No matter the color of your skin, anyone has the opportunity to become president. This is the American dream." She looked at the black presidential candidate on the projection screen with a dreamy expression. "For the exam at the end of the month, I will choose his campaign speech as the reading comprehension topic. Everyone should prepare in advance."

A month later, she showed up in the classroom with a displeased look on her face. As soon as the class started, she banged on the desk with a thick book cover.

"Young people nowadays are really outrageous. In last week's test, I clearly informed them of the scope of the test questions in advance, but some people still failed. One classmate, I won't say who it was, only scored 30 points, and didn't even get a single point in the reading comprehension section."

Is this true? I find it incredible. Everyone was admitted with similar college entrance examination scores, so the level should not be too different. Why is it that some people's English is so bad?

As soon as he finished speaking, someone stood up from his seat. It was Max. At that time, I didn't know him at all. I only heard his name when the freshmen introduced themselves.

"Teacher, the person you are talking about looks a bit like me."

"Well, it's always good to face shame. So, classmate, do you know what's wrong with you?"

"I think the problem lies in the question itself." He replied solemnly.

In an instant, all the students in the classroom tensed up. Even those who were sleeping on their stomachs straightened their backs like springs and wiped the saliva from the corners of their mouths.

"Is there something wrong with the title?" The professor raised his eyebrows. "Do you know why this article was chosen as the reading material? This is a campaign speech by the President of the United States. To ensure that every citizen of the country can understand it, the grammar is simple and there are no unfamiliar words. It is most suitable for testing basic English skills. As long as the basic skills are solid, students who have just learned English can understand most of it. The problem you are talking about is that your English level is not even as good as that of a junior high school student?"

Many people laughed out loud, and Max's face turned red. The professor was very satisfied with the effect of his scolding, waved his hand, and said, "Sit down."

"bullsh!t." Max's lips moved.

The professor had probably never heard of such an unrefined English word in class in her life. It took her a long while to react, her face pale and her whole body trembling.

The classroom was silent.

"Student, please pay attention to your attitude when speaking. This is a classroom..."

"Bullsh!t," Max repeated. "This speech is a stinking pile of bullsh!t."

"I warn you again..."

"I want to state that the reason I got a zero on this reading comprehension is not because I didn't understand it. On the contrary, it was because I understood it too well and was so angry that I was shaking all over and couldn't answer the questions normally. Let's read the original text again and listen to what the future president said, 'the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.' Listen, what a shameless statement, but he can say it so righteously, well, he is indeed a shameless professional politician."

But to me, this is just an ordinary official propaganda slogan.

Max seemed to have forgotten that he was in the classroom. He waved the test paper and immersed himself in his speech. "Have you watched the news? The Americans turned Iraq upside down and did not find the so-called weapons of mass destruction. That was their reason for launching the war. Two years ago, the US Secretary of State held up a bottle of white powder as evidence at the United Nations General Assembly, saying that there were very terrible weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. For this reason, they brazenly launched an aggressive war. But who knows what is in the bottle? Maybe it's just laundry detergent!"

He spoke faster and faster, and became more and more excited. "The United States is a rogue country that stirs up trouble everywhere, killing without burying anyone. It exports color revolutions everywhere, and plunges the world into endless terrorist attacks and civil unrest."

"The president of this country actually talks to himself, gives a speech in front of the whole world, claims to be the representative of democracy, freedom and hope, and declares one Middle Eastern country after another to be the axis of evil. Isn't it just for his own interests? Isn't it just to grab oil? Don't you think we should deny such despicable lies? Shouldn't we expose their hypocritical masks?"

He tapped the test paper with his index finger joint, making a crisp sound. "Only when everyone reaches a consensus and gets zero points on this kind of reading comprehension questions can the world be truly peaceful."

In my opinion, his speaking skills are really poor.

Let’s not talk about the content. As for the effect of his speech, when he got excited, he became like a primary school student running for class leader. His speech was unclear, he went off topic, and the more he spoke, the harder it was to understand.

"Quiet! Enough of the small talk, everyone open the textbook to page 86..." The professor wanted to bring the atmosphere back to the rhythm of teaching. But the students were no longer interested in the class, and everyone was laughing and watching Max's performance.
 
I stopped paying attention to Max and watched the professor's reaction with interest. She stood on the podium at a loss, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish starved of oxygen, trying to say something but no sound came out.

"What happened next?" Olivia was eager to know what happened next.

"What else can he do? He was called to the training office for a talk. He wrote a letter of apology in shame." Jack laughed, "He should have been punished, but he escaped."

"Is there such a thing?" I haven't heard about the follow-up either.

"The kid insisted that he didn't say any swear words, and even found an English-Chinese dictionary to show it to the dean, arguing that the official translation of "bullsh!t" in the dictionary is nonsense and does not fall into the category of swear words. In the end, the school couldn't find a reason to punish him, and the matter was dropped." Jack smiled evilly, "But he doesn't want to pass the English course."

"Professor, you're not that petty." I denied it just for the sake of denying it.

"You think too much. After that class, she gave low scores to the whole class on the test."

"I got close to full marks," I argued.

"Because there aren't many things to criticize about your paper that would deduct points, but that may not be the case for others. In that exam, more than 50% of the people failed. For example, I only got 59 points. So I was quite upset with that fat guy."

We all looked at Max at the same time. He had finished singing and was sitting on a high stool at the bar drinking beer. The area around the bar was immediately deserted like a quarantine area. A girl picked up a glass of juice, glared at him with disgust, and sat far away in another corner of the room.

"Look, everyone keeps their distance from him," said Jack.

"It's very strange." Olivia whispered. It's more like she was just talking to herself with her lips opening and closing a few times. If I hadn't been secretly staring at her, I wouldn't have noticed it at all.

"It's understandable that everyone does this. It's human nature," I said.

Olivia blushed, probably because she didn't expect her voice to be heard. "No, I mean it's a bit strange that Liu likes Bob Dylan's songs so much."

"What's so strange about that?" Jack said with a smile.

Olivia lowered his head for a while before speaking again; "That singer named Bob Dylan is American, right? Max criticized the hegemony of the United States in class, and now he is promoting the spirit of his songs. Isn't that a bit contradictory?"

A sharp point of view. I think, although this girl is not eloquent, she has her own ideas.

However, I don't know what Max is thinking. I think there are several plausible possibilities: maybe he is a rational and objective person like me, who thinks that individuals and countries should be distinguished. Or maybe he is a fanatical fan of Bob Dylan, who thinks his songs represent an anti-war stance and are different from the brutal actions of the US government.

But such things are too complicated to explain, and it is not something that can be explained to others in everyday language. At the same time, in front of the girl I like, my thoughts are a mess, and I have no idea whether my feelings are worth expressing.

In the end, I said nothing and let Jack draw a general conclusion:

"Anyway, that kind of person just wants to attract attention. He doesn't care whether there is a contradiction or not."

From an objective perspective, this is also a possibility.

Olivia didn't answer. She turned to look at the bar, her eyes lingering on Max, who was happily pouring beer for herself. The corners of her mouth slightly turned up, revealing a barely perceptible smile.