It Was Not a Murder Chapter 5

It is the first public class after the winter vacation and also the first class of the second half of the semester. It brings a sense of freshness as if we are meeting again after a long separation.

I got up at 7am as usual. The temperature was still below zero, so I took my time washing up and went to the cafeteria to eat a bowl of hot noodle soup to warm myself up. When I arrived at the classroom, there was still a cold empty seat in front of me.

So I chose a seat in the back row that was not drafty but had a good view, and put my textbook down next to me to reserve the seat.

Last night, the Champions League quarter-finals were broadcast live, and Jack stayed up until two or three o'clock. Before leaving the dormitory, I tried to wake him up. "Please say yes to my name..." He mumbled a few words, then turned over and fell asleep again, his face clearly showing his determination to sleep until the end of the night.

But this was exactly what I wanted, because I knew I would meet someone I knew in class.

Half an hour later, more and more people came. I saw many familiar faces, but after the winter vacation, I couldn't even remember some of their names. The boys didn't change much overall, but the girls did. Many of them looked like they had gone from high school students to college students, and their clothes and appearance became more fashionable. Upon closer inspection, some of them even put on eye makeup and false eyelashes.

The empty seats were more than half filled, and Olivia walked into the classroom alone, without makeup, with long hair draped over her shoulders. She wore a high-necked blue sweater and gray straight jeans. Although it was a simple combination of clothes, she looked as if she was born with a sense of transcendence.

I could feel the undercurrent in the classroom. A few boys even pretended to chat with people in the back row and turned back to watch.

But Olivia himself seemed unaware of it, or perhaps he had already gotten used to it.

As she walked past my seat, her eyes met mine, she stopped and smiled peacefully yet with a hint of shyness.

I smiled back and moved the book that was occupying the seat. She put down her backpack and sat down, and the fabric of her clothes rustled against the wooden table and chairs. I smelled a faint floral scent that might have come from shampoo, and my heart beat faster.

Since last Christmas, Max has been haunting us, sending us messages every weekend, inviting us to participate in NFNK activities. Several activities led to several results, one of which was that Olivia and I became quite familiar with each other. After the group was dismissed, we chatted under the bus stop. She mentioned that she was going to sign up for psychology as an elective course in the new semester, but her friends were not interested because the teacher was notoriously strict and gave low grades.

"Actually, I'm also quite interested in psychology." I answered casually at that time.

"That's great, I finally have friends to hang out with."

We checked the class schedule and agreed to meet then.

A man in his thirties walked into the classroom holding a handout. He was stocky, had thinning hair, sharp eyes, and a tanned face. He was very different from the image of a psychology professor in my mind.

"I heard that this teacher can teach dream interpretation." I said in a low voice.

"Dream interpretation?" Olivia also lowered his voice.

"I heard from a senior that the professor will ask all students to record the content of their dreams and then write an analysis report."

"Idioms of Dreams?"

"No, it seems to be using scientific principles to analyze the symbolic meaning of dreams."

Olivia suddenly realized, "Freud."

"Yes, the focus will be on Freud's The Interpretation of Dreams. You are really knowledgeable." I exclaimed in admiration.

"Because I'm interested in psychology, I studied it in my spare time." She twirled her hair with her fingers. "When I filled out my application form, I wanted to choose psychology, but my parents didn't agree."

"Are you worried about finding a job?"

"Something like that. Mainly because a relative of mine sneaked into France many years ago and is now doing business and making a fortune, so my parents want me to study abroad there."

"The guidance from our parents' generation is almost this realistic," I sighed.

When filling out my application, my father insisted that I apply for a major related to economics. I guess he must have been deeply influenced by a family gathering: it was my grandmother's 70th birthday party, and the wealthy relatives that my family couldn't usually curry favor with also attended. A distant uncle said something meaningful during the party: "The business philosophy of each industry is different, but in the end, it's all about making money. If you want to make money, you have to first purchase means of production, hire people, produce finished products, and then find ways to resell them... In comparison, I prefer the business of directly reselling money, because means of production are money. It's more efficient than any other business to make money."

