Chapter 31: Birthday

In the week following the incident, significant changes occurred within and outside the drama club.

The fallout from Tang Fei and Han Yunqiao’s altercation had been substantial. Despite Guo Yue’s repeated warnings, someone posted details of the event on the school forum—photos of them pulling each other’s hair and clothes, along with a recording of Han Yunqiao accusing Tang Fei of privilege. The entire school was abuzz with discussion until the Student Affairs Office intervened, persuading the poster to delete the thread. Whether this was orchestrated by Secretary Hong remained unclear.

Naturally, both parties involved were affected by the aftermath. Although they formally apologized under various interventions, it was clear the apologies weren’t heartfelt. With graduation approaching, Han Yunqiao decided to leave the club. She sent Guo Yue a QQ message announcing her departure and immediately left the group chat, taking several close friends, including Zhou Ke, with her.

By then, it was early May, leaving just over a month until the official performance. Guo Yue fretted endlessly, exclaiming “Heavens, what can I do?” He scrambled to recruit volunteers to assist with the production and pleaded with Xiao Zhi to visit Xiaohongding more often. As the playwright most familiar with the script, Xiao Zhi could help lead rehearsals, allowing Guo Yue to focus on logistics and somewhat mitigate the crisis.

...However, reality proved otherwise.

Guo Yue had been a hands-off president for years, happily directing while remaining clueless about the intricate logistics. He was even less knowledgeable than Yin Mengxi, who had only recently joined. Backstage, he was utterly disoriented, unable to manage even the props inventory.

Peng Zechuan fared worse. A sophomore thrust into the role of overall logistics head, he was overwhelmed by the myriad tasks. Whenever he had a moment, he complained to Yin Mengxi, clinging to superstition in hopes that Yunqiao and Keke would soon return.

“Why are the seniors leaving the club...?” Yin Mengxi didn’t quite understand. “Tang Fei hasn’t left, has she?”

“Exactly because she hasn’t,” Peng Zechuan whispered conspiratorially. “I heard Yunqiao went to Yue Ge, saying it’s either her or Fei in the club, making him choose... Sigh, what choice does he have? Can he really persuade Secretary Hong’s daughter to leave?”

Yin Mengxi nodded, understanding yet feeling sympathy for Yunqiao. Having reached the position of vice-president, she must have felt deeply connected to the club. Not seeing the final play through to completion before graduation must have been heartbreaking.

“Xixi, I have a favor to ask,” Peng Zechuan leaned closer, his tone pleading. “Could you take over costume and props management? Keke and I have taught you before, haven’t we? I need to handle sound and lighting now, and I’m at my wit’s end.”

The proximity made Yin Mengxi uncomfortable, so she subtly retreated half a step. Peng Zechuan looked startled, then awkwardly scratched his head, assuming Xixi was unwilling.

“I’ll give it a try,” she unexpectedly agreed. “If I make any mistakes, I’ll rely on the seniors to guide me.”

Thus, Yin Mengxi began her full-fledged work life in the production team, her workload doubling compared to before.

Broken props needed replacement, reports compiled for reimbursement, and new volunteers required access passes to Xiaohongding—all tasks falling to her. From one chore to another, her days were non-stop busy.

Yet, she enjoyed it immensely, relishing the satisfaction of turning chaos into order. Those around her recognized her efforts; previously unfamiliar seniors now affectionately called her “Xixi.” Especially in the logistics team, she was hailed as a savior, deemed far more reliable than their president, Guo Yue.

She cherished this sense of affirmation, which fueled her motivation. Moreover, she now had an added perk—frequent encounters with Xiao Zhi at Xiaohongding.

He essentially replaced Guo Yue in leading actor rehearsals, employing a teaching assistant-like approach. Never harsh or embarrassing, he offered gentle yet structured suggestions, which proved highly effective. The actors respected him deeply.

Tang Fei also became more subdued, no longer habitually late to rehearsals. Whether to mend her image among peers or to impress Xiao Zhi remained unclear. She spoke less, refraining from chatting with friends like Yang Yuanyuan during breaks, instead sitting beside Xiao Zhi.

One evening after rehearsal, Yin Mengxi encountered them outside the rear entrance of Xiaohongding. Tang Fei seemed to be crying, continuously sobbing, with him standing nearby, brows slightly furrowed.

“But I didn’t do anything wrong that day,” Tang Fei tearfully appealed to him. “I merely suggested adding a scene, and Han Yunqiao started hurling insults. How could I endure that?”

