Under Clear Skies Chapter 70: Lie

Chapter 70: Lie

Translated by Fefe of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

The third band sang Cui Jian’s Fake Monk. The singer was a rare alto. She wore a black robe-like dress and had a slightly raspy voice—quite a unique style.

The three judges loved them and gave feedback for about 15 minutes.

The fourth band sang an English song that Tang Heng had never heard before. Later, he learned that it was No More Songs, written by Phil Ochs in 1970. The genius singer had committed suicide six years after that.

When the fourth band walked offstage, it was already 8:27.

A staff member hurried backstage. “Kevin-laoshi said we’ll take a break for 10 minutes. I will come call you guys later.”

“A fucking painful wait,” Jiang Ya muttered under his breath.

Tang Heng just hunched his shoulders while sitting in the corner. There was no heat backstage and it was too cold.

He texted Li Yuechi: Are you here? We’re onstage in 10 minutes.

Li Yuechi replied: I’m here.

Ten minutes later, Tang Heng turned off his phone and placed it in the safe backstage.

Jiang Ya rolled his wrist and said excitedly, “Let’s eat hot pot after we sing!”

LIL Bar opened at the end of last year. It was big and the equipment was all new. There were even different kinds of lights. Perhaps because the previous song had been too sad, the stage lights formed a dark, depressing blue when Tang Heng’s group went onstage. The blue rose and fell softly, like waves in the deep sea.

Tang Heng couldn’t see the audience clearly. He could only make out vague silhouettes.

He tested the mic and gave the OK gesture to the staff.

The moment he strummed the guitar, his view brightened.

“I live in the north. It’s rare that it’s rainy these days…” The lights turned from a dark blue color to a mix of yellow and green. Time seemed to have sped up and they instantly went from winter to the middle of spring and summer. Wuhan at this time was full of flying bees and butterflies, green trees and red flowers, and the river was gradually rising.

“Hearing the rain outside the window at night, I think of the south…” Tang Heng saw the only female judge close her eyes. Her lips curled slightly and she seemed to be drunk on the song. The male judge beside her took off his sunglasses and met Tang Heng’s eyes for a second.  

“Thought of when I lived in the south, the breaths there…” The audience was extremely focused too. The sound of An Yun’s bass wrapped around his guitar; Jiang Ya’s drumbeats were crisp and steady. Everything was both serene and warm. They were standing at a riverbank awash with spring water and their music was a soft breeze.

Tang Heng knew that their performance was a success. It was like they’d distilled the four minutes and 31 seconds. Everyone forgot their troubles and were immersed in the music.

Except him.

The lights were so bright. He didn’t see Li Yuechi.

“Very good, very good…” After they finished singing, the female judge was the first to clap. “Are you all still students?”

“Yes, we’re seniors and she’s in grad school,” Tang Heng answered calmly.

“You’re all so young. I really like how you interpreted this song because, you know, the original singer’s voice is very hard to imitate. But you made this song… Yes, a little sad. More sorrowful and profound than just sadness. I love it.”

“A-Nuo, you just think he’s hot,” the Taiwanese judge joked with an accent.

“Yes, who doesn’t like hot guys?” the female judge said. “How did you find the right emotion? Did you think of your ex-girlfriend when singing it?”

Tang Heng heard Jiang Ya chuckle behind him.

“I don’t have an ex-girlfriend,” Tang Heng said.

“Wow—” The Taiwanese judge made a teasing face. “A little kid, truly.”

Tang Heng clutched his microphone and didn’t answer.

After that, the judges commented on An Yun and Jiang Ya. They praised Jiang Ya’s drums, but An Yun’s bass was a bit messy. Tang Heng didn’t know how much time had passed. He just counted their sentences—adding Jiang Ya and An Yun’s answers, it was 23 sentences.

 

The trio bowed and went backstage. “I fucking bet we’re first place!” Jiang Ya cheered. “Come on, let’s go eat hot pot! I’m fucking freezing!”

Tang Heng didn’t feel cold anymore. He took his phone out of the safe and turned it on. The screen was blank. Tang Heng shoved his guitar at An Yun. “I’m going out,” he said in a rush.

“Huh? Where are you going?” An Yun asked.

Tang Heng didn’t reply. He pushed the door open, walked down and went down the steps. When he passed by the waiting area, Lin Lang called out to him, “You sang well!” A bartender waved at him from behind the car and some girls exclaimed softly, “It’s Hushituo!” Tang Heng passed through the crowd with his head lowered. He kept walking, stepping on the gentle lights, and opened LIL’s door.

He was still wearing short-sleeves. The cold wind and rain outside the door rushed into his face.

Should he feel fortunate? He saw Li Yuechi as soon as he opened the door.

Li Yuechi was by a streetlamp a few meters away from him. No—more precisely, Li Yuechi and Tian Xiaoqin were by a streetlamp a few meters away from him. Li Yuechi held up the old umbrella from his tutoring place. The streetlamp was bright yellow, illuminating the rain above their heads. The strands of rain were too thin, making them seem fuzzy, seem warm.

This kind of delicate rain didn’t need any analogies. It was beautiful in its own right.

Li Yuechi and Tian Xiaoqin were wearing the same kind of black jacket—it was the winter jacket that the sociology department had given to all their students. The fabric was stiff and Hanyang University Sociology Department was written on the back in bold red. Tang Heng had this jacket too, but he never wore it. He found it too ugly.

He knew this wasn’t couple clothing, but he genuinely regretted it now. Why had he never worn this jacket? Why didn’t he wear it today? Why—why was Li Yuechi and Tian Xiaoqin wearing this jacket at the same time and standing under the same umbrella? Was this just a coincidence or something else?

