Chapter 28: Staying

The rain had begun soft as spring rain—then in an instant poured down. Nature’s gift, fair to every street large and small in Nanliu. Cold wind, heavy rain—tonight felt unlike ordinary because of this sudden storm.
“Whoosh—” The bike jerked to a stop under the apartment carport.
Stopped—Qi Yu’s left hand holding the umbrella dropped; umbrella not even closed, tossed aside; she rubbed her aching, exhausted wrist. Overexertion—left hand still trembling slightly.
The arms around her from behind had quietly withdrawn.
Qi Yu sensed it and looked back—met Jiang Ya’s wet eyes. Both froze.
Outside rain still washed everything; rain blurred all sound—illusion of another kind of quiet. Cool wind passed; their hair stirred, strands messy on their faces—yet neither moved, still staring.
In the rain their profiles facing each other were beautiful as a painting.
Between glances—indescribable feeling grew in their eyes, spread silently through the heart.
“That…” Almost as Qi Yu looked away and spoke, Jiang Ya hurriedly looked down, straightening her clothes.
“Did you get wet?” Qi Yu watched her movements—forgot what she had meant to say.
Jiang Ya’s peripheral glance at her—eyes not lifting—on her hem, then down to shoes soaked through.
In rain this hard, umbrella or not you got wet. Seeing Qi Yu’s concern Jiang Ya only said, “Fine—a little.”
“A little?” Qi Yu stared at her windbreaker—left half clinging to her body, clearly wet. “More than a little—that side’s soaked.”
“Didn’t expect it this hard… clothes and pants both wet.” Qi Yu rolled up her soaked long sleeves. Luckily only pant legs—a little; shoes and socks not soaked through, or sticky misery all over.
Jiang Ya: “Yeah… mainly the wind, rain came in sideways…”
“Should’ve let you go back alone—maybe you wouldn’t have gotten wet.”
Qi Yu: “Saying that now… I already brought you…”
“If I didn’t, in this rain with your own umbrella wouldn’t you be drenched?”
Qi Yu shook water off the umbrella, smiled at her lips.
Jiang Ya curved her lips too, serious. “I could’ve taken a cab—maybe neither of us would’ve gotten wet.”
Qi Yu paused, stopped, looked up—expression almost serious. “Oh—why didn’t you think of that earlier?”
Tone shifted, mock regret. “Pity—no time travel, can’t go back—still ended up soaked.”
Jiang Ya paused, gaze on Qi Yu’s rising smile—could not help smiling too.
She smiled and turned to the rain falling neat outside the carport, said no more.
Qi Yu finished with the umbrella, did not fold it, glanced at her, followed her gaze at the rain to the side.
Rain wrapped the world—silence a while.
They did not know how long they looked when a tiny piercing cry broke the air into both ears.
They looked at each other—both puzzled.
Listening a while, Qi Yu frowned, tried to trace the sound.
Uncertain: “Is that… a cat?”
“Stray cats in your complex?”
Jiang Ya’s brow knit too; after thought shook her head. “Not sure—seen one or two sometimes… don’t usually hear crying.”
“Meow—meow—”
Listening hard, the cries grew clearer—each more desperate, heartbreaking.
“Sounds like a kitten—abandoned?” Qi Yu took the umbrella, could not help walking toward the sound.
Jiang Ya followed naturally under the umbrella. Along the carport corridor to a storage room beside a building.
The room was empty—only old furniture piled in a corner. Inside, the crying nearly pierced their ears.
A delivery box on a dusty old sofa. Qi Yu closed the umbrella, looked—sure enough a soaked tiny kitten, trembling in the box, screaming outward.
So miserable both squatted there a moment, at a loss.
Qi Yu leaned close, carefully poked the kitten’s head—the kitten cried fiercer; she pulled back fast.
“Who’s that cruel—rainy day dumping a cat here. So small—looks just weaned.”
“Doesn’t look intentional…” Jiang Ya gazed at it, gaze soft and pitying. “Not a breed cat—probably born to strays in the complex.”
“Maybe lost mom—and hit the rain… fur’s wet—someone probably found it, couldn’t take it home, stuck it in a box here.”
After analyzing Jiang Ya reached out like Qi Yu—but did not poke the head, only stroked the thin back gently.
Maybe tired from crying—after her gentle passes the voice was less tearing, easing.
Qi Yu raised a brow, surprised. “Wouldn’t let me touch—lets you.”
“You’re fated with it.”
