Thunder continued to rumble.
Raindrops fell like tiny stones, heavy and sharp.
The rain intensified within just a few minutes.
Lin Zhexia put down the cake, vaguely sensing something wasn’t right.
“Hey, Da Zhuang,” she called He Yang, “what are you doing?”
He Yang: “I’m at home, with rain this heavy, you think I’d be out jogging?”
Lin Zhexia continued asking: “Are you enjoying yourself at home?”
“…”
“Doing homework at home, wouldn’t call it enjoyable.”
Hearing this, she realized Chi Yao wasn’t at He Yang’s place either.
Sure enough, He Yang’s next sentence confirmed: “It’s Yao-ge’s birthday today. I spent a fortune sending him a new skin, but he hasn’t replied to my message yet. I even knocked on his door, but no one answered. This guy, always so aloof even on his birthday.”
He Yang added: “Has he replied to you? Are you two together now? On such an important day, do you need me to come over for cake?”
Lin Zhexia: “The signal’s bad, I’m hanging up.”
After ending the call, she looked at the wall clock. Night had already fallen.
The hour hand passed ‘9’ o’clock, moving toward ’10’.
Eighteen years old.
This number seemed touched by God’s magic.
They hadn’t realized at the time that after turning eighteen, while life expanded more broadly, people also had to face many more things. The simple straight line began to transform inexplicably, sprouting many unexpected forks in the road—
About ten minutes later, Lin Zhexia made a decision.
She stood alone in the empty room, surrounded by the thunder that terrified her.
But at this moment, the thunder seemed far away from her.
She had only one thought in her mind: she wanted to find him.
Even with the thunder outside. Even in the middle of the night.
Even though she had no idea what had happened to Chi Yao or where he’d gone.
She still had to find him.
After this thought emerged, she grabbed the umbrella standing by the entrance and resolutely walked toward the downpour outside.
The residential complex looked desolate in the midnight storm.
She walked through the complex garden to the street sign.
Rain constantly washed over the road sign.
The blue and white Nanxiang Street sign had imperceptibly become worn with age, slightly different from her memory.
Lin Zhexia stood at the intersection, facing a crossroads, gripping the umbrella tightly, unsure which path to choose. The umbrella in her hand had become heavy from the downpour, weighing down on her from above—
That night, Lin Zhexia searched many places in the rain.
Aimlessly, she checked all the places she and Chi Yao frequently visited—the convenience store they often went to, the breakfast shop, the arcade, and even the roadside barbershop where she was repeatedly victimized by the barber.
The neon sign of “Meijuan Hair Salon” was lit up.
Business was slow inside.
Lin Zhexia had always had terrible luck with haircuts. No matter how she communicated with the hairdresser, even bringing high-definition reference photos, she’d always end up with a completely unrelated hairstyle thanks to the hairdresser’s mysterious thought process.
So later, whenever she went to the salon, she’d be very nervous and would drag Chi Yao along.
“I’ll go with you,” Chi Yao would say coldly back then, looking at her, “but will that improve the hairdresser’s skill level?”
“…”
Lin Zhexia would cling to his clothes and refuse to let go: “It won’t, but it makes me feel a little better. Also, I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself.”
Chi Yao: “Control yourself from hitting someone?”
Lin Zhexia: “Control myself from crying in the salon.”
Though Chi Yao would say, “Then go ahead and cry,” he’d still accompany her.
He would sit in the red single-seat sofa in the corner of the salon. Sometimes, when the wait got too long, he’d cover himself with his jacket and close his eyes to sleep. The salon had a small white dog that would occasionally bite his pant leg while he slept.
Once, because of his arrogant sleeping posture, Chi Yao was mistaken by a waiting elderly woman for a salon apprentice: “Young man, I’d like to get my hair washed.”
Chi Yao pulled the clothes off his face: “…Go find a staff member for hair washing.”
The woman with red curly perm: “Aren’t you a staff member?”
Chi Yao: “…”
Lin Zhexia’s haircut that day had turned out badly again, but she had no time to feel sad—hearing this conversation, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
“Ding-a-ling—”