I Miss You Even in the Daytime [Rebirth GL] - Chapter 26

The sound of rustling leaves surged from far to near as the wind lifted the stray hairs at the girl’s temples, letting them slowly drift back down.

Xu Liming looked at her empty hand in surprise, her heart fluttering like the wind above.

“You…” Lu Baitian’s actions clearly caught Tang Qian off guard. The smile on Tang Qian’s face quickly faded, and she seemed to want to say something but fell into a stunned silence, merely staring at Lu Baitian.

She was obviously angry.

Lu Baitian withdrew her hand. Her chest rose and fell slightly, but she didn’t look at Tang Qian.

It was a silent rebellion.

The atmosphere was incredibly subtle. Everyone stood in place, hushed, while the sound of the wind grew louder in the sunlight.

“Let’s go,” Lin Wan spoke up. She reached out to pull Tang Qian away, not looking at Lu Baitian. She simply smiled at Xu Liming. “We’re heading to Nanxun tomorrow. See you at the midterm evaluation.”

Xu Liming said nothing. Lin Wan pulled the others away, and Tang Qian left reluctantly, glancing back at Lu Baitian from time to time.

Only Xu Liming and Lu Baitian remained on Cherry Blossom Avenue. Lu Baitian was still looking up at the flowers on the poster, her side profile shimmering faintly behind her black-rimmed glasses.

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll retaliate?” Xu Liming walked to her side and asked. On the pristine poster, Lu Baitian’s flower was the most conspicuous.

“I am,” Lu Baitian said softly. Her glasses reflected Xu Liming’s name from the poster.

But even if she was afraid, she would do what she had to do. Besides, they only had those same few tricks; she was used to it.

“Since they bully you like this, have you ever mentioned changing dorms?” Xu Liming stood side-by-side with her, acting as if it were casual, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off the girl. In the sunlight, the tip of Lu Baitian’s nose glowed orange, like translucent agate.

“I’ve mentioned it,” Lu Baitian lowered her head. “But the counselor said there are no spare dorms, and no one is willing to swap with me.”

As for being ostracized—as long as there was no physical contact or evidence, no one would intervene.

The others likely pulled strings to keep Lu Baitian from leaving. Everyone knew Lin Wan disliked Lu Baitian; agreeing to swap dorms with her would be tantamount to offending Lin Wan.

The claim that there were no spare dorms was likely true. Huachuan’s living area was small; only undergraduates could stay on campus, while postgraduates had to rent outside. Spare dorm spots were always hard to come by.

Xu Liming toyed with a button on her shirt. “If you trust me, leave this matter to me.”

Lu Baitian finally dared to look at her, though her gaze quickly darted away as she gave a soft nod. She was happy just that Xu Liming offered to help, even if it was only a passing remark.

“It’s okay if I can’t swap. Don’t put too much effort into it…” Lu Baitian added hurriedly, “I’m already very grateful for your help with the rumor situation.”

She was very afraid of troubling Xu Liming too much.

“Don’t worry, it’s a small matter.” Xu Liming patted her shoulder, signaling that it was time to go. “It’s about time. Let’s have dinner together. I’m so bored alone.”

Lu Baitian wouldn’t refuse her request, so the two walked together into the fresh greenery of spring.

“By the way, before you swap dorms, come stay at my place. I’m going to Nanxun tomorrow for the midterm check. The auntie in our building doesn’t check the dorms very strictly; it shouldn’t be a problem,” Xu Liming suggested.

Otherwise, if Lu Baitian went back after offending Tang Qian, who knew what would happen.

Lu Baitian shook her head. She gripped her backpack straps, her voice soft: “I’m… also going to Nanxun.”

Xu Liming looked at her in surprise. “What are you going to Nanxun for? You’re not participating in the Drama Festival, are you?”

“I signed up as a volunteer. I’m going tonight for training.” Lu Baitian pursed her cherry-colored lips.

She had a bit of a selfish motive, of course. She wanted to see that story, and she wanted to watch over Xu Liming.

Early the next morning, Xu Liming took the entire crew onto a bus to Nanxun. After a nap, the gentle lakeside scenery outside the window surrounded them.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful,” Qiu Qiu pressed against the window to look out. “I’ve been in university for three years, and this is my first time at an ancient town.”

The view outside was indeed beautiful. The morning sunlight sprinkled golden powder over the water. When small boats carrying tourists swayed past, the golden light shimmered.

