“I love rainy days because they too are lit up by you.”

— Sherry Lab, The Ninth Year Through the Dream

“…I didn’t think it would rain, so I didn’t bring one.” Xia Li’s voice was so low she could barely hear herself.

The rain drummed right on top of the umbrella fabric overhead, close enough that it seemed to pour directly into her ears.

The city library was outside the city center, and with the rain coming down besides, there were very few people about.

Xia Li had both arms wrapped around her backpack, her whole body rigid — like a robot whose joints had been seized up by the rain.

The umbrella was large, but the space beneath it was still limited. Standing so close, it was easy to catch the faint cool fragrance drifting through the damp air — as though, if she wasn’t careful, she might brush against Yan Sishi’s arm.

If she didn’t say something soon, her heart rate alone might do her in. Xia Li pushed a sentence out through her slightly hoarse throat: “…You’ve already finished the translation?”

Her own voice sounded muffled to her, almost unreal against the sound of her own heartbeat.

“I only made revisions — I didn’t start from zero. The text you all gave me was already very good.”

The more she learned about him, the more she liked him. He was this gifted, and yet this humble.

Xia Li said quietly: “…That doesn’t include me. I only helped with some factual reference material — and I got it all from online searches.”

“Gathering source material is part of the collaborative process.”

Xia Li paused. Something warm and buoyant lifted her heart.

She struggled to find an adequate word for how she felt in this moment.

Yan Sishi shifted the umbrella to the other side and folded it away, slotting it into the umbrella stand by the entrance.

Xia Li shook off the rain from her hair and backpack.

Going in through the main entrance, a wide, bright corridor led to the secondary building — utterly still.

Besides the reading collections, the new city library had also set up a cultural activities area in the secondary building, perfectly suited for group discussions.

The library was near Chucheng College of Arts and Sciences, a local non-key university, so it had likely factored student needs into its design.

The others in the script and translation group were already there, having claimed a spot by the window with a good view.

Tao Shiyue spotted them first and waved. “Over here!”

Xia Li sat down next to Lin Qingxiao. Yan Sishi took the seat beside one of the boys.

Tao Shiyue glanced sideways at Yan Sishi, who was sitting right beside her, then looked at Xia Li and asked with a smile: “Did you two come together?”

Tao Shiyue didn’t say more and moved on to organize the day’s discussion.

Yan Sishi unzipped his black backpack and took out several printed and bound copies of the script, placing them on the tea table.

Lin Qingxiao picked one up, and Xia Li leaned over to read alongside her.

The script was formatted with one line of Chinese and one line of English, a clean bilingual layout.

Just like him.

Yan Sishi asked them to read through first, and if they found anything in the translation that felt off, to bring it up for discussion together.

He pulled a mechanical pencil from his backpack and held it in his hand, then — seemingly out of habit — gave it a twirl.

Xia Li’s attention had entirely left the script. It had been drawn to that hand.

The skin was a cool white. The blue veins across the back of his hand were visible. His wrist bones and knuckles were clearly defined, his fingers long and slender.

Beneath the rustle of rain, pages turned with a soft, delicate rustling.

No one spoke.

Whether in grammar, vocabulary, or expression, the version Yan Sishi had revised was far more precise and natural than their translation had been.

One of the Class Seven girls responsible for the translation laughed and said: “My skills aren’t advanced enough — I honestly can’t find anything that feels wrong.”

Xu Ning nodded in agreement. “It’s genuinely very good.”

As the original creator of the script, her praise carried real weight.

The mechanical pencil in Yan Sishi’s hand gave a light tap against the script in front of him.

Xia Li had an instinct that he might actually have been hoping for some feedback.

But he didn’t say anything more.

He let go, and the pencil dropped softly onto the table.

The discussion had gone so smoothly that it felt a waste to disperse after everyone had braved the rain to come.

Tao Shiyue and Zhu Xuan decided they might as well use the time to discuss role assignments, the subsequent schedule, and prop needs.

Tao Shiyue seemed to have already made up her mind about something. She said, eager to get to it: “Looking at the script, Zhang Xueliang has the most lines as the lead role. It’s going to be quite difficult, in such a short time, to get the English lines practiced to the point of sounding fluent and natural…”

Having set that up, she looked over at Yan Sishi with a smile. “I think, for the lead — how about you play it, Yan Sishi?”

To be honest, Xia Li was actually rather hoping to see Yan Sishi portray Zhang Xueliang.

Several figures in the high school history textbook looked, even from photographs, like they carried an air of extraordinary brilliance — Zhou Enlai, Zhang Xueliang, and Cai E were among them.

Yan Sishi raised his eyes slightly. His expression and tone were equally composed. “I’m sorry. I’m not very interested in performing.”

This wasn’t a surprise to Xia Li, so she wasn’t disappointed.

Tao Shiyue, though, had her smile dim noticeably.

