Pei Huan cared more about Yan Zimi’s hands than Yan Zimi himself did.

He worried about them getting wet, concerned that Yan Zimi might pick at them, monitored him while he changed his bandages, and advised him on what to avoid eating.

However, Pei Huan added that his friends also showed concern for Yan Zimi’s wound, which Yan Zimi wasn’t too fond of.

In reality, the wound wasn’t very serious; by today, it was already okay for it to be exposed to the air.

Yan Zimi lightly touched the scab with his pinky finger and added the final stroke to the homework he had just drawn.

Once he finished, his phone suddenly lit up beside him.

His hands were often busy, so the phone didn’t keep the message private; generally, when the screen lit up, he could see the messages directly.

It was a message from Pei Huan: “3 PM.”

A moment ago, Yan Zimi had asked Pei Huan what time the bus was tomorrow.

It wasn’t anything urgent, but Yan Zimi hurriedly washed his hands and quickly replied to Pei Huan with a simple, “Okay.”

Pei Huan didn’t end the chat and added, “Are you going to the art studio?”

Yan Zimi responded, “Yeah, I’m just going downstairs to grab a meal before I head out.”

Pei Huan texted, “It’s windy; wear an extra layer.”

Yan Zimi replied, “Got it.”

Outside, not only was it windy, but it was also quite gloomy.

Yan Zimi put on an extra layer and thought about taking an umbrella with him.

While he was having dinner, Yan Zimi received a call from his mom.

With a “Hello,” Yan Zimi immediately sensed the scent of alcohol coming from the other end.

“Zimi, my little Zimi,” his mom called out.

Yan Zimi sighed, “Have you been drinking?”

His mom replied with a “Mm-hmm,” “I miss you; Mommy misses you.”

Yan Zimi said, “Happy anniversary, Mom.”

His mom laughed, “I received it, I received it! I got the gift too. Thank you, son. Dad also wanted me to say thank you.”

Yan Zimi asked, “Are you having fun?”

His mom responded, “I’m having a blast.”

Yan Zimi replied, “I can tell.”

His mom added, “This anniversary is also for you; you need to be happy too.”

Yan Zimi chuckled as he put the vegetables into the bowl. “You didn’t take me with you, even though there’s something for me.”

His mom laughed, her tone playful. “You can’t blame me; it’s Dad who didn’t take you. Blame him.”

Yan Zimi asked, “When are you coming home?”

His mom replied, “I’ll be back next week, and I’ve brought you a gift.”

Yan Zimi said, “Sounds good.”

Suddenly, his mom laughed and asked, “I noticed you changed your profile picture.”

Yan Zimi responded, “So what?”

His mom teased, “Is there a girl you like?”

Yan Zimi laughed, “What? No way.”

His mom didn’t believe him and started to analyze, “Your picture has candy, English words, flowers, and bees—it’s all bubbles!”

Yan Zimi replied, “There are no bubbles.”

His mom, clearly tipsy, exclaimed, “It’s the bubbles of love!”

Yan Zimi sighed, “Mom, you’ve had too much to drink.”

His mom insisted, “I’m not drunk; I’m clear-headed. Just answer me, are you in a relationship or not?”

Yan Zimi replied firmly, “No.”

His mom laughed uncontrollably, “Then are you in a flirtation stage?”

Yan Zimi shook his head, “No.”

His mom drew out a long “Ah,” “So you do like someone?”

Yan Zimi hesitated, “…No.”

His mom was even happier now, “You hesitated!”

She fell into her own little world, saying, “Ah, Zimi is finally going to be in a relationship! You must introduce her to me right away; I want to buy her lots of gifts. You’re our family’s prince, and she’s our princess!”

Yan Zimi was speechless.

He replied, “What about Dad?”

His mom responded, “He’s in the shower.”

Yan Zimi sighed, “You two have fun; I’m heading to the studio.”

“Have fun!” his mom said cheerfully. “Make sure to bring something back for me!”

Yan Zimi replied helplessly, “Just don’t drink too much; I’m hanging up.”

To his surprise, as soon as he ended the call, his mom sent a message on WeChat.

It was a long voice message, her words broken and intermittent, as she imagined the future of Yan Zimi and his girlfriend, listing all the things she would prepare for them, saying their wedding had to be…

Yan Zimi paused the voice message and replied, “There’s no girl I like.”

He clicked on his profile picture, thinking it was just an ordinary drawing with a sentence he had come across while doing reading comprehension. He had finished it in just ten minutes.

S

o it must be that his mom was drunk.

Despite this thought, Yan Zimi still switched his profile picture back to the original one.

After finishing his meal and settling the bill, just as he was about to leave the restaurant, his phone buzzed.

It was a message from Pei Huan.

fire: “How come you changed your profile picture back?”

Yan Zimi noticed someone moving behind him, so he shifted slightly to the side and replied, “You knew I changed it?”

fire: “Hard not to notice.”

Yan Zimi gave an irrelevant answer, “I just drew it this afternoon.”

fire: “Saw it this afternoon.”

Yan Zimi thought for a moment, “Did you see what was in the drawing?”

fire: “Of course.”

fire: “My little bee, my sugar.”

Yan Zimi couldn’t help but press his lips together, stifling a laugh in a corner of the restaurant.

