The rain was falling hard, as if it knew something was about to happen.It wasn't just the sound — it was the way the drops struck the glass of the small café,as if time itself had decided to whisper a change.
Inside, the scent of fresh coffee mingled with that of newly baked bread.It was a discreet little place, tucked away in a narrow alley between old buildings,with light linen curtains and wooden furniture darkened by age.
Behind the counter, a calm-faced old man quietly arranged the cups,while his wife adjusted the small vases of dried flowers on the tables.There were no other customers.The morning, until then, had been made of silence, steam, and memories.
Then the door opened with a timid rattle.The bell above it chimed like someone waking from a dream.
The figure who stepped inside looked as though she had walked out of an old drama —her long black hair clung to her pale face, soaked by the rain.She wore a simple dress, now drenched and clinging to her slender frame.Her large brown eyes, wide and a little startled,held something restrained and yet deeply sincere.
— Goodness… — murmured the woman, stepping forward with a clean towel in hand.
The young woman hesitated, taking a careful step inside,trying not to soak the wooden floor even more.The old man, without a word, pulled out a chair and gestured kindly.
— Sit down, dear. The rain's in a bad mood today.He said it with a small smile — the kind that warms more than the coffee itself.
She nodded, still catching her breath, her face half-hidden beneath her wet fringe.She sat slowly, pressing the sleeves of her dress against her lap, trying to stop the dripping.The woman soon returned with a soft towel and a steaming cup.
— Here. Take this. It's on the house.
The young woman hesitated for a second before wrapping both hands around the cup.The warmth spread through her fingers, then her wrists, and finally her chest.
She murmured a barely audible thank you.The woman noticed, with gentle eyes, the slight tremble in her shoulders,and simply touched her hand for a brief moment — a gesture that said: You can breathe now.
The old man returned to the counter, watching from afar, curious and silent.It wasn't common for someone to enter like that, so suddenly, so soaked...so clearly carrying the world in her eyes.
— What's your name, dear? — the woman asked softly.
The young woman slowly lifted her gaze, as if the questionhad pulled her back to the present.
— Liuyun, she answered, almost in a whisper. — My name is Chen Liuyun.