“Alright then…” she said. “We’ll figure out the lead later — does anyone have a role they’re interested in?”

Everyone began to speak up.

Zhu Xuan claimed the role of the student leader at the head of the protest march, because she particularly loved the line: This great land of China cannot even keep a single peaceful desk for us.

Tao Shiyue volunteered herself for Song Meiling first.

Xu Ning, true to form, went for the unexpected and wanted to cross-dress as Yang Hucheng.

The remaining students, Xia Li included, said they were open to anything — once the other roles were assigned, they would take whatever was left.

The discussion wrapped up just before four in the afternoon. The rain outside had yet to stop.

Everyone began talking about where to go after leaving.

Xia Li glanced at Lin Qingxiao and Xu Ning.

Lin Qingxiao: “I have plans to have dinner and watch a film with someone.”

Xia Li smiled. “Who?”

“Oh, don’t ask when you already know the answer.”

Xia Li turned to Xu Ning: “What about you, Xu Ning?”

“I’m going to browse the main collection. I want to borrow a few books.”

“Then I’ll come with you — I need some books too.”

On the other side of the table, some of the Class Seven students were heading out shopping, others going straight home, and some were also planning to stay and read a while.

Tao Shiyue walked over to Yan Sishi, her voice a little quieter than it had been during the discussion: “My mother asked me to ask if you’d be willing to come over for dinner tonight.”

Yan Sishi’s expression was detached. “I already have plans for tonight.”

Tao Shiyue’s disappointment showed. “Are you leaving now then?”

“I’m going to the main collection to study.”

“…Alright. I’ll head off then.”

In the end, four people remained: Xia Li, Xu Ning, Yan Sishi, and one other Class Seven girl. They all made their way to the main building together.

For Xia Li, this was a wonderful, unexpected turn.

She and Xu Ning and the other Class Seven girl walked ahead. Yan Sishi walked behind.

The sound of his footsteps was unhurried, carrying through the open space in a clean echo.

None of them had been here before, so they had to get library cards first.

The staff asked them to show their ID cards.

Xia Li had had the foresight to bring hers — she’d grabbed it on the way out.

But the other three hadn’t brought theirs.

Xu Ning asked: “Can we give our ID numbers verbally?”

Staff: “That works.”

Since she had her card, Xia Li went first and finished the registration quickly, then stepped aside to wait.

Xu Ning and the other Class Seven girl went in turn. Last came Yan Sishi, who stepped forward and first gave his name.

Staff: “Which characters?”

There was a sheet of paper and a pen on the counter. Yan Sishi picked them up, wrote his name, and handed it to the staff member.

Xia Li seized the opportunity to glance over.

His handwriting was beautiful — at once balanced and free-flowing, elegant and light.

He had clearly been practicing since childhood.

Staff: “ID number.”

“11010119920219XXXX…”

Something stirred in Xia Li.

She repeated the date silently to herself twice.

Once the card was set up, they swiped their way into the collection area.

It was even quieter inside — so still you could hear a pin drop.

After entering, everyone drifted toward their own areas of interest.

Xia Li picked a book off a shelf at random and flipped it open, while her gaze trailed after Yan Sishi.

She wasn’t the kind of person who would pry into others’ privacy — she wouldn’t deliberately look at Yan Sishi’s laptop screen. But with her 5.2 vision, over his shoulder, she could easily see the open document on it — something that looked like programming code.

The few books beside him were also specialized texts on computer programming.

She read for a while, then couldn’t help looking up at the person sitting directly in front of her, and her efficiency dropped to almost nothing.

And the book was entirely in English — she kept running into words she’d never seen before. Reading it felt halting and slow.

Xia Li glanced down at her notebook, where she had already filled an entire column with unfamiliar vocabulary.

With two parts frustration, she closed the book cover and let herself slump forward onto the table — only for her arm to knock into a pen, which rolled and tumbled forward.

She grabbed for it in a panic, just barely catching it before it fell.

It wasn’t a quiet grab.

Yan Sishi turned around.

Xia Li said softly: “…Sorry.”

Yan Sishi said nothing.

Watching Yan Sishi begin to turn back, Xia Li said, as if compelled by something beyond herself: “Um—”

Yan Sishi stopped and looked at her.

Her voice came out very low, nearly a breath: “…Do you have a dictionary with you?”

Yan Sishi shook his head.

Of course he didn’t need a dictionary. She knew that.

Keeping her voice quiet enough not to disturb the library’s silence, she said, barely above a whisper: “There are a few words I don’t know the meaning of — could I ask you?”

“Sure.”

Xia Li passed over her notebook with its recorded vocabulary.

Yan Sishi reached out, pressing his fingers to the page, and at the same time glanced at the book she had been reading.

With lightning speed she pulled her sleeve up and pressed it firmly over the cover of Guns, Germs, and Steel, hiding it completely.

The ears hidden beneath her hair burned scarlet in an instant.