"Ying Yin, are you sure this audio has not been tampered with?" The director slapped the tablet in front of me, and Chen Bingliang's recording boomed in the conference room: "She thinks I'm poor, and says doctors make a lot of money and are decent..."
My hands holding the earphones trembled.
This so-called "breakup recording" has the background sound mixed with the electric noise I am most familiar with - it is the audition clip I recorded with old equipment when he came to the company to see me three months ago.
"This is spliced." I took a deep breath and called up the spectrum chart. "The first half was 20 decibels of ambient sound, and the second half suddenly jumped to 35, with 1 minute and 17 seconds of bird chirping missing in the middle." The conference room was so quiet that you could hear the air conditioner dripping.
But when I got off work, I was still blocked by Chen Bingliang at the subway entrance.
With red eyes, he tugged on my sleeve: "Xiaotang, I know I was wrong. Let's start again..."
"Mr. Chen." A cold male voice cut off his words from behind.
Pan Deng stood under the streetlight at some point, his white coat being blown up by the wind. "You bought 30,000 yuan in gifts in the 'Sunny Summer' live broadcast room at ten o'clock last Wednesday night. At the same time, the hotel surveillance showed that you had a room with her - do you need me to read the psychological portrait report to you?"
Chen Bingliang's face turned pale instantly.
When Panden turned around, I saw the screen saver on his cell phone - it was a side shot of me adjusting the audio, with the note "My Little Tuner" written on it.
He handed over a cup of milk tea, the temperature was just right: "Next time you are bullied, remember to shout out
