Yan Zimi brought Pei Huan back to the studio.

Regarding the fact that he hadn’t brought an umbrella either, Pei Huan expressed his frustration. He said he felt a message had triggered in Yan Zimi when it started to rain, but Yan Zimi hadn’t replied.

When he tried calling again and it didn’t go through, he guessed that Yan Zimi’s phone must have run out of battery and shut down.

“What if I had gone back?” Yan Zimi asked after listening.

Pei Huan took off his jacket and set it aside, nodding. “I thought about it, but I still wanted to come see.”

He smiled as he said, “I overestimated you; how could you be so silly, getting stuck here?”

Yan Zimi retorted, “You’re the silly one. You knew it was going to rain and still didn’t bring an umbrella.”

Pei Huan sat down beside him. “Whether I bring one or not, I can still go back. What about you?”

Yan Zimi was momentarily at a loss for words.

Pei Huan pointed to a painting on the wall. “Is this you?”

Yan Zimi turned to look and saw a pig wearing black-framed glasses.

Yan Zimi replied, “…You’re the pig.”

Pei Huan burst into laughter.

While Pei Huan’s shirt wasn’t soaked too badly, his pants were in worse shape.

Yan Zimi grabbed a pack of tissue, and just as he pulled out three sheets to help wipe Pei Huan’s clothes, Pei Huan suddenly caught his wrist.

Yan Zimi said, “Your clothes are wet.”

Pei Huan replied, “I know.”

Yan Zimi continued, “Your hair is wet too.”

Pei Huan laughed, “I know.”

Yan Zimi said, “Your pants are wet too.”

Pei Huan replied, “I know.” He pulled Yan Zimi closer. “Let me see your hand.”

As he spoke, Pei Huan turned Yan Zimi’s palm up and examined the scab on his hand.

“It’s much better,” Pei Huan said, looking at the other side. “Does it affect your painting, Teacher Yan?”

Yan Zimi replied, “It affects hitting people.”

Pei Huan let go of Yan Zimi’s hand and looked up at him. “Why would you hit me?”

“You know I’m going to hit you,” Yan Zimi pressed the tissue against Pei Huan’s head and gently wiped it a couple of times. “You came over without an umbrella. How old are you?”

“I’m one year older than you,” Pei Huan said, grabbing Yan Zimi’s hand to stop him. “Is that how you talk to your senior?”

Pei Huan didn’t let Yan Zimi move his hands; he casually pulled out a few sheets to dry his hair and then a few more to wipe his clothes.

Yan Zimi stood nearby, listening as the sound of the rain outside gradually grew quieter.

“Whose motorcycle is that?” Yan Zimi asked.

Pei Huan replied, “Mine.”

Yan Zimi was a bit surprised. “You have a motorcycle?”

Pei Huan looked up. “Is it nice?”

Yan Zimi nodded. “It’s really cool.”

Pei Huan looked down and continued to wipe himself off. “My uncle gave it to me when I graduated from high school. I ride it rarely.”

Yan Zimi asked, “Where do you park it? You can’t ride it on campus, right?”

“Outside of school,” Pei Huan said. “In a warehouse at a friend’s shop.”

Yan Zimi responded with an “oh.”

Pei Huan continued, “I originally planned to take a taxi over, but I couldn’t get one in the rain. I saw you were about to finish work,” he said, crumpling the paper on the table into a ball and throwing it accurately into the corner trash can, “so I rode my motorcycle over.”

Yan Zimi stood nearby. “Thank you.”

Pei Huan had a piece of paper in his hand, intending to dry his hair, but upon hearing Yan Zimi’s thanks, he put it down.

He asked, “What would you have done if I hadn’t come over?”

Yan Zimi replied, “I would have taken a taxi.”

Pei Huan asked, “Would you have managed to get a taxi?”

Yan Zimi said, “I would sleep here.”

Pei Huan laughed, casually picking up the paper to dry his hair while glancing around the studio, which wasn’t spacious enough for someone to lie down. “That’s a pretty good idea.”

Yan Zimi pulled out a couple more sheets of paper. “But my senior is coming,” he said, handing the paper to Pei Huan. “I have my senior to pick me up.”

Pei Huan looked up at Yan Zimi with a smile. “Your senior must come at a cost,” he said, wiping himself off again and tossing the paper into the trash can. “You should head back; it seems like the rain is getting lighter.”

This person may have forgotten his umbrella, but he did remember to bring an extra helmet.

As the rain lightened significantly, Pei Huan glanced at Yan Zimi’s clothes and commented, “Not bad,” before swinging his long leg over to get on the motorcycle.

Yan Zimi’s outfit was made of a windproof material, so if the rain wasn’t heavy, he wouldn’t get wet underneath.

Pei Huan’s “not bad” was likely meant to convey that sentiment.

He started the engine, turned to help Yan Zimi put on the hood of his jacket, then took Yan Zimi’s white helmet.

“It might be a bit…”

Before Pei Huan could finish his sentence, the helmet was swiftly placed onto Yan Zimi’s head.

Pei Huan chuckled. “It’s not too big.”

This was Yan Zimi’s first time riding such a vehicle. He looked down for a few seconds to check the area where his feet would rest before climbing on.

As soon as he settled in, Pei Huan twisted the throttle, and the roar of the engine filled the air.

“We’re off,” Pei Huan said.

Yan Zimi grabbed onto the unknown metal at the back, responding with a simple, “Hmm.”

But Pei Huan didn’t move. Instead, he said, “Put your hands in my pocket.”

Yan Zimi was momentarily taken aback. “Huh?”

Pei Huan straightened up slightly and added, “In the pocket of my jacket.”

Yan Zimi looked down at the pocket right in front of him. He was dying to know why, but he asked instead, “Why?”

“Your wound,” Pei Huan explained simply. Without waiting for Yan Zimi to react, he grabbed both of Yan Zimi’s hands and pulled them into his pocket. “Don’t get caught in the rain; it’s mildly acidic.”

Wow, a science student.

Before Yan Zimi could do anything, his hands were pulled away, and he found himself leaning against Pei Huan.

Pei Huan added, “Hold on tight.”

Yan Zimi sensed his face turning red, and instinctively grasped the fabric in Pei Huan’s pocket. “Oh.”

It took about eight minutes to take a taxi back to school, and a motorcycle probably wouldn’t be much slower than a cab—let’s say around ten minutes.

As they set off, Yan Zimi began to mentally calculate the time.

Just ten minutes…

He looked ahead, slowly resting his chin on Pei Huan’s back.

But before long, he was suddenly pushed forward by the inertia.

“Hmm…”

Yan Zimi’s chest bumped against Pei Huan’s back, letting out a muffled grunt.

Then he heard Pei Huan laughing.

Pei Huan said, “Red light.”

Yan Zimi replied, “Oh.”

Pei Huan asked, “Is it cold?”

Yan Zimi shook his head, “Not cold.”

Pei Huan asked again, “Is it comfortable to sit?”

Yan Zimi responded, “No problem.”

Pei Huan sat up a bit more. “I’ve never given anyone a ride before.”

Yan Zimi hummed in acknowledgment and asked, “Do you like motorcycles?”

Pei Huan said, “I guess I like them, but I’m not that obsessed.”

Yan Zimi smiled and leaned his chin back up, asking near Pei Huan’s ear through the thick helmet, “Don’t you think you look really cool riding a motorcycle?”

Pei Huan laughed and turned his head slightly, “Do you think I’m cool?”

Yan Zimi’s eyes curved into a smile. “You do.”

Pei Huan looked ahead again. “Then I guess I’m cool.”

Yan Zimi leaned in a little closer. “What if I didn’t think you were cool?”

Pei Huan sighed deliberately. “Then I must’ve come here tonight for nothing.”

Yan Zimi lowered his head and started laughing.

“You didn’t come for nothing,” Yan Zimi looked at Pei Huan’s profile and whispered, “Thank you, senior.”

The light turned green. Pei Huan had been about to twist the throttle, but for some reason, his hand hesitated and relaxed.

He glanced at the rearview mirror and said to Yan Zimi, “Hold on tight,” before speeding out of the intersection.

The closer they got to the school, the fewer cars were on the road.