It does make sense. If he hadn't been red-faced and drunken, he would have been more convincing. But my father, who was toasting, didn't care about this little flaw. He kept this passage in mind and taught it to me as educational material:

"Just study finance, you will make a lot of money in the future."

His father was a primary school teacher who worked diligently for most of his life, but he was not even awarded a senior professional title when he retired. In his opinion, his uncle was a model of a successful person - he ran a private financial company and was indeed rich, having bought nearly ten properties in the city.

"Private finance?" Olivia became confused.

"To put it simply, it's loan sharking. They lend money to companies or individuals that are in crisis and can't move," I explained bluntly, "to earn a high interest rate spread."

Olivia tilted his head slightly, "It sounds like he's doing something bad."

"It's almost the same thing."
 
"That's the kind of person your father wants you to be?"

"Not really. The financial industry he imagined was very respectable. For example, the protagonist in a TV drama dressed in a suit and holding a red wine glass can manipulate the flow of hundreds of millions of funds with a wave of his hand. Correspondingly, they are probably the senior executives of banks, securities companies and investment banks in reality." I curled my lips.

Unfortunately, he didn’t quite understand that economics students from non-famous universities would hardly have a bright future, let alone enter investment banks. I gradually understood this truth after I enrolled.

"I see." Olivia said, and suddenly smiled.

I feel a little uncomfortable. Is there anything ridiculous about my experience?

Fortunately, she laughed twice and stopped to explain, "I suddenly remembered that Max is in the same major as you, right?"

I nodded.

"Why did that person choose economics as his major? Isn't there a strange reason?"

That being said, it's really strange - it's hard to imagine that guy being interested in making money.

When the bell rang, the professor closed the door and called the roll. But the door soon opened a crack, and Jack flashed in. He looked around the classroom for an empty seat, and his eyes fell on Olivia and me, and he was obviously stunned.

"Students who are late, please be more disciplined." The professor stopped the roll call and said dissatisfiedly.

Jack hurriedly took a seat in the first row, and after sitting down he did not forget to look back at me.

This is trouble, I thought.

Maybe because it was the first class, the professor didn’t ask us to open the textbook and only briefly introduced the concepts of psychology.

"Based on my experience in previous years, I understand that many people choose this course because they find it interesting. At the same time, there are some misunderstandings about psychology. Before the course officially starts, I must correct the remaining misconceptions in everyone's mind."

He wrote a row of eye-catching words on the blackboard:

"Is psychology mind reading?"

He dropped the chalk and turned his head to look back. Knowing when the roll call crisis is coming is an instinctive reaction engraved in every student's genes. Wherever his eyes went, half of the people in the classroom lowered their heads.

"Let's talk about the student who was late just now. Do you think I can guess what you are thinking about?"

Regardless of whether the professor was deliberately making things mysterious, this topic was indeed quite intriguing. For a moment, everyone's eyes were focused on Jack. He stood up awkwardly, but quickly regained his composure, suppressed his panic, and stared at the professor for a long time without saying a word.

"Not convenient to answer?"

"No, I just thought the answer was obvious. Because you needed me to say it out loud to know the answer."

There was a burst of laughter from the audience below the podium, mixed with exclamations of "So that's it."

Olivia tugged at my sleeve, "What do you think?"

"I don't believe it. The so-called mind reading obviously belongs to the category of supernatural."

"But..." She hesitated, "I've seen people do it."

I widened my eyes in surprise. Olivia's expression was serious, not like he was joking, and his whole body was tense, revealing a slight sense of nervousness.

The professor took a sip of tea from his thermos cup and waited for the laughter to die down before continuing, "Regardless of whether I know it or not, the students in the audience are obviously new to psychology. How can they understand it if it is not clearly translated into words?"