“My mom says I’m wrong, you say I’m wrong—where exactly did I err? I was only protecting myself! Should I have stood there and let her hit me?”

“She chose to leave the club, not because of me. What could I have done? I already apologized!”

“She targeted me, others gossiped about me—do you think it’s all my fault? It’s guilt by association! They assume my mom is Secretary Hong and jump to conclusions. They’re jealous of me!”

Her words poured out, laced with anger and grievance.

“So why are you so upset now?” His voice remained calm, radiating rationality and objectivity. “If it’s just委屈 (grievance), would you avoid speaking with others during breaks?”

A simple question, yet more persuasive than many answers—he possessed an innate ability to make others accept his viewpoint effortlessly.

“Guo Yue mentioned you shattered her phone that day. Is that true?” He continued questioning clearly, his tone neither overly stern nor typically gentle. “Did you argue solely over adding a scene, or were there other reasons?”

“I don’t intend to interfere, but if you ask whether I think you’re wrong, I’d say yes.”

“Your mom has worked hard to get where she is today. I believe you should consider her more.”

Yin Mengxi listened silently from around the corner, her heart a mix of admiration for his fairness and empathy for Tang Fei. Being reprimanded by such a tolerant and gentle person must have been difficult.

Tang Fei quieted down, no longer loudly protesting, though her sobs persisted. He handed her a tissue but didn’t wipe her tears, maintaining polite boundaries. Soon after, he turned and left.

Busy days flew by, and mid-May arrived, leaving less than a month until the official performance.

Everyone grew busier and tenser. The draft for the Youth League article was urgently needed, prompting Yin Mengxi to pull two all-nighters, astonishing her roommates. They praised her as a superhero, balancing studies and extracurriculars, truly a treasure of A University.

Yet, she didn’t feel particularly exhausted. Each visit to Xiaohongding carried a small, hidden anticipation—hoping to see him, exchange a few words, or simply share the same space. The heart of a secret admirer is greedy yet easily satisfied, with fluctuating thresholds.

They frequently crossed paths. Sometimes at the theater entrance, he’d smile and nod; during lunch or breaks, when distributing food and drinks with the logistics team, he’d thank her with a “辛苦了” (you’ve worked hard); or during rehearsals, when moving props with the logistics team, he’d frown and instruct other males, “Next time, don’t let girls carry heavy props.”

How to describe it...

These were ordinary occurrences.

But to her... they felt like the pinnacle of sweetness.

On May 22nd, upon entering the theater, Yin Mengxi sensed a special atmosphere. Checking backstage, she noticed several logistics team members absent and inquired with Peng Zechuan, who replied, “Today’s Xiao Zhi’s birthday. The logistics team secretly ordered a cake and went to fetch it from the school gate.”

Ah.

Birthday.

His birthday.

She had no idea, and upon hearing this, panic set in. She berated herself for not finding out earlier and wondered whether she should rush out to buy a gift—where to buy? What does he like? Would he accept her gift?

She was at a loss. Previously, facing unfamiliar stage management tasks hadn’t flustered her this much. Now, his birthday alone sent her into a frenzy. Worse still, time was tight; she hadn’t devised a plan before he arrived punctually at the theater. The logistics team returned swiftly with a two-tiered cake.

Guo Yue grinned, calling everyone backstage to join in cutting the cake. She followed the crowd, rounding the curtain just in time to see him surrounded by everyone, seemingly surprised by their covert preparation.

“You shouldn’t have gone to such lengths,” he appeared somewhat helpless. “Everyone’s already working hard in rehearsals; there’s no need to fuss over me...”

Everyone disagreed, insisting they must thank Senior Xiao. Not only had he written such an excellent script under their president’s coercion, but he was also now voluntarily helping with rehearsals. A cake was just a small token of appreciation.

“It’s still not quite right,” he frowned slightly, pondering again. “The cost of this cake shouldn’t go through club reimbursement—it’s my treat for everyone.”

“Oh, Senior, rest assured,” Yang Yuanyuan chimed in immediately, pulling Tang Fei beside her. “The cake was bought by Feifei, and she reminded us it was your birthday—no club funds were used, not a single cent!”

At that moment, Tang Fei blushed, appearing even more radiant. Everyone ushered her to the center, seemingly forgetting the previous turmoil. Standing closest to Xiao Zhi, she revealed a delicate gift box from behind her back. Immediately, teasing laughter filled the air, creating a warm, sweet confession-like scene.

“Happy birthday,” she brightly told him. “Next year, we must celebrate together again.”