Chapter 19
Atypical Long-Distance Relationship Rules
17
The first time San Ye came to Beijing to see me was right after the summer vacation started. The other three girls in our dorm, wanting to see their sister-in-law (or brother-in-law), deliberately bought tickets a few days later so we could all have a meal together with San Ye.
On the day San Ye arrived, I wore a light white T-shirt and purple shorts—short enough that I probably wouldn’t even consider wearing them now, and certainly couldn’t.
When I went out in the afternoon, the sky was overcast. I deliberately took a big rainbow umbrella. There were actually several umbrellas in the dorm, but being a bit scheming, I had already imagined the wonderful scene of the two of us sharing one umbrella while wading through the rain, so I refused my roommates’ kind offer to take an extra umbrella.
When I hadn’t seen him for a long time, I got shy when meeting San Ye at the station and didn’t know what to say. I felt like I was talking to a stranger. It wasn’t until we squeezed onto Metro Line 1, and I had nothing to hold onto, that San Ye suddenly put his hand around my waist to support me…
I had seen couples embracing each other inseparably on the subway and seriously complained to my roommates about how shameless they were in public—but the moment San Ye wrapped his arms around me, I had an epiphany.
Suppressing natural feelings is wrong! In a crowded crowd, having a man circle you like that gives such a sense of security! Who even cares about embarrassment?
I didn’t dare speak the entire time. Later, when we got off the subway and San Ye moved his hand, I felt a coolness on my waist and realized he must have been nervous and sweating too.
Outside the subway, there was a raging storm. My rainbow umbrella finally fulfilled its purpose, blooming over our heads like a little mushroom. I deliberately rotated it so the red panel faced my face, making my complexion look rosy and beautiful.
San Ye looked up at the umbrella and suddenly asked, “Do you know what it means when two people share a rainbow umbrella in foreign countries?”
I shook my head, puzzled, thinking, Isn’t it obvious?
San Ye solemnly told me, “Only married people can share one.”
My face turned bright red, and I didn’t even need the red panel to reflect it. I weakly explained, “I didn’t know.”
Just as I was still shy, the umbrella—symbolizing “only married people can share it”—shook its head and one of the ribs broke…
We were looking for a hotel to stay in, but because of the rain, all the rooms were full. The one I had booked was sold out because the owner couldn’t reach me due to poor signal on the subway.
Frustrated, we went to look for a homestay with our broken umbrella. While sheltering under the eaves and making a call, San Ye used a tissue to wipe the rain off my face. I was confirming the floor with the homestay owner when he suddenly leaned down and kissed my cheek. I was completely stunned.
The owner, speaking Mandarin with a Hubei accent, asked, “Did you remember, miss?”
I handed my phone straight to San Ye: “You take it, I can’t remember the address.”
In short, during that rainy meeting—from picking him up at the station to going to the place to stay—the blush on my face never faded.
18
At the homestay, the owner proudly pointed at the two single beds a meter apart and said, “In this whole complex, only our place has this kind of standard room. Look how clean and spacious it is.”
At that time, we were too polite to ask shamelessly, “Can we swap for a double bed instead of a standard room?” So we just nodded, paid, and sent the owner off.
San Ye saw that my clothes were soaked and pulled a dry T-shirt from his suitcase for me, telling me to take a shower first so I wouldn’t catch a cold.
That day, I went to the shower bent over like I was carrying a giant shrimp, holding my clothes. When I came out, I realized that the two single beds had been pushed together into one by him.
We were waiting for the rain to stop so we could go back and eat with my roommates, but it kept pouring. My roommates were starving and had already bought snacks at the supermarket. Around nine o’clock, I asked San Ye, “It seems the rain won’t stop. Let’s go get something to eat.”
San Ye pulled out his sweatpants from the suitcase. I rolled up the cuffs several times and didn’t wear my soaked sneakers. We took the homestay’s umbrella and went out in slippers.
Most shops were closed, so we found a 24-hour convenience store. We bought his leftover instant meals and oden, and sat by the glass window, eating ravenously without caring about appearances.
The next day, news reported that the storm caused traffic accidents and casualties. But in my memory, the rainstorm was the two of us, undaunted by lightning and thunder, walking three streets in search of food. When raindrops blurred the view on the glass, San Ye’s reflection turned to ask me, “Want some more?”
19
After such heavy rain, the next day was exceptionally sunny and hot. San Ye and I went back to the dorm to pick up my roommates to head to an amusement park.
The three of them stared at San Ye as soon as they came downstairs, like farmers eyeing a cow in the market, as if the next second they were going to pry open his mouth to check his teeth.
San Ye instinctively moved closer to me and even tugged at my backpack strap. Our dorm leader, seeing this, kindly shooed the other two roommates away. The three rushed ahead like they were after money, while San Ye and I followed slowly behind.
I asked him, “Why are you scared?”
San Ye replied, “I’m afraid we won’t get to play together.”
Later, I was squatting on the ground with a cotton candy, watching the four of them ride the drop tower and the giant pendulum ride. Suddenly, I realized that I was actually the one who wouldn’t get to play together…
