Part 1 – Messages in the Rain
The rain began shortly after two.
First as a soft whisper on the roof. Then, like a fine fabric slipping through the gutters and windows of a sleeping city. Inside the room, Lin Yuyan kept the bedside lamp on. The warm light cast gentle reflections over the stacked books and the forgotten cup of chrysanthemum tea.
She was lying down, but sleep wouldn't come.
In the next room, her mother was already asleep. The silence of the house was complete — the kind that doesn't weigh down, but accompanies. It was her first night off after intense days at the hospital. And tomorrow, a rare luxury: rest. She and Xiaoqing had promised not to think about charts, or beeping monitors, or emergencies.
But there were other urgencies — the kind that live inside.
Her phone vibrated on the pillow.WeChat — Xiaoqing.
— You can't sleep either, huh?
Yuyan replied:— The rain won't let me.
Seconds later:
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating — and then she typed:— He sent me a message.
Xiaoqing took two seconds. Then:— What?!— After he dropped me off. On WeChat.— YOU'RE KIDDING ME???
Yuyan felt her face flush. She took a deep breath.— It was just a simple message.— Yuyan, even a period from him feels poetic. What did he say?
She copied it, pausing just a moment before pasting:
Hi.Thank you for tonight.Rest well.
Silence.
Then, the typed storm:
— OH MY GOD.— MY.— GOD.— That's like... an entire bouquet of chamomile with emotional significance.
Yuyan laughed — silently — and replied:— You're exaggerating everything.— I'm not exaggerating at all. That's exactly the kind of thing only sensitive people write. Simple. Quiet care. Are you going to reply?
— Are you going to reply?— I don't know yet.
Pause.
— Why not?
Yuyan typed slowly:— Because I'm afraid of seeming more affected than I should be.— What if he's also more affected than he's letting on?
Yuyan didn't answer.
The rain grew heavier outside, washing the night with a melody without lyrics. She stayed there, motionless for a few seconds. Then unlocked the phone again and returned to the chat window.
The message was still there.So was Xiaoqing's question.And maybe... the answer was closer than she thought.
On the other side of the city, Wen Zhaonan was sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, phone still between his fingers.
The lamp light bathed the apartment in warm tones — but there was something hesitant in the way he looked at the screen. It wasn't just expectation. It was caution.
The message he had just sent to Lin Yuyan was still there:
Hi.Thank you for tonight.Rest well.
Simple. Direct. Careful.Perhaps too much so.
He had rewritten that sentence three times before sending it. And even now, he wondered if he should've written something else. Or... nothing at all.
He sighed. Got up slowly and walked to the balcony. Opened the glass door. The early morning air was damp and cold, but it brought some relief.
The rain kept falling, washing the city with that patient sound that seems to cleanse even what can't be seen.
Wen leaned on the railing.
He tried to rationalize what he was feeling — an exercise that always worked, except now.
He had had a pleasant evening. That was true. The conversation, though brief, had been light. The dinner simple. Her presence... tranquil. A kind of calm that didn't press, didn't demand.
And yet, his body remained alert.
Not because of her.Because of himself.
Because Wen knew all too well what came after opening up. He knew the bitter taste of misplaced expectations. He knew what it meant to trust... and be used.
So even now, with the recent memory of stifled laughter, shared tea, the comfortable silence in the car — he still kept one foot back.
It wasn't distrust of Yuyan.It was protection. A reflex from someone who'd once been left too exposed.
She seemed different. There was something in the way she looked at the world that reminded him of himself — a kind of delicacy you don't learn, but recognize. Even so... he couldn't allow himself more than that: recognition. Curiosity. Appreciation for what had been good.
Anything beyond that would be too dangerous.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
It wasn't about wanting or not. It was about how much he was willing to let someone get close again — and whether he was ready for that.
The phone vibrated discreetly in his hand.
He opened his eyes. Looked at the screen.
1 new notification.
But it wasn't her.It was a student. An article. Real life, pushing in.
Wen locked the screen, unhurried. Slipped the phone into his pocket. Walked back inside, crossing the quiet room like someone collecting their last thought before bed.
But before switching off the light and closing the balcony door, he looked once more at the cloudy sky.
