Transmigrating as the Female Supporting Character: Dumb with Deep Pockets - Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Thirty Minutes of Silence

The curtain rose.

Following the stage cues, Chen Jia and Su Su stepped out.

Chen Jia had never seen the choreography during rehearsals, but from the moment she saw Su Su’s costume, she had abandoned all hope of a serious performance.

The stage lights snapped on. After the audience took in the scene, there was a collective, surprised “Whoa,” followed by a wave of uncontrollable laughter.

Chen Jia glanced at Su Su, who was striking a pose with her back to the audience. Strangely, the embarrassment she expected didn’t hit. Instead, she felt a sudden wave of relaxation.

Looking at it objectively, she wasn’t the one losing the most face tonight.

The piano carries an air of sophistication; people associate it with concert halls or high-end restaurants. Even in a school talent show, it’s usually paired with ballet. This bizarre combination was impossible not to laugh at.

The piece itself wasn’t difficult. By repeating it two or three times, they managed to stretch the simple act to a full two minutes.

As her fingers moved across the keys, Chen Jia’s focus was entirely on what was happening behind her. Even without seeing Su Su’s movements, the roar of the crowd told her everything she needed to know. She really shouldn’t have trusted Su Su—with her personality, if she actually knew how to dance, she never would have kept it a secret.

When the performance ended, the school leaders in the front row gave them smiling rounds of applause. The students below cheered and catcalled.

As they took their bow together, Chen Jia’s heart sank slightly. She spotted two familiar faces in the crowd: her C-language professor and her Web Design professor.

Her calm demeanor flickered.

Su Su, who cared little for those classes, didn’t realize it until they had been offstage for a while. “I think I saw our teachers just now.”

Chen Jia had worked so hard to build an image of a serious, dedicated student to ensure her future career prospects. Today, that image had crumbled.

“You didn’t see wrong,” she said, her voice heavy with complex emotions.

It was sweltering outside. Su Su sat in the hallway, peeling off the tiger onesie. Her light-colored hair was damp with sweat; those few dance moves had clearly exhausted her.

Perhaps because so much had happened lately, Chen Jia found herself surprisingly zen. She tried to comfort herself by pretending the whole thing was just a fever dream.

Still, curiosity won out. “I thought you said you could dance?”

“I never said that! I just said leave it to me. You know my coordination has been bad since I was a kid. I like dancing, but my physical reality just doesn’t allow for it.” She leaned her head on Chen Jia’s shoulder. “Think about it this way: if we had done a standard, impressive performance, you’d forget it in two days. But you’ll remember today for a long, long time.”

Chen Jia forced a corner of her mouth up. “Haha.”

She decided it was time to set a boundary. “This is the last time. If I ever believe you again, I’m a dog.”

“Don’t worry. There definitely won’t be a next time.”

In truth, Su Su was wondering which would make Chen Jia angrier: her coming out to her, or making her lose face like this.

Chen Jia, of course, had no idea what was going on in her friend’s head. Surprisingly, now that the adrenaline had faded, the sting of the embarrassment was already beginning to dull.

As they spoke, Li Sisi walked over, grinning and holding up her phone. “Your performance was… explosive.”

Explosive as in a disaster.

Su Su nodded enthusiastically. “Right? Even when we’re old and toothless, I’ll definitely remember this. Chen Jia will too, right?”

Chen Jia remained expressionless. “Haha.” Hard not to.

Li Sisi, clearly enjoying the chaos, added, “I recorded the whole thing. If you’re interested, we can burn it onto a disc and keep it as a family heirloom.”

Who would want this as a family heirloom?

Chen Jia stayed silent, but Su Su was delighted. “Send me a copy! Don’t use WeChat, it’ll compress the quality. Send it via WP.”

At this point, Chen Jia had reached a state of total indifference, yet no matter how much she rationalized it, she couldn’t bring herself to be happy.

“I’m going back to change.”

“Wait, wait!” Su Su grabbed her tiger skin and hurried after her. “Chen Jia, wait for me! It’s our first group activity, everyone’s so happy. We’re all going out for dinner tonight.”

Chen Jia’s voice was flat. “You go ahead.”

Su Su finally realized something was wrong. Her heart skipped a beat. “You’re actually mad.”

She had pushed it too far. Usually, Chen Jia was patient and indulgent, almost like a protective elder—even if that was a strange way to describe a peer. But Su Su had forgotten that Chen Jia was a girl too, and she had her pride.

Chen Jia took a deep breath. “Just let me be quiet for a bit. Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

She was trying her best to regulate her emotions. She had never been someone who enjoyed the spotlight. While spending time with Su Su had made her more outgoing, she wasn’t yet at a stage where she could handle being the butt of the joke on such a massive scale.

Su Su stood frozen, watching Chen Jia’s back disappear into the distance. She didn’t dare follow, terrified of becoming an annoyance. She was worried that before she even had a chance to confess her feelings, she would lose her as a friend entirely. The smile she hadn’t yet wiped from her face vanished.

“Su, you idiot. Do you even have a brain?”

…

The dormitory building was eerily quiet since most students were still out. The sound of Chen Jia’s heels clicking on the stairs was sharp and clear.

She pushed into the room and went straight to the bathroom to splash her face with water. She turned off the tap and looked in the mirror, only to see a smeared mess. She had forgotten she was wearing heavy stage makeup. Su Su had spent ages sitting on her lap, holding her eyelids open to glue on those false eyelashes.

The base makeup was stubborn; water wouldn’t touch it. She needed makeup remover, but all those supplies were in Su Su’s bag on her bed. She couldn’t walk around the dorm with a face like this; if anyone saw her, they’d think she was a ghost.

She went back into the room to grab some facial cleanser, hoping to make do.

Just as she turned around, the door opened. It was Su Su.

To her credit, despite the heat, she was still lugging that heavy tiger suit. Her face was flushed and her breath was ragged, though she tried to suppress the sound of her panting.

“I was afraid… you wouldn’t be able to find the makeup remover.”

“Oh.”

For some reason, looking at her in this state made Chen Jia’s brain feel like mush. Her reactions were a bit slow.

Su Su tossed the tiger skin onto a chair, scrambled up to her bunk in two or three steps, grabbed her makeup bag, and jumped straight down. Chen Jia’s eyelid jumped—thankfully, she didn’t twist an ankle.

After a frantic search through the bag, Su Su found the remover, but she didn’t hand it over.

“I… let me do it. You don’t really know how to do makeup, so you probably won’t remove it properly. If you leave it on, it’ll ruin your skin.”

Without waiting for a reply, she pressed on Chen Jia’s shoulders, guiding her into the chair. This time, she didn’t dare sit on her lap. She crouched down, soaked a cotton pad, and began to wipe Chen Jia’s face with extreme gentleness. She even held her breath, as if afraid she might accidentally hurt her.

After a long time, she finally pulled the cotton pad away. Her voice was low and tentative.

“I’m sorry.”