The night in Liangcheng seemed endless.
Drizzle tapped gently at first against the pavement, then grew heavier, a steady curtain of rain blurring the streetlamps into halos of gold. The apartment block stood in silence, its stairwell light flickering faintly against the downpour.
Gu Ze Yan stood there alone.
He had arrived more than an hour ago, his car parked at the curb. At first, he waited inside, scrolling aimlessly through unread reports, his phone heavy in his hand. But the silence pressed in too tightly. Restlessness pushed him out of the car and into the rain.
Now, his beige suit jacket clung to his shoulders, his hair damp, rivulets of water tracing down his jaw. Still, he did not move. His gaze fixed upward, to the third-floor apartment door that had long ago become the center of his thoughts.
Where is she?
The words circled in his chest like a mantra. He remembered Wei Ran's cold smirk, the way he had pulled Qing Yun into his arms right in front of him. The sting of those words—"you're no one"—still echoed. But beneath the jealousy, beneath the anger, there was only worry.
He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, the rain soaking his clothes until his bones felt heavy. Yet he did not care. He would stand here until he saw her.
Meanwhile, across town, silence filled the interior of Xu Wei Ran's car.
The wipers scraped rhythmically, pushing aside the downpour. Neon signs outside bled into streaks of red and green across the glass. Qing Yun sat in the passenger seat, her profile lit by fleeting flashes of light.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Finally, Wei Ran broke the quiet, his voice low, steady:
"Qing Yun… what makes you need to do all this?"
She turned her head slightly, eyes still on the rain sliding down the window.
"All what?"
"Working yourself like this. Playing someone's girlfriend on contract. Smiling for people who don't know you. Why?" His words pressed forward, urgent.
Her lips curved into something faint—neither smile nor frown. "Because Si Yao deserves a future. Because my mother left me debts. Because someone has to bear it."
Wei Ran's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Then let me. I'll pay it all. Every cent. Your sister's tuition, your mother's debts—whatever number it is, I can cover it. You don't have to…"
Her head turned then, slowly.
Her eyes, usually warm with sunshine, were now cold and unwavering, like glass in winter.
"You say you know me," she said, voice cutting through the dark, "but you know nothing."
The words struck him harder than any slap.
For a moment, Wei Ran forgot to breathe. He had studied her smile for years, her calm, her pain. He thought he understood her better than anyone. Yet now, confronted with that unflinching gaze, he realized he had misstepped.
His voice softened. "I'm sorry."
Qing Yun looked away, watching the blurred lights. After a pause, she spoke again, but more gently, as if the anger had passed.
"Leave me alone, Xu Wei Ran. Let me do what I have to do. The same way I let you do what you wanted."
Her words wrapped around him like a quiet blade.
Wei Ran closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. For once, he did not argue. He only turned the key, and the car moved forward again, the sound of rain filling the silence between them.
They drove until the familiar outline of her apartment block appeared through the rain.
Qing Yun finally spoke.
"Stop here."
He glanced at her. "You don't want me to drop you off at the door?"
She shook her head. "I want to walk. To cool off."
She opened the umbrella she kept in her bag, stepped into the storm, and closed the door behind her. The sound of rain instantly swallowed her.
Wei Ran watched through the windshield as she walked away, the umbrella bobbing against the downpour. He did not follow. His fingers tapped once against the wheel, then fell still.
Qing Yun walked slowly at first. The rain pressed against the umbrella, droplets splattering her shoes. Her breath misted in the cold air, her thoughts heavy.
Then she saw him.
A lone figure stood at the stairwell entrance, drenched to the bone. His hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt soaked through, but he didn't move, didn't even flinch from the storm. His gaze lifted toward her apartment door as though willing her to appear.
Gu Ze Yan.
Her chest tightened.
For a heartbeat, she stood frozen. Then, without thinking, she let the umbrella slip from her hand. It clattered onto the pavement, forgotten. Her steps quickened, then turned into a near-run.
She reached him and threw her arms around him from behind.
The warmth of her body pressed against his soaked back. She buried her face against him, eyes closing as the rain drenched them both. For a few seconds, the world dissolved—the storm, the debts, the rivalry—only this embrace remained.
Gu Ze Yan stiffened in shock, then slowly turned.
Qing Yun looked up at him, droplets clinging to her lashes, her lips curving into the brightest, most unguarded smile.
"Let's go upstairs," she said softly. "You're wet."
His throat worked, but no words came. He only looked at her, the storm reflected in his eyes, and in that moment he thought—if this was what it meant to be no one, then let him be no one forever, as long as she chose him.
Together, they stepped into the stairwell, leaving the rain to roar outside.
The flickering bulb overhead buzzed, then steadied, casting their shadows against the wall—two figures standing close, moving upward step by step, as though the storm could never touch them again.
And behind them, the umbrella lay on the ground, overturned, filling quietly with rainwater.