"Well, my answer is 'No'."

The professor nodded with a smile, as if the answer was totally unexpected. He put down the thermos cup and took out a stack of business card-sized cards.

"Okay, now we need someone to help keep the note." The professor glanced around the classroom again, "Let's ask the student in the third row wearing black-framed glasses."

He called a tall man with glasses to come on stage and handed over all the cards in his hand.

"There are ten pieces of paper in total, with numbers 1 to 10 written on them." The professor motioned for the man with glasses to raise the cards one by one and show them to the whole class. At the same time, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket, covered his eyes with it, and turned to face the blackboard.

"The latecomer, please pick a number from the list, but don't tell it to me, and don't let me know. Just hold it up for everyone in the classroom to see."

Jack took out the paper with the number "3" on it and held it high up like an Olympic torchbearer. Everyone's eyes were focused on his hand. Given his personality, he must have been enjoying this.

The evidence is that a minute later, he contentedly hid the note in his shirt pocket.

"Professor, the numbers have been selected and hidden." The man with glasses spoke for the first time, and his voice was as ups and downs as a radio announcer, which was very impressive.

The professor turned around and took off his handkerchief in front of all the students, shook it, and put it in his pocket. From the shaking of the handkerchief, I realized that its fabric was quite thick and not transparent.

"Please recite the number you choose in your mind." He said to Jack, who still had a playful expression on his face.

The professor stared at his face, like observing a paramecium under a microscope, and after a while he spoke, "The number is not greater than 5, right?"

There was a burst of exclamations in the classroom, and Jack's face suddenly tensed.

"You said you have seen people who can read minds, is it like this?" I couldn't help but ask Olivia, "Just now, he cheated."

But she was concentrating on looking at the podium and didn't pay any attention to what I said.

"Sure enough, there is." She murmured to herself.

Except for me, everyone was staring at the professor.

"Your right eye socket muscles are trembling slightly." The professor stared at Jack's face and said. For a moment, everyone looked at Jack's right eye socket. People in the blind spot on the side even stood up slightly and leaned out half of their bodies. Jack couldn't help but touch his face.

The professor seemed to get inspiration from his action. "It's the number 3, right?"

Suddenly, everyone was in an uproar.

The professor waved his hand to signal Jack to sit down, and waited until the noise died down before continuing the lecture. "How is it, have you developed a strong interest in learning psychology?"

After receiving a "yes" answer, he nodded, "But unfortunately, the mind reading just now has nothing to do with psychology. It's just a simple magic show."

 
"How did I guess the chosen number? It's simple. Someone told me the answer. Did you notice where the emphasis was when the classmate with glasses reminded me that the number had been chosen?"

As I noticed, the man with glasses helped cheat. The emphasis he put on his words was too deliberate. The number to guess was three, and the emphasis on the third word just happened to fall on it. I'm afraid he was a beginner, so it sounded quite unnatural.

"Before entering the classroom, I met this student at the door and asked him to cooperate with me in this play." The professor paused, "The reason for doing this deliberately was mentioned at the beginning - to dispel everyone's misunderstanding of this subject. Psychology is a science. In my class, you will learn methods such as experimental control and statistical analysis, and use scientific means to obtain psychological analysis results. It is completely different from the ability to see through people's hearts at a glance."

I see. I looked around and saw that although I knew I was being tricked, no one was upset. Instead, they all nodded in agreement. They were probably relieved that their cognition had returned to common sense.

"It's a lie. If it was just acting, then why..." Only Olivia showed an overly surprised expression.

As a result, she was restless throughout the class. I wanted to ask her why, but I didn't find the right opportunity to open my mouth.

The bell rang for the end of get out of class. She came to her senses as if she had just woken up from a dream, and took out her cell phone to check the time.

"There's a text message from Max."

I turned on my phone, which was in silent mode, and as expected, I also received a message. It was also sent by Max, and the content was exactly the same:

Finally caught him, he was putting up a fierce resistance. See you at the usual place on Saturday afternoon.