No stars visible.But he knew they were there.
Maybe, he thought, some things work that way too — they keep existing even when we're no longer brave enough to look at them directly.
And maybe, just for tonight, all he needed was this:the memory of a good silence,and the courage to have written it.
Part 2 – The Beginning of a Reply
The morning arrived gray and damp.
The rain had stopped, but drops still clung to eaves, leaves, and clotheslines. A certain hush lingered over the city, as if the whole world had agreed to sleep in a little longer on that overcast day.
Lin Yuyan woke slowly. It was her day off, and her body seemed to know — refusing any sense of urgency.
She stretched in silence, tied her hair in a loose bun, and walked to the kitchen with unhurried steps. Her mother had already left early to visit a friend, leaving a note stuck to the fridge:
"Rest. Today is your day to breathe without rushing."
From the kettle, the sound of boiling water brought back an old comfort.
She made chrysanthemum tea with ginger. Then sat by the living room window, wrapped in the light shawl her grandmother had made years ago. The cup warmed her hands. The world outside still seemed half-asleep.
She picked up her phone.
Wen's message was still there.Simple. Gentle. Sincere.
Hi.Thank you for tonight.Rest well.
She read it again. Then set the phone on her lap. Looked out the window. The street seemed washed clean, as if given a fresh start.
And maybe… she could begin too.
Yuyan typed slowly, like someone threading words with fine silk.
Good morning.Thank you for last night as well.It was a simple evening, but it made me feel light — and that's rare.The eatery, the soup… even the silence in the car.I hope your day is calm.(And that the jasmine tea was as good as it looked.)
She read it. Then reread.Deleted a line.Rewrote it with more softness.
And then, taking a deep breath, clicked "send."
The message disappeared from the screen.
She leaned back in the armchair, pulling the shawl over her shoulders. The steam from the tea rose in delicate spirals. Outside, a few children ran by, jumping over puddles as if they were magical islands.
Yuyan wasn't expecting an immediate reply. She didn't even know if one would come. But there was something serene in the act of having written — of having said, even carefully, what she felt.
Sometimes, the most beautiful thing is when we let ourselves bloom… even while afraid.
The rest of the morning passed slowly.
Yuyan organized some books, watered the plants on the balcony, and set aside clothes to wash. Small gestures. Quiet moments. Everything in its own time — as if the world, for one day, respected her rhythm.
Around noon, her phone buzzed again.Xiaoqing.
— "Are you up yet, Madame of Tea?"— "Yes. Tea sipped, plants hydrated, world in order."— "Post-rain stroll downtown? Just window shopping. No buying. (Lies.)"
Yuyan smiled.
Part 3 – A Blue Dress and a Feeling
In the afternoon, they met at the corner of the main street, near the fruit stand.
The sky remained overcast, but the air was warm and humid, and the birds seemed to venture across the electric wires with a lighter rhythm. The two walked side by side, with no set direction, chatting about little details from the previous shift and laughing about a case where an elderly patient had confused the name of a medication with the name of his granddaughter.
They strolled without haste, crossing bridges and narrow streets until they reached an alley lined with quiet little shops — the kind that always seem to smell of wood and new fabric.
Xiaoqing stepped into one of them without even saying a word.
— Just a second, I want to see if that coat I tried on last week is still here.
Yuyan lingered near the entrance, gently brushing her fingertips over the hanging clothes. She wasn't looking for anything — just touching the fabrics like someone passing time with her hands.
And then she saw it.
A blue dress.
Not light blue, not vibrant blue. A blue like today's sky. Light fabric, simple cut, sleeves down to the elbows, and a discreet bow at the waist.
It wasn't the kind of dress that drew attention. But for some reason… it looked like it had been made for her.
She pulled it gently from the rack, almost without realizing. Took it into the fitting room with a faint smile — embarrassed even with herself.
Inside, she took her time putting it on. Looked at herself in the mirror with surprise. The dress wasn't just pretty. It was… calm. As if, instead of transforming her, it simply revealed her.
She stepped out slowly, where Xiaoqing was already waiting with her arms crossed.
— There. Now all that's missing is Wen seeing you in it.
