In the dense, urgent drumming of the rain, the two of them dashed home through it and still arrived too late. The living room and balcony had already flooded with rainwater.

The curtains had been blown outside by the wind, and the sofa closest to the window — along with the clothes hanging out to dry — had been soaked through.

The two of them scrambled to get everything in order, mopped the floor again from scratch, and took down the curtains to wash.

By the time they had managed to get it all sorted, the dark clouds had cleared — and dusk was not far behind.

The sunset after the rain was extraordinarily brilliant, which at least served as the final consolation of an otherwise miserable day. Only there had been no time to enjoy more than a glance before the summer breeze came and dissolved it into the night.

Yan Lie stood barefoot in the middle of the living room, his clothes as soaked as if he had jumped into a river — impossible now to tell whether it was rainwater or sweat.

The takeaway arrived. He ate a few quick bites, then told Fang Zhuo to go shower first. Once she vacated the bathroom, he took his own clothes in and went.

Fang Zhuo found a tumble dryer in the small storage room.

The air here was far too humid; both clothing and bedding had that perpetually half-dry, slightly damp feeling. She wiped the dust off the outside of the machine, hung Yan Lie’s clothes together with the others on the nearby rack to dry, then picked up the hair dryer and went looking for a socket on the other side.

By the time her hair was more or less dry and she pulled out the plug, a violet arc of electricity flickered — and the lights in the room went out. With the lights went the hum of every appliance in operation.

The small space dropped into silence all at once, leaving only the drip and patter of water outside, sliding down from the rain shelter and falling.

Fang Zhuo gave a small shiver. After a stunned moment, she set down what was in her hands and, navigating by the faint light drifting in from outside the window, found her phone on the edge of the bed. She turned on the torch function and went to look for the fuse box.

When she reached the front door, Yan Lie came out as well. He had not even dried off — in the rush he had gone straight to pulling on his pajamas, still damp, and now he strode forward quickly, took Fang Zhuo’s phone from her, and found the main circuit breaker.

He flipped the switch — the lights did not come back on. Not a tripped breaker, then — a blown fuse.

Fang Zhuo voluntarily offered herself up: “It was probably me. I’d just been using the tumble dryer in here.”

Yan Lie said nothing. He pulled her into his arms and guided her back to the room with him.

Fang Zhuo pressed her hand lightly against his wrist. The skin was cold to the touch — he seemed to be shivering down to his very pores.

Inside the room, Fang Zhuo held the light while Yan Lie rummaged through their bag and pulled out a dry towel, running it roughly over his head.

Once his eyes adjusted to the light level, he did not seem quite as frightened anymore — but he still held Fang Zhuo’s hand, guiding her to lie down beside him on the bed.

The enclosed space grew gradually warmer.

Yan Lie lay still and quiet, breathing at the steady, even rhythm of someone asleep. But when Fang Zhuo tilted her gaze upward, she could see his half-closed eyes, fixed on her face without blinking.

His expression was not as calm as it appeared — it carried a great deal of complexity that Fang Zhuo could not quite read.

Fang Zhuo held his gaze in silence for a moment, then said, “It’s a bit warm. Can I open the window?”

Yan Lie nodded. “Sure.”

Fang Zhuo went to push the window open, then climbed back and found a spot on the pillow beside him, tucking herself against his arm.

A cool breeze drifted in through the window, yet it did not dissipate the warmth on Fang Zhuo’s skin — it passed softly over her hair and dissolved into the heat of Yan Lie’s breath.

Yan Lie lifted his arm. His lips, still damp, pressed against her forehead — and then he took her face in his hands and kissed her, very deliberately.

In the mingled scent of water and warmth, the presence of Yan Lie became more and more pervasive.

He rarely kissed Fang Zhuo like this — tender and urgent at once, drawing back and returning as though he had no intention of stopping.

His hands rested at her waist, tracing careful circles, sending a current of electricity rippling through her.

Closer and closer, until they could hear each other’s heartbeats.

When they finally broke apart, all Fang Zhuo could hear was her own ragged breathing. Her vision had gone slightly unfocused, her eyes soft with a thin veil of moisture.

Yan Lie leaned to her ear and asked quietly, “Can I exercise a certain adult prerogative?”

Fang Zhuo did not catch his meaning at first. Her fingers were caught in his grip, then held tight in his palm. Reason had gone somewhere she could not reach it. Hearing him ask again, she replied in a daze, “The kind the law grants you, you mean?”

Yan Lie said, “Part of it requires the granting of a girlfriend.”

Fang Zhuo looked at him steadily, then lifted her chin and pressed her lips once to his face.

Yan Lie’s breathing shifted at once, deepening. He sat up, positioned himself over her, and removed his shirt.