This passage was illogical and almost like a riddle. But I understood it easily. Could it be that my way of thinking was assimilated by Max?

But Olivia was the same. She smiled as usual and said, "Looks like I'll be busy again this weekend."

People around me left their seats and rushed to the cafeteria. I saw Jack coming over and quickly ended the conversation, "I have something to do later. Let's meet at the usual place on Saturday."

"See you then." She stood up and left. Almost at the same time, Jack put his hand on my shoulder.

I turned my head and met his anxious eyes, just like an old father seeing his teenage daughter walking home from school with a boy in the same class. I couldn't help but feel a little sympathetic towards him.

"When did our relationship become so good?" he said in a heavy tone.

"Who are you talking about?"

I planned to play dumb and get away with it. If I told the whole truth, I would definitely not be able to hide the matter related to Max.

"Don't be so stupid."

"Oh, you mean the girl named Olivia? She just happened to sit next to me."

"You were chatting and laughing with the person who happened to be sitting next to you. This is the first time I've noticed that you are so good at chatting people up."

"Just the right topic...Wouldn't this class be interesting enough?"

I made up a reason, but it was surprisingly convincing. Jack nodded and sighed, "It's interesting. But it really makes me tired... Forget it, let's go eat."

We chatted as we headed to the cafeteria. Jack suddenly remembered something, "Speaking of which, there hasn't been any interesting news about that weird guy named Max for a long time."

"He's not weird, he just behaves a little bit extreme," I argued.

"I haven't gotten into any trouble during this period. Maybe I learned a lesson because everyone stood me up last year," Jack concluded without authorization.

"Maybe," I said casually.

If Jack knew that Max not only did not receive any punishment, but was lucky enough to be associated with one of the most beautiful girls in the school, and that they would do things together every week, he would probably be so surprised that his jaw would drop. Not only him, but also other participants in the bullying would probably be shocked.

After all, even I often find it incredible.

Saturday came in a blink of an eye. The place Max agreed to meet was a pet hospital located at the entrance of a residential area. He had been there so many times in the past six months that it had almost become our base of activities.

It seems that I have become a lazy student, degenerating to the point of playing with Max every day. But in fact, I have not given up my strict self-discipline. I still go to class on time every day, do exercises in the study room in my spare time, borrow reference books from the library, buy English journals in the bookstore, and wash the sheets once a week...

Wasting time with Max is limited to weekends.

The hospital is not big, probably the size of a street ramen restaurant. As a gathering place for sick animals, there is no pleasant smell. The body odor of cats and dogs, the smell of air freshener, the smell of urine, the smell of disinfectant, etc., all mixed together, shroud this small pet hospital all day long. Some foster animals are locked in the narrow window. Three cats are sleeping, and another Samoan dog has woken up and is chewing the iron railings without interest.

Before the others arrived, Max sat alone in the waiting area. On his right hand side was a square object covered with a black cloth.

I walked straight up to him and sat down. "Where's the doctor?"

"I'm doing surgery on a Teddy dog   in there. It's a very old dog, completely bald, with problems all over its body. This time they're going to remove its entire gallbladder."

This hospital pursues small-scale business, with only one attending doctor serving as the store manager. When he is too busy, his mother occasionally comes to help with bookkeeping and chores. Because of the scarcity of staff, the waiting time for consultation is long, and the treatment fee is correspondingly cheap. In terms of our meager activity funds, this small store is perfect.

"It's not our turn yet?"

"The next one is it."

I looked at the square object in his hand. "This one is very quiet today."

"Quiet? It was making a lot of noise and screaming when I caught it. It was just like crazy." Max rolled up his sleeves and showed me the blood mark on his arm that looked like a plum tree.

