Sun Rain Chapter 12
byFengcheng’s winter arrived abruptly this year. In the time it took to run a few meetings and sign a few documents, the first snow fell from the sky.
The sudden change in weather added pressure to traffic. Inside his car on the main city roads, Fu Xuanliao was annoyed by the long queue of vehicles ahead, and his tone when answering the phone was less than pleasant: “Speak if you have business, otherwise get lost.”
Gao Lecheng knew immediately what was happening and said cheekily, “Stuck in traffic? Tsk, I told you to get a pilot’s license…”
“Are you going to fly from the south of the city to the west?”
“The west side? Why aren’t you reporting to Young Master Shi’s old place on the east side?”
“Shi Meng changed the location at the last minute again.”
“It was the same last time… Oh, I know, it’s a date.”
Fu Xuanliao frowned: “Shut your mouth.”
Gao Lecheng not only didn’t shut up but laughed heartily: “Your Ice Beauty has gotten smarter. He’s no longer relying on brute force; he knows how to use technique now. I’m afraid our CEO Fu’s heart might not be safe.”
“I’m not like you, falling for everyone you see.”
Speaking of the person he was currently pursuing, Gao Lecheng was quite miserable: “It’s the first time I’ve met a woman who doesn’t like flowers or handwritten love letters… Are your Ice Beauty’s friends all a bit abnormal?”
Fu Xuanliao was speechless: “Then why are you so eager to chase her?”
“It’s novel. It’s the first time a woman has been so fierce to me in my life,” Gao Lecheng said excitedly.
Fu Xuanliao gave a forced smile: “You must be a masochist then.”
Naturally, he called for a reason. Gao Lecheng cut to the chase: “CEO Fu, are you free this weekend?”
The car in front was motionless. Fu Xuanliao released the steering wheel and leaned back in his seat to rest: “My parents are returning tomorrow.”
“In that case, forget it. Picking up Aunt and Uncle is more important. How about next weekend?”
“Should be free.”
“Well, you know, my family opened a new resort in the suburbs.”
“Inviting me to play?”
“Yep, and incidentally, your Ice Beauty…”
“I see your true intention isn’t the wine.”
“Haha, it’s good you know. If you could also bring his manager along…”
“I can’t guarantee that,” Fu Xuanliao said. “You know, I am constrained by him, not the other way around.”
“Don’t say that. Anyone with eyes can see he’s being led by the nose by you.” Gao Lecheng first flattered him, then dropped the sugar-coated bullet: “Actually, I have something interesting here. How about we make a deal? I tell you, and you help me arrange the meeting.”
“About what?”
“Your Ice…”
“Then don’t bother telling me.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to hear it? Only I know this. Miss it, and there won’t be another chance.”
Gao Lecheng was skilled at building suspense, and he managed to pique Fu Xuanliao’s interest even though he hadn’t been interested initially.
After a moment of hesitation, Fu Xuanliao said, “What if I can’t help you arrange the meeting?”
“Man proposes, God disposes. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll accept my bad luck.” Gao Lecheng said magnanimously.
“Alright then.” Fu Xuanliao had a businessman’s mind; no matter how he calculated it, this deal wasn’t a loss. “Tell me. I want to hear how interesting it is.”
Arriving at the address Shi Meng sent, Fu Xuanliao found it was a shopping center.
For anyone, having to cross half of Fengcheng on the first day of snow just to visit an ordinary mall would be frustrating. Coupled with the weekend crowds, parking took a significant effort. As he rode the elevator up, Fu Xuanliao saw his reflection in the window—his face was as black as a pot bottom. It looked less like he was going shopping and more like he was going to smash the place up.
This anger peaked after he received a call from Shi Meng.
“What? You’re at the South Gate?” Fu Xuanliao looked around the mall. “Which one is the South Gate?”
“There are signs outside the mall,” Shi Meng said. “I’m in front of a shop selling sugar-roasted chestnuts.”
Fu Xuanliao was dumbfounded: “You want me to go out and find you?”
“Yes.”
This mall was huge. If Fu Xuanliao happened to be at the North Gate, getting to the South Gate would mean a long detour.
And it was still snowing outside.
“Can’t you just come inside?” Fu Xuanliao tried to argue.
“No,” Shi Meng said decisively. “You come over.”
Constrained by the situation, Fu Xuanliao gritted his teeth and rushed out. Seeing the words “North Gate” on the sign, he angrily headed south against the wind.
There was a large plaza in front of the mall, with trees and railings adorned with colored lights.
The first impression of fresh snow is always romantic. Many couples were holding hands, embracing, or taking photos here. Fu Xuanliao, tall and large in black clothes and black pants, looked completely out of place as he walked through them, resembling someone seeking revenge.
As he got closer, a few young people were blocking the path ahead, breakdancing. A crowd of onlookers surrounded them. Several times, Fu Xuanliao tried to squeeze through the crowd but was blocked by sudden applause, cheers, and the commotion of people.
