The steaming tomato hotpot from the mall and the sweet egg tarts delivered by a neighbor at night seemed like the last bit of sweetness life offered Bai Ying before an incredibly busy week began.
He could hardly return to the office most of the time. Previously, it felt like he was glued to his workstation; now, he had to dash all over Shen City. Many matters couldn’t be clearly discussed over the phone or WeChat—they required on-site visits.
Screenshots and receipts for reimbursement piled up in just a few days. On the afternoon of the last day before the roadshow, Bai Ying met the assistant from the artist’s side at a café. The young assistant apologized profusely as she conveyed the fan club’s latest request: “The fans are unanimous in wanting to insert this segment midway. We can’t refuse their heartfelt gesture toward the artist, so could you please coordinate it at the time?”
“No problem, we understand.” Bai Ying took a sip of coffee after replying. He realized he had forgotten to ask the server for extra sugar—the coffee was bitter, and his life was even more so.
Fortunately, it was just an additional interactive segment with minimal impact on the original flow.
The young assistant, a fellow wage slave, breathed a sigh of relief. She clasped her hands together in thanks to Bai Ying again. “See you tomorrow then. Thank you, Teacher Bai. I’ll go settle the bill.”
“Let me handle it.” Bai Ying stopped her.
“I’ll do it. After all, I’m the one troubling you.” The assistant insisted.
“I can expense it,” Bai Ying said.
The assistant had no objections.
Company perks shouldn’t go to waste. Bai Ying ordered a slice of cake as well. The sudden errand had left him with time only to slurp half a bowl of noodles for lunch, and now he was hungry again.
The lime cheese mousse arrived quickly. Bai Ying ate it while reviewing his schedule in his memo app. He still had to meet a business partner that afternoon, but it was the last task of the day—after that, he could head home.
The real challenges lay in the next two days. All the prior preparations were for the final execution.
The appointment was at three in the afternoon.
It was just past one now, but Bai Ying, accustomed to leaving early, hurried to finish his cake. The refreshing sweetness of the lime mousse lingered briefly in his mouth before he washed it down with a gulp of bitter coffee, instantly sobering up. Coffee was truly the designated life-extender for corporate drones. He settled the bill at the front desk and was about to head out when he noticed thick, dark clouds blanketing the city sky. With a deafening rumble, spring thunder cracked.
A downpour followed.
Bai Ying retreated under the café’s eaves as raindrops pelted down. He checked the weather app, which still showed clear skies.
Weather forecast, what crime have you committed!
Bai Ying sheltered under the eaves while hailing a ride on the app. The driver accepted, estimating ten minutes to arrive. Ten minutes passed, and the driver’s location had barely budged.
The wind whipped the rain sideways, forcing Bai Ying to retreat further until he was nearly against the café’s outer wall. He tightened his trench coat, watching the roads worsen as smooth traffic slowed to a crawl like turtles. A bad premonition stirred in his heart.
The sudden heavy rain triggered a chain of consequences.
After waiting half an hour with the driver’s position frozen, a call finally came through. Bai Ying answered to the driver’s apologetic voice amid blaring horns in the background.
“Two cars scratched and blocked the road? Alright, alright, I’ll cancel here.” Bai Ying placed a new order.
But no one picked up the new one for ages. The jams weren’t isolated—he was trapped in the middle.
“What rotten luck,” Bai Ying muttered dejectedly, hanging his head.
It was 1:50 now—only an hour and ten minutes until the appointment.
Bai Ying peered ahead; the jammed vehicles stretched endlessly. At this rate, he’d be late. Gritting his teeth, he dashed out of the café, aiming to reach a clearer spot to hail a cab.
He hadn’t brought an umbrella, but the awnings from shops on both sides shielded most of the rain. Gaps in the coverage still left him somewhat damp.
He wasn’t drenched, but he carried a mist of moisture. Bai Ying patted his hair, sending water droplets rolling down the strands.
