Chapter 3: The weather was perfect

The rain continued to fall. By six o’clock in the evening, the sky had already turned completely dark.

Song Shiyue walked under the trees with her backpack on her back and an umbrella in hand. The street lamps on both sides cast a dim, yellowish glow. Occasionally, a car passed by, briefly illuminating the mottled road.

She was still immersed in that moment of darkness.

The car was shrouded in gloomy rain, and the back seat felt even more obscure and dim. The boy sat alone inside. A thin beam of light slanted in from the window and happened to fall exactly on his slightly upturned face.

Fair-skinned and strikingly handsome, his features were breathtakingly beautiful when he looked over quietly. His pitch-black eyes seemed to hold a still, deep pool of water.

He was indescribably good-looking.

Calling him merely “pretty” felt far too shallow. If beauty could be put into words, Song Shiyue would rather describe that single glance as this: in that instant, she seemed to see a star in the dull, lightless reality around her.

A mysterious, glowing constant star that only existed in the fantasy of the cosmos.

Possessing a powerful and beautiful pull of attraction.

Zhu Xingyan in person was far more lethal than he appeared on screen. He was like a rare and tempting luxury item suddenly placed right in front of everyone, making every person who saw him unable to resist becoming captivated, one after another.

The black umbrella above her head was thick and wide. It covered her entire body completely and kept the rain firmly outside.

Yet Song Shiyue felt as though she had sunk into a pitch-black, dense sea. Her whole body felt drenched, and a chill trembled through her heart.

She tried hard to recall, but the only thing she could remember clearly was the pair of calm eyes that had looked at her.

They were so dark, without a single ripple.

Just like the sea under the night sky.

—

“So Zhu Xingyan was in Fanshi City yesterday?”

After the autumn rain, scattered fallen leaves clung to the roadside, showing curled yellow edges.

The air felt moist and fresh.

On this rare Friday, Dali had arranged to walk home from school with her. While Song Shiyue was buying a fried ham sausage, Dali had already started scrolling through gossip on her phone.

“Boss, no chili please.”

Song Shiyue took the sausage the boss handed her. There was not a trace of chili oil on it, and it was fried to a perfect golden color.

Dali could not help laughing at her. “Yueyue, only little kids eat it like that.”

“Who says you have to put chili on a fried sausage?” Song Shiyue argued back stubbornly. Dali pointed behind her with a grin. In front of the stall, a line had formed. When a little elementary-school student with a backpack came up, the boss skillfully brushed chili oil onto the sausage while the child deliberately asked in a childish voice.

“Boss, no chili please.”

Dali laughed wildly. Song Shiyue turned back with a gloomy expression and silently ate her fried sausage. After this little interlude passed, Dali picked up their earlier conversation and continued gossiping with her.

“Big stars really have such packed schedules. Zhu Xingyan was still on set this morning, then he arrived in Fanshi City in the afternoon, and just a few hours later, fans already took photos of him at the airport boarding a plane at night.”

“From the comments, it seems he came back because his grandmother is sick? I don’t know if it’s true or not. With such a busy schedule, it looks like he won’t be coming back to school anymore. Sigh—” Finally, Dali looked up at the sky and let out a long, regretful sigh. After sighing, she didn’t hear any response from beside her for a while, so she couldn’t help but retract her neck and turn her head.

The person next to her seemed to be lost in thought, showing a dazed expression, and even muttered to herself.

“So that’s how it is…”

No wonder he suddenly appeared in the car. Judging by the time, it was exactly on the way to the airport.

So it was an urgent, last-minute notice?

Her memory was once again pulled back to that damp, hazy rainy night — and those pitch-black eyes.

“Yueyue, Yueyue?!” The voice beside her yanked her thoughts back. Song Shiyue came to her senses and saw Dali’s wide-open eyes leaning close.

“What are you spacing out for?” She waved her hand in front of Song Shiyue’s face. Song Shiyue panicked a little and awkwardly pulled her hand down.

“I wasn’t spacing out.” She mumbled vaguely and quickly changed the subject.

“Why are you suddenly paying so much attention to Zhu Xingyan?” Song Shiyue tried hard to recall.

“Weren’t you a fan of that singing-and-dancing idol…”

“True, my baby is still number one in the world! But! Zhu Xingyan’s visual impact is just too strong. That one quick glimpse at school last time — this face-con has already converted to the Church of Xingyan on the spot and officially joined the army of his visual fans!” Dali gave an impassioned speech. Song Shiyue nodded along, and the fog in her heart gradually cleared.

