Chapter 53: Classmate

Huang Guolun was so astounded by Huang Tao’s sudden twist that he nearly choked on his noodles. He could already picture the astonished reactions of the guests. People always say the world is full of wonders, but this time, they were surely in for a real eye-opener.

Unable to bear any more of Huang Tao’s rambling, Huang Guolun hung up the phone.

Bai Yao had been listening intently, laughing as she said, “Two tigers—shouldn’t one be missing its ears and the other its tail? How did Taozi change it to one without eyes and the other without ears?”

Huang Guolun chuckled, “He’s always making up nonsense and twisting things around. That’s his usual style.”

Bai Yao thought for a moment, nodded with a smile, and told Huang Guolun, “Taozi once told me the story of two tigers as well.”

“The same story?”

“No, he told me another version.”

Bai Yao recounted to Huang Guolun, “He told me that the song was written by Zheng Chenggong. When Zheng Chenggong went to Taiwan, he brought two tigers with him, but they escaped. The local people had never seen tigers before and, seeing them swaggering down the street, thought they were just oversized cats. Everyone gathered around to watch. Unexpectedly, the tigers bit people and injured many. Realizing something was wrong, the crowd grabbed sticks and subdued the tigers. Zheng Chenggong’s men arrived just in time to capture the wounded tigers and bring them back. When Zheng Chenggong saw them, he was shocked by their battered appearance, so he composed a nursery rhyme: ‘Two tigers, two tigers, running fast, running fast. One has no ears, one has no tail, so strange, so strange.’”

“Haha, that version was told to us by the local tour guide when I took Taozi to Taipei years ago,” Huang Guolun remarked. “That kid has a remarkable memory. He had just turned two at the time, heard it once, and remembered it ever since.”

Bai Yao was amazed. “Really? Taozi could remember so much at just two years old?”

“That’s nothing. When he was two or three, he could recite a hundred Tang poems. His grandmother didn’t even deliberately teach him—she would just recite poems for fun, and he’d remember them himself.”

“Incredible!” Bai Yao suddenly felt that Huang Tao was even more of a prodigy than herself.

“Incredible, yes, but it’s a double-edged sword. Because his memory is so good, he remembers everything. I worry that if he gets his hands on the TV, there’s no telling what kind of nonsense he’ll pick up.”

Bai Yao smiled and reassured him, “Teacher, I don’t think you need to worry too much. When Taozi grows older and becomes truly mature, he’ll know what’s worth learning and what isn’t.”

“I hope so. His grandparents say the same, but I still worry. The way his mind works is different from others—I don’t know if he has an extra string in his brain. His actions are always baffling, sometimes making you laugh and cry.”

Huang Guolun and Bai Yao continued chatting, and he gave an example: “Before you came to my house, once we spent a weekend in the northern suburbs. After lunch, I wanted to nap on the sofa. Taozi probably saw I wanted to sleep and was excited to be left alone, so he eagerly asked if I needed something to cover myself with and offered to bring it. It was hot that day, so I told him: ‘Find me something thin, nothing too big, just enough to cover my belly button.’ Then I went to sleep. When I woke up, I found a glasses cleaning cloth covering my belly button.”

“Pfft!” Bai Yao rarely burst out laughing, but hearing about the glasses cloth, she nearly sprayed her noodles. “Haha, little Taozi is hilarious.”

Huang Guolun said irritably, “I think he does it on purpose—he often does things deliberately.”

“Maybe not. His way of thinking really is unusual.”

Bai Yao shared another story from her own experience: “It was also in the northern suburbs, where there are always a few kittens near your villa. I took Taozi to play with them. When I got close, I meowed a few times at the kittens. Taozi told me to stop, saying it would scare them. I thought my voice was too rough and my meowing sounded terrible, but that wasn’t it. He explained that humans imitating cat sounds doesn’t make kittens feel close; it actually makes them feel frightened and weird.”

“Why?” Huang Guolun asked, puzzled.

“I didn’t get it at first, but then Taozi gave an example that made it clear. He said, imagine a cat comes over to greet us humans and suddenly uses a human voice to say, ‘Hey buddy, have you eaten?’ You wouldn’t find it cute—you’d be scared. I was left speechless by his explanation.”

Huang Guolun thought carefully and said, “His logic is actually spot on. Looks like we shouldn’t try to get chummy with cats or bark at dogs, or we’ll end up being seen as monsters.”

Bai Yao laughed, “Haha, yes, it’s best to just act normal in front of them.”

Because of Huang Tao, Huang Guolun and Bai Yao found themselves more and more in sync. They spent the entire afternoon sharing amusing stories about Huang Tao and exchanging advice on how best to guide him toward the right path.

