The Rain Won't Fall - Chapter 5

The next day, in the breakroom.

Zhou Yu pushed the door open to find Yun Yan standing by the coffee machine. It was too late to retreat. She walked in, grabbed a paper cup from the cabinet, and stood before the water dispenser. The dispenser gurgled; the coffee machine followed suit. As the hot water seeped through the filter, the aroma slowly drifted through the air.

Yun Yan picked up her coffee and walked past her. As she passed, her pace faltered for a fraction of a second before she pushed the door open and left.

Zhou Yu took a sip of the water she had just poured. It was scalding. The heat scorched the tip of her tongue, and she let out a sharp hiss of pain. The hot and cold buttons were right next to each other, and she had pressed the wrong one. She had forgotten. She never drank hot water. She set the cup down on the counter and didn’t touch it again.

Another day, in the elevator.

Zhou Yu stepped in, cradling a stack of design drafts. Just as the doors were about to slide shut, a hand reached in to block them. The doors retracted, and Yun Yan stepped inside.

They were the only two in the car. The floor numbers climbed, one by one.

Zhou Yu stared at the display while Yun Yan stood beside her, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. Zhou Yu caught a faint scent, not the woody perfume from the other day, but something subtle, like the natural fragrance of skin.

Third floor, fourth, and fifth.

Yun Yan didn’t look at her, nor did she speak.

Seventh floor, eighth, ninth.

The doors opened.

Zhou Yu stepped out, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Back at her desk, she spread out the drafts and picked up her stylus, but she didn’t draw.

That scent was still stuck in her mind.

Back in university, whenever Yun Yan stepped out of the shower with her hair half-damp and draped over her shoulders, she would trail a faint scent of shampoo as she passed. Zhou Yu used to tell her, “Your hair smells so good.” Yun Yan would respond with a faint smile. For a long time after that, Yun Yan would happen to pass right by her every single time she finished washing her hair.

Zhou Yu set the stylus down. She closed her eyes, propping her forehead against her hand with a heavy sigh. She wasn’t going to get any drawing done today.

Friday evening, at the corner of the hallway.

The setting sun slanted through the window, bathing Zhou Yu in its glow and gilding her cool-brown hair with a layer of pale gold.

She held the cigarette between her fingers, watching the smoke slowly unravel.

A set of footsteps drew near. She didn’t look up, but from the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of red Converse stop beside her.

Yun Yan didn’t say a word; she just stood there for a moment. Zhou Yu took the cigarette out of her mouth, holding it as it continued to burn. She stared at the ground; Yun Yan stared at the cigarette.

A few seconds of silence passed.

“Zhou Yu.”

Yun Yan called her name, but Zhou Yu didn’t lift her head.

“I thought about what you said at the convenience store, when you asked who was doing this for me.”

The hand holding the cigarette twitched slightly.

Yun Yan’s voice was slow and steady. “You’re right. You didn’t start smoking for me, and you didn’t leave for me. Those were your own decisions. I really was being arrogant.”

Zhou Yu took another drag of the cigarette, remaining silent.

Yun Yan stood in the sunlight, a few strands of her long hair catching the breeze as she looked at Zhou Yu.

“But these six years,” she said. “These six years I spent looking for you, that was my decision, too. It has nothing to do with you.”

The wind gusted, and the camphor trees outside rustled for a long moment.

Yun Yan didn’t wait for an answer; she finished speaking and walked away.

Zhou Yu stood rooted to the spot. Once the cigarette was finished, she reached into her pocket for her pack of Hehua, pulled out another, and lit it.

The nicotine hit her, making her head swim, but the suffocating tightness in her chest finally began to subside.

When she returned to her apartment that night, Zhou Yu sat spinning the pack of cigarettes on her phone. She spun them for a long time, yet she still didn’t throw them away. Finally, she opened a drawer and shoved them inside.

A moment later, she couldn’t help herself. She reached back in, felt for one, and tucked it between her lips. She didn’t light it.

Outside, the Guangzhou night was a sea of lights, the taillights on the overpass forming a river of crimson.

Zhou Yu watched for a while, then took the cigarette out of her mouth and put it back in the drawer.

This time, she closed it and didn’t open it again.

Another week passed. In the cafeteria.

Zhou Yu was sitting with two colleagues from the design team. They said something that made her burst into laughter, her eyes curving into two crescent moons. She leaned her shoulder into the person next to her and gave them a playful smack on the arm. Once the laughter died down, she pulled her hand back and took a sip of her soup.

Yun Yan was sitting three tables away. She saw that laugh, how Zhou Yu’s entire body moved with it, her forehead nearly resting on her colleague’s shoulder.

In the past, Zhou Yu only acted that way with her. With others, she was cool and distant; even when she laughed, she was reserved, letting the corners of her mouth twitch and nothing more. Only when she laughed with Yun Yan was she loud and uninhibited, leaning her whole body in until her forehead pressed against Yun Yan’s shoulder, sometimes even nuzzling her like a cat.

Yun Yan lowered her head. Her chopsticks stirred the contents of her bowl, picking up a piece of green vegetable only to put it back without eating. The person at her table was talking; she gave a distracted “mm.”

She remembered a time six years ago when Zhou Yu had gone out to dinner with a senior from their club. When she returned, she excitedly told Yun Yan everything they had eaten. Yun Yan listened and gave a few brief responses until Zhou Yu suddenly stopped and looked at her. “Why aren’t you asking me who I went with?”

Yun Yan asked, “Who did you go with?”