Yes, it is human nature to be drawn to beautiful things. Getting lost in admiration is the normal reaction.

“You’re acting weird.” Today Dali seemed to have turned into a great detective, staring at her with bright, piercing eyes.

“Study-queen Yue never zones out. But today you’ve spaced out three times in just two minutes — three times!” Dali declared confidently and held up three fingers right in front of her face. Song Shiyue’s cheeks flushed red and she once again pulled Dali’s hand down.

“Actually…” After hesitating for a long time, she finally decided to come clean.

Song Shiyue first glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, then leaned in carefully and whispered, “I saw Zhu Xingyan yesterday.”

“Huh?” Dali’s pupils dilated instantly and her voice shot up. “What kind of insane luck is that?! You ran into him on the street?!!”

“It wasn’t on the street.” Song Shiyue hesitated for a second, then explained everything clearly, starting from the conversation in Teacher Zhang’s office. When she finished, there was a long silence beside her. Dali’s mouth was shut tight, her eyes blank and dazed.

After a long moment of silence, she tremblingly grabbed Song Shiyue’s hand, gripped it tightly, and said with exaggerated grief and indignation: “Yue, this is a heaven-sent golden opportunity — you have to seize it! Whether your sister can successfully stan a celebrity depends entirely on you!!”

“………………”

—

Fanshi City had entered the autumn rainy season. In the morning, the sound of drizzling rain came from outside again.

After breakfast, Zhao Siqian cleared the table, glanced out the window, and specially reminded her.

“Remember to take an umbrella when you go out.”

“Okay.” Song Shiyue changed her shoes and responded. The next second, her gaze fell on the black umbrella hanging at the entrance. She paused slightly. “Mom, didn’t I put this umbrella away?”

“Umbrellas are meant to be used. Why would you store it in the cabinet?” Zhao Siqian carried the dishes into the kitchen and her voice drifted back from afar. “I think this umbrella is pretty good — big and sturdy. It’s perfect for this awful weather.”

“It belongs to someone else.” Song Shiyue did not argue. She simply took the umbrella down from the wall again, neatly folded the canopy, and put it back inside the cabinet.

From the kitchen came Zhao Siqian’s puzzled “Huh?” followed by a question: “Then why don’t you return it to the owner?”

Song Shiyue fell silent for a moment without realizing it. After a while, she answered vaguely: “I haven’t found the right opportunity yet.”

Once again, she was pulled back to that rainy day.

The black umbrella handed out from inside the car window.

Song Shiyue stood outside. Fine rain drifted down like cotton wool, and a slight chill brushed against her skin.

“It’s raining. Use this for now.” The person handing over the umbrella said. Zhu Xingyan’s voice was not much different from what she had heard on recordings, only clearer and more pleasant. It carried a higher-quality sound than any post-production edit — crisp, magnetic, and three-dimensional, adding an extra layer of realness.

Song Shiyue took the umbrella in a daze and instinctively said, “Thank you.”

She opened the umbrella above her head. The fine rain was kept outside, and in the dim space beneath it, she handed over the materials she had been holding. “These are the study materials from school.”

“Alright. Thanks for making the trip.” The owner of the voice remained polite and courteous. He took the stack of books from her hand and placed them carefully beside him.

“It’s no trouble.” Since her task was now complete, Song Shiyue prepared to leave. “About this umbrella…?”

She hesitated. Her hand moved slightly as she held the umbrella, about to fold it and return it to him, when the person in front of her pointed toward the sky. He pursed his lips and seemed to smile faintly. “The rain is still falling.”

“Take it back with you. You don’t need to return it.”

The person giving the gift felt no burden at all, yet the one receiving it felt uneasy and restless.

One should not accept rewards without merit.

To suddenly receive someone else’s umbrella for no reason felt as though she owed him something.

Song Shiyue genuinely wanted to take good care of it for him, but unfortunately the sky refused to cooperate.

On the weekend rest day, she woke up to find the entire house quiet and empty. On the dining table lay a note from Zhao Siqian saying that she and Song Qing had something to attend to at the university, so Song Shiyue should handle her own lunch.

Both of them were university professors at the same institution. One taught Chinese language and literature, and the other taught chemistry — perfectly one in the humanities and one in the sciences. Therefore, Song Qing was gentle and scholarly, with a slow and steady temperament, while Zhao Siqian was decisive, swift, and resolute in her actions.

During the two years when Song Shiyue was transitioning from primary to junior high school, her parents had been at their busiest preparing for professional title evaluations. They would always give her money and let her eat out on her own. Since all the schools she attended as a child were near home, she had become very familiar with the various small restaurants and eateries in the surrounding area. She had basically mapped out which alley hid which delicious hidden gem.

