Chapter Thirty-Five: Rain Is Coming

Song Chengyi looked at Luo Yixia… Was he being too harsh with his criticism? But he had barely said anything at all. Shaking his head, he recalled the faint look of sadness on her face just moments ago. Troubled, he collapsed onto the bed. What was happening to him? How could he feel so irritable?

After leaving Song Chengyi’s room, Luo Yixia stepped outside. The weather was quite pleasant today. There was no sun, only overcast skies, reflecting her current mood. Though it was August, a cool breeze swept through, refreshing and crisp. Luo Yixia looked up at the sky—it seemed rain was imminent. She found a stone bench in the courtyard and sat down, taking out the two books she’d been holding close to her chest. Quietly, she began to flip through the pages.

The words were a dizzying maze, making her head swim. She found the section where Song Chengyi had questioned her and studied it closely. She was only a few words away from being able to explain it as he had. How wonderful it must be to have such a sharp mind. He learned everything faster than others; clever people were always admired. But why was she so slow? Why couldn’t she learn? And worse, when she struggled, she lost the will to try.

Some passages in the books were marked by Song Chengyi, others circled in red pen. Luo Yixia stared blankly at his handwriting, lost in thought.

His script was as elegant as he was, pleasing to the eye. If Luo Yixia had any redeeming quality, it was her own handwriting. She remembered how, back then, she’d put in so much effort to imitate his writing. For three years in middle school, she’d practiced, using his characters as her model, copying them again and again. She still kept a sample of his handwriting from those days. It had happened on a whim—she was only thirteen, visiting Aunt Zhou’s house, and Song Chengyi happened to be out. Seeing his thick stack of homework left on the table, she was so taken by his beautiful writing that she couldn’t resist temptation. She stole it away without a second thought.

Even after years of imitation, there was still a noticeable gap between her handwriting and his. At a glance, they might seem similar, but the true essence eluded her. Luo Yixia traced her finger over Song Chengyi’s words. People often said it was easy for a girl to pursue a boy, but she felt there were mountains and rivers between them, now as ever.

A breeze drifted past, shifting the lotus leaves and blossoms in the pond. The roses and gardenias were in full bloom, and their fragrance, carried by the wind, enveloped her. Above, dark clouds were gathering—a storm was coming. After the rain, the garden would be washed clean, and these beautiful flowers would be reduced to battered remnants.

Suddenly, a gentle voice sounded unexpectedly above her head, “It’s going to rain soon. Let’s go home.” Luo Yixia looked up, meeting Song Chengyi’s gaze as he glanced down at her. She turned away and stood up, “Alright.”

Clutching her books, she walked back inside. Song Chengyi’s eyes lingered on the bouquet she’d just been staring at. Did she like it? The roses, so meticulously cared for, were in full, flamboyant bloom.

Back in the living room, Luo Yixia poured herself a glass of water and took a few sips—the chicken soup at lunch had been a bit too rich. She wondered if Song Chengyi, after drinking it, would be thirsty as well… She turned her head and found him standing behind her, his expression unreadable.

“Why do you walk so quietly?” she asked, puzzled.

Song Chengyi avoided her gaze. Then, a bit awkwardly, he produced a rose from behind his back. “It’s about to rain, so I picked one on the way in.” With swift movements, he placed the rose into the glass she was holding and, without another word, headed upstairs.

By the time Luo Yixia processed what had happened, she hurriedly and clumsily removed the rose from her cup. Thankfully, she’d poured herself cold water—otherwise, the flower would have been scalded to death.