The sky seemed to cooperate, too. Barely two minutes after they hit the road, the rain stopped.

Yan Zimi didn’t actually feel cold. Even though the rain had already trickled from his helmet into his clothes and was seeping against his skin, he still didn’t feel cold.

Pei Huan must’ve just showered before coming out, because even at this close distance, Yan Zimi could faintly smell the scent of his body wash.

It was fresh and clean—really nice.

After a while, the bike turned into a narrow path.

The road became tighter, trees lined the sides, and the wind whistled past their ears. It was just the two of them on the road, accompanied by the hum of the motorcycle.

Yan Zimi’s hands carried Pei Huan’s warmth, that warmth pressed against Pei Huan’s stomach.

It seemed like Yan Zimi had brushed against Pei Huan’s muscles.

“Mm…”

Yan Zimi let out a soft sound when Pei Huan suddenly hit the brakes.

It was a gentle brake—no red light, no crosswalk, no reason at all.

Yan Zimi, confused, asked, “What’s wrong?”

Pei Huan just laughed to himself without answering.

Yan Zimi didn’t think much of it, but less than half a minute later, Pei Huan pulled the same move, lightly tapping the brake again on the side of the road.

Yan Zimi bumped into Pei Huan’s back again, tightening his grip around his arm.

“What are you doing?” Yan Zimi asked again.

This time, he heard Pei Huan’s laughter.

Yan Zimi pulled his hand back, wanting to give Pei Huan a good smack, but remembering he was still riding the bike, he placed it back.

Yan Zimi: “Is this fun?”

Pei Huan’s response was simply:

“Hmm…”

Yan Zimi snorted softly.

Yan Zimi: “Pei Huan!”

Pei Huan laughed, “Alright, put your hands back. I won’t mess with you anymore.”

Yan Zimi put his hands back. “How old are you?”

Pei Huan replied, “One year older than Yan Zimi.”

Yan Zimi held back a laugh, wrapping his arms around Pei Huan’s waist. “So childish.”

Normally, Yan Zimi would find even an eight-minute ride too slow, but this time, Pei Huan took fifteen minutes to get them to school, and it felt like the time had vanished in an instant.

At the entrance of the residential complex, Yan Zimi registered the bike, and they went inside.

Pei Huan dropped Yan Zimi off downstairs.

After returning the helmet, Yan Zimi asked, “What about you? It’s so late—your friend’s shop still open?”

Pei Huan replied, “I have the key to his storage room.”

Yan Zimi nodded. “Take a shower when you get home, don’t catch a cold.”

Pei Huan smiled, “You too.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, and Pei Huan looked like he only planned to drop him off here.

Yan Zimi took half a step back toward the building, waving goodbye to Pei Huan. “Thanks again for tonight.”

Pei Huan smiled. “You’ve thanked me so many times already, Yan Zimi.”

Yan Zimi tilted his chin slightly, pressing his lower lip against his upper lip. “I still want to thank you.”

Pei Huan smiled at him, holding onto his bike and kicking the stand up with his leg. “I’m off.”

With that, he turned the bike and rode away, leaving behind the silhouette of his black figure and the glow of the taillight.

Yan Zimi shoved his hands into his pockets, watching the red light fade into the distance.

So cool.

All the way back, a smile lingered on Yan Zimi’s face.

Fragments kept replaying in Yan Zimi’s mind, from the moment Pei Huan parked the bike in front of him to when he rode away.

Just as he returned home, his phone finished charging, and suddenly it started pouring rain outside.

Yan Zimi quickly pulled open the window, and the rain rushed in as if eager to show him its intensity.

He shut the window again, and just then, his phone powered on. He picked it up and called Pei Huan.

Pei Huan answered quickly. Yan Zimi immediately asked, “Where are you?”

Pei Huan’s voice had a hint of helplessness. “In the storage room.”

Yan Zimi said, “It’s raining.”

Pei Huan replied, “I know.”

Yan Zimi asked, “Do you have an umbrella there?”

Pei Huan responded, “No.”

Yan Zimi turned to look outside. “What should we do?”

The rain was getting heavier.

“Yan Zimi,” Pei Huan called his name.

He then asked, “Are you welcoming me?”