Song Shiyue changed her clothes, picked up her keys, and finished getting ready. She glanced out the window — raindrops were pattering down again. Another rainy day.

Just before she stepped out the door, Song Shiyue realized that all the umbrellas at home had been taken, leaving only the black long-handled umbrella that did not belong to her, quietly lying inside the entrance cabinet.

With no other choice, Song Shiyue took it and headed out.

In her heart, she prayed — this would be the last time.

The street pavement was wet and slippery, and pedestrians hurried along with anxious expressions. She opened the umbrella and skillfully turned into a small alley. An old, familiar atmosphere greeted her at once. On both sides stood aged shops, slightly deserted.

Song Shiyue walked into a small store with a faded signboard. The hot, steamy aroma instantly rushed toward her. The boss was busy behind the stove with practiced movements. On the wall hung a bright red, slightly faded menu printed in large characters: Handmade Eel Noodles — Fifteen Yuan per Bowl.

“Uncle, one bowl of noodles please.” Song Shiyue folded her umbrella and ordered familiarly from the boss behind the counter. The man, wearing an apron, now had two long creases on his face that had appeared at some point, giving him an even kinder, more generous appearance.

In Song Shiyue’s memory, his youthful face was already beginning to blur.

“Alright — coming right up. Find a seat first; it might take a few minutes,” the boss looked up and greeted her with a smile. “There are quite a few people in the shop today.”

“That’s how weekends are. More people means better business.” Song Shiyue smiled back and casually found an empty seat. She habitually glanced around the shop.

This eel noodle shop had always done well. Although it was tucked deep in an alley, the boss’s unique recipe and rich broth had kept every returning customer loyal. She had been eating here since she was a child.

Even on a rainy day like today, the shop was not short of customers. Five or six tables were scattered with people. Their conversations mixed with the sound of rain outside — lively but not noisy.

She did not wait long before the noodles arrived. The broth was snowy white and thick, cradling firm, even strands of noodles. On top lay a generous layer of eel slices, about two fingers wide, cleaned perfectly and looking irresistibly appetizing in color, aroma, and presentation.

Song Shiyue ate until a thin layer of sweat appeared on her forehead and warmth rose to her cheeks. She pulled out a tissue to wipe her face. During the brief pause, her gaze instinctively swept across the shop. When it passed a corner she had not noticed earlier, it suddenly froze.

In the cramped angle against the wall, partially hidden by the stove, sat a figure showing only half his profile — black hoodie and baseball cap, tall and slender, quietly eating noodles with his head lowered.

The familiar outline became faintly visible when he lifted his head slightly.

She recognized him in an instant — the presence that could cause a commotion anywhere.

Zhu Xingyan.

Right now, he was sitting alone at the back of the crowd, eating noodles in complete silence and calm.

Apart from her, it seemed no one else had noticed the corner.

Song Shiyue was stunned for a moment. After a long while, she calmly withdrew her gaze and continued eating her noodles as if nothing had happened.

Gradually, fewer people remained in the shop. Outside, the rain had grown heavier without her noticing. The downpour was fierce now, drumming loudly against the roof.

From the corner of her eye, she could still see the black figure in the corner — perhaps waiting for someone, or perhaps waiting for the rain to stop.

Song Shiyue finished the noodles in her bowl and stood up to pay.

As she passed directly in front of the corner table, she deliberately glanced beside it. There was no trace of an umbrella anywhere.

He must not have brought one when he came out.

It had not been raining this morning.

After a moment’s thought, Song Shiyue folded the umbrella in her hand and handed it to the boss, entrusting him with a favor. “Uncle He, could you please give this umbrella to the boy in black later? It belongs to him. I just haven’t found the right chance to return it.”

The rain showed no sign of letting up.

Before leaving, Song Shiyue looked back once more. The black long-handled umbrella stood neatly against the wall — tall and slender, exactly like its owner.

The girl covered her head with both hands and hurried out into the rain. At the next convenience store, she bought the very last umbrella they had left.

Just a few minutes later, the shop was empty except for the steady sound of rain.

The last customer in the shop stood up. As he passed the stove, the boss called out to him. The man smiled warmly, reached behind, and pulled out a black umbrella, handing it over.

“A little girl just asked me to give this to you. She said it’s yours and she hadn’t found the right chance to return it.”

Zhu Xingyan froze.

A few streets away, Song Shiyue walked home under her new umbrella, her footsteps light and easy.

It turned out the heavens had been kind after all.