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Birthday
墨書 Inktalez
"Why should this newcomer get to be the manager..."
I stood by the window, my brow furrowed, my eyes filled with dissatisfaction and resentment as I muttered to myself.
I had been in this department for so many years; while I may not have made any significant contributions, I certainly had my share of hard work. Even if it wasn't my turn to be the manager, it shouldn't just go to him, right?
He had only been here for a few days. As of now, I didn't even know his name. Just looking at him over there, laughing and joking around, was enough to make me feel annoyed... I shot a glare in his direction and clenched my teeth.
The rain outside continued to pour relentlessly, tapping against the window with a sharp sound.
I reached out and opened the window; raindrops splashed onto my hand, but I barely noticed. Instead, I looked up at the gray sky, shaking my head helplessly and letting out a deep sigh.
I hated the rain, and I hated him even more. When you encounter two things you despise at the same time, how could your mood possibly improve? I paced back and forth in front of the window, rubbing my hands together anxiously.
Moreover, today was my birthday.
The old buddies from the department were over there chatting and laughing. I had some clout, having invited quite a few people today, but unfortunately, he was among them.
I silently lamented while trying to maintain a calm expression on my face.
I didn’t want him here, but I couldn’t exactly exclude him either. I couldn’t let others see how petty I was; I needed to act graciously so that no one would look down on me.
Taking a deep breath, I forced a smile onto my face.
I sat down on the sofa, pulled out my cigarette case from my pocket, took out a cigarette, lit it up, and took a deep drag.
Everyone over there was beckoning me to join them. I waved my hand lightly and feigned calmness as I said, "I'll come over after finishing this smoke..."
This was the living room of my home; although it wasn't large, it could comfortably accommodate a dozen people.
They were having a great time, but I felt no joy at all; my mind was consumed by that annoying him.
The smoke was thick, and after a while, I lost the desire to continue smoking. I forcefully extinguished the cigarette butt in the ashtray, sparks flying.
They were calling for me again.
"I'm coming, I'm coming..." I forced myself to appear excited as I jumped up and walked toward them, though the smile on my face felt somewhat stiff.
I could hardly remember what game we were playing; it was just a very boring one. All I recalled was how much fun he seemed to be having.
Ever since he became the manager of this department, he had suddenly become the most sought-after person here. The rest of us old-timers were gradually losing our relevance. I couldn't understand what made him so capable that a large crowd followed him around every day; it was truly impressive.
I watched with resentment brewing inside me, secretly resolving to challenge him sooner or later and show him the prowess of this "old ginger." I clenched my fists tightly, a glimmer of determination flashing in my eyes.
The round table was set up—a large one that I specifically borrowed from the restaurant below.
With so many people today, we really needed a bigger table. The dishes were ordered from the restaurant downstairs, prepared by a master chef right in our kitchen.
During dinner, everyone was lively and cheerful, taking turns sharing their amusing experiences or strange tales they had heard from who knows where.
He was the best storyteller among us, always able to make everyone laugh until they doubled over and occasionally eliciting squeals from a few young female colleagues. He animatedly gestured as he spoke, his face radiating pride.
Everyone's attention was directed toward him as if it were his birthday today.
I only remembered seeing his mouth moving but couldn’t hear what he was saying; all that remained clear were the waves of laughter from the crowd. The lavish spread on the table seemed unappetizing to me.
I absentmindedly picked at some dishes but found them tasteless, mechanically chewing away.
Of course, I would never let anyone see that something was off with me. Though my heart was filled with discontent, I made sure to appear cheerful—this was a skill I had honed over many years.
From time to time, I still made sure to exchange a few pleasantries with others, after all, there were a few old friends who remembered that today was my birthday.
I wore a smile on my face, but my eyes felt somewhat hollow as I merely went through the motions of conversing with others.
I had no idea how much time had passed; the food and drinks were nearly finished, and my friends busily cleared the table. A waiter from the restaurant brought out a large cream cake and placed it in the center of the turntable.
This cake was specially ordered for my birthday, adorned with symmetrical chocolate diagonal stripes. There were no words on it; cakes with writing were no longer in vogue.
That annoying guy enthusiastically arranged plates and forks around the turntable, meticulously lining them up and even carefully inserting candles in a symmetrical fashion.
No matter how serious he was, I couldn't muster any fondness for him because I had completely grown to hate him. Everything he did only fueled my jealousy and resentment!
I looked at him coldly, my gaze filled with disdain.
Finally, after he finished arranging everything and lit the candles, he suggested that everyone take a photo to commemorate the occasion. Everyone clapped and cheered—what a hassle.
So we all lined up in two rows, asking the restaurant staff to help capture this moment that would last forever.
He stood next to me, one hand resting on my shoulder. My body stiffened slightly; I really wasn't comfortable with it!
I forced a smile, but my eyes betrayed my discomfort.
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