I carefully lifted a corner of the black cloth. A thin cat was lying on its back, hunched over in the cage. Its left limb was limply sticking out, and its body was slumped. As the light shone in, it slightly moved its bloodshot golden eyes and stared blankly at my face. After about five seconds, it withdrew its weak sight and shrank back into the darkness.
 
"Poor little fellow."

"Poor? Today is its lucky day." Max said, "From now on, it can say goodbye to extra troubles."

"That's what you think as a human being."

"I've told you many times that for cats, s3xual desire is just a burden."

I covered myself with the black cloth again to avoid arguing with him again. After all, it was too troublesome.

Since last Christmas, Max has been committed to carrying out his NFNK activities and insisted on calling me and Olivia as part of the team. According to him, the donations were raised by everyone, so we should be responsible for it together.

The responsible way to do this is to work together to ensure that donations are used to achieve the purpose of the campaign, in other words, to control the feral cat population.

Over the past three months, a total of seven wild cats were attracted by our canned red meat and locked in iron cages. Most of them were short-haired native cats. Most were brown and black cats. They were sent to the operating room and sterilized - permanently losing an important organ in their bodies.

As cats, can they really realize the changes before and after the surgery? From what I observed, they don't seem to care about it at all. Even if they are deceived, they never bear grudges. Most of them are very close to us, and even look a bit like domestic cats.

After a week of feeding and feeding (Max locked them in cages and kept them secretly in the dormitory), the cats were released back into the city after their wounds healed. I don't know how to evaluate this adoption experience.

In time, will they discover their own defects, regard them as a lifelong shame, and remind their offspring to stay away from humans?

By the way, there won’t be any offspring, so it doesn’t matter.

Because it was the weekend, many people brought their pets to see the doctor. Max played the role of receptionist without any instruction, helping people make appointments and leave contact information. I was somewhat impressed by his warm-heartedness.

As the sun was setting, a middle-aged man walked into the clinic. He had an untidy beard, several obvious greasy stains on his clothes, and white wool on his sleeves, making him look like a dead end in the civilized city competition.

He looked around and asked, "Is Doctor Zhang not here today?"

"Operation inside."

The man said "oh" and sat down in the waiting area.

The doctor he found, Dr. Zhang, was the only doctor and manager of this store.

Half a year ago, Max, with the huge amount of money he had raised, was ambitious to remove the testicles of all male cats near the school, but he was soon scared by the sterilization surgery fees charged by the hospital. He had no choice but to visit all the pet hospitals within a ten-mile radius and humbly ask if there were any discounts for bulk castration of cats. Only the manager of this store smiled and replied after being surprised:

"Sure, 20% off for five and 50% off for ten."

"Can't it be cheaper?"

"Let's talk about it when you really find so many cats." The store manager replied at that time.

"At this point, the quantity has reached the target. Do you want to bargain again?" Max asked me.

I listened absentmindedly, but my attention was involuntarily focused on the middle-aged man in front of me. At first glance, his behavior was no different from that of an ordinary person, but in fact, there were many strange things about him.

Most people only come to the pet hospital when their pets are sick, just like the hospital outpatient hall usually only has patients and accompanying family members - but the man did not bring any pets.

If he happened to pass by and suddenly found a pet hospital here, and wanted to consult for his pet's illness, it would make sense that he did not bring his sick pet with him. But he went to see Dr. Zhang as soon as he entered the door, which showed that he was well prepared.

"Meow..."

A faint sound of a cat's cry came from the iron cage beside Max, and the man turned his head sharply. Under the cover of the black cloth, he could not find any trace of the cat, and soon lost interest, looking back to the corner of the room.

I followed his gaze. My sight landed on a photo wall, also known as the "Cat Finding Corner". I had heard the store manager say before that cats are not familiar with their homes and can easily get lost. He built a public photo wall in the store, where people who have lost their pets nearby (most of them are cats) can post photos of their pets there, spread the word, and ask others to help find them.

