“It’s about to rain.” Zheng Yun glanced up at the heavy grey sky. “Why did you come at this hour?”

“The sky was still clear when I left the house.” Ling’ai gave her soft red lips a little pout. “And then the rain just showed up out of nowhere.”

“Were you coming to find me?” A faint, hopeful anticipation stirred inside Zheng Yun.

“I was thinking of going to your place to check on those peonies. And then the rain had to come along.”

“Looking at those clouds, it seems like a passing shower.” Zheng Yun suggested, “If we head back now, we might be able to outrun it.”

Ling’ai took his advice in the end, but as it turned out, man proposes and nature disposes — just as the two of them were nearly home, a deep rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, and rain came crashing down in torrents.

There was nowhere nearby to take shelter, and the raindrops pelted them without mercy.

Zheng Yun quickly pulled off his outer jacket and draped one end of it over Ling’ai’s head. The rain fell in sheets, and the two young people, huddled under the jacket, ran as fast as they could through the downpour.

They splashed through puddles on the ground, mud spattering up across their clothes and skin.

It wasn’t until they ran through the front gate of his home that Zheng Yun finally stopped. The two of them stood under the covered entryway, watching the rain growing heavier by the moment, and couldn’t help but look at each other and smile.

“Even the famous Captain Zheng gets it wrong sometimes.” Ling’ai smiled, bright and radiant.

“The weather didn’t cooperate.” Zheng Yun spread his hands.

Though he had covered her with his jacket, the rain had been too heavy — her clothes were nearly soaked through regardless. In this season, rain already carried a chill to it, and wearing wet clothes would not only be uncomfortable but might well lead to illness.

“Come inside first.” Zheng Yun took out his key and opened the door.

The courtyard was a muddy mess, and the two of them got another soaking as they crossed it.

Ling’ai was drenched all over, her hair dripping steadily, her appearance rather bedraggled from all the mud.

“What are you laughing at?” Zheng Yun noticed she had been grinning at him all along, and was a little puzzled.

“The way you look…” She broke into laughter again. “Like a drowned chicken.”

“So you know that expression.”

“Of course — I’ve been in Xin Guo for many years. I can even speak the local dialect of Shun Cheng.” Ling’ai held a small note of pride. “They say I speak it so well that I sound like a genuine Shun Cheng native.”

“Yes, you’re very impressive.” Zheng Yun’s eyes curved into a smile as well. “But if I’m a drowned chicken, then you’re a little drowned chick.”

Ling’ai looked down at herself and immediately felt a little aggrieved. “That’s actually true.”

“Wait here a moment.” Zheng Yun first fetched a towel for Ling’ai, then went into another room.

A short while later, he came back carrying several items of clothing. “These are my clothes — just washed. Change into them for now.”

Ling’ai’s face flushed red at once. He wanted her to wear his clothes?

Zheng Yun seemed to read her mind, and explained, “If you don’t change out of wet clothes, you’ll get sick. Don’t worry — I’ll go to the kitchen in a moment and get the stove going. Your clothes will dry quickly.”

“Alright.” Ling’ai lowered her head, face still pink. “I’ll do as you say.”

“Go ahead and change, then. I’ll go start the stove.”

Zheng Yun walked to the side and drew the curtains closed, then turned and went out the door.

Ling’ai felt a little unsettled. Though she knew Zheng Yun wouldn’t suddenly come back in, she still felt a touch of embarrassment about changing clothes in his home.

Yet the sensation of cold, damp fabric clinging to her skin was truly uncomfortable, and just as he had said — if she didn’t change out of wet clothes, she was sure to fall ill. And she had no wish to fall ill.

Thinking it through, Ling’ai picked up the clothes Zheng Yun had set aside. It was a grey set of top and trousers, washed clean, and carrying the faint, soft scent of soapberry.

She held the garments in her hands, and her face colored a few shades deeper.

After fidgeting with herself for a moment, Ling’ai finally took off her wet outer clothes. Fortunately the rain had come fast and they had run quickly, so her inner garments were not too wet.

She set the clothes she had taken off to one side and slowly changed into Zheng Yun’s.

Zheng Yun was tall; she was petite. Wearing his clothes, she was effectively swimming in them.

Ling’ai rolled up the trouser legs and the sleeves, folding and adjusting until it no longer felt quite so much like wearing a costume.

When she finished changing and came to the kitchen, Zheng Yun was sitting by the stove he had just lit, assembling a drying rack for the clothes.

“Let me help.” Ling’ai hurried over and held one end of the rack steady, so he could finish putting it together.

Seeing that he was about to go and retrieve her wet clothes, Ling’ai felt flustered and instinctively moved to beat him to it. As it happened, Zheng Yun’s hand reached out at exactly the same moment, and the two hands collided in mid-air — his hand landing right on top of hers.

It was as though something had burned her. Ling’ai yanked her hand back at once, her entire face going crimson in an instant.

Zheng Yun felt a few degrees of awkwardness too, and quickly said, “I’m sorry.”

The hand he had just touched was small and soft — it could fit entirely within his palm. It was the first time he had ever touched a young woman’s hand — so alive, and so warm.

“It’s fine. You didn’t do it on purpose.” Ling’ai stretched the corner of her mouth into a smile. At this point, her face had gone red down to the base of her neck, but she was still putting on a front of composure, doing her best to act as if nothing had happened.