After lunch, Huang Guolun drove Bai Yao back to Zhongsheng Alley, letting her enjoy a free and leisurely weekend without interruption. In truth, Bai Yao had little to occupy herself—apart from studying, she simply kept studying. She wasn’t like other girls who went out shopping or to the movies. She wanted to finish all her university mathematics courses as quickly as possible, so she could earn enough to buy her grandfather a big house for a comfortable sleep.

After dropping Bai Yao off, Huang Guolun returned to his own house in Zhongsheng Alley and enjoyed a peaceful nap without Huang Tao’s disruptions. When he woke, he went to Purple Star Mansion and recorded a demo of “Born Defiant,” sending it over to Liu Qing, who was in charge of the music planning department at Kunlun Culture.

Liu Qing was Huang Guolun’s classmate from the composition department at North China Music Academy. Their academy ranked low among second-tier music schools. Graduates rarely found ideal jobs. Those who managed to get a teaching certificate and become middle or high school teachers were considered fortunate. Most graduates from North China Music Academy faced unemployment, either striving for further studies or picking up ordinary music-related jobs in society.

Liu Qing was the only one in their class to advance to a higher music institution. She attended Huaxia Music Academy—a name that sounded grand but was, in reality, not much better than North China Music Academy, another obscure institution, notorious for its high tuition and money-making schemes.

Liu Qing’s family wasn’t well off; they spent three years’ effort and borrowed heavily to support her graduate studies. Unfortunately, after graduation, she still couldn’t find a suitable job. People who study music often endure hardship—even those from prestigious schools face waves of unemployment. Moreover, Liu Qing was somewhat plain, lacking the beauty and elegance often prized in society. In a world obsessed with appearances, it was even harder for her to find a satisfying job.

Originally, after graduating, Huang Guolun and Liu Qing had little contact. It wasn’t until the year Chen Jia gave birth to Huang Tao that they met by chance. Chen Jia was still recuperating at the maternity center and suddenly craved cake, so Huang Guolun went to a nearby bakery. Liu Qing happened to be working there.

It was a small chain dessert shop. Meeting Liu Qing there left Huang Guolun deeply shocked! A fellow composition master’s graduate, working as a bakery clerk—it was a biting irony and humiliation for the country’s musicians.

At first, Huang Guolun thought he had mistaken her for someone else. But Liu Qing’s distinctive features were unforgettable.

They say beautiful faces are memorable, but those less attractive leave even deeper impressions. Like Ba Liang Jin—who could forget his face after seeing it once? Though Liu Qing wasn’t as striking as Ba Liang Jin, her square face and flatfish eyes were easily remembered.

Huang Guolun, on the other hand, had a forgettable, average face and had gained weight since becoming a teacher. Liu Qing didn’t recognize him at first. Only after they started chatting did Liu Qing realize he was her classmate.

The scene was awkward and needs no further description. Huang Guolun learned a bit about Liu Qing’s situation and hurried off to bring cake to Chen Jia. Though their conversation was brief, Liu Qing’s predicament stuck in Huang Guolun’s throat like a fishbone. The thought of a female composition master forced to sell cake made him deeply uneasy.

Though Liu Qing continued composing, submitting her work, and picking up music-related gigs to keep her music career alive, selling cake was her way of surviving. Huang Guolun still felt it was unbearably sad for ordinary musicians to endure such hardship.

Whenever he could help others, Huang Guolun never turned a blind eye. He later introduced Liu Qing to Kunlun Culture’s music planning department. With her solid musical foundation and ability to compose, she might not have extraordinary talent, but she could help the film planning department with music-related tasks.

When Kunlun Culture suffered a massive investment failure and slashed many departments, laying off scores of employees, the music planning department was cut down to just two people, one of whom was Liu Qing. As Huang Guolun had brought her in, she was considered half his protégé, and since she was highly capable, she wasn’t let go.

He purged the department of idle staff and then appointed Liu Qing to take charge of all music planning affairs. Despite her new role, the department rarely had real work; Liu Qing mostly assisted the film planning department.

Only when “The Beautiful Corpse” was set to release an original soundtrack album did the music planning department finally have something substantial to do. Now, with the need to negotiate the sale of the “Born Defiant” single’s rights, Liu Qing’s nearly solo department felt as though its rusty gears were beginning to turn again.

Having heard that Fishman Music wanted to buy “Born Defiant,” Liu Qing was curious about the song. She wanted to see what kind of masterpiece Huang Guolun had written after “The Beautiful People” to draw the attention of Fishman Music.

Now that Huang Guolun had sent her the demo, Liu Qing set aside her work, donned the company’s high-end monitoring headphones, and eagerly played the demo of “Born Defiant”—