Yan Zimi: “I thought you didn’t know, since you didn’t say anything.”

fire: “So you just changed it?”

Yan Zimi immediately stepped outside and switched his profile picture back again.

Then he said, “What? What did I change?”

fire: “So mischievous?”

fire: “So, what do I need to say for you not to change it?”

Yan Zimi: “Then just…”

Yan Zimi: “Freely express your feelings, I guess.”

fire: “The profile picture looks great.”

fire: “Is that good enough?”

Yan Zimi: “That’s it?”

He immediately went back and switched his profile picture to the one he had used before.

Sure enough, Pei Huan sent another message: “Yan Zimi, you’re so mischievous.”

Pei Huan added, “Change it back.”

Yan Zimi: “Why?”

Pei Huan: “I really like it. Is that a good enough reason?”

Yan Zimi: “Well…”

Yan Zimi: “I’ll reluctantly accept that.”

Yan Zimi: “I’ll use it for a while, I guess.”

Then he went back out and changed the profile picture again.

fire: “It might rain later, did you bring an umbrella?”

Yan Zimi subconsciously wanted to reply that he had brought it, but before he could finish typing those two words, he glanced at the sky outside and deleted the pinyin, replying with, “No.”

Fire: “It would be terrible if it rains.”

Yan Zimi’s hand paused over the phone keyboard. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, unsure how to respond to Pei Huan’s comment about it being terrible.

Forget it, he decided. There was no point in replying anyway; it wasn’t what Pei Huan wanted to hear.

After putting his phone away, Yan Zimi stared at the sky for a few minutes.

Then he scolded himself in his mind.

That evening, he had a class at the studio, teaching a third-grade child, so another teacher was on duty that day.

The class was divided into two segments. Toward the end of the second segment, the sky outside rumbled, and a heavy rain began to fall.

“Sure enough, it’s raining,” the teacher sitting across from him sighed and asked, “Zimi, did you bring an umbrella?”

Yan Zimi replied, “Did you bring one?”

The teacher sighed in frustration, “No, I only realized the weather was like this after I left home. I didn’t want to go back.”

Yan Zimi thought for a moment, “I have one. I’ll lend it to you.”

The timing for the child to finish was perfect, wrapping up just as the second class ended.

After the heavy rain passed, the rain outside continued to patter down. The child was picked up by his father, and after thanking Yan Zimi profusely, the front desk teacher also left the studio.

Thus, the studio was left with only Yan Zimi, who had said five minutes ago, “I have an umbrella,” but actually had nothing.

As if trouble came in pairs, he discovered that his phone had secretly run out of battery and shut down while he was turning off the lights in the studio.

Yan Zimi stood at the studio door, tapping on his unresponsive phone several times, feeling a bit at a loss.

He couldn’t even explain his own behavior.

“Is this fun, Yan Zimi?”

The rain was still falling, although it had lightened up a bit; it wasn’t at a level where he could just walk outside without getting soaked.

Fortunately, the studio was along the street, and even without a phone, he could try his luck—maybe he could flag down a car.

Fifteen minutes passed…

The studio wasn’t in a commercial area, and with the rain, it was hard to catch a ride, with no pedestrians around; it felt desolate at this time.

Yan Zimi pushed his glasses up and glanced back at the studio, contemplating whether it would be better to sleep in the studio for the night, try to catch a random car outside, or walk back to school.

But even though he was thinking, he remained standing still, not moving.

With nothing to do, all his senses became more alert and even more bored.

He began to observe the rain, the leaves being pelted by raindrops at the roadside, and the splashes of water in the puddles.

A white car drove by, followed by two black cars, and then a taxi carrying passengers.

Before long, a rumbling sound echoed from a distance, the engine noise drawing Yan Zimi’s attention.

He looked toward the source of the sound and saw a red and black motorcycle approaching from down the road.

In the rain, this motorcycle was clearly an anomaly on the street, so Yan Zimi couldn’t help but take a couple of extra glances.

The person on the motorcycle was dressed entirely in black, with long arms and legs.

They looked pretty cool.

Yan Zimi pulled his gaze back, continuing to watch the cars on the road, hoping to spot an empty taxi.

However, the sound of the motorcycle to his left grew louder and closer.

Yan Zimi turned his head again and saw the motorcycle switch lanes, turn on its right signal, slow down, and then—

It stopped right in front of him.

Yan Zimi was momentarily stunned.

The long leg from the motorcycle swung down gracefully, the heel hooking as it set down.

Then the rider sat up, removed his helmet.

“Yan Zimi.”

Yan Zimi was still in a daze.

Pei Huan grabbed his helmet and turned to smile at Yan Zimi.

Yan Zimi finally snapped back to reality. His skin, which had just been brushed by the wind and light drizzle, warmed up again at the sudden appearance of this person, making a part of his body feel instantly numb.

Pei Huan looked at Yan Zimi and said his second sentence of the night: “I didn’t bring an umbrella either.”

Yan Zimi blinked slowly and smiled slightly.

The two of them were now under the eaves of the studio, with a small warm yellow lamp above them that only provided atmosphere.

Pei Huan’s clothes were damp, and the light refracted beautifully off him.

It didn’t feel so cold anymore, nor so dark.

Yan Zimi took a step forward, looking into Pei Huan’s eyes, and asked, “Are you stupid?”