Chapter 13 The Third Day
The café.
The piano’s melody finally faded.
The part-time girl clutched her sheet music as she stepped down from the stage. Passing by the window on her way to the employee changing room, she noticed the rain and clouds outside. In a two-seater table, a young man sat with his profile turned toward the window, his brows deeply furrowed. His lowered gaze pierced through the clouds, still fixed on the woman who had just left.
Not long ago, he had argued with that woman, and the commotion was loud enough for everyone to hear. The piano on the stage was too large for her to clearly see the woman’s face, but from the faint memory of her figure and attire, she could tell she was someone extraordinary.
Later, they had spoken again, but the man now seemed completely drained of his earlier vigor, slumped and dejected, as if he had suffered a great blow.
Having worked in such upscale places for a while, she had learned a thing or two about reading people. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, this young master probably had never experienced hardship. Being broken up with for the first time, his dejected and defeated demeanor made him seem like an innocent little boy, evoking a strange sense of pity.
His handsome features, smooth skin, and pair of jet-black eyes that seemed unaware of sorrow shone so brightly it was almost irritating. The *Fendi* he wore was a limited-edition new release for the season, its price enough to buy the piano she had just played.
She slowed her steps, stopping beside him, and gently bent down. Her sleek, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the gloomy weather made her guileless face resemble a piece of jade. "Hello, do you need any help?"
Zhou Lin turned around, his displeasure striking her face like a knife. "Get lost."
"……"
The girl hadn’t expected him to be so harsh. She was startled, her eyes welling up instantly.
She bit her lip, holding back the tears, straightened up while clutching her sheet music, her white dress floating like a cloud in the café. With stubborn pride, she turned and drifted away. "Sorry to bother you."
In his daze, Zhou Lin seemed to see Wen Bairan at school, also in a white dress, her figure delicate and graceful, walking toward him from afar. For a moment, he felt refreshed, as if the turbidity within him had been purified.
He asked Jiang Shijin, "Who is she?"
Jiang Shijin said, "Her? She’s from the science department next door, surname Wen, don’t know her full name. She’s the department belle. Honestly, I used to think science majors were all like Bucky-toothed girls, but she’s actually quite pretty. No wonder those four-eyes adore her so much."
Zhou Lin didn’t hear a single word of the latter half. The only keywords that registered were: science department, surname Wen.
He scoured the names of all female science majors with the surname Wen at school, screening them one by one, until he finally found her name: Wen Bairan, Department of Biological Sciences, single, working part-time at a convenience store outside the east gate of the school.
That day, Zhou Lin stood outside her store, watching her through the glass as she rang up customers, settled payments, and took inventory. When she grew tired, she took a sip of water. During lulls with no customers, she would quietly turn her back and yawn, like a sleepy little kitten.
He had never been a patient person, but that noon, separated by the street, he endured the sweltering pre-storm heat, unconsciously watching her go about these mundane tasks for a couple of hours.
Zhou Lin had been a notorious playboy since high school, known in the surrounding schools. Not counting those flings that lasted just a few days, he had dated over thirty girls for more than a month each. He prided himself on having seen all types of women, including the book-smart types, who often acted aloof and were dull and uninteresting, like plain water—functional but bland.
Wen Bairan felt entirely different to him.
The midday rain came just in time. He soaked himself to the bone and went inside to buy an umbrella. At first, Wen Bairan seemed not to recognize him, treating him like any other customer. It wasn’t until later that she said, "You’re already soaked through. Why not just walk back in the rain? The dorm isn’t far."
The fact that she knew his dorm wasn’t far meant she knew which school he attended. Knowing they were at the same school, she had probably recognized him.
She actually knew him.
This realization filled Zhou Lin with a mix of pride and smug satisfaction.
He deliberately borrowed her umbrella; intentionally left a deposit; showed up to return it right on time, only to pretend forgetfulness as he left: "Ah, I forgot to bring another one."
He got his wish and walked back to school side by side with her. They agreed he would escort her first, then head back with the umbrella himself. But it was only when they reached her dormitory that Wen Bairan learned Zhou Lin was going abroad for vacation the next day. Surprised, she asked, "Then how will you return the umbrella to me?"