The sign for the sugar-roasted chestnut shop was right in front of him. Fu Xuanliao completely lost his patience. He stood in the crowd, pulled out his phone, and dialed.
The call was answered quickly. Shi Meng was clearly outside too; the sound of rushing wind came through the earpiece.
“Shi Meng.” The name was practically squeezed through gritted teeth. Fu Xuanliao commanded fiercely, “Turn around.”
The person holding a black umbrella turned around.
The blurry, shaking lines in front of him quickly converged, as if a long-malfunctioning visual focus program had been repaired. The scenery he had just passed left no mark in his mind, but the scene before him was extraordinarily clear—
Shi Meng was wearing a white down jacket that was excessively large for his frame, his entire person enveloped in a world of black and white. Snowflakes drifted onto his short black hair. The slight redness on his lips and nose from the cold was the only contrasting color in this picture.
No, wait, there were also his eyes, which lit up when he saw Fu Xuanliao.
Fu Xuanliao watched the guy, who usually avoided crowded places, raise his arm and wave at him, swinging it left and right, as if afraid Fu Xuanliao wouldn’t see him.
The anger that had nearly reached the top of his head was instantly extinguished. Fu Xuanliao even involuntarily waved back. When he realized the stupid thing he had done, his face darkened a few shades more.
The two entered the building. When Fu Xuanliao took the warm paper bag from Shi Meng, he realized Shi Meng had been waiting outside just to buy these sugar-roasted chestnuts. The line outside that shop had been quite long.
“They’re still hot,” Shi Meng said.
Meaning, eat them while they’re hot.
Last week, when they met at the drive-in cinema, Shi Meng had also prepared snacks in advance. Fu Xuanliao had felt something was off then. Now, seeing other couples around who had bought chestnuts, with the boyfriends peeling them for their girlfriends, he finally understood.
Perhaps Shi Meng genuinely treated this as a date, and was trying his best to be “gentlemanly” and look after him.
This realization made Fu Xuanliao uncomfortable. After they entered a restaurant and sat down, he placed the chestnut he had already peeled in front of Shi Meng across the table: “You try it first.”
His intention was to regain the initiative, but Shi Meng picked up the golden chestnut meat, holding it as if it were a priceless gem. He looked at it repeatedly before bringing it to his mouth, almost reluctant to eat it.
He treasured it even more than the ice cream cone at the Amusement Park last time.
Since he had given it, Fu Xuanliao forced himself to ask casually, “Is it good?”
“It is,” Shi Meng replied quickly, a rare display of agility. “Very good.”
Fu Xuanliao vigilantly sensed that something was quietly changing, like microorganisms stirring in a petri dish.
He began to attribute this change to the shift in setting—after all, in public, Shi Meng would restrain his temper, and he himself couldn’t easily flare up. It was like being at the Shi family dinner table, where he had to maintain a smile under everyone’s gaze, treating it as a form of self-cultivation.
Anyway, behind closed doors, no one would know if they fought tooth and nail.
Thinking this made him feel much better. After dinner, the two went upstairs to a tea bar for a short rest. Bored, Fu Xuanliao tried to make light conversation with Shi Meng: “Did you buy this jacket recently?”
Shi Meng was holding a small, palm-sized hardcover notebook, sketching. Hearing the question, he looked down at his clothes: “Yes.” Then he looked up at Fu Xuanliao. “Does it look good?”
Anyone who had spent time with Shi Meng knew that his speech, aside from imperatives, consisted almost entirely of affirmations or negations. Therefore, Fu Xuanliao was caught off guard by the smooth, natural way Shi Meng turned the question back on him.
The dark pupils looked cold, yet when they stared at him, there was a tangible heat.
Evasion wouldn’t work. Fu Xuanliao had no choice but to pick up his cup, take a sip of tea, and mumble into the cup: “Mhm.”
In fact, it did look good. Fu Xuanliao was not good at lying.
Shi Meng, enveloped in white, resembled a flower placed in a porcelain vase. The stem was slender, and the petals were another shade of white, as if transparent inside, allowing for such pure whiteness.
Shi Meng was absorbed in his drawing. The pencil, sharpened until only five or six centimeters remained, was held lightly in his palm. His long fingers quickly sketched on the paper. Occasionally, he looked up at the ornament on the bar counter he was copying, his eyes slightly narrowed, carefully observing every detail of light and shadow.
Probably no one would have the heart to snap this vibrant, living flower.
Thinking this, Fu Xuanliao glanced at his own hand. It had repeatedly and cruelly gripped the life force of this beautiful flower, attempting to destroy it.
The moment he realized he had subconsciously used the word “cruel,” Fu Xuanliao found it ironic.
If ranked by severity, stealing someone else’s hard work, and stopping at nothing to obtain what he wanted and keep it by his side, completely disregarding the other person’s dignity and wishes—that was clearly the overwhelming cruelty.
