They waited a while longer, but Zhao Qingyu still hadn’t returned.
The waiter had already delivered the desserts by then. Shen An picked one up at random and murmured, “Oh, right, Senior Sister—that school event…”
Yu Wen had been lost in thought when he nudged her. She turned to him slowly. “You mean the Freshman Welcome Gala?”
“Oh yeah, my bad—my memory’s shot. Forgot the name for a second there.”
The topic piqued everyone’s interest.
Wang Yuqiong turned to Yu Wen as well. “Senior Sister, does your department have any performances planned?”
“We haven’t heard anything in our Drama Group yet.”
“Of course we do.”
Yu Wen crossed her arms with a slight flourish, speaking in a measured tone. “Every year at the Freshman Welcome Gala, our Model Group takes the stage.”
“But there’s not much to get excited about. We just strut our stuff and that’s it—the Model Group’s limitations are pretty obvious.”
“Your group, though…”
Yu Wen narrowed her eyes and flashed a bright smile. “The Drama Group’s always the main event at these galas. Your President hasn’t dropped any hints at all?”
Wang Yuqiong shook her head. “I asked her, but she told me not to rush. They haven’t decided yet…”
“Yeah, that’s par for the course.”
Yu Wen nodded. “With so many people in the Drama Group, they can’t put everyone on stage.”
“From my experience, your President’s probably still screening candidates. Once it’s set, she’ll let you all know.”
“Screening?” Shen An echoed, puzzled.
Yu Wen shot him a look. “You’ve never acted, but you’ve watched plays, right? The leads are the most crucial part. It’s the same in the Drama Group.”
“Sure, you need supporting roles too, but the show lives or dies by its male and female leads. Picking them is no easy task.”
“Ha, not every play needs a male lead,” Shen An joked. “Some are all-female, and others are all-male.”
“Whatever—leads still have to be selected.”
Yu Wen pouted playfully. “And these Freshman Welcome Galas are all about seniors mentoring freshmen, so at least one lead will be a newbie.”
Shen An whistled. “That’s playing for keeps. What if they bomb?”
New recruits needed nurturing and practice, but a debut in front of the whole school? The risks were huge.
Yu Wen brimmed with confidence. “Relax—our Drama Group’s never flopped in all these years. Besides, you’re not even in the group. Why worry your pretty head?”
Her gaze shifted to Wang Yuqiong, laced with teasing. “I get why you’re fretting, Yuqiong. You might be the one they pick.”
Wang Yuqiong shuddered and shook her head vigorously. “I hope they don’t pick me.”
Oh?
It was the first time Yu Wen had seen her look so flustered.
Giggling behind her hand, Yu Wen said, “Why not? It’s a golden opportunity—not just to hone your skills, but to broaden your horizons too.”
“Otherwise, what’s the point of joining the Drama Group if you’re never getting onstage?”
Wang Yuqiong sighed wistfully. “I love sitting in the audience watching, but standing on stage performing? Not so much…”
“Besides, what I really wanted was your Model Group, Senior Sister.”
It was a perfectly timed bit of flattery for Yu Wen.
As for why Wang Yuqiong had ended up in the Drama Group instead, Yu Wen could guess well enough with her eyes closed. No need to bring up something that might spoil the mood.
“Hmm, so it sounds like you don’t enjoy the spotlight,” Yu Wen said, deftly changing tack. “But the Model Group performs on stage too.”
“No, no—it’s not the stage itself I dislike,” Wang Yuqiong clarified. “I just have zero acting experience… I’m scared I couldn’t shoulder the responsibility.”
She sighed again. “Everyone else in our group is a performance major. I’m the only English lit girl.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Yu Wen said gently. “They might be performance majors, but school’s only been in session a month. What could they have learned?”
“You’re on equal footing with them.”
Wang Yuqiong flushed. “If you say so, Senior Sister… did your President tip you off or something?”
Yu Wen paused, then burst out laughing. “No clue who the President’s picking. I just can’t stand seeing you doubt yourself like this.”
You hold your own against the Troupe Leader without flinching—what’s a little stage fright?
“It’s probably not me,” Wang Yuqiong murmured after a moment’s thought. “I already told the President I prefer backstage work.”
“Oh?” Yu Wen’s eyes gleamed. “That works too. With your brains, you’d whip up a killer script.”
In the Drama Group, “frontstage” meant performing, while “backstage” was scriptwriting.
Not everyone could conquer their stage fright, and there weren’t spots for all to shine as leads.
Backstage work or supporting roles were the norm for most.
Plus, their performances drew mainly from original member scripts, not dusty classics.
It was challenging, sure, but it fired up enthusiasm and sharpened skills like nothing else.
Otherwise, if you never performed and the scripts were handed to you ready-made, you’d just be hauling props. Why bother joining?
Shen An smirked. “Backstage sounds great. Just hope they don’t cook up some weird, wacky script.”
Pfft!
Yu Wen laughed and swatted him. “Watch your mouth.”
At the same time, a sharp kick from Wang Yuqiong landed under the table.
Long legs did have their perks!
“Watch out—you might end up starring in the one she writes,” Yu Wen said to Shen An, her smile sly and teasing.
Shen An: ?
“I’m in the Office!”
“So? You’re still an Art Troupe member, aren’t you?”
“Well… yeah.”
“That’s all it takes.” Yu Wen shrugged. “You know the gender imbalance in our troupe. When the Drama Group can’t find a suitable male lead internally, they borrow from other departments.”