— Xiaoqing…
— What? You look beautiful. Really. That dress is like a line from your book. A blue between the lines.
Yuyan blushed.
— I don't need this right now.
— Sometimes, we don't need things. But we still deserve them.
There was a brief silence.
Then Yuyan looked at the mirror once more.
She thought about the night before. The music in the car. The teacup.
And then, in a whisper:
— I'll take it.
Xiaoqing smiled like someone winning a secret bet.
— That's it. Don't overthink it. Just feel.
While the clerk wrapped the dress in delicate paper, Yuyan ran her hand over the fabric once more. It was soft. Almost like a subtle promise.
Maybe she didn't yet know where she would wear it.But she knew why she was buying it.
Because, for the first time in a long while… something inside her wanted to bloom.
Even slowly.Even without certainty.
Part 4 – A Workday and a Suspended Silence
Wen Zhaonan's day began early, as usual.
At exactly seven o'clock, he was already walking across the university campus, his steps steady, the dark blazer contrasting with the still-dull sky. The rain from the night before had left the pavement damp, and the air carried that clean scent of wet earth and freshly washed leaves.
By eight, he was beginning class for the new first-year biochemistry students.
It was a noisy, curious group, still dazzled by the white corridors and shiny equipment of the main lab. Wen, as always, spoke with a calm voice, but with a clarity that drew even the most distracted eyes back to focus.
— Biochemistry is the study of life. But we must remember: not all life is visible under a microscope.
The students fell silent. One of the girls even wrote down the sentence — as if it were poetry.
When the class ended, three students came up to ask questions about the metabolic pathways he had barely begun to explain. He answered patiently, never rushing anyone, even though he had a meeting with the dean right afterward.
By ten-thirty, Wen Zhaonan was in the administration building, on the top floor with its wide windows overlooking the campus lake. The city still seemed to breathe slowly after the night's rain, and the light gray of the sky filtered through the glass like a soft mist.
Inside the office, Dean Zhang Weimin — a man of measured speech, sharply tailored suit, and eyes that always seemed to weigh each word — was reviewing a cooperation proposal between the university and the Suzhou Central Municipal Hospital with Wen.
— The proposal passed the committee unanimously — said the dean, closing the folder with a calm gesture. — The next phase depends only on you.
Wen nodded, posture straight, voice low.— I'll review the terms carefully. I still want to adjust a few technical details.
Zhang smiled, like someone who already knew him too well.— Of course. But… know that your intuition has already led this university to good places. It can still be your ally. Especially when the data doesn't say everything.
Wen was silent for a moment.Intuition.
A dangerous word for someone who had spent a lifetime trusting only what could be proven.
By noon, in the faculty dining hall, Wen met Li Cheng, professor of clinical pharmacology, his closest friend and perhaps the only one able to break his silence without making it uncomfortable. They sat at their usual table by the window.
Li arrived already laughing:
— You, having dinner with two women at a hidden eatery, and I wasn't even told? That should be in the department's monthly humanization reports.
Wen looked up over his tray.— You exaggerate everything.
— I do not. The gossip already reached the nursing labs. They say one of the ladies ordered chrysanthemum tea. That's practically a soul-level confession.
Wen lowered his eyes.— Yuyan.
— Beautiful name. Calm, isn't it?
— Yes.
— And the other? The spirited one? Smiling, cheeky… sounds like my energy. If she's single, introduce me. I promise not to be unbearable on the first date.
Wen gave the faintest hint of a smile.— Xiaoqing. Pediatric nurse.
— I knew it. I like her already.
Li ate two bites of tofu before continuing, his tone now more thoughtful:— And you?Are you going to talk to Yuyan again?
Wen didn't answer. He reached for his phone, slowly unlocked it.1 new message. Lin Yuyan.
He read it in silence, eyes following each line.
Good morning.Thank you for last night as well.It was a simple evening, but it made me feel light — and that's rare.The eatery, the soup… even the silence in the car.I hope your day is calm.(And that the jasmine tea was as good as it looked.)
Li, across the table, watched without rushing.— Well?
Wen didn't reply right away.
