In the end, Zhou Mi didn’t reply to that message.

When she came out after showering, the wind and rain outside had subsided considerably, like a baby that had finally been soothed, no longer howling and pounding against the windows.

Zhou Mi vigorously rubbed her hair in front of the mirror. Her wet black hair flowed like surging ink, but gradually her movements slowed down until they completely stopped.

She stared at herself, lost in thought, her pupils gradually losing focus.

In her mind flashed a scene from last year when she was still in Huajun. That night, after she finished showering, Zhang Lian stood behind her just like tonight, gently rubbing her head with a towel.

The warm yellow light illuminated their faces, one higher than the other, as they gazed at each other’s reflection in the mirror, then smiled with their eyes, sharing an unspoken understanding.

Like figures in a painting, or a frame from a movie, they looked at each other for a very long time, until she couldn’t help but nestle into his chest.

Later, Zhang Lian removed the towel, placed it on the sink, and began to plant tiny kisses along her hairline, moving downward—her sideburns, the tip of her ear, the curve of her ear, her earlobe… Finally, he held her upper arms and buried himself in the junction of her shoulder and neck, breathing deeply and hotly. His reflection in the mirror looked like he had inhaled the scent of a precious white flower, with a fatal and seductive obsession.

This sense of obsession made her legs weak and created an unbearable tingling sensation. She laughed shyly, her whole body trembling.

Zhou Mi looked away, her expression slightly darkening as she blow-dried her hair. She carried the laundry basket to the balcony and, along the way, picked up Zhang Lian’s cardigan from the back of the chair. She flipped to the inside of the back collar to check the label. The black letters on a white background reading “THOM BROWNE” left her momentarily speechless.

Zhou Mi fetched a wooden hanger, carefully straightened the cardigan, and hung it in her closet. Then she picked up her phone and messaged Zhang Lian: “Do you need the cardigan urgently? I’ll send it to the dry cleaner’s tomorrow, but it’ll probably take two or three days.”

A few minutes later, Zhang Lian replied: “Not urgent.”

After thinking for a moment, Zhou Mi asked concernedly: “You got home, right?”

Zhang Lian replied: “Mm.”

Zhou Mi said, “Oh, rest early. Good night.”

Zhang Lian: “Good night.”

After hanging up the laundry, Zhou Mi lay back down on her bed and carefully browsed through her latest project—the official blogs of several competing products of RZ headphones. She saved all the decent posters and videos they had recently released into her album.

This rare typhoon came on fiercely and unexpectedly. The next day, the weather was still not favorable.

The weather didn’t cooperate, and an outdoor photoshoot that had been scheduled had to be postponed. Zhou Mi sat at her workstation, carefully checking the weather forecast for the coming week.

Around two in the afternoon, Jenny organized a creative meeting with the Creative team. Everyone was chatting and laughing, brainstorming while shooting the breeze, and time passed unconsciously for over an hour.

During the meeting, Zhang Lian’s secretary passed by outside, and Jenny rushed to the door to stop her: “Lilith!”

Lilith turned around: “What is it?”

Jenny said, “Did you get Fabian to sign those things I gave you this morning?”

Lilith said, “Fabian has a fever. The medicine didn’t bring it down, so he went to get an IV drip this afternoon. He probably won’t come to the office today.”

Jenny responded with an “Oh”: “Alright, wish him a speedy recovery.”

Zhou Mi’s hand, which had been casually twirling a pen, paused, and her eyelashes lowered slightly.

After the meeting, Zhou Mi returned to her workstation and continued working on the proposal PPT. After confirming that she was distracted, she picked up her phone, opened Zhang Lian’s WeChat, and composed a message. After hesitating for a moment, she decided to send it: “I heard you’re sick. How are you doing now? Are you okay?”

After a while, Zhang Lian replied: “Not feverish anymore.”

Zhou Mi felt slightly relieved: “That’s good then.”

Looking at the chat interface that had gone quiet again, she suddenly felt irritated, whether due to guilt or something else. She typed rapidly, as if venting at someone: “You shouldn’t have given me your cardigan. Now I have to return it to you. What a hassle.”

Zhang Lian quickly replied: “What should I do then?”

Then, with no discernible emotion, he added: “I’ll come pick it up when it’s ready.”

Zhou Mi didn’t respond further. She raised her hand to support her nose bridge for a moment. After a while, she put her phone back in its place, sipped some water to dilute her burning emotions, and then focused on her work.

—

After 8 PM, Zhou Mi got up to leave the company. Outside, the fine rain had persisted throughout the day, enveloping everything in a misty haze.

