Xiao Lan forgot her birthday every year.
Not deliberately.
It just… never seemed important.
The date sat quietly in her calendar, unmarked. No reminders. No expectations. Birthdays were inefficient—too many emotions, too many obligations. And after a while, if no one acknowledged something, it became easier to stop acknowledging it yourself.
She arrived at the office as usual.
7:45 a.m.
Coffee in hand. Tablet charged. Schedule memorized.
Kai Ying was already there.
"Good morning, Senior Manager," Xiao Lan said, bowing her head slightly.
Kai Ying looked up. "Good morning."
Nothing unusual.
That was expected.
The day moved forward smoothly. Meetings. Emails. Calls. Xiao Lan handled everything before it could become a problem. She liked days like this—quietly competent, invisible.
At 6:30 p.m., Kai Ying closed her laptop.
"You're done for today," she said.
Xiao Lan blinked. "There are still—"
"I'll handle it," Kai Ying replied. "Go."
Xiao Lan hesitated. "Is there something wrong?"
Kai Ying adjusted her glasses. "No."
That, oddly, made Xiao Lan more suspicious.
But she nodded. "Understood."
Tian Rong's bar was unusually calm that evening.
Too calm.
Xiao Lan stepped inside and froze.
The lights were dimmed softer than usual. A small cake sat on the center table—not extravagant, just simple. Warm. Intentional.
Chen Le Xin stood nearby, hands in her pockets, smiling awkwardly like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to be part of this.
Tian Rong leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes bright.
Xiao Lan's mind stalled.
"This is…" Her voice failed her. "Did I—?"
"Sit," Tian Rong said gently.
Xiao Lan obeyed automatically.
Le Xin cleared her throat. "You work too hard," she said. "So we decided to steal you for a bit."
Xiao Lan looked between them. "You decided?"
"Yes," Kai Ying said from behind her.
Xiao Lan turned sharply.
Kai Ying stood near the door, coat off, sleeves rolled up. In her hands was a small, neatly wrapped box.
Her expression was serious.
Too serious for this to be a joke.
Kai Ying stepped forward. "Today is your birthday."
Xiao Lan swallowed. "…Yes."
"You didn't tell anyone," Kai Ying continued. "But I know."
Tian Rong smiled. "I asked."
Le Xin added lightly, "I approved."
Xiao Lan's hands tightened in her lap. "You didn't need to do this."
Kai Ying stopped in front of her. "I did."
She placed the box in Xiao Lan's hands.
Xiao Lan stared at it like it might disappear.
"Open it," Tian Rong said softly.
Inside was a fountain pen. Elegant. Balanced. Engraved discreetly on the side:
For everything you carry.
Xiao Lan's breath caught.
Kai Ying spoke quietly. "You anticipate problems before they exist. You protect people without being asked. And you stay."
She paused.
"Thank you for your hard work," Kai Ying said. "And for choosing to remain."
The room was silent.
Xiao Lan blinked once.
Then again.
Her voice was steady when she spoke—but only just. "You remembered."
Tian Rong stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on the table near Xiao Lan's. "Of course we did."
Le Xin smiled gently. "You matter."
That was the moment.
Not the cake. Not the gifts.
That sentence.
Xiao Lan lowered her head slightly, fingers tightening around the pen.
"…Thank you," she said.
Her voice trembled.
Just a little.
Tian Rong lit the candle. "Make a wish."
Xiao Lan hesitated. "I don't—"
"Do it," Le Xin said. "No efficiency required."
Xiao Lan closed her eyes.
She didn't wish for success.
Or recognition.
She wished to stay.
She opened her eyes and blew out the candle.
They ate cake. Simple. Sweet. Unrushed.
At some point, Tian Rong slipped an arm around Xiao Lan's shoulders—not claiming, not demanding. Just there.
Xiao Lan didn't pull away.
Kai Ying watched quietly from across the table.
Le Xin noticed and nudged her. "You did good."
Kai Ying replied softly, "She deserves it."
As the night wound down, Xiao Lan stood to leave.
Tian Rong walked her to the door.
"Same time tomorrow?" Tian Rong asked.
Xiao Lan nodded. "Yes."
Then, after a pause, she added, "…I'm glad you remembered."
Tian Rong smiled. "I always will."
Outside, Xiao Lan held the pen tightly in her coat pocket.
For the first time in years, her birthday didn't feel like an inconvenience.
It felt like proof.
She wasn't invisible.
She was chosen.
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