Fainting on the street wasn’t the embarrassing part; the real humiliation came from being spotted by an acquaintance.
Some gossipy aunt or uncle must have embellished the story before their parents, nearly scaring them out of their wits.
What others called low blood sugar turned into “possession by a ghost” in their parents’ ears.
After much deliberation, they decided to visit Jiming Temple to pray.
They even went so far as to pick up her grandparents on the way. Her grandmother said that having the whole family there would show greater sincerity.
Chai Xiaomi had finally managed to get a holiday from Nanjing back to Suzhou, but now her parents were rushing off to Nanjing instead. The crowds at Jiming Temple during the holiday season were insane—she wasn’t about to go.
Curled up on the couch, eating ice cream with a spoon, she watched her family fuss over packing and couldn’t help but offer a gentle reminder: “I heard from my classmates that Jiming Temple is only effective for praying for love matches. Praying for what you’re asking won’t work. If you want to go, that’s fine, but can I skip it?”
“Don’t talk nonsense—it also works for praying for children’s safety. We’re praying for you, so you have to come,” her mother scolded with a teasing glare.
Her grandfather noticed her usual laziness creeping in and shared a subtle wink with her. Settled in his rattan chair, he took a slow sip of tea and said, “Sweetie works hard in her studies. Let her rest at home during the holiday. That’s fine. We’ll go alone. Her mother’s making a big deal out of nothing. The little one just has low blood sugar, a little supplement will set her right.”
Her grandfather’s words earned him a gentle tap on the head from her grandmother, but they successfully secured Chai Xiaomi’s holiday time off.
The whole family planned to sightsee for two days while burning incense, and she got her wish to stay home and watch the house.
She thought spending time alone at home would be pleasant.
But her insomnia only grew worse.
In the dorm, she could at least fall asleep using her roommate’s breathing as white noise, but lying in her own cold, quiet room, sleep eluded her completely.
Every time she closed her eyes, the faint memory of a shallow breath lingered in her ears, along with the memory of arms wrapping around her like an octopus, pulling her into an embrace.
Even after taking a few melatonin pills, she only became more awake.
She lay still on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling light above.
Reflecting on the past few days, she often experienced auditory hallucinations and visions, drifting through life in a daze as if trapped in a dream she couldn’t wake from.
In the cafeteria, Hallyu fan girls huddled together excitedly chattