Chapter 17: Rainfall

Zhou Sheng strode to them, gaze fixed on Lin Sitian.
The light was sparse; in the shade, he couldn’t see her clearly. Lin Sitian instinctively hid behind Meng Qiaoyu, avoiding his roaming gaze, not wanting him to see her cry.
“Lin Sitian, why are you crying?”
But it was useless—he’d noticed her sobbing with Meng Qiaoyu from afar, so he asked directly.
“What are you doing here?” Meng Qiaoyu sensed Lin Sitian’s awkwardness, subtly changing the topic, stepping between her and Zhou Sheng.
“To find her.” Zhou Sheng said.
“She helped me carry the wine back. What’s up?”
“Yes.” Zhou Sheng’s face was cold. “Why is she crying?”
“Her crying is your…” Meng Qiaoyu started, then heard a faint sob behind.
Both boys looked at her. Lin Sitian’s eyes wandered, sniffling, voice slurred, “Drank too much…so uncomfortable…want to cry…”
Zhou Sheng paused. “Drank too much?”
Meng Qiaoyu hesitated a second, then played along. “Yeah, she was complaining earlier. Her tolerance is bad—drinking too much makes her cry.”
“Did you drink with her again?”
Meng Qiaoyu looked innocent.
Zhou Sheng didn’t press, bending to take the beer basket from her. “I’ll take her back.”
“I’m here.” Meng Qiaoyu scoffed. It was just a few steps—why send her back?
“I have something to say to her.”
Lin Sitian’s faint sobs paused.
Meng Qiaoyu’s expression stiffened, glancing at Lin Sitian. “She’s drunk…what’s the use of talking to her?”
“Useful or not, we’ll see.” Zhou Sheng said calmly.
“You better talk less.” Meng Qiaoyu, hearing his calm tone, felt irritated. “Talking less might be better for her.”
If you get it, you get it.
“Lin Sitian.” But Zhou Sheng didn’t get it—he wanted Lin Sitian, not Meng Qiaoyu.
Called out, Lin Sitian looked up, eyes hazy as she met his.
“Let’s go?” Zhou Sheng extended his hand.
Her drunkenness couldn’t hide her inner panic. Lin Sitian’s gaze fell on his hand, pale in the shadow. Her heart felt like a wind chime—empty, ringing.
Think, or not.
She didn’t move—drunken slowness was the perfect excuse.
But he stepped forward, taking her hand.
Hot and cold merged into one.
Something in her heart snapped, scattering.
He pulled her from behind Meng Qiaoyu.
In the darkness, Lin Sitian’s eyes widened.
“You…” Meng Qiaoyu didn’t expect Zhou Sheng to be so self – willed, lost for words. Wanting to scold, but seeing Lin Sitian’s silent consent, he changed his tune—
“They’re waiting for the wine.” His last excuse.
“Got it.” Zhou Sheng stuffed the beer basket into Meng Qiaoyu’s hands without hesitation. “Thanks.”
“…”
Moonlight filtered through trees, wind rustling leaves.
Lin Sitian was led silently by Zhou Sheng, their figures disappearing into the woods by the path.
Her heartbeat was chaotic. She didn’t know what he wanted to say—she couldn’t bear comfort, but still followed.
She had to follow—he was Zhou Sheng, and she liked him.
“Still drunk?”
They stopped in the quiet woods.
The forest was silent, only cicadas chirping by their feet.
Oh, right—she was still “drunk”.
Lin Sitian raised a hand to her forehead, staggering perfectly.
She meant to fake it, but as she swayed, Zhou Sheng steadied her waist.
“Careful.”
He leaned close, temporarily her support. For a moment, his freshly changed shirt smelled like a light, post – rain agarwood—subtle, calm, instantly recognizable as Zhou Sheng.
Lin Sitian’s back pressed against a tree, arm around his shoulder, slowly lifting her head, drowsy.
“…It’s Zhou Sheng.” She slurred his name.
She didn’t know how to “act” in front of this boy who’d made her cry.
Zhou Sheng’s throat tightened, frozen before her. After a while, he whispered, “It’s me.”
Then slowly leaned in, cheek against her ear, silent, motionless.
Very close.
Breathing steady, like sleeping.
If she were truly drunk, fine—but she wasn’t. Zhou Sheng’s closeness, though innocent, made her heart itch, tense beyond control.
“What did I do to upset you?”
After a long while, he asked, voice low.