He locked the screen. Slipped the phone back into his pocket, as if shielding something too fragile to be left exposed.
— I… still don't know what to say.
Li didn't insist. He simply nodded, a gentler expression settling on his face.— Then wait. Sometimes silence is an answer too.You feel more than you think, Zhaonan. You've just learned how to hide it well.
Wen stared out the window for a long while. The sky was still dull, but a soft light filtered through the clouds — as if the day itself was also trying, little by little, to brighten.
Yuyan's message still pulsed in his mind.Simple. Sweet.Full of space.
It didn't ask for a reply. Didn't demand anything.But… it stayed.
Like the aroma of jasmine after a sip.Like an echo that lingers inside — even after everything outside has gone quiet.
Part 5 – A Like and the Moon
Later, in Yuyan's room...
The night hovered quietly after the rain, and the blue dress hanging behind the door seemed to float with the breeze. Yuyan had spent most of the day with Xiaoqing, laughing at nothing, walking slowly, sipping tea at an old house by the canal. And now, back home, barefoot on the cool wooden floor, she allowed herself a rare moment of lightness.
She picked up her phone. Opened the gallery. A photo Xiaoqing had taken earlier — the two of them in profile, walking along a cobbled street. The puddles on the ground reflected their silhouettes, giving the image an almost dreamlike air. She hesitated for a moment, then posted it to her WeChat Moments with the caption:
"Tea and rain days off."
Less than three minutes later, the notification popped up:
Wen Zhaonan liked your photo.
Yuyan felt her heart race.A like.Simple.But from him.
By reflex — or curiosity — she tapped his name.
Wen's profile was discreet, nearly empty. Most posts were scientific articles, mentions of research collaborations, citations about neurodegeneration, an old photo from a conference with a caption far too technical to be personal.
But then… something stood out.
A photo of the moon.Posted weeks earlier.No caption. Just a dark sky and a silvery glow, slightly out of focus — as if taken without aesthetic intention, but with feeling.
Yuyan stared at the image.Something about it touched a place she couldn't name.
She slid her finger across the screen — and then, without realizing, tapped the heart icon.
Liked.
The symbol turned red.So did her blood.
Her eyes widened.— No, no, no… — she whispered, half laughing to herself, half panicking.
She thought of unliking it.But… what if he had already seen?
She stayed still, the phone in her hands.
Her reflection in the mirror looked back at her — like someone quietly laughing inside.
Yuyan set the phone aside, covered her face with her hands, and sank into the futon.
Maybe he wouldn't notice.Maybe he would.But... what if that was okay?
—
In Wen Zhaonan's apartment...
He had already finished correcting two papers, read a new article on silent inflammation markers, and washed the coffee mug he used every day. His body was tired, but his mind — restless.
Unlocking his phone by chance, he saw the notification.
Lin Yuyan liked your photo.The moon one.
Wen froze.
It was an old post. A photo he'd taken during a sleepless night, when solitude felt less harsh under that sky. He hadn't added a caption. No hashtags. He'd posted it like someone letting go of a thought in the dark, not expecting an echo.
And now… there was an echo.
The phone was still in his hand, but his heart — that was already free.
He didn't smile openly. But his eyes… did.
He stood, walked to the balcony, and opened the door gently.
The sky, which had been overcast all day, had cleared.
The moon, high and bright, shone with a quiet whiteness only the attentive could fully see. He stood there for long seconds, leaning against the doorway, simply watching.
—
At Yuyan's home...
She had also stepped out onto the balcony.
The breeze was cool, and her tea cup was empty. The silence was clean, and the sky — at last — clear.
She looked at the moon with the same gaze she had as a child, when her grandmother used to say that even from afar, people could meet under the same sky.
She thought of Wen.Thought of the message.The gesture.The subtle presence.
The moon shone the same way in two different windows.
Both in silence.Both watching.
Then, suddenly, her phone vibrated.
New message. Wen Zhaonan.
She hesitated before opening it.
Good evening.I had a good day.I hope you did too.Sweet dreams.
Yuyan read it slowly, like someone listening.
Then she pressed the phone gently to her chest, her eyes still fixed on the sky.
She didn't reply.But she smiled — a smile only the moon saw.