Jiang Ya smiled wordlessly, fingers brushed the top again, closed the box a little, stood holding it with both hands.
Qi Yu walked out with her, asked, “You’re adopting it?”
Jiang Ya nodded, ducked under Qi Yu’s umbrella—shoulders touched without thinking.
“If I don’t take it, probably won’t survive tonight—so cold, no food.”
Qi Yu was interested too—smiling glance at the box—through the gap fuzzy kitten still moving inside.
She asked, “But it’s so small—probably can’t eat kibble yet. Only goat milk.”
Jiang Ya: “Mm—I’ll order delivery online for now.”
“Coincidentally—when I first moved out I wanted a cat. Read a lot online, bought a lot of pet stuff.”
“Then work got too busy—I dropped the idea. Supplies still at home—perfect timing.”
Listening, Qi Yu unconsciously stared at her gentle smiling profile—Jiang Ya looked up; she jerked her eyes to the rain ahead.
“But school starts in a few days—time to care for it?”
“Mm… squeeze time. Otherwise if I leave it here I really can’t.” Jiang Ya laughed, whole face bright. “Look—it’s quiet now. Pretty good, right?”
Qi Yu smiled. “Yeah—it knows you came to save it. It likes you.”
Jiang Ya: “Maybe fate. I believe in that—I wanted one before and didn’t—now it found me.”
She smiled softly at Qi Yu—eyes curved.
Qi Yu looked at her, smiled, said nothing, looked down at wet pavement, thoughtful.
Fate…?
Was there really fate—so people met?
Qi Yu held the umbrella, walked with Jiang Ya through rain to her building.
“Okay—I’ll go. Take it upstairs.” Seeing her enter the stairwell Qi Yu did not follow.
Jiang Ya stopped teasing the kitten, looked back, glanced at rain still pouring. “But it’s still so heavy—you leaving now?”
Qi Yu turned to the waterfall outside—hesitated.
This matched typhoon downpour—water pooling on the road. Umbrella or not, same ending probably.
“Then I’ll… wait here a bit.” Qi Yu folded the umbrella, checked her phone, told her.
“But who knows how long—you just stand here?”
“Mm… wait a while. If it doesn’t ease I have no choice—go back anyway.”
“That won’t do.” Jiang Ya held the box, came closer, serious. “You’ll be soaked head to toe…”
“How about…” Jiang Ya hesitated, read Qi Yu’s face, said, “Come up to my place a while? When rain eases you go back.”
“Huh?” Qi Yu startled.
Blinking alone with umbrella—looked foolish.
Before a polite refusal formed, Jiang Ya was before her, took her wrist, pulled her inside.
“Don’t space out. Come on.”
“But…”
Qi Yu’s lips moved—watching Jiang Ya’s back and her own caught wrist—pressed her lips, sighed inside, swallowed the words.
……
Inside Jiang Ya poured hot water for both, handed Qi Yu a dry towel though she did not need it yet.
On the sofa they ordered kitten supplies first, hot water bottle and blanket in the box—the kitten found warmth and went quiet, lying there curious eyes on them.
Settled, Jiang Ya went to wash up; Qi Yu stayed in the living room resting, watching the kitten.
Jiang Ya said pet things were stacked in the spare room—still in shipping boxes, unopened.
Qi Yu looked—indeed a mountain of parcels, even three bags of litter.
She helped unpack—no scissors, walked toward the bathroom.
Not too close—few meters outside the bathroom she called, “Where’re your scissors? Can’t find them.”
Shower sound from inside; silence, then: “Bedside table in my bedroom, first drawer. Just go in.”
“Okay.”
Qi Yu answered, glanced at the kitten again, went to Jiang Ya’s bedroom.
First time in Jiang Ya’s bedroom.
Not much—a bed, wardrobe, desk; books in a row and a laptop.
Quick scan—opened the bedside drawer.
Not much inside—scissors obvious—but her gaze stalled, did not take them at once.
Beside the scissors—a opened pack of cigarettes and an elegant lighter.
She suddenly remembered Jiang Ya smoking that night.
She had thought—like her old self, smoke to dull pain—did not expect…
Qi Yu came back, cut the stray thoughts, looked away fast, took scissors, left, closed the door.
Not many parcels—under two minutes done. Studying how to assemble something she faintly heard shower stop—maybe door opening.
Slippers on floor—Qi Yu looked up—Jiang Ya in fitted sleepwear walking out—and froze.