Lin Sitian took a moment to recall—she’d told him “You’re annoying” when leaving.
Did he remember?
Her fingers on his shoulder moved unconsciously.
Zhou Sheng’s voice was hoarse, losing his usual brightness, rare and deep—each word like popping a bubble. She thought: Zhou Sheng should hear his own voice now. When did he start speaking like this? His controlled tremor hinted at suppressed thunder.
“What did he do…”
Her voice wasn’t calm—she remembered the wildfire of her secret love.
Lin Sitian stood rigid before Zhou Sheng, afraid to move.
As a “drunk” actor, she should brush off his words or ramble. But she couldn’t—she heard his self – conflict, his courage to ask, and couldn’t dismiss his feelings like dust.
Lin Sitian, you’re so foolish—you cried harder than him.
“I didn’t…” She hesitantly raised a hand from behind, cupping his head like comforting a wounded beast.
Unexpected by her response, Zhou Sheng froze, body tensing. Soon, his warm face nuzzled her cool cheek—she’d been in the wind too long.
“…Nothing?” He asked tentatively.
Not annoying him? Not crying with others? To him, both mattered.
His warm breath on her ear made her tilt her head, “Zhou Sheng…tickles.”
Zhou Sheng stepped back, right hand braced on the tree behind her, trapping her in his arm. They were suddenly face – to – face—Lin Sitian more nervous.
“Nothing?” He insisted, looking into her eyes.
But she clammed up, turning, stubbornly pressing her lips tight.
“Athletic.” He said randomly.
What was he talking about?
“Humorous.”
Huh?
“Romantic.”
…
“Shares your interests.”
Lin Sitian finally remembered.
——That was her “standard” for an ideal boyfriend.
“So…regret it?” Zhou Sheng lowered his head, staring at their overlapping toes in the dark.
His eyes were dim, pupils lightless.
“Lin Sitian.” He called her name, earnest yet cautious—wanting a response, dreading it. “Regret rejecting him?”
She finally faced him, but saw only his bowed head. “Why ask?” Her tone was cool.
Strange—did her regret matter to him? He wouldn’t date her, yet wanted her to only look at him? What did he want?
He bowed, mouth opening—dry throat, no sound. Only heat, like his life force, seeping from his lips. But he knew—no turning back. Some words, buried, might never be said.
Jaw trembling, he said, “I…”
Heart clenched by his own hand—silence, suffocating.
“Hurts.”
“I’m hurt, Lin Sitian.”
His voice choked, breath uneven.
“Seeing you with him, their teasing, you crying with him…I’ve never been so hurt.”
Like a dam bursting, words poured from Zhou Sheng. Lin Sitian before him stiffened, silent.
“…Sorry.”
He still didn’t lift his head, covering his eyes.
“Don’t hate me.”
Slender fingers touched his jaw, tracing smooth lines, gentle as petting a small beast—stroking, rubbing.
Lin Sitian looked at his black hair in the dark, fingers moving as she licked dry lips, finding her voice.
“That was…a standard.”
Zhou Sheng in her hands held his breath.
“Like Prince Charming—a template, every girl’s ideal at this age.” Her heart pounded, but she forced slow, clear words. “But…”
Lips dry again, she fumbled. “Then I realized—loving someone has no standards.”
Like is like.
Because it’s him.
“I don’t regret it, Zhou Sheng.” Lin Sitian said seriously, firmly. “I always knew what I wanted.”
The forest was deep, moon bright—light filtering through lush leaves like falling snow, melting at her eyes.
Half – bent, Zhou Sheng finally looked up at her. Under the dark sky, his eyelashes cast shadows, bangs splitting the moonlight. In his innocent eyes, the moon shone pure.
A trace of clarity.
Her fingers lingered on his jaw—like a knight swearing loyalty, he raised his head, devoted.
Hers. Zhou Sheng.
Her love for him peaked, overwhelming, heart racing, breathless, mind swirling—she was lost.
Impossible to let go, right?
Love is messy, tangled.
“Lin Sitian.”
“I…” He took a deep, nervous breath. “I love——”
Nearby, a couple’s playful laughter shattered his courage.
Hearing this, Lin Sitian sighed, leaning on his chest. “Annoying.”
Footsteps approached. Zhou Sheng ruffled her hair. “Let’s go back.”
“You made me cry today.” Lin Sitian grumbled.
Zhou Sheng froze. “…Me?”

“Who else, you jerk?” Lin Sitian pushed him, leading the way out of the woods.