Chapter 43 Part 2

Shen Yuze didn’t understand what was so great about them. On the day he was born, it had rained especially hard. Deng Hong had gone into premature labor from shock. The ambulance taking her to the hospital got stuck in the torrential rain. In the end, the doctor delivered him right there in the ambulance. Deng Hong suffered greatly and refused to even look at the baby until the hundred-day banquet, when she reluctantly held him in front of the guests for show.

Of course, Lu Ping had no idea about Shen Yuze’s thoughts.

The boy’s voice bubbled with excitement. “When I was little, I loved rain because whenever it rained, Mom and Dad didn’t have to set up their stall. They could rest at home, chat with me, and play games with me. Now that I’m older, I still love rain, but for different reasons.

If it’s a light rain, it’s cool and refreshing on the skin—no need for an umbrella. It feels like being roadside flowers and grass, absorbing nature’s nourishment. If it’s moderate or heavy rain, it’s a bit of a hassle with raincoats and boots, but when it stops, the air is so fresh, and you might even see a rainbow! Oh, once I saw a tadpole in a roadside puddle. I was afraid it’d die if the water evaporated, so I took it back to the river. Felt like I’d done a huge good deed, and sure enough, I did well on that monthly exam. Of course, my favorite is typhoon rain! Because when a typhoon hits, they declare a typhoon holiday. Lying at home playing on my phone is the best!”

Lu Ping listed the many benefits of rain in one breath. As he spoke, Shen Yuze could almost see a little boy in rain boots and raincoat, proudly striding over rainbows in puddles, helping the tadpole get home.

“But now, I have one more reason to love rain…” Lu Ping turned his head and winked at Shen Yuze.

Shen Yuze: “?”

“Because your name has ‘rain’ in it. From now on, no matter if it’s light rain, heavy rain, hail, or typhoon rain—as long as raindrops fall from the sky, I’ll think of you!” With that, the boy smiled shyly.

“…” Shen Yuze was momentarily speechless.

No one had ever told Shen Yuze that they liked his name—not even Shen Yuze himself.

He always felt that his name carried too much water. Rain was the sky weeping, and ze meant stagnant marshes; when water overflowed, his life was filled with his mother’s tears, and that damp, gloomy, clammy moisture. Those water stains clung to him like maggots in his bones, wrapping around him, entwining him, seeping into his soul and body.

“You like my name?” Shen Yuze’s throat felt parched.

“Yeah.” Lu Ping said, “It feels so poetic and picturesque—Yu Ze, rain falling to form fertile land, nourishing all things… Ah! Unlike my name, which is way too ordinary!”

When combined with his sister’s name, Lu Ping and An An meant peace and safety, which had a nice implication, but the character “Ping” on his head always gave him the sense of “this is flat, that is flat” too.

Shen Yuze shook his head. “Who says your name is ordinary? I really like your name.”

Shen Yuze extended his finger and wrote it out stroke by stroke on the desk.

“Lu has the meaning of ‘land,’ and the character can be broken down into ‘mountain’ and ‘earth’; Ping can refer to plains, and also represent a broad path ahead, all smooth sailing.”

When the mountains were high enough, they could touch the loneliness of the rain clouds. When the earth was abundant enough, it could fill the emptiness of the waters. If the rough road ahead could be smoothed out together with someone, how lucky would that be?

…

The rain grew heavier. From the drizzling shower in the morning, it turned into a torrential downpour by noon, all in just a few hours.

With such heavy rain, many classmates didn’t want to brave it to the cafeteria. The small supermarket was packed, and the shelves were emptied by everyone.

While everyone else munched on bread or instant noodles in the classroom, someone noticed that Lu Ping and Shen Yuze in the back row had actually brought lunch boxes and were having a private feast!

Chen Miaomiao was shocked. She looked at the sandwich she’d barely managed to grab and suddenly found it unappetizing.

She sauntered over to the last row and craned her neck to sneak a peek at their lunch boxes.

Lu Ping’s dishes looked fairly ordinary at first glance—two home-cooked sides and a few pieces of flatbread as the staple.

“Hey, Lu Ping, your family made mai gutou!” Chen Miaomiao’s mouth watered.

Mai gutou was a local staple food, simply put, a large pancake stuffed with plum vegetable. Wheat flour was kneaded into dough, mixed with plum vegetable, pork, pork fat (the essential soul of it), dried shrimp, green onions, and for the more particular households, some dried radish shreds. Once wrapped and rolled out into a forty-centimeter diameter pancake, it was slowly pan-fried on a scorching hot flat pan until both sides turned golden yellow. During frying, the gases inside expanded from the heat, slowly puffing it up, and when it reached its peak, it was ready to come off the heat!

Sliced hot with a knife, the mai gutou deflated like a punctured balloon, becoming flat again—two thin layers of wheat pancake skin sandwiching the savory plum vegetable and pork filling. It was so delicious you’d burn your tongue but refuse to let go. There was a local saying, “Thresh wheat to make mai gutou; big mai gutou, fragrant mai gutou, make one to send to Mom,” which showed just how homely it was.