She was holding another lightweight umbrella from home, which was barely adequate.

After boarding the bus, she found a seat at the back. After traveling for a short distance, her phone suddenly vibrated. The screen showed a string of numbers, seemingly a call from a stranger, but after seeing the last four digits, Zhou Mi could immediately identify who it was.

She answered: “Hello.”

Zhang Lian’s voice came through, slightly hoarse but without any trace of illness: “Are you off work?”

Zhou Mi responded with a “Mm” and turned her head to gaze at the water streaks on the bus window.

They spread chaotically, extending and merging, ambiguously gathering the city lights within them.

Zhang Lian asked: “Are you home?”

Zhou Mi said, “On my way, just got on the bus.”

Zhang Lian said, “I’m near your neighborhood. I’ll give you the umbrella.”

Zhou Mi was slightly startled, unconsciously raising her voice: “You’ve been at the hospital until now?”

Zhang Lian said, “Just returning from a client’s place.”

Zhou Mi: “Oh.” She glanced at the road sign. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

Zhang Lian: “Okay.”

Zhou Mi got off at the bus stop near her rental housing complex and stepped back onto the wet, muddy ground. Just as she was about to open her folding umbrella, Zhou Mi’s movement suddenly halted.

She saw a tall, slender figure standing in front of the gg sign.

Zhang Lian was already waiting for her at the station. He was holding a large black umbrella, his handsome face half-immersed in shadow, like an obscure moon.

Bang—Zhou Mi opened her umbrella too and walked over.

Outside, the raindrops had changed from bouncing beans to fine threads, and the sound they made on the umbrella surface was weak but dense.

Zhang Lian also walked toward her. The two stopped at a neither close nor distant range, exchanged glances for a brief moment, and then Zhang Lian handed over what he was holding.

It was a brand-new umbrella, neatly folded layer upon layer without a single wrinkle. The handle was an exquisite, high-quality wooden carving of a rabbit’s head, looking quite textured. The navy blue fabric made the man’s knuckles appear even paler.

Zhou Mi didn’t take it, but asked: “Where’s my yellow one?”

Zhang Lian’s voice was flat: “One of the ribs broke. I bought you a new one that’s more wind-resistant.”

Zhou Mi looked at him calmly: “I don’t want this one. I just want my yellow one. You didn’t throw it away, did you?”

Zhang Lian said, “I’ll bring it to you next time.”

Zhou Mi fell silent. After a few seconds, she took the umbrella from his hand: “Never mind, this one will do.”

Zhang Lian’s lips curled almost imperceptibly.

She looked at him a few more times, noticing his black knit sleeves that were still half-rolled up: “Are you still feverish?”

Zhang Lian shook his head.

The illness had added a touch of gentleness to his eyes and gestures.

Zhou Mi didn’t quite believe him: “Really?”

Zhang Lian said lightly: “If you don’t believe me, you can check.”

Zhou Mi was speechless.

Another brief silence followed, with only the chilly rain and the sound of wheels on the road surface. Zhou Mi turned her head to look across the street, then turned back: “Have you had dinner?”

Zhang Lian said, “Not yet.”

“There’s a Chaoshan porridge place across the street,” Zhou Mi weighed the new umbrella in her hand, her tone even: “My treat, as a thank you.”

Sitting in the restaurant, both of their bodies gradually warmed up.

Zhou Mi handed the extremely simple handwritten menu to Zhang Lian, then carefully wiped away the oil stains on the wooden table in front of her.

From the corner of her eye, she caught the man about to rest his elbow on the edge of the table. She suddenly, intolerantly stopped his movement and took another tissue to wipe the table for him.

Zhang Lian stared at her, amusement in his eyes.

Zhou Mi sat back on the bench, imperceptibly shifting her gaze away: “Look at the menu, not at me.”

Zhang Lian returned his gaze to the menu: “What porridge do you want?”

Zhou Mi began to rinse the bowls and chopsticks, thinking: “Their seafood clay pot porridge is quite good.” she looked at him: “And since you have a fever and probably don’t have much appetite, something fresh will stimulate your appetite.”

Zhang Lian said, “Let’s go with that then.”

Zhou Mi responded and raised her hand to call the proprietress.

Since moving to this area, she had only eaten at this restaurant four times, but because her appearance was easily memorable, the proprietress quickly recognized her. Seeing her bring a handsome man late at night, the proprietress teased: “Pretty girl, is this your boyfriend?”

Zhou Mi hurriedly denied: “No, just a colleague.”

