The forecast had predicted sun.
But it makes mistake today,It lied.
By the time Liu Xin and Wu Jian exited the venue, the sky had turned the color of moody poetry. Rain was pouring like some melodramatic director had yelled "Cue storm for emotional tension!"
Wu Jian stood at the entrance, staring at the torrential sheets like they'd personally offended him. His driver had gone to fetch the car, which was stuck in traffic three blocks away. Umbrellas? Forgotten. Of course.
Liu Xin, ever the realist, sighed and pulled off her blazer, holding it over her head like a makeshift shield. "Well. If I catch a cold, you're paying for my vitamin C."
She stepped out into the rain without ceremony, her heels clicking with determination.
Behind her, a pause.
Then: "Liu Xin, wait."
She turned. Wu Jian was still dry under the archway, holding her umbrella.
Wait.
What?
"Where—how—"
"I asked the venue staff." He walked toward her, calm and composed, like he wasn't stepping into a cinematic downpour. His hair was getting soaked, and yet he handed her the umbrella first.
"You could've kept it for yourself," she said.
"You should said that before i am getting into rain and I don't mind the rain too much."
She looked at him, really looked, and realized… he meant it. There was something almost peaceful about the way he tilted his head back slightly, letting the drops fall onto his skin.
Like the cold reminded him he was still alive.
Like he needed it.
Liu Xin held the umbrella over both of them, scooting closer. "You know, most people use coffee or therapy for that kind of thing."
He didn't smile, but the corner of his mouth lifted a fraction. "Coffee gives me migraines."
She raised a brow. "Huh! That explains the brooding."
A low chuckle. Brief. But real.
The umbrella tilted a little. She noticed. He did, too.
They were too close now.
He smelled like rain, citrus, and something expensive she couldn't name but why is she thinking of smells now when they are stuck in a single umbrella together like a lovey-dovey couple.
She realized her heart was doing that thing again. That idiotic skipping, cartwheeling thing.
"I should warn you," she said lightly, "umbrellas in dramas are always a sign of oncoming romantic disaster."
"I don't watch dramas."
"As expected--ah i mean You just live in one."
That made him pause. Really pause. Then: "Am I the villain or the male lead?"
She blinked.
His tone had been neutral—but something in his eyes said he genuinely didn't know.
"You're the infuriating, emotionally-walled-off male lead who drives everyone crazy," she replied breezily. "But somehow, we all end up rooting for you anyway."
Another beat.
"An you as a female cheek puffed lead?"
"Don't push your luck."
But her smile was soft.
---
The car arrived eventually after a, and they rode back in silence.
Except this time, it wasn't the awkward silence of strangers.
It was… quiet understanding. Charged, yes. But no longer brittle.
She could feel it—something unspoken, something growing, and yet still caged behind both their professional armor.
When they pulled up to her building, she started gathering her bag, grateful and flustered all at once.
But then he said, just as she reached for the door: "Don't you think i am weird? Even that I am a CEO but can't pull away the fear of red."
She stilled.
He was looking straight ahead. Not at her. Not at anything. Just speaking into the space between them.
"You noticed. You worked around it. But you never said."
She didn't speak. Not yet.
"I've worked with people for years. Most try to fix me. Or pry me open. You didn't."
Liu Xin slowly looked at him, her voice quiet. "Do you want me to tell?"
His hand flexed slightly on the armrest. "No."
She nodded. "Then I won't."
A pause.
But then he added, "Someday. Maybe."
"Rain check?"
A faint smirk. "Rain check."
---
Later, curled up on her couch with a steaming bowl of noodles and a blanket that smelled like lavender detergent in which her mom soaked them, Liu Xin finally allowed herself to grin.
Rain check, he said.
Progress.
She didn't know where this was going—whether she was being dragged into a classic romantic setup or walking into a slow-burning trap—but for now?
She didn't mind the rain either.