The rain came back two weeks later.
Not the kind that soaked you to the bone — the kind that whispered softly against glass, reminding you of all the things you hadn't said yet.
Ming's Brew Café was nearly empty. The hum of the coffee machine was the only sound, steady as a heartbeat.
Li Wei stood behind the counter, sketching the empty chairs again.
He hadn't meant to. He just… couldn't help it.
Every time he looked at the door, he half expected it to open.
But it didn't.
Not since that night.
He'd replayed everything in his mind — the concert, Yuhan's smile, the way he said thank you for seeing me.
And that folded paper, the one with Yuhan's drawing and those words:
> "Let's meet again — somewhere the rain begins."
He'd read it so many times, it had started to feel like a heartbeat, hidden between his fingers.
But idols were stars. And stars didn't just fall twice in the same place.
Still, Li Wei kept the paper safe in the pocket of his sketchbook. Just in case.
---
That afternoon, a woman came in, shaking rain from her umbrella.
"Americano, no sugar," she said briskly.
Li Wei blinked. The words hit him like a memory.
He smiled before he realized it. "Coming right up."
As the espresso dripped, he glanced outside.
The rain blurred everything — streets, signs, faces.
The city looked softer, the way it had the day they met.
He wondered where Yuhan was now.
Maybe in another city, under another sky. Maybe he'd forgotten.
But just as he was wiping the counter again, the bell above the door rang.
He didn't look up at first — not until the woman gasped quietly behind him.
"Oh my god… isn't that—?"
Li Wei turned.
And froze.
There, standing in the doorway with his hood up and mask on, was the same quiet figure — rain dripping from his sleeves, a faint smile in his eyes.
"Hey," Yuhan said softly, almost shyly. "You still keeping the coffee warm?"
Li Wei's breath caught. For a moment, he couldn't speak. Then —
"You remembered."
Yuhan chuckled under his breath. "I said I would."
He walked in, shaking off the rain. The café suddenly felt smaller, brighter, more alive.
No cameras. No fans. Just them.
Li Wei made his coffee — Americano, no sugar. His hands didn't tremble this time.
When he set the cup down, Yuhan looked at him the same way he had before — like he was searching for something gentle he'd lost a long time ago.
"Shanghai was loud," Yuhan said quietly. "So was every city after that. But… this place—"
He glanced around the small café — the soft lights, the quiet hum.
"—this place feels like breathing again."
Li Wei smiled faintly. "You're always welcome here."
Yuhan's eyes softened. "You really mean that?"
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't."
He sat in his usual spot by the window. The rain traced lines across the glass.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
It wasn't awkward — it was peaceful, the kind of silence that says more than words.
Finally, Yuhan looked up. "Can I see your sketchbook again?"
Li Wei hesitated, then nodded, sliding it over.
Yuhan flipped through the pages carefully — lines and faces, all soft pencil ghosts of the world Li Wei saw.
When he reached the page of the man in the rain, he smiled. "Still drawing me?"
Li Wei's face went warm. "I— I draw what I feel."
"And what do you feel right now?"
The question hung between them, soft but heavy.
Li Wei's voice was almost a whisper. "Like I finally stopped waiting."
Yuhan looked down, a small smile tugging at his lips — the kind that wasn't for cameras. "You shouldn't say things like that to me."
"Why not?"
"Because I might believe you."
The words made Li Wei's heart stumble.
Outside, thunder rolled faintly — a low, distant hum.
For a moment, Yuhan looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded paper.
"I brought you something."
Li Wei unfolded it carefully. Inside was a new sketch — this time of a boy at a café window, with someone standing just outside in the rain.
> "Where the rain begins — is where I find peace."
Below it, Yuhan had written a simple note:
> "Keep drawing me. So I'll remember who I am."
Li Wei looked up, eyes shining. "You draw too?"
"Only when I'm trying to feel human again."
They both laughed softly.
And for the first time, Li Wei noticed how much Yuhan's laughter sounded like sunlight breaking through clouds.
---
Hours passed like minutes.
They talked — about art, coffee, insomnia, favorite songs.
Yuhan told him how fame sometimes felt like a cage with glass walls.
Li Wei told him how loneliness felt like walking through crowds unseen.
Somewhere between those words, they found something fragile but real.
When the rain finally stopped, Yuhan stood, pulling his hood back up.
"I'll have to go before someone recognizes me."
Li Wei nodded, his chest tight. "Will you come back?"
Yuhan hesitated — then smiled. "If it rains again."
The door chimed softly as he left.
Outside, the street lights shimmered on the wet pavement, and for a second, Li Wei could see Yuhan's reflection — faint, blurred, walking away under the same sky.
He stood there for a long time after, the cup still warm in his hands.
When he finally looked down, he noticed something beneath the cup — a napkin with handwriting in blue ink:
> "Next week. Same place.
— Yuhan 🌙"
Li Wei laughed quietly to himself. The sound was soft, full of disbelief and wonder.
He whispered toward the empty café,
"Guess I'll keep the coffee warm, then."
Outside, a single drop of rain hit the window. Then another.
The rain had begun again.
---
End of Chapter 3