I Miss You Even in the Daytime [Rebirth GL] - Chapter 15

“Good.” Xu Liming let out a long sigh of relief. She pulled out her phone, scrolled through a few options, and handed it to Lu Baitian. “Look and see what you want to eat.”

“There are a lot of good places in this business district; you basically can’t go wrong.” Xu Liming was determined to treat Lu Baitian to a proper meal—this girl was far too thin.

She didn’t have many memories of last night, but she vividly remembered the feeling of Lu Baitian supporting her: those bones under her arm had been painfully prominent.

Lu Baitian took the phone with both hands, scrolling through it with extreme care.

“I think… I’ll pass.” She swallowed hard and handed the phone back to Xu Liming.

The places Xu Liming chose were all high-priced—at least for her—and she didn’t want Xu Liming to waste money on her account.

“There’s a subway station right ahead. I can also call a taxi once I’m out of the alley. I have things to do, so I should head back now.” Lu Baitian kept her head down and turned to flee.

She was promptly yanked back by the collar by Xu Liming.

“What are you running for?” Xu Liming almost laughed out loud. “You’ve helped me twice; it’s only right that I treat you to a meal.”

Lu Baitian’s body was still leaning back, trying to break free from Xu Liming’s grip. Her pale face flushed a deep red. Her black frames hid her eyes well, but one could still see her long lashes blinking rapidly.

She looks like she’s about to cry. She really does have a personality that’s easily bullied, Xu Liming thought, slowly letting go.

“Fine, I’m hungry anyway. If you won’t go with me, I’ll just go by myself.” Xu Liming tucked her hands in her pockets nonchalantly, spinning her phone around with her free hand as if talking to herself.

“A pity this place only serves portions for two. Oh well, two people it is; if there’s extra, I’ll just throw it away.”

She turned to leave, but felt a sudden tug at her sleeve.

The corners of Xu Liming’s mouth slowly curled up. She looked back to see two fingers pinching the edge of her clothes, gripping so hard they were white.

“Don’t… don’t throw it away…” Lu Baitian whispered, unable to hide the embarrassment on her face.

Everything that happened over the weekend was just a small interlude for Xu Liming. Once she returned to school, it was the start of a new week.

Xu Liming was visibly busier this week. As soon as classes ended, she was busy scouting people from various majors to act or collaborate—a task that proved quite difficult for her.

Her previous reputation was truly too negative; the entire School of Drama and Film had heard of her. Consequently, most people instinctively declined upon hearing her name; no one wanted to do “useless work” for such an important Drama Festival.

Fortunately, through her persistent persuasion and the aid of “money power,” she finally managed to assemble a full theater troupe a few days later. Though the members were a bit of a patchwork crew, it was at least the first step toward competing.

Having solved a major headache, Xu Liming finally relaxed her tensed nerves. She picked a Thursday with few classes and treated the entire crew to dinner on the third floor of the Second Cafeteria.

“Thank you, Director!” A short girl with a bun excitedly patted her stomach. “I had classes all morning and haven’t eaten a single grain of rice; I’m starving to death!”

“It’s fine. If you’re hungry, just grab whatever you want. Use my card.” Xu Liming handed over her student card with a gentle smile.

This girl’s name was Qiu Qiu. She had a baby face but was actually a year ahead of Xu Liming, majoring in Theater and Film Production Design. Xu Liming had seen some of the stage sets she’d helped design—despite her small stature, her works were majestic and breathtaking. Amidst the lighting transitions, they felt like surging rivers and seas.

As she and the others excitedly rushed toward the food windows and the noise faded, an impatient cough sounded beside her.

Xu Liming’s gaze shifted, settling on Qin Zhaohe, who was sitting quite far away by herself.

Sunglasses obscured her upward-slanting eyes. Lipstick perfectly filled every curve of her mouth; her red lips were tightly pursed, making her look both exotic and aloof.

“What’s wrong?” Xu Liming asked.

“Noisy,” she said nonchalantly, then took off her sunglasses and leaned back with her long legs crossed. “Rehearsing is rehearsing; why all this useless nonsense?”

“Do you think, Senior, that if a crew isn’t united in spirit, they can still put on a good show?” As she spoke, Xu Liming pulled a milk tea from a bag on the floor and handed it to Qin Zhaohe.

“Even if spirits are united, it’s all ethereal nonsense. I take money to do a job; you want to use me as a gimmick. We’re mutually beneficial; there’s no need for this pretense.” Qin Zhaohe didn’t take it. “I’m controlling my sugar intake.”

What is she talking about? Xu Liming’s face darkened slightly. She looked at Qin Zhaohe with amusement and withdrew the milk tea.

So Qin Zhaohe thought she had only been hired because of the “clout” from her being “cancelled” online. No wonder her attitude was so poor.