Zhou Yu huffed. “Too late. I’m not telling you now.” Then she turned her back and ignored her.

Yun Yan had spent a long time coaxing her that day, finally buying her a Mango Sago, Zhou Yu’s favorite, before she would turn back around. With the straw in her mouth, Zhou Yu had mumbled, “Next time, you have to ask immediately.”

Yun Yan had smiled and promised she would. After that, every time Zhou Yu went out, Yun Yan would ask who she was with. Zhou Yu would laugh, her eyes crinkling as she teased, “Are you worried about me?”

Now, Zhou Yu was like that with someone else. Yun Yan didn’t know who that person was or why Zhou Yu was so close to them. She knew Zhou Yu would never again ask, “Why aren’t you asking me who I went with?” and she no longer had the right to ask.

After work that night, Yun Yan returned home and sat on her sofa. Her mind was filled with images of the Zhou Yu from university.

Back then, Zhou Yu was always revolving around her. Her vision had been so full of Zhou Yu that she never had the room to notice how Zhou Yu treated others. She had assumed Zhou Yu laughed like that with everyone; she thought it wasn’t special. Now that she saw Zhou Yu laughing that way with someone else, she realized it was special. It was something that should have belonged to her.

A sudden wave of bitterness washed over her.

It was jealousy.

Her phone lay on the coffee table, the screen dark. Yun Yan sat for a long time before picking it up. She opened WeChat, found the company group, and located Zhou Yu’s profile. The chat history was empty.

They had added each other on the first day of work in a group chat created by the producer. She tapped on Zhou Yu’s avatar. No messages had been sent. Zhou Yu hadn’t sent anything either.

She typed a few words, then deleted them. She typed again and deleted them again.

The screen briefly showed “The other party is typing…” before stopping. Nothing was sent.

Yun Yan picked up her phone, opened her notes app, typed a single line, and exited. She put the phone back on the coffee table, the screen still glowing. She picked it up again, opened the chat with Zhou Yu, and let her finger hover over the send button. It hovered there for a long time.

She sent nothing.

Thursday afternoon, in the hallway.

A new girl from the design team was cornered by the printer by a man from the Marketing Department. It was unclear what was being said, but the girl was backing away. Zhou Yu walked over from her desk and stood in front of the girl, saying a few words to the man. Her voice was low and the words were indistinguishable, but the man left, looking sheepish. Zhou Yu turned to ask the girl if she was okay, resting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a supportive pat.

Yun Yan stood at the other end of the hall, holding the sample drafts she had just pulled from the printer. She saw the whole thing.

Zhou Yu’s back, her hand on the girl’s shoulder, and the curve of her profile as she leaned in to speak.

She remembered a club dinner back in university. Someone had made an inappropriate joke at her expense, and she hadn’t said anything. Zhou Yu had pushed through the crowd and stood in front of her, glaring at the person and demanding an immediate apology. Her attitude was cold and forceful. The person, losing face, muttered a quiet “sorry.” Zhou Yu stepped forward, grabbed the person by the collar, and hauled them up. Her eyes were sharp and icy. “Did you not eat today? Louder. I didn’t hear you.” Eventually, the person turned red and bowed to Yun Yan, shouting an apology. Back then, Zhou Yu wore her hair in a high ponytail as she stood in her defense. Yun Yan had been a bit shorter than her then; the ends of Zhou Yu’s ponytail would brush against her nose. She remembered that back, the nape of her neck where her hair was tied up, those tiny, fuzzy stray hairs. She had stood behind Zhou Yu and watched her back for a very long time.

Yun Yan walked back to the temporary office with the drafts and sat down. She looked at the paper on her desk; the lines were smooth and beautiful. In the bottom right corner was a messy signature: Yu.

She traced her finger over the stroke of the pen, stroking it gently.

On Friday, just before the end of the shift, a message was sent to the group: Next Monday, we’re shooting the outdoor scenes for the new season samples. The Design team needs to send one person to the site to coordinate silhouette adjustments.

Several people replied with “Received.” After a long pause, Zhou Yu replied with a simple “1.”

That night, she tossed and turned in bed, staring up at the ceiling. She couldn’t sleep.

It’s just a work assignment, Zhou Yu thought. What’s there to be restless about? Stop being so narcissistic, Zhou Yu. Don’t go imagining things again.

She closed her eyes, her mind a whirlwind, until she finally drifted off at some unknown hour.

Monday morning. When Zhou Yu arrived at the studio, Yun Yan was already in the makeup chair. Her long hair was pinned back with clips as the makeup artist applied her base. The vanity lights were blindingly bright. Yun Yan had her eyes closed. She had a clean, ethereal beauty about her. Zhou Yu caught a few glances before walking past her.

Today’s shoot was for the autumn collection. The silhouettes had been revised three times last week. Zhou Yu stood by the garment steamer, smoothing out each sample one by one. The steam rose and dampened her face. In the dressing room, the makeup artist was chatting with Yun Yan; Yun Yan gave brief, low-voiced responses that were hard to catch.

By the time she reached the third garment, the dressing room door opened. Yun Yan stepped out. The knit sweater was cream-colored, the neckline plunging just enough to reveal her collarbone. Her long hair draped over her shoulders, the ends curling naturally.

Zhou Yu looked up at her briefly before looking back down. “On the second outfit, be careful with the neckline when you put it on. The sample is a bit tight.”

“Mm.”

Yun Yan took the garment from her. For a fleeting second, their fingers brushed before pulling apart.

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