Zhou Lin said, "Tomorrow morning? I’ve got plans in the evening. If I can’t make it tomorrow morning, I’ll have to wait until I get back. How about this: give me your phone number, and I’ll contact you when I return."
Wen Bairan was speechless. "What if it rains during that month? This is my only umbrella."
Zhou Lin had intended to ask her out for a walk and buy a new one together, but Wen Bairan wasn’t having it. Instead, she ducked into the dorm manager’s room and came out with a plaid umbrella for him.
Her slender arm resembled a bamboo pole, her skin so pale it seemed to glow in the gloomy weather. Her delicate, almost boneless fingers gripped the dark blue plaid umbrella. The umbrella was large and not properly folded, and her small hand seemed to struggle with it.
Wen Bairan explained that it was one of the unclaimed umbrellas the dorm manager usually collected. There were several, and she had cleared it with her to lend this one for now. He could return it when he got back.
Zhou Lin didn’t hear a word. His eyes were fixed on the prominent wrist bone, his gaze deep and completely lost in wandering thoughts.
Wen Bairan called out to him, "Are you even listening to me?"
Zhou Lin was straightforward by nature, never one to hold back or need to. As soon as Wen Bairan finished speaking, he looked up, his expression ambiguous in the rainy weather. "I don’t want the umbrella. I want your number. I heard you’re single? Give me a shot."
Later, when Jiang Shijin found out about this, he teased him, "Did you really need to go through all that trouble—standing around in the rain and all—just to ask for a number? With one word from you, wouldn’t people line up to hand you her phone number?"
Zhou Lin found that idea boring. In the past, others had always pursued him. This was the first time he was pursuing someone, and for the first time, he experienced the drive and determination that came from the heart for another person. It felt fresh and exciting, and he enjoyed it immensely.
For the next three months, he religiously waited at all the places Wen Bairan was bound to pass, like waiting for a rabbit by a tree stump. Finally, one day, she snapped and threw her books at his chest, scolding him, "Aren’t you annoying? I’m in class—what are you doing standing outside the classroom? Even my professor asked me about it today!"
Zhou Lin, hurt by the impact, dropped his usual playful act, becoming utterly serious. "If you agree to go out with me, I won’t come again."
Wen Bairan seemed to have no choice, stomping her feet as she turned to leave. But after just two steps, she stopped and shouted back, "Pick up my books!"
After that, they got together naturally.
Their relationship lasted eight years.
In the beginning, while the novelty lasted, Zhou Lin was obedient to Wen Bairan to an almost outrageous degree. It seemed he had completely settled down, no longer going out to have fun. Even if he did go out, within half an hour he’d be worrying about picking Wen Bairan up after her self-study sessions. His friends laughed at him, saying Young Master Zhou, who used to flirt without commitment, had somehow become henpecked.
When did things start to change? The feeling was vague.
It seemed to happen naturally—growing tired, weary. No matter how good something is, holding onto it for too long becomes exhausting.
He no longer went against his nature, no longer held back his temper, and began to indulge freely in being himself.
In his memory, Wen Bairan seemed surprised, or perhaps not. She was always calm, rational, and foresighted. When she decided to be with him, it seemed she had already anticipated the day he would return to his old ways.
Days passed one after another. His presence in her eyes faded more and more, and the time he spent outside also increased.
He knew some people had approached her, pressing her to leave him. She had asked him, "Zhou Lin, do you want to break up?"
Zhou Lin said no.
He truly didn’t want to.
Wen Bairan was the first woman he had genuinely pursued with emotion and effort. She was beautiful, smart—even when she glared at him coldly, he felt she was playfully mad. More importantly, she loved him.
For Zhou Lin in the past, relationships were probably just about two people having fun together and satisfying physical needs. Once out of bed, whether the person playing dice with him at the bar the next day was the same one from the night before didn’t matter to him at all.
Only Wen Bairan was different.
In his eyes, she had a specific shape, a specific voice, a specific temperature. She pampered him to the extent that if the honey water for his hangover the next morning wasn’t prepared by her, he wouldn’t even look at it.