Ahead lay a completely gridlocked intersection; he needed to cross via the sidewalk. Bai Ying gauged the distance, eyed the rain-veiled buildings opposite, and thought that unless he had spells to zip across like a flash, he’d end up a drowned rat.
Anxiously scanning around, Bai Ying sought a shop selling umbrellas. But this was a monotonous old street lined with nothing but cafés and flower shops.
The flowers and plants on racks outside swayed in the wind, mirroring the sway in Bai Ying’s heart. Finally, his aversion to being late overcame his social anxiety. He resolutely entered the nearest flower shop.
Bai Ying approached the flower rack first.
Besides the owner playing on her phone behind the counter, there was only one customer: a man in a black mask, wearing just a shirt despite the early spring chill of around ten degrees Celsius. Yet the sturdy muscles peeking from his sleeves suggested robust health. He was looking up at a lush hanging pothos plant. Bai Ying murmured “excuse me” softly, squeezing past him while tugging at his own coat, wary of his damp trench coat wetting the man’s shirt.
A gaze fell on his back, unnoticed by Bai Ying.
Bai Ying quickly scanned the rack, selected his target, and asked the owner to wrap a bunch for him.
The owner, engrossed in her phone, flashed a hint of admiration upon seeing him. She set her phone down, swiftly wrapped the double-petaled mini chrysanthemums in white pear paper and cellophane, tying them with a light green ribbon. The young woman smiled and asked, “Are you off to meet someone special?”
With the rain pouring endlessly, heading out in it to meet someone sounded rather romantic.
But it was a business partner—pure misery…
“I’m indeed rushing to meet someone,” Bai Ying admitted sheepishly, clutching the flowers. “Do you have any spare umbrellas for sale?”
The owner scratched her head. “No umbrellas… but there’s a raincoat. It’s my brother’s, though. Bro, come here!”
She called out behind Bai Ying. The masked man approached; only then did Bai Ying realize he wasn’t a customer.
“Um, I…” Bai Ying hugged the flowers tighter. In the cramped space, the tall man’s presence felt imposing.
“I heard.” The owner’s brother fetched a transparent raincoat from the side. His voice, muffled through the mask, was deep yet pleasant. “If you don’t mind that I’ve worn it, just take it. With rain this heavy, don’t get soaked.”
His deep brown eyes fixed on the flower-holding man before him, already somewhat damp, his wet hair hanging limply like wilted petals, evoking a touch of pitiful vulnerability.
The man recalled how he’d tugged at his damp coat moments ago, careful not to touch him.
Bai Ying insisted, “I have to pay.”
The man thought: Indeed, very polite.
He pulled out his phone, quoted a casual price for Bai Ying to scan, then glanced extra at the avatar after payment—a snow-white glutinous rice dumpling. He eyed the white double-petaled mini chrysanthemums again. Does this person like white?
Bai Ying liked the color of his own scales.
He set the bouquet on the counter and awkwardly donned the raincoat. He rarely used one compared to umbrellas. This transparent one had black trim along the edges, a functional style that felt sleek and cool. But it was oversized on Bai Ying, erasing any chill; he flapped his arms to shake it down, like a penguin waving stubby wings, coming off oddly cute.
“It’s caught here.” The owner’s brother said, circling behind to free the strap-entangled spot.
The raincoat settled properly; he fastened the hood. The penguin flapped its wings again, confirming it was on right.
“Thanks.” Bai Ying’s eyes curved in a smile.
He scooped up the bouquet and dashed out into the drizzling spring rain. The oversized raincoat protected him well. Through the glass wall, the man watched him head to his appointment, carefully shielding the flowers as he wove through the traffic-choked street—his figure as light as water beads rolling off the transparent coat.
“Hey, snap out of it.” His sister waved a hand before his eyes. “If you’re bored, sweep the floor.”
“…You make me visit during my filming breaks, and this is how you use me?”
“Exactly because I rarely get to boss you around, I have to squeeze every bit of labor out of you!” His sister declared righteously.
The man chuckled helplessly and turned to fetch the broom.
He cast one last glance outside; the figure had vanished into the layers of rain.