Chen Miaomiao eyed Lu Ping eagerly, and Lu Ping, understanding her intent, pushed the mai gutou toward her. “Want to try a piece?”

“Yes!” Chen Miaomiao immediately tossed aside her sandwich and, with a delicate pinky up, grabbed a piece from Lu Ping’s lunch box.

Freshly made mai gutou was soft and fluffy; cooled mai gutou was chewy and fragrant. The filling didn’t need extra salt—the saltiness came naturally from the plum vegetable. Every household had its own way of pickling plum vegetable, so the flavor of mai gutou varied from home to home.

Chen Miaomiao wolfed down one piece, licked her fingers, and, still not satisfied, reached for another. But before her fingers touched it, a large hand with distinct knuckles stretched over from the side, yanking Lu Ping’s lunch box right in front of himself. The remaining pieces of mai gutou all fell under his control.

Chen Miaomiao followed that hand upward and saw the campus heartthrob Shen Yuze picking up a piece with his chopsticks, chewing slowly and savoring it as if tasting Michelin-starred cuisine.

Lu Ping: “…Sorry, Chen Miaomiao. How about trying some other dish instead?”

“Ah, haha, no, it’s fine, really. I’m not that hungry anyway.” Chen Miaomiao laughed awkwardly. “Your mai gutou is so tasty, but why no dried shrimp?”

Lu Ping: “Oh, Shen Yuze can’t eat shrimp, so I didn’t have my mom add any.”

Chen Miaomiao: “…”

So it was specially made for Young Master Shen!

—Sorry, she was intruding!

Feeling awkward about being a third wheel, Chen Miaomiao prepared to leave, but not before curiously glancing at Young Master Shen’s lunch box.

Shen Yuze’s lunch box had three layers. When opened, it revealed meat, veggies, and even soup—one dish was soybeans stewed with pig tails! The tails were cut into segments, each about a finger-width, perfect for popping into the mouth.

Shen Yuze naturally pushed the soybeans stewed with pig tails toward Lu Ping. Lu Ping pulled a face and asked, “You really had the chef make this?”

“Promises must be kept.” Shen Yuze replied, “Be good and eat it all.”

Chen Miaomiao, watching from the side: “…”

This time, it wasn’t just her shipping them—it was real!!

…

The storm raged on.

The rain intensified, and by afternoon, it was so dark outside the windows that you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, even though school wasn’t over yet—the sky was as black as midnight.

This was geography class, and the teacher, seizing the opportunity, reviewed the causes of typhoons for everyone.

“Tropical cyclones occurring over tropical or subtropical ocean surfaces are called tropical depressions. When the sustained wind speed at the center exceeds level 12, they are known as typhoons. Typhoons are dangerous weather disasters that frequently strike China’s southeastern coastal regions, usually landing in July, August, or September. This one is a rare autumn typhoon…”

But no one in the class was focused on studying.

Classmates who had snuck in phones had already seen the news online: The typhoon, originally expected to make landfall tomorrow, had suddenly accelerated toward the coastline. Jiaojiang City, as a coastal city, would bear the brunt. The sudden heavy rain and gale winds disrupted everyone’s plans. With such downpour and darkness, how were they supposed to get home after school?

Lu Ping was worried too. His home was on the North Shore; with the rain so heavy and the waves so high, the ferries had stopped, and the River Crossing Bridge might be closed too.

Just as panic spread, a blinding blue bolt of lightning suddenly streaked across the sky, illuminating the pitch-black heavens!

The next second, a deafening crash erupted outside the window—BOOM!!

The thunderous roar exploded in the clouds, and at the same time, everyone in the class went dark before their eyes as the classroom lights and hallway lamps suddenly extinguished together!

Someone from another class reacted first, and cries erupted throughout the Teaching Building.

“Power outage!!”

“Yay! Power outage!!!”

“No more class!!!”

“Typhoon holiday!!!!!”

Chaos reigned inside and outside the classroom. Some threw books, some packed bags, some used phone lights, others passed around mini flashlights. The geography teacher stood at the podium, banging the blackboard with his pointer to quiet everyone down.

But who would listen?

Come on—it was a power outage! This kind of excitement was enough for these high schoolers to make a huge ruckus.

Cheers rose one after another. Students by the windows boldly cracked them open a slit, only for rain and wind to pour in, whipping the curtains into a frenzy.

“Ah, you idiot, why open the window!”

“Close it, close it quick!”

“No, can’t close it—someone help!”

Another round of pandemonium.

Strands of rain drifted in through the open windows, carried by the wind, landing on the two boys in the last row of the class.

The pitch-black rainy day, pitch-black hallway, pitch-black classroom. Everywhere was shrouded in darkness, everywhere in disarray.

The pure blackness stripped away their sense of sight. No one knew that amid this gloom and clamor, two heartbeats slowly synchronized.

The boy’s cool fingertips quietly hooked onto the little finger of the boy beside him, rubbing gently.

“—Pingping, the rain is too heavy. I’m a little scared. Can I hold your hand?”