Zhang Lian didn’t say anything.

Zhou Mi ordered without looking at the menu, blindly selecting a pot of porridge and adding three side dishes.

The proprietress smiled as she noted it down. Just as she was about to leave, Zhang Lian suddenly called her back and asked her to bring another pair of chopsticks.

The proprietress blinked in confusion.

Zhang Lian pointed to his throat area: “I have a bit of a cold.”

The proprietress suddenly understood: “Of course, of course.”

—

The table fell silent again. Zhou Mi had nothing to say, so she pulled out her phone from her hoodie pocket and began scrolling through Weibo as if no one else was there.

After a while, she divided part of her attention from the screen to peek at Zhang Lian.

The man was calmly sipping hot water, seemingly moistening his throat.

She thought his complexion wasn’t as pale as the night before; it seemed to have a slight redness to it. She put down her phone, frowned suspiciously: “Are you not feverish anymore?”

Zhang Lian glanced over at her without answering.

The next moment, he suddenly grabbed her wrist, pulled it over, and directly pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.

“Still feverish?” he looked at her without blinking.

Zhou Mi couldn’t feel anything at all. All her blood was rushing to her brain, commanding all her nerves. Her heart was bouncing up and down like an out-of-control marble, impossible to grasp.

She swallowed hard, struggled forcefully once, and he let go, but his eyes remained locked on her flushed face. Then he calmly commented: “You’re the one who looks feverish.”

Zhou Mi lowered her head, raising her phone high as a shield.

Then she lowered it again and retorted: “Who wouldn’t blush when suddenly handled like that?”

She looked around at the still-busy surroundings: “There are other women at other tables. Go do the same thing to them and see if they blush or not.”

Zhang Lian smiled slightly, as if puzzled: “Why would I do the same thing to them? Aren’t you the one concerned about whether I have a fever?”

“…” Zhou Mi picked up one chopstick in her hand and refused to speak anymore.

A steaming hot pot of seafood porridge was brought to the table by the proprietress. Zhou Mi abandoned her plan to serve porridge for Zhang Lian: “Help yourself, I don’t know how much you want to eat.”

Zhang Lian took her bowl, first ladling half a bowl for her, then using the serving chopsticks to pick out a shrimp and a crab, placing them in the sticky rice porridge.

Zhou Mi accepted it with both hands, her tone of gratitude sounding completely ungrateful, flippant: “Thanks, I guess.”

Zhang Lian served himself, taking a spoonful into his mouth.

Zhou Mi watched his expression: “Is it good?”

Zhang Lian responded blandly: “It’s alright.”

Zhou Mi skillfully judged: “Seems like you don’t find it tasty.”

Zhang Lian looked at her: “It’s probably because being sick has left me with no taste.”

Zhou Mi nodded in agreement: “I think their food is quite authentic.”

She pushed the plate of preserved radish slightly toward him: “Then you should eat more side dishes to adjust the flavor.”

Zhang Lian glanced at her, changed to the serving chopsticks, and placed two pieces in his bowl.

Zhou Mi lifted her lips in satisfaction and lowered her head to eat her food.

By the time the two had leisurely finished most of the clay pot porridge, both were somewhat full. Zhou Mi went to the cashier to settle the bill with the proprietress. When she turned back, Zhang Lian was already standing outside with his back to her.

She paused for a moment.

For some reason, her heart would always suddenly tighten or sink at the sight of his solitary figure, as if reading a sad story.

But before meeting her, he had always been alone, hadn’t he?

Zhou Mi walked to his side. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the street lights made the ground look like a shimmering lake.

Zhang Lian asked: “Ready?”

Zhou Mi said: “Mm.”

The two walked side by side toward the main entrance of the residential complex. Zhou Mi glanced at him: “Where did you park your car?”

Zhang Lian said, “I asked your security guard about a temporary parking spot.”

Zhou Mi responded with an “Oh,” then asked: “Do you have to pay?”

Zhang Lian said, “Thirty yuan per hour.”

Zhou Mi instinctively exclaimed: “Damn, that’s expensive! Had I known, we would have eaten faster.”

Zhang Lian chuckled.

Zhou Mi quickly composed herself and changed her tone to complain: “Don’t come again in the future. Being sick is one thing, but spending so much money… And that unfortunate sweater of yours, luxury care at the dry cleaner’s costs 250 yuan. I feel like a complete fool.”

“Then you bring it to me?” Zhang Lian instructed in a very superior tone: “Remember to bring the receipt, or you won’t get reimbursed.”