“Fang Zhuo,” Yan Lie said, reaching into the drawer, his throat moving as he swallowed. And then, composing himself, he offered one last reminder: “I told you before, didn’t I? I never had entirely honorable intentions.”

Yan Lie leaned down, and the not-quite-dry strands of his hair fell across Fang Zhuo’s eyelids. She closed her eyes.

The next morning, Fang Zhuo’s consciousness was hazy and adrift. After her body clock stirred her, she remained suspended in the space between sleep and waking.

She registered that Yan Lie got up, tidied the room, and went out briefly.

At some point, the light became suddenly brighter. Fang Zhuo opened her eyes and found Yan Lie standing at the bedside, having drawn back the curtains.

Fang Zhuo rubbed her eyes and lay still, gathering herself.

Yan Lie lay down on his side and wrapped both arms around her, saying, “Get up. Eat.”

Fang Zhuo wrinkled her brow and said nothing.

Yan Lie asked again, “Are we going out today?”

Fang Zhuo turned over and felt around on the bedside. Yan Lie proactively handed her the phone.

They had made the same fundamental mistake: forgetting to check the weather forecast.

And Fang Zhuo’s luck never let her down — she had chosen the worst possible days.

“All rain,” Fang Zhuo said, with a small cough — her voice still slightly rough. “I don’t want to go out.”

Yan Lie said, “Then we don’t go out. I’ll stay here with you.”

He looked genuinely pleased about this, pressing his chin against Fang Zhuo’s shoulder and laughing softly to himself.

That afternoon, Fang Zhuo got up anyway. She pulled out the travel itinerary she had planned beforehand, and the two of them went to the aquarium together.

The schedule had been disrupted, but it did not matter. On his twentieth birthday, Yan Lie still had what he had wanted most.

By the last day, the weather finally cleared. As a memento of the trip, they went to the shore to take a few photos.

Yan Lie showed her the finished shots. One had her smiling too broadly and unnaturally. Another had a smile that looked slightly forced. A third had only caught her in profile, head tilted up toward the sky with a blank expression — the effect was one of quiet poise and intelligence.

Fang Zhuo chose the third, deciding at least it made her look reasonably smart. But Yan Lie saved the two ridiculous ones too, saying he could fix them with editing software.

The brief holiday ended in an instant. Yan Lie bought the tickets back to A City.

Yan Lie wanted Fang Zhuo to come home with him. Fang Zhuo felt she ought to go back to the dormitory. Yan Lie could not persuade her otherwise, and so he personally saw her back.

After half a day’s travel, Fang Zhuo felt a little listless. She went in through the east gate of the residential zone, passed through the corridor, and returned to the dormitory.

She cleaned up first, then called Ye Yuncheng to let him know she had arrived safely.

Ye Yuncheng was an admirably understanding guardian. He asked a couple of caring questions, left the conversation at a comfortable stopping point, and hung up.

The next morning Fang Zhuo was sitting at her desk reading when a message came in from Wei Xi.

Wei Whatever: You up?

Little Sun: Yes. What is it?

Wei Whatever: Was the beach fun?

Little Sun: Didn’t really get to enjoy it.

Wei Whatever: Oh… I get it. [Shy]

Fang Zhuo: “……”

Little Sun: Keep your mind clean.

Wei Whatever: [Smug grin] How do you know my mind isn’t clean?

Wei Whatever: We’re all adults — what’s the big deal? As long as everyone stays safe. After all, we’re young, and there are stars and seas waiting for us to conquer.

Wei Whatever: Of course, taking care of your health matters too.

Wei Whatever: My aunt is a doctor. Her perspective is very wholesome and quite useful. If you need it, I can accidentally send you some of her educational content.

Little Sun: ……

As if the two of them had done something scandalous.

Little Sun: It rained at the beach, so a lot of the planned activities were cancelled. We did indoor things instead.

Little Sun: The aquarium and museum kind of indoor.

Wei Whatever: [Ah.] That’s very considerate of you to clarify.

Wei Whatever: Anyway, I’m here to tell you about the class reunion. It was set for the end of July, but now it’s been moved up. It’s the day after tomorrow — the class president managed to invite the old teacher, and the hotel has a private room available that day. Does that work for you?

Fang Zhuo had not seen their old teacher in a very long time, and had no idea how she was doing.

Little Sun: Sure, that works.

Wei Whatever: Then you can pass the word to Yan Lie. Do you two even look at the class group chat?

Wei Whatever: Not that I blame you, of course. [Sheepish grin]

Fang Zhuo turned off her screen.

She looked at the page of her book for a moment, let her mind settle, then picked up her phone and forwarded the message to Yan Lie.

You Bear a Fierce Name: I know — Cake just told me.

You Bear a Fierce Name: I’ll come pick you up when it’s time. [Obedient]