Zheng Yun glanced at her, and seeing her deliberately pretending not to care, he found it rather amusing. He pointed to the garments and asked, “You, or me?”

“I — I’ll do it.” Ling’ai quickly grabbed one piece of clothing, shook it out, and draped it over the rack.

“I’ll help.” Zheng Yun picked up another piece.

The two of them hung the clothes together. Zheng Yun handed Ling’ai a small stool.

The fire in the stove burned vigorously, and warmth spread in all directions. Whether her cheeks were red from embarrassment or from the heat of the fire, Ling’ai couldn’t be sure — the flush on her face showed no sign of fading.

Firewood crackled and burned inside the stove, occasionally sending out a burst of tiny sparks with a snap and a pop.

Rain drummed against the window lattice, and it seemed to be easing slightly. Neither of them spoke, both quietly watching the stove and listening to the rain. The stillness of the space felt deeply peaceful.

“The rain has stopped.” Zheng Yun looked toward the window.

“So it has.” Ling’ai stood and walked to the doorway, then let out a cry of delight. “Zheng Yun, look — a rainbow!”

The sky was overcast and low, tinted with a soft, faint gold. The air of early evening was filled with the smell of fresh earth.

In the distance, a rainbow arced diagonally across the sky. It had only just formed, its colors still vivid and bright — hanging there against the heavens, beautiful and breathtaking.

“It’s beautiful.” Zheng Yun stood shoulder to shoulder with Ling’ai, lifting his gaze to the far horizon.

“I’ve never seen such a beautiful rainbow before.” A look of pure delight shone on Ling’ai’s face. “It really is so lovely.”

She crossed her hands together and held them slowly against her chest. “In my country, there’s a legend — if you see a rainbow, you must make a wish. The Rainbow God will choose one person from all those who wish and grant them their heart’s desire.”

“Do you believe it?”

“Better to believe than not — might as well try.” Ling’ai closed her eyes with great sincerity and began to make her wish in silence.

Zheng Yun turned his head and watched her. The soft light of evening enveloped her serene face, as if tracing it with a warm golden border.

He watched her quietly for a long while, until she opened her eyes. In their bright depths, the glow of the rainbow seemed to be reflected.

“What did you wish for?” Zheng Yun asked.

“I can’t say — if you say it out loud, it won’t come true.”

Zheng Yun smiled. “I hope the Rainbow God chooses you from among all the wishers.”

“I’ll take that as a blessing.” Ling’ai tilted her head toward him with a sweet smile.

Zheng Yun thought that this smile, blossoming beneath the rainbow, was one he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

“Let’s go look at those peonies — perhaps they can still be saved.”

“Alright.” Zheng Yun followed behind her to the flower bed on the side of the courtyard.

It was called a flower bed, though in truth it only held a scattering of rather wilted blooms, every one of them looking listless and dispirited.

Ling’ai crouched down beside a few of the peonies and began examining them carefully.

“They really have developed insects. I’ll need to go buy some pesticide tomorrow.” Ling’ai looked worried. “Peonies are most vulnerable to this kind of pest. If they’re not eliminated, the peonies are finished.”

“What kind of pesticide?”

Ling’ai named it, and Zheng Yun asked again, “Where do you buy it?”

“You really are…” Ling’ai laughed helplessly. “I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

“It just so happens I have a day off tomorrow. What about you?”

“I don’t have class in the afternoon.”

“Then I’ll come find you at school in the afternoon.”

“Alright.”

Ling’ai bowed her head and fussed over the peonies, the corner of her mouth curling into a quiet smile.

After Ling’ai’s attentive care, the peonies looked considerably more lively — though to restore them fully, they would still need the insects removed and some fertilizing.

“The clothes should be dry by now. I’ll go check.” Zheng Yun strode off to the kitchen, and Ling’ai hurried after him.

The fire had been burning strongly, and all the clothes were thoroughly dry. Zheng Yun gathered them up and handed them to Ling’ai. “Give them a proper wash when you get home. For now, just change back into them.”

“Mm.” Ling’ai took them with a smile. “Zheng Yun, you live alone and you work so much — and yet the house is this clean. When do you find the time?”

“The dirty parts you haven’t seen yet — there are already mice in the storage room.”

Ling’ai burst out laughing. “Then why don’t you keep a cat?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t keep it alive.” Zheng Yun shook his head. “Sometimes when I go out on a case, I’m gone for a whole week. If I actually got a cat, it would probably starve to death.”

“Then tomorrow when we go to buy the flower medicine, we’ll also get some rat poison while we’re at it.”

“Good.”

“It’s getting dark — I should be going.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

“No, no, I’ll flag down a rickshaw.”

“Wait at the door. I’ll go get one.”

Ling’ai stood outside for a moment, and Zheng Yun came back with a rickshaw driver in tow. Once Ling’ai had climbed in, he said simply, “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Ling’ai settled into the seat and gave him a wave. As the rickshaw traveled some distance away and she looked back, Zheng Yun was still standing at the gate, his posture straight as a pine.

The thought that she would get to see him again tomorrow made the smile at the corners of Ling’ai’s lips slowly, steadily grow wider.