The scattered houses on both banks were known as the “Hundred-Room Buildings,” named because they stretched for over a hundred rooms and were built along the water. Stone bridges spanned the river, their surfaces polished by footsteps, connecting the flow of people on both banks.

Xu Liming had been here long ago, so she wasn’t as excited, merely smiling as she watched the others.

“Alright, we still have to rehearse a few more times after we get off. We’re on stage tomorrow, so focus,” Xu Liming clapped her hands, reminding everyone that the competition was important. “Once our showcase is over, there will be plenty of time to wander around.”

“Okay…” Qiu Qiu and the others replied with drawn-out voices, shouldering their large prop bags as they got off the bus.

Although the midterm check wasn’t as daunting as the final Drama Festival, the town was still bustling with volunteers and students.

University students practically occupied the entire ancient town. Security guards stood by the river, watching the lively crowds like hawks, fearing someone might slip and fall into the water.

The school-arranged accommodation wasn’t bad, but because of the crowds, two or three people had to share a room. Xu Liming didn’t sleep well that night.

Luckily, I’m not the one performing, Xu Liming sighed, nursing dark circles under her eyes.

And luckily, Qin Zhaohe has excellent sleep quality; she slept soundly even on a floor mat.

The performance venue for the second day was a temporary theater built inside a giant tent. it looked very simple, and the audience consisted only of judges from various schools.

The midterm check lasted for three days. Both Xu Liming and Lin Wan’s groups were scheduled for the first day. The good news was that the pressure wouldn’t last; the bad news was that they were flying blind, not knowing the level of the other participants.

Fortunately, Xu Liming had been here in her past life. She had a general understanding of the other plays. As long as she surpassed Lin Wan, there would basically be no suspense.

Xu Liming and her crew were led backstage by a volunteer. The backstage area was also temporary and sweltering hot. Without professional lighting and venue support, the difficulty of the performance would skyrocket. The rest of the crew were incredibly nervous, while only Qin Zhaohe looked indifferent.

“Remember the points we discussed yesterday. Qiu Qiu, remember not to deviate from your blocking, or Qin Zhaohe won’t have space to perform.” Xu Liming’s voice was stern. “A-Ze, your problem is looking at the audience. Remember, no matter what happens offstage, you are not allowed to look down!”

“If you dare break the fourth wall on stage, I’ll beat you into the wall, do you hear me?”

The boy named A-Ze turned pale with nerves. He took a deep breath and nodded repeatedly.

“Alright, those with lines, recite them. Those without, memorize your blocking. Keep the emotions consistent,” Xu Liming instructed, then beckoned to Qin Zhaohe. “Come here and let me do your makeup.”

Qin Zhaohe’s makeup was quite specific, so it had to be done separately.

In the noisy backstage, Xu Liming saw many familiar faces. There were other participants from the same school, as well as Lin Wan and her group. The Red Sun team was also prepared, and Xia Qie had even brought her own professional makeup artist.

The mentor, Yang Bo, was pulling Lin Wan aside to chatter about something, seemingly forgetting entirely that Xu Liming’s group was also under his guidance.

Tang Qian saw Xu Liming and gave her a provocative smile.

Xu Liming let out a soft scoff through her nose.

Stirring music played as the first group of participants took the stage. Xu Liming looked down through the backstage curtain. A row of judges sat beneath the high drama stage. Aside from the mentor Yang Bo, the Dean of Huachuan’s School of Drama and Film, Su Lihua, was also among them.

Su Lihua had once been a benchmark figure in the drama world, but later retired to the second line as a teacher due to illness. She was famously strict. With her there, Xu Liming wasn’t worried about fairness.

The first group was from Eastern University. It was clear they hadn’t had much training; the script and performance were very green. The chosen scene was mediocre. The judges shook their heads and whispered to each other as they confirmed scores.

The second group came from one of the top drama academies in the country. The director was only a senior, yet his works had already won several national awards. Their play was titled A Wealthy Wanderer. The level was indeed a step above the rest; aside from the story being a bit superficial, everything else was commendable.

The judges held script outlines for each team; those with standout scripts would be marked with a star.

Behind the judges stood volunteers in white T-shirts, responsible for collecting the scorecards.

Through the chaotic light and dust of the stage, Xu Liming saw Lu Baitian. She stood behind everyone, head down, busy with something. Occasionally, someone would call her to deliver something, and she would run across the large venue.