I must be insane to feel sorry for him.
Fu Xuanliao angrily withdrew his gaze, propping his chin on his hand, looking out the window at the passersby, at the wooden wall, and at the tea leaves floating in his cup.
He looked everywhere except at this seemingly pure, yet inwardly manipulative, black-hearted lotus.
Shi Meng was naturally unaware of his companion’s rich inner monologue. When they entered, he had noticed the beautiful Chinese-style niche lamp by the door and immediately pulled out his paper and pencil to sketch it.
Anyone else would have instantly taken a photo with their phone, but Shi Meng was accustomed to recording what he saw with a paintbrush. Once immersed, he was completely focused. Only when he reached the final touches did he remember there was someone sitting across from him.
Fu Xuanliao was never a patient person. Usually, he would have been restless by now, yet today he was so quiet…
Shi Meng put down his pen and notebook and cautiously leaned closer to observe. He then concluded—it was because he had fallen asleep.
The hand that had been propping up his chin was now resting flat on the table, pressing against a face that was frowning even in sleep. Shi Meng tilted his head slightly, aligning his gaze with Fu Xuanliao’s, taking in his sharp facial contours, his prominent, hill-like nose, and his thick eyelashes, which were only noticeable when closed. He looked again and again, almost greedily.
Only at this moment was Fu Xuanliao gentle. He wouldn’t say hurtful things, nor would he look at Shi Meng with near-hateful eyes.
Shi Meng wanted him to stop hating, but how could he not hate? A shift in light could make the same scene appear in two completely different ways, just like facts being obscured by different angles; people only believe the tip of the iceberg they see.
That’s why even quiet moments felt precious, like they were stolen.
Shi Meng reached out his hand, thinking, just for one second, let me hold his hand without worrying about being pushed away.
Just for one second, even.
In fact, Fu Xuanliao woke up before he was touched.
His vigilance was always high. No matter how tired his body was from work, he wouldn’t fall into a deep sleep in a public place. However, this short nap actually led to a dream.
It was a cicada-filled afternoon, a classroom filled with floating dust. His vision was only a narrow slit; his eyelids were heavy, as if he had just woken up and couldn’t open them.
In the struggle against drowsiness, he heard footsteps approaching, light and somewhat timid. Someone sat down opposite him very gently, and after a rustling sound, lifted the textbook he had placed over his head to block out noise.
Shallow yet slightly hurried breathing puffed onto the top of his head, getting closer and closer. Fu Xuanliao heard a heartbeat drumming in his eardrum.
Just as he raised his head, intending to catch the “attacker” red-handed, the scene suddenly changed, and a rush of chaotic noise flooded his ears.
The dream seamlessly transitioned into reality. In a flash, Fu Xuanliao seized the hand reaching toward him, gripping the wrist and slamming it onto the table.
The sudden change startled Shi Meng considerably. His eyes widened. He instinctively recoiled, then was scrutinized by Fu Xuanliao’s assessing gaze. He lowered his eyes, looking guilty, and said in a transparent attempt to cover up: “You’re awake.”
Once Fu Xuanliao understood the situation, he didn’t press the matter, releasing his grip and asking vaguely, “How long did I sleep?”
Shi Meng pulled his hand back, closed his notebook, and tucked it into his pocket: “Twenty minutes.”
Dinner was over, and the tea was drunk. On the drive back, Fu Xuanliao looked at the night view through the front windshield, which was identical to the journey there. He seemed not yet to have transitioned from the hot dream to the snowy reality, and murmured, “It’s snowing.”
Shi Meng had taken a taxi to get here. Now sitting in the passenger seat, he also looked out the window.
Fu Xuanliao thought he heard Shi Meng hum in agreement, but he wasn’t sure.
He remembered the first snow last year. He was reviewing documents in his office and heard the surprised cheers of the female employees outside. Looking out the window, he felt only confusion.
It was the same the year before and the year before that. To revive the heavily indebted, near-bankrupt company, the entire Fu family had poured in all their efforts. As the only son, Fu Xuanliao naturally couldn’t stand idly by. After returning from abroad, he went to the factory, audited meetings, ran business errands everywhere, and participated in commercial negotiations… until he gradually took over the company and became the decision-maker. The growth brought by this high-speed rotation was significant, but the missed scenery was countless.
Many memories that were once important to him gradually became blurred. Certain fragments that he recalled unintentionally even made him doubt if he had misremembered them.
For example, the scene that reappeared in his dream just now. Although he hadn’t looked up at the time, in Fu Xuanliao’s existing memory, the person who “attacked” him in the classroom was Shi Mu. However, the moment he grabbed Shi Meng and met those clear eyes, he was inexplicably shaken, no longer so certain.
Following the trail of first snow memories backward year by year, Fu Xuanliao suddenly grasped an important juncture.
“Eight years ago…” He couldn’t wait to verify with the person beside him. “Eight years ago, on Christmas, where were you?”