Slowly, a fine drizzle began to fall from the sky. The raindrops landed gently upon my body, gradually soaking through my clothes.
"Come inside quickly! Don't just stand there — you'll catch a cold!"
I turned around and saw the young lady holding an umbrella behind me. In her other hand, she carried a second umbrella — apparently for me. By then, my clothes were already drenched through. She gently handed the umbrella to me, and I timidly accepted it from her. At that very moment, she suddenly threw herself into my arms, holding me tightly. Because of that, her own clothes started to get wet as well.
I knew clearly in my heart that she was not anyone special to me — only a friend I had recently met. Forcing myself to remain calm, I carefully moved her away and said softly:
"Don't… don't hold me like that… your clothes… will get wet…"
She seemed to feel that I had rejected something deep within her. After a moment of silence, she took my hand and led me inside her house. Since she had insisted so strongly, I didn't dare resist — nor did I dare touch anything, afraid I might accidentally break something.
After taking a brief look around, I noticed her house was much like mine, only a bit larger. Though humble, it somehow radiated a sense of warmth and comfort. As I was lost in thought, she handed me a set of clothes. I took them hesitantly.
"Could you… turn around first…?"
I was embarrassed. It would have been improper for her not to turn away, and she too blushed deeply before turning her back to me. I then removed my wet garments and changed into the clothes she had given me. Once I was dressed, I noticed that the outfit seemed strangely familiar. Looking up again, I saw her disappearing behind the curtain to change as well.
The curtain concealed her body but could not hide her silhouette. Realizing this, I dared not look directly — she was neither my childhood friend nor my wife. To avoid misunderstanding, I shut my eyes and repeatedly asked if she was done changing.
"You can open your eyes now!"
I opened them slowly — and before me stood the young lady, draped in a thin, semi-transparent silk dress. Her face was now painted with bright makeup, making her appear delicate and shy, like a maiden standing on a small bridge near a forest pond. I was momentarily spellbound.
When I regained my senses, confusion filled me. Why was she doing this? Outside, the rain was still pouring heavily, showing no sign of stopping. I knew it would be impossible to leave now.
Then, in a sudden motion, she slipped off her silk dress, leaving only a thin inner garment and a short corset covering her last modesty. I froze, astonished. We had met only a few times — why would she bare herself so completely before me?
At that moment, she spoke:
"If I told you that from the moment I first saw you, I wanted to follow you — would you agree?"
My face flushed red. It was the first time I had ever blushed like this — and in someone else's home, no less. Perhaps she was acting out of impulse, I thought. Yet why was I feeling shy too? I had met many honest and open-hearted girls back in my village, yet none had stirred me like this.
Still, I forced myself to suppress the rising emotions and stammered:
"Perhaps… we shouldn't… rush into things…"
I looked at her again. There was a trace of sorrow in her eyes, and guilt began to stir within me. After a long inner struggle, I went behind the curtain, looked around, and took a cloak hanging on a hook. I draped it gently over her shoulders, then hung her silk dress on the rack and placed her soaked clothes on the wooden beam to dry.
When I turned back, she was lying on the bed, looking dazed — perhaps crying. I walked quietly toward her, saw the tears glistening on her cheeks, and couldn't help but reach out to stroke her hair. Leaning close to her ear, I whispered:
"We shouldn't rush… not yet… if you're willing to wait for me."
"Then… will you promise to be my lover? You said that once — back when you were in the Northern Country."
I froze. The Northern Country? Hardly anyone knew about my time there. How could she know? She too must be hiding a secret of her own. My curiosity deepened — I remembered speaking to no one back then.
"If I truly said that," I murmured, "then how could I stop at being your lover? I would have to marry you."
At that moment, she sat up, took my hand, and began to write something upon my palm. Then she lifted my hand and kissed it gently.
Outside, the rain had finally stopped its outpouring. I slowly withdrew my hand, still holding hers as I walked toward the door. When I opened it, a rainbow stretched across the sky, glimmering above the horizon. Dew sparkled on the grass, shimmering beneath the sunlight, and the flowers seemed to dance in joy.
The wind rose again, stirring my heart. I ran toward the sea of blossoms — shouting, laughing, confessing to the wind and the petals. Picking a few flowers, I wove them into a crown and returned to place it upon her head. Out of apology and tenderness, I kissed her hand softly.
Then, slowly, I turned back toward the bamboo forest, walking down the narrow winding path until I disappeared from her sight.