“We’ve even pulled a guy from another Student Union department once.”
Shen An arched a brow. “No way—that exaggerated?”
“Way.” Yu Wen grinned. “And it’s not just Drama. My Model Group, Senior Sister Qi’s Singing Group—any Performance Group might tap you for a temp role.”
“Right?”
She turned to Qi Taili.
Qi Taili was quietly munching away, her eyes fixed solely on her food. Nothing else could draw her attention.
Yu Wen’s lips twitched. Without ceremony, she patted the back of Qi Taili’s head.
“Huh?” Qi Taili looked up in a daze. “What’s up?”
Shen An smiled. “Senior Sister Yu says you might recruit me for an onstage role.”
“Oh, that.”
Qi Taili wiped her mouth. “It’s possible, but our group’s a bit of an exception. We usually don’t need outsiders.”
The Singing Group just sang—no need for external help there.
“Unless it’s a skit with scenes, then maybe. But we’d borrow from Drama first.”
Uh…
For some reason, Shen An felt like that was a subtle dig.
“So, when does your group need outsiders, Senior Sister?” he asked Yu Wen.
“Skit scenes—what else?” Yu Wen huffed. “You think we’d have you strut a catwalk?”
“I actually kinda like catwalking.”
Shen An pointed to himself. “Haven’t you noticed my legs are pretty long too, Senior Sister? Wanna race?”
Yu Wen narrowed her eyes and said to Wang Yuqiong, “Yuqiong, next time write a script and have him play a eunuch.”
Wang Yuqiong blinked. “We can consider that.”
Shen An: ?
Heh, women.
Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and Zhao Qingyu walked in.
She glanced around and said softly, “What are you all chatting about so enthusiastically? I could hear you from outside the door.”
Yu Wen covered her mouth and laughed. “I said we should have Yuqiong write a script for Shen An to play a eunuch.”
“Mm, and the best part would be adding a scene where he’s torn apart by five horses.”
Zhao Qingyu let out a cold laugh. When it came to dealing with Shen An, she and Wang Yuqiong saw completely eye to eye.
Shen An secretly clicked his tongue and decisively chose to stay silent.
“Have you all eaten your fill?” Zhao Qingyu glanced at Shen An before getting back to the main topic.
Everyone nodded.
“Good, then let’s head back. Go pack up your things—it’s about that time.”
Zhao Qingyu clapped her hands, having arranged everything neatly.
“Hey, I’m really going to miss this air conditioning.”
Shen An stretched lazily, and the others began to get up one by one.
Once they had all left the private room, Zhao Qingyu deliberately slowed her pace, as if waiting for Shen An to catch up.
Wang Yuqiong, who was walking beside Shen An, noticed this and narrowed her eyes slightly.
Just as Shen An was about to draw near to Zhao Qingyu, Wang Yuqiong suddenly let out a delicate cry, and her lithe body plummeted downward.
Even Zhao Qingyu was startled. Shen An reacted the fastest, immediately grabbing Wang Yuqiong’s small hand and hauling her back upright.
Yu Wen and Qi Taili, who had been walking at the front, hurried back over.
“Yuqiong?”
Yu Wen sounded concerned.
Song Rui circled around to Wang Yuqiong’s other side to support her, her eyes filled with worry.
“What happened?”
Shen An asked softly.
Wang Yuqiong clutched his hand tightly, a hint of apology in her voice. “I think I twisted my ankle.”
Zhao Qingyu frowned. “Do you need to get it checked out?”
“No, no need… I just feel weak…” Wang Yuqiong poked Shen An, her eyes full of meaning.
Shen An immediately caught on. “I’ll rub it for her. You all go on ahead.”
“Is that reliable?” Yu Wen wasn’t sure if it was real and said worriedly, “We should still get it looked at. Rubbing it isn’t going to fix the problem.”
A faint blush colored Wang Yuqiong’s cheeks as she said meaningfully, “It’s fine. Let him rub it—maybe it’ll get better.”
“He knows a little about this sort of thing.”
Clearly, Shen An had rubbed it for her once before!
That tone, like someone who had been through it…
A twinge of sourness stirred in Song Rui’s heart. She suddenly recalled what had happened yesterday afternoon by the streamside.
Was that when it happened?
Zhao Qingyu’s brows knitted tightly. She had no idea if Wang Yuqiong was telling the truth…
But since the one with the twisted ankle wasn’t her, she had no grounds to say anything.
If Wang Yuqiong was willing…
She couldn’t very well contradict her in front of everyone.
“Then we’ll head out first. If it doesn’t help, make sure to let me know.”
Zhao Qingyu stared into Wang Yuqiong’s eyes. “I’ll get a car ready to take you to the hospital.”
“Mm.”
Wang Yuqiong’s smile carried a touch of weakness, but it stung Zhao Qingyu’s eyes all the same.
Before leaving, however, Zhao Qingyu still reminded Shen An, “Oh, right—when you get back to the hotel later, come find me to pick up your things.”
His things? What things were his?
Hearing this, both Song Rui and Wang Yuqiong understood: Zhao Qingyu had essentially admitted that she was the one who had sent those messages to the two of them, not Shen An.
“Good.”
Shen An nodded slightly and continued supporting Wang Yuqiong, whose face had gone pale.
As for Song Rui…
She shot Wang Yuqiong a deep look before following Zhao Qingyu and the other three girls ahead.
