The plane broke through the clouds, and the sudden sunlight pouring in stung Zhou Chiyu’s eyes. He shaded them with his hand and stared intently at the boarding pass in his grip. In a daze, he thought he heard Gu Yuan’s voice.
He quickly turned back to search for the source, only to find it was just a passenger with a similar voice.
The academic counselor had approved his one-week leave, but he hadn’t had a chance to tell Grandpa yet.
Or perhaps, he planned to ask for forgiveness later rather than permission first.
Over the years, Gu Lao had limited the number of times Zhou Chiyu flew. The plane crash that killed his parents and nearly took Grandpa too—the true culprit remained unknown even now.
Of course, there might not have been any culprit at all, but Gu Lao still feared the what-ifs.
A flight attendant pushed the meal cart slowly past, and he requested a blanket before curling up in his seat and lying down gradually.
In another fourteen hours, he would see Gu Yuan.
What would he say when he saw Gu Yuan?
He fiddled repeatedly with his phone, feeling like he had acted on impulse.
At the very least, before coming to the USA, he should have told Gu Yuan first—or brought Butler Uncle along.
In all his life, the number of times he had gone abroad could be counted on one hand, let alone arriving alone in a foreign country.
Thinking of the few simple clothes in his suitcase made him want to laugh. Luckily, his visa was valid for a long time; otherwise, he couldn’t have come to the USA at all.
As the plane reached cruising altitude, Zhou Chiyu’s eardrums ached slightly. He opened his mouth wide to relieve the pressure discomfort.
He felt a bit sleepy now and hoped he could wake up after one sleep to find himself in the USA.
Boston Logan International Airport.
Zhou Chiyu booked an Uber taxi to head to Western Cambridge. It was close to MIT, and Gu Yuan had only moved there in the past year for convenience with school.
The driver was a chatterbox. Seeing Zhou Chiyu’s Asian features, he asked why he had come to the USA.
Zhou Chiyu stayed vigilant and lied that he was there to find his FBI brother who worked in the USA. The driver nodded in surprise and stopped talking to him.
He clutched his trench coat guiltily with sweaty palms.
The weather outside wasn’t great, with a hint of dampness in the air and temperatures much colder than back home.
Arriving at the door of Gu Yuan’s Apartment, he took several deep breaths to steady himself, repeating the lines he had practiced on the plane.
But he had no access card, and the security guards at the entrance wouldn’t let him in.
After hesitating for a long time, he called Gu Yuan. When the busy tone rang out and dragged on endlessly with no answer, he hung up.
The humid air nearly suffocated him. He set down his phone, gazed at the hurrying crowds, grabbed his suitcase, and prepared to find a coffee shop to wait.
In this weather, a heavy rain seemed imminent.
Strawberry Hill Community was quite large, famous for its expansive lakes and greenery. Zhou Chiyu couldn’t find any shops and finally sat on his suitcase under a barely adequate eaves for shelter, lost in thought.
He tried calling Gu Yuan again, but no one picked up.
Car horns sounded faintly amid the wind. Zhou Chiyu looked at the dark clouds on the horizon and messaged Gu Lao that he couldn’t reach Gu Yuan.
Bai Wenran and Gu Cheng were also in the USA. If worst came to worst, he could go stay with them first and have a place to land.
Besides—
He glanced down at his inconvenient leg and frowned silently.
It was still wrapped in bandages; he couldn’t get wet, or there was a risk of infection.
Staying in a hotel alone wasn’t impossible, but he was a bit scared. Even back home, he had never stayed in a hotel by himself.
Moreover… he wasn’t sure if Gu Yuan was deliberately ignoring his calls.
Dull thunder grew closer, and the downpour began.
Mud-splattered rain hit Zhou Chiyu’s sneakers. He shrank back, pulling a piece of clothing from his suitcase to drape over himself temporarily.
The ride-hailing app showed no response, and floodwater gradually overflowed the curbs.
Zhou Chiyu retreated to the very edge, pressed against the cold glass, shivering all over.
Just then, a sedan pulled up beside him.
In his scramble to avoid the rain, he stumbled back two steps and saw that the person opening the door was none other than Gu Yuan.
Gu Yuan hurried down with an umbrella.
“Little Fish? Why did you come to the USA?”
Zhou Chiyu, frozen like a drenched curly-haired puppy, stammered, “I-I just wanted to…”
Gu Yuan quickly draped his own coat over him and led him to the car. “Let’s go first. We can talk at home.”
“Mm-hm.” Zhou Chiyu got in the car and rubbed his hands gently, noticing that Gu Yuan didn’t look well either.
Wutong tree leaves flipped wildly in the gale, and the rain hammered the car roof with deafening noise.
Inside the car, the two remained silent as Gu Yuan cranked the heater to maximum.
“Still cold?”