It is said that the effect is good. People who come to the pet hospital are pet owners themselves, and they pay more attention to the cats and dogs they encounter in the wild than ordinary people. Ordinary people probably can't even tell the types of cats and dogs on the street, let alone recognize their appearance from photos.

"Meow..." The cat's meow sounded again.

Max lifted the black cloth on the iron cage, put his fingers into the gap of the fence, and touched the cat's back with obvious bones. Although it was asleep, the thin black cat still shivered slightly, obviously resisting.

"This guy is quite scary."

"Not all cats are like that."

"This guy is extremely afraid of people. You don't know how much effort I put into catching it." Max said boastfully, "I took sleeping pills and still caught people."

The man stared at us blankly. I realized something was wrong and quickly signaled Max to stop talking. But he didn't seem to understand what I meant at all.

"Most cats will come closer if you give them food. The timid ones will get over it after a few times. But this one is particularly difficult to deal with. It will never let anyone get close to it even if you give it food. I had no choice but to ask the vet for some animal sleeping pills, mix them in its food, and watch it eat from a distance..."

The man opposite stood up suddenly and asked, "Did you catch this cat?"

"Yes." Max answered without any vigilance.

Oh no, I thought.

"Why do you do this?" the man shouted.

"Do you know how much harm cats can cause in the wild..." Max responded loudly, not to be outdone.

The man's face turned red, and seeing that things were not going well, I quickly stepped in to mediate.

"Don't get me wrong, this is a wild cat."

Max was still rambling on about "NFNK (no adoption, no feeding)". The man probably didn't hear what I was saying at all. He grabbed Max's collar and lifted him up. Max was half hanging in the air, kicking his feet wildly. It was like a scene from an action movie.
 
But now was not the time to express admiration for the man's arm strength.

"We are doing charity work. We only catch wild cats for sterilization. We never touch cats with owners!" I shouted, raising my voice. "It has nothing to do with the cat you lost!"

The man calmed down somewhat, untied his hands, rubbed the coarse ends of his hair, and sat back down.

Max fell to the ground with a thud. Before he could get up, the man seemed to realize something and stood up again excitedly, "How did you know I lost my cat?"

I helped Max, who was squatting on the ground and breathing heavily, up. "I'm just guessing... If you don't believe me, we are college students and can show you our student IDs. We caught the cats to sterilize them and let them go once the wounds heal. Doctor Zhang can prove this for us."

"That's right, we are good people. If you come any closer I will call the police." Max stuck out his tongue while unbut.toning the collar of his plaid shirt.

"shut up."

After we explained it to him repeatedly, the man finally seemed to believe it. He also explained the cause and effect of the cat's loss. He was a self-employed person who ran a small noodle shop. Last year, he picked up a dying kitten on the roadside and kept it in his shop. He named it "Coffee". The cat was very friendly and obedient, and basically squatted at the door of the shop. Then it suddenly disappeared last week. Today he came to ask if there was any news from the pet hospital.

Later, the doctor and store manager came out of the clinic. He proved our innocence. But he had no news of the cat. The man thanked him and left in a depressed mood.

"So how did you know?" Max asked me.

"what do you mean."

"Of course it's about the lost cat. It's too dramatic to say you guessed it. Can you read minds?"

"There is no such thing in the world. I just learned that in psychology class." I smiled bitterly, "I just happened to notice that he has been staring at the notice board since he came in. I think he posted the cat picture there."

The store manager nodded and said, "Yes, just put it there..."

We gathered in front of the photo wall. There were about twenty cat photos on the wall. Most of them were breeds, including Garfield, British Shorthair, American Shorthair, etc. Even if a local cat was lost, not many people would be willing to look for it seriously. However, there were also four or five photos of Chinese rural cats on the wall, two of which were calico cats, and the rest were one orange, one white, and one black.

"Don't tell me which one it is yet." Max interrupted him, turned around and asked me with a provocative smile, "Don't ask either, how about you guess first?"

"I guess?"