Tian Xiaoqin hung her head and her shoulders trembled. Li Yuechi held the umbrella with his left hand and a plastic file bag in his right hand. Tang Heng knew that Tian Xiaoqin was crying. She was crying, but, but fortunately Li Yuechi was holding a plastic file bag in his right hand.

Tang Heng watched them quietly. The next second, he saw Li Yuechi bend over and place the file bag on the ground.

Then he raised his right hand—it was that instant that Tang Heng ran towards them. No, no, you can’t do that—Li Yuechi!

It was too late.

Li Yuechi raised his right hand and gently patted Tian Xiaoqin’s back.

The fuzzy rain felt as cold as needs when it landed on Tang Heng’s skin.

“Tang Heng…” Li Yuechi looked shocked. “Why are you wearing so little?”

Tian Xiaoqin rubbed her eyes and smiled at Tang Heng. Her smile was both awkward and a little forced.

“We finished singing,” Tang Heng said.

“Mn… You’re wearing too little.” Li Yuechi’s arm moved, as if he wanted to reach out to Tang Heng but held back. “Go back first. It’s cold out here.”

“Xuezhang, did you hear me sing?” Thank god Li Yuechi didn’t reach out. Did he want to touch Tang Heng with the hand that just touched her?

“I did,” Li Yuechi said. “I could hear from outside.”

“We wanted to sing South, but the director said it’s not suitable and had us change last-minute… You’ve heard of Little Love Song, right? It’s really popular.”

Li Yuechi paused. “I’ve heard of it.”

“How did I sing?”

“You were great.”

“Shijie.” Tang Heng looked at Tian Xiaoqin. “What do you think?”

Tian Xiaoqin froze and she avoided his eyes. “I…”

“It’s okay.” Tang Heng laughed. He didn’t look at Li Yuechi or Tian Xiaoqin. His eyes went past their shoulders and landed somewhere in the blurry distance. “Xuezhang, I lied to you.”

“What do you mean?” Li Yuechi asked.

“I mean what I said.”

“Tang Heng—”

“We didn’t change songs,” Tang Heng said, pausing after each word. “I sang South. You didn’t hear it, right?”

Then he walked past them and strode forward with big steps, practically breaking into a run. He vaguely heard something, but it was unclear and he didn’t know who it was said to. The night sky was hazy with falling rain and it shown faintly with rusty red. See? Wuhan was indeed red, but Tang Heng didn’t like this red color. It felt dirty.

 

There was rain all over his face. Only rain—he was sure he didn’t cry. Because it was too cold and his entire face was frozen. How could he cry?

The passersby on the street all stared at him as if looking at a madman, wearing short sleeves in winter.

“Tang Heng!”

Li Yuechi grabbed him.

He didn’t have the umbrella. He’d left it with Tian Xiaoqin.

“I’m sorry.” Li Yuechi gasped for breath. “I didn’t mean to lie to you… Tian Xiaoqin got yelled at by a shixiong at our meeting tonight. It was horrible insults, so I comforted her.”

“What a coincidence.” Tang Heng broke free from his grasp. “You had to do it right now? That song was four minutes and 31 seconds. You couldn’t even wait for four minutes and 31 seconds?”

“You saw. She was crying.”

“Because she cried? It’s okay because she cried? I can cry too. Can you not comfort her again?”

“Tang Heng.” Li Yuechi knitted his brows tightly. “She’s my classmate and that’s it. Plus, I promised An Yun that night to help her. You were there too.”

Yes, you have to help her, hold up an umbrella for her, accompany her instead of listening to me sing, and you patted her back so gently—what will you do next? Hug her? Hold her hand? Touch her hair, kiss her, take her to Hilton—enough.

A weak voice in his head seemed to say, You shouldn’t be like this.

He shouldn’t have lied and said they changed songs. He shouldn’t have thought the worst about Li Yuechi, shouldn’t have distrusted him. But I didn’t have evidence and he lied to me too, didn’t he? He said he heard me sing. How could he lie to me? Has he lied to me before? Which time?

Was it the relationship with Zhao-laoshi or him dating Wu Si?

Had he really dated Zhao-laoshi before?

Had he brought Wu Si to the open theater at Normal University?

No. Enough.

Tang Heng took a step back. “You can’t treat me like this.”

Li Yuechi’s expression looked so helpless, so lost.

“I’m sorry.” It must be hard for him to understand all this, right? But he still remained patient and apologized again. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I didn’t hear you sing, but I didn’t want you to be… unhappy. Let’s go back and you sing to me again, okay?”

Okay—okay, I can even sing it 100 times. You don’t know yet, right? Every song I sang after meeting you was for you.

“No way,” Tang Heng said.

Li Yuechi lowered his eyes and stopped speaking. Tang Heng felt like his entire body had been permeated with the icy, wet rain, from his fingers to the tips of his hair. Even his heart gradually turned cold.

A moment later, Li Yuechi said, “What do I have to do for you to forgive me?”

“Don’t do that project anymore,” Tang Heng said without even thinking. “I’ll help you. You get paid for being in that team, right? I’ll give you that salary. Double, triple, anything is fine.”

Li Yuechi’s expression twisted and he repeated Tang Heng’s words back to him. “No way.”

“Oh.” Tang Heng nodded. “Then, whatever.”

He turned around again and walked forward. He didn’t go too quickly this time, because his legs were frozen stiff.

But this time, Li Yuechi didn’t chase after him.