This sort of thing was hard to explain; she couldn’t exactly tell her she was reborn and had seen her great acting in her past life.

So Xu Liming simply poked the straw into the milk tea and placed it back in front of her. “Sugar-free.”

Qin Zhaohe hadn’t expected this reaction. She looked up with a hint of surprise, but Xu Liming wasn’t looking at her; she was waving over Qiu Qiu and the others who had finished getting their food.

“We ordered a bit much.” Qiu Qiu returned carrying a large tray of assorted food, sticking out her tongue apologetically.

“It’s fine, I said order whatever you want.” Xu Liming took back her meal card. “You’ve all read the script I sent you, right?”

“Read it,” a boy who was wolfing down food said, raising his hand. He swallowed hard. “Director, did you write this script?”

“I’ve studied Playwriting for three years and couldn’t write something like this. You’re only a freshman!” He was full of admiration.

“No, someone else gave it to me,” Xu Liming shook her head. “That person doesn’t want to compete; they only wanted to provide the script.”

“People like that exist?” Qiu Qiu let out a satisfied burp and wiped her mouth. “What major are they? What grade? Guy or girl?”

“I don’t know either.” Xu Liming opened Comma’s WeChat and showed it to everyone. “I only know their pen name: Comma (Dun Hao).”

Everyone looked at the WeChat with blank expressions, except for Qin Zhaohe, who had remained silent. She slowly put down her phone.

“What’s the name?” she asked.

“Comma,” Xu Liming replied patiently.

Those red lips pursed. She clicked on the file in the group chat she hadn’t downloaded yet. Her butterfly-like lashes fluttered as she silently finished reading the script.

Xu Liming noticed the change in her expression and cast a keen look. “You recognize it?”

Qin Zhaohe’s manicured nails tapped the screen unconsciously, making a click-clack sound. After a moment, she put down her phone, resuming her frivolous expression. “Just felt a bit familiar.”

She didn’t elaborate until Xu Liming’s piercing gaze made her impatient. Then she continued, “Two years ago, I liked reading magazines. There was an author whose articles really suited my taste, so I followed them for a while.”

“The writing style is similar—both a bit ‘crazy’ and melancholic. And her pen name was also Comma.”

“Later, for some reason, she stopped writing, and I stopped subscribing to that magazine,” Qin Zhaohe said lazily. “But that was two years ago. It’s probably not the same person.”

With that, she stood up and smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt. “I can’t eat. I’m leaving first.”

Xu Liming instinctively grabbed her, ignoring the sharp look she received.

“Could you tell me the name of the magazine, Senior?” she asked with a smile.

The weather in the south shifted between clouds and rain. After a few sunny days, the sky was covered again by a thick layer of gloom. Along with the damp air, it felt like a long rain was brewing.

There were no morning classes today. Xu Liming managed a rare sleep-in. After lunch, she strolled to the delivery station to pick up a package sent by Chen Yan.

Her phone pinged. It was a crying cat emoji from Chen Yan followed by a long message.

“Sister Liming, I found everything you ordered! I ran to so many second-hand bookstores. Please be generous and don’t hold a grudge against me. I really don’t have any spare money right now. I promise I’ll never serve the wrong drink again, I beg you!”

“I beg you.”

“I beg you.”

“I beg…”

Xu Liming promptly set her to “Do Not Disturb.” She used a key to rip open the package and pulled out a thick stack of old magazines.

The magazine was titled Glimmer. The layout was fresh, containing several sections of articles—mostly youth-oriented stories. Only one section was slightly different: the genre was fantasy.

She found the articles by the author named Comma. The style was indeed similar to the script—the stories were imaginative, absurd, and bizarre, leaving the reader feeling both exhilarated and cold.

She flipped through the magazines as she walked to class. Today’s lecture was another boring session on Drama History. She found an inconspicuous corner to sit in.

Comma’s submissions had abruptly stopped two years ago. Xu Liming re-read all the previous articles and finally spotted the author’s Weibo handle in an obscure corner.

The name was a string of meaningless characters. She quickly opened Weibo to search and browse the homepage. It was a very ordinary daily account with few followers, looking more like someone’s lonely inner monologue.

「Breakfast was finished very late today; I almost missed class. Someone spilled water on my desk, but luckily my books didn’t get wet. She didn’t wear her school uniform today. She’s like light; her smile is so beautiful.」

「During the morning run today, I don’t know who tripped me. It hurts so, so much. But she helped me up when she passed by. I didn’t dare speak to her.」

「I didn’t even say thank you yesterday. Will she think I’m impolite? I’m so sad.」

There were thousands of posts. Most of them mentioned the same person. The posts, like the magazine articles, stopped on a certain day two years ago.

The last post contained only four words:

「I miss her so much.」