"Yeah, you guessed the answer to that guy's lost cat. How about trying it this time?"

How is this possible? It was just a coincidence. If everything goes so smoothly, I might as well be a detective. Just when I was about to shake my head and admit defeat, I suddenly saw something in the photo. Could it be that it was really unexpectedly easy to guess?

Among the five photos of native cats, there are two that particularly caught my attention for some reason.

I stood in front of them and looked at the two photos alternately. While comparing them, I recalled the wild cats I had seen in the past few months. Cats are creatures that, once they get familiar with you, will often push you with the top of their heads or cheeks, then turn their bodies sideways and rub against you, and finally they may slightly wrap their tails around you. After doing these actions, they will look up at you. If you reach out and touch them, the cat will soon purr in comfort, then collapse on the ground and start rolling around.

A premonition came to my mind.

"It's the one on the bottom left."

The store manager's eyes widened in surprise. "It is indeed this one."

Max looked back and forth between the photo and my face, as if he had seen a ghost. "Is this true or not? You can even guess it."

"There are clues in the photo." I suppressed the urge to show off and spoke in the calmest tone possible.

I wanted to keep the reasoning process a secret until Olivia and the others arrived, but I couldn't resist Max's constant persuasion and had to explain it again.

"Excellent." After listening, the store manager smiled and said, "Have you ever considered becoming a detective or something?"

I felt my face flush. "It's just that I like to get to the bottom of things."

He shook his head. "You probably don't realize that it's a rare talent. Most people can't do it. It shouldn't be wasted."

His words made me feel a little flattered, and I just realized that I should be more modest. But he picked up the cat cage, said "old price", and walked straight into the operating room. What a cunning social person.

Max took his polite words seriously. He put on a nonchalant look and muttered that it was nothing and anyone could do it as long as they were given time.

But he still cared about it. When the two sisters Olivia came, he couldn't help but pull them over to talk about it. He described the whole process vividly.

It always feels weird to hear others describe what they did. It's like watching a distorted modernist landscape painting. The whole thing, under Max's explanation, has added a lot of subjective color. I couldn't help but want to point out that the middle-aged man didn't really do it, but he stopped me.

"You've already been in the spotlight, Detective. Now I have the chance to explain."

Then he took the two girls to the photo wall.

"There's a special photo in here, can you spot it?" he said.

"Could it be a photo of the lost cat?" Olivia asked.

Su Ying didn't say anything, but looked directly at the photo of the calico cat. Her eyes were fixed, as if she had discovered something wrong.

I was a little surprised. Max's description just now was missing some key clues.

"You figured it out?"

Su Ying remained silent. I noticed that her face had turned pale without her noticing, as if she had been covered with a layer of white powder from Kabukicho. Her eyes seemed frozen, and her pupils were dull and lifeless.

"Are you feeling uncomfortable?" Olivia also noticed this and asked her with concern.

She moved her lips slightly, but could not utter a single word, only making a strange wheezing sound, as if her bronchial tubes had several small holes, and air leaked out of the holes with every breath.
 
I waved my finger in front of her eyes, and she clasped her arms tightly around her chest as if to keep out the cold. She was completely motionless, with only the occasional blink of her eyelids making the only noise.

"Yingying, what's wrong? Do you want to go to the hospital?" Olivia grabbed her arm, shook her and asked nervously.

"I want to move to another place for a while," she managed to say, "somewhere with good ventilation."

"Go take a rest on the bench in the waiting area. Can you move?"

She nodded slightly. Olivia supported her stiff arm and sat down against the wall. Max and I watched helplessly.

"Should we ask the store manager to come out and take a look?" I asked Max.

"He's a veterinarian?" Max widened his eyes.

"Basic medical knowledge should be the same."

Olivia stopped us from panicking, "It's okay, just let her rest for a while."

"But..."

Olivia shook her head, and I understood something from her eyes.

"Has something similar happened before?"