“Director, the next group is Red Sun, and then it’s us,” Qiu Qiu shouted from afar. Xu Liming let go of the curtain.

Midterm checks were different from actual performances; there were no professional stage managers. Everything was simple, and the students had to manage the backstage themselves.

She high-fived every member one by one. Those with lines had already put on their mics. Whether from heat or nerves, everyone’s face was flushed red.

“Don’t panic. Follow what we rehearsed. Our chosen scene isn’t complex. You guys in the back, remember to follow my lead for the set changes,” Xu Liming instructed.

“Don’t worry, Director!” Qiu Qiu said, rubbing her hands together.

Lin Wan’s group was already standing on the darkened stage. Lin Wan held a walkie-talkie and walked toward the wings. Xu Liming followed behind her.

In the long darkness, Lin Wan suddenly spoke, her voice gentle.

“I never asked you… why did you insist on leading your own group?”

“Drama is my dream too. Why shouldn’t I compete myself?” Xu Liming answered lazily.

Lin Wan smiled. “Are you really so sure you can make it into the Drama Festival?”

“Yeah.” Xu Liming quickened her pace and bypassed her, her footsteps crisp. “Maybe I won’t just make it into the festival.”

“Maybe I’ll surpass you too,” she said in a mild voice.

She didn’t stay to see Lin Wan’s expression—it wouldn’t be good anyway. Xu Liming walked to her position, where she could see the entire stage from an angle.

Red Sun was a very mature work, Xu Liming had to admit. The script was carefully selected, as were the actors. Xia Qie played a massive role; her lines were clear and her performance professional. With just one monologue and one look, she could bring tears to the judges’ eyes.

When the scene ended, applause broke out from the judges’ seats. Mentor Yang Bo, in particular, made no effort to hide his bias, clapping until his hands were nearly raw.

Su Lihua glanced at him indifferently and looked down to scrawl a score.

Some groups yet to perform stood in the wings. Xu Liming heard someone whisper, “I heard this group was favored by the judges. They really are strong.”

“Duh, would Xia Qie join if they weren’t strong?”

“Sigh, looks like those of us later in the lineup have no chance.”

“Shut up! Why boost their morale and lower ours?” their teammate scolded.

Xu Liming remained unfazed. Seeing the lights fade on stage, she raised her walkie-talkie. “Props team ready. Begin set-up.”

Qiu Qiu’s “Copy that” came through, but just as Xu Liming lowered her hand, she saw sudden chaos on the dim stage.

“Qiu Qiu, wait! Something’s wrong. Don’t let Qin Zhaohe on stage yet!” Xu Liming said urgently, striding onto the stage.

The stage, which should have been left for the next group’s preparation, suddenly lit up. A boy with glasses stood on stage with a microphone, saying “Hello, hello, hello” into it.

The judges were stunned. Security guards moved forward but stopped hesitantly because of the boy’s words.

“Hello everyone. I am Xu Ning, the director of A Wealthy Wanderer. Sorry for taking up your time.”

He gave a polite bow to the judges, then straightened up. “I intended to stay silent about this, but as a creator, I truly cannot tolerate plagiarism. This is a desecration of originality and of drama itself.”

“I have reason to believe that the next performance, The Third Life by a student from Huachuan’s Class of ’24 Directing major, is highly similar in plot and concept to my work Again, created in 2023.”

“I suspect it is plagiarism!” he declared.

This sudden turn of events plunged the entire theater into silence, followed by an explosion of chaos. Both the backstage and the judges’ panel erupted in hushed discussions.

Qiu Qiu and the others, who hadn’t even gone on stage, felt like they had been hit by a hammer. They stood frozen, looking toward Xu Liming in the wings for help.

Xu Liming slowly lowered her walkie-talkie, her heart feeling as if it had been soaked in cold water.

The Third Life could not be plagiarism; she was almost certain. On the night she received the script, she had searched for every similar script and conducted text searches on every website to ensure it was original. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have dared to use it.

But what was happening now? If she couldn’t prove on the spot that Xu Ning was lying, the accusation would heavily impact the judges’ scoring.

Plagiarism—the most serious crime for any creator.

“Xu Ning, please calm down first.” Su Lihua, representing the organizers, rose from the judges’ table. As she walked toward the stage, she spoke into her microphone, “Who is the main creator of The Third Life… from Huachuan’s ’24 Directing class, Xu Liming.”

“Student Xu Liming, please come onto the stage,” she said sternly.