For the first time, Zhou Lin understood what it meant to be sure about someone.
He told Wen Bairan all these things. She cried, her tears falling on his arm, each drop burning like a scar.
It was a pain that cut deep.
He pulled her close urgently, kissed her, gently cupping her slender neck beneath her long hair, kissing her from her forehead down to her fingers.
Her fingers were soft, as pale and tender as scallion whites, warm yet cool. He loved it when she held him with her hands, shyly closing her eyes and gasping softly as if nearing exhaustion, yet still working diligently to milk him dry.
He adored it when she wept, pushing at his hair and begging him not to lick there, but he delighted in defying her. Her legs clamped tightly around his ears, and he could almost hear the thrum of her veins.
Zhou Lin was obsessively clean. No one was allowed to touch his belongings—clothing, food, living arrangements, anything. If anything fell below his strict cleanliness standards, his rage would drive him to smash it to pieces.
Except for Wen Bairan.
Her hands, her feet, her eyes, her hair—in his eyes, they were always flawless.
He said, "I promise I won’t let those people bother you again, Ran Ran. Let’s not break up."
A fresh thrill took root, destined to sprout, bloom, and eventually wither.
In the next cycle, Wen Bairan continued to nourish the seed in his heart with tears.
Then, she stopped crying.
The seed in his heart was buried deep, as if lifeless, yet not quite.
Zhou Lin admitted he was a jerk. Eight years, and they still had no resolution—he truly bore responsibility.
But it wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry her.
Back when he was partying and aimless, he suddenly decided one day to do something meaningful, only to find all his cards had spending caps.
The Zhou family had money, but also a rule: Zhou Lin’s spending could be limitless for personal indulgence, but not for business ventures.
The elders concluded he lacked the talent for enterprise, insisting he live out his days as a pampered heir—a life not wasted.
Zhou Lin refused to accept this. He didn’t care what outsiders said about his lack of ambition, but being labeled a failure by his own family felt like a mark of failure stamped on his face.
Wen Bairan comforted him, explaining that once wealth is stamped with someone’s name, even as their son, he couldn’t freely use it. He should try to understand his father, and she understood he wasn’t hollow inside. She encouraged him, offering to quit her job and support him in starting a business if he was willing.
What happened after that?
Zhou Lin couldn’t remember.
It seemed he drank himself into a stupor, was brought back to the Zhou residence, where his mother wiped his sweat and said pityingly she had transferred more money to his account. If he was upset, he should go enjoy himself and forget about business.
His head throbbed unbearably, his throat felt as if he’d swallowed sand all the way to his stomach, and he suddenly craved that honey water.
His mother had someone prepare it and bring it to him, but he refused to drink a sip, hurling it to the ground. The glass shattered everywhere, and he kept muttering Wen Bairan’s name.
His mother sighed and said, "She dropped you off and left. Lin, I can see she’s a good girl, and I’m fine with you two together, but you shouldn’t have brought her here."
Just that one sentence.
Zhou Lin and Wen Bairan’s possible marriage was stifled before it budded.
No one understood the meaning of "matching social status" better than Wen Bairan.
Over Zhongzhan Square, dark clouds gathered, and rolling thunder signaled an impending heavy rain.
Wen Bairan stepped out of the building, taking a deep breath of the damp air. Her lungs felt full and tight. Without an umbrella, the increasingly dense rain curtain shrouded the world like textured glass, blurring roads, people, and cars.
Since her resolve was firm, she would brave even blades and flames.
She dove into the rain.
A car was waiting at the intersection, the driver hanging a "not for hire" sign. Another pulled up behind, dropping off a passenger, and Wen Bairan quickly slipped inside.
The driver asked where she was headed.
She replied, "InterContinental Hotel."
The car started moving, the enclosed space stuffy and humid.
She’d been lucky; despite being drenched, only her hair was wet, so she wasn’t too much of a mess.
She took out a tissue to wipe the rain from her face when her phone rang.
Answering without looking, she said, "Stop rushing me, I’m in the car already..."
"Get out," Zhou Lin’s raspy voice came through. "We’re getting married."