Olivia hesitated for a moment, "She sometimes had this problem when she was a child, but it hasn't happened for a long time. In short, it's the kind of problem that will recover after taking some time to rest."

Just as she said, about ten minutes later, Su Ying's cheeks showed a little blush. Although it was very slight, it was a sign of improvement.

"better?"

Su Ying replied in a dry whisper, "It feels okay, let's go."

"Is everything really alright?"

"No problem." Su Ying said, "I feel uncomfortable staying here, let's go first."

"Don't be afraid. Just stay still for a while and calm down before you talk." Olivia answered cautiously.

Max and I looked at each other, our hearts full of questions, but now didn't seem to be a convenient time.

After a while, the store manager came out of the operating room, saw this situation, poured some hot water, and enthusiastically suggested that he had a reclining chair for lunch break, so why not lie down and rest for a while. But Su Ying still refused.

After leaving the hospital, Max tried to hail a taxi to take them back, but Olivia said it was not necessary. I wanted to go up to help, but someone poked my waist with a fingertip.

I turned my head and saw Su Ying staring at me.

"You can see that there's something wrong with that photo."

I thought she was talking about the time I found out about the cat and nodded.

"Why? That should be something only I understand." She frowned, very confused.

"It's not that exaggerated. As long as you pay attention, many people can find it." I recalled the store manager's pretentious flattery just now, "It's best not to think that you are so special when you live in this world."

"I'm not that self-righteous... Never mind, let's just take it as it is." She took a deep breath through her nose. "But if you saw it, why didn't you tell me in advance? Are you trying to scare me on purpose?"

I was completely baffled. Could it be that she was frightened by the photo? But no matter how I looked at it, it was a photo with all the elements intact, so intact that it was boring. It was taken in a noodle shop, with rows of benches and cats enjoying themselves in the bright sunshine. I couldn't imagine what was scary about it.

Could it be that it was because of Max’s pretentiousness just now that he wantonly added suspense elements into the story and made my reasoning process sound too bizarre, even a little scary for children?

I squinted my eyes and looked at Su Ying's face. She still looked tired and her breathing was rapid. She hugged her shoulders as if she was afraid of the cold, and her body shook irregularly from time to time, just like a drowning person who had just been pulled ashore.

"I'm sorry if Max's words scared you. But that's just speculation after all, not what really happened..."

"But I saw that the cat was indeed dead."

I had no idea what she meant, so I smiled almost subconsciously and said, "You must be mistaken. No one said the cat was dead. It just got lost. Maybe it got lost somewhere and found itself in a few days."

"It's not coming back," she took a deep breath. "Someone killed it."

"Wait," I was confused by the sudden and horrifying words, "I don't understand, what did you see?"

She swayed from side to side two or three times, took a deep breath through her nose, and finally stood firm: "My vision was shaking up and down, and I couldn't see the murderer's face clearly, but it should be a man with thick knuckles. He drove into the mountains with the killed cat in the trunk. Then there was white moonlight, cicadas chirping, the smell of earth, and the sound of shovels knocking against each other. The cat's body was buried under a short tree."

After seeing off the taxi, Max and I were busy settling the cat after surgery. Back in the dormitory, lying on the bed, I began to recall everything Su Ying said.

I understood the meaning of each word she said, but I had no idea what it meant as a whole.

Is the cat in the photo dead?

The man driving?

If what she said is true, I should find my psychology professor and tell him that mind reading does exist in the world...

How can it be?

When I was a child, I often fantasized about becoming a superhero or something.

Su Ying looks smart, but she tends to get stuck in a rut. Next time I meet her, I should give her some advice from an adult's perspective, to separate her strange delusions from reality.

I was so exhausted that day that I tried to clear my mind of unnecessary thoughts and went to sleep under the covers.

Soon, my consciousness gradually became blurred, but suddenly a series of harsh noises rang in my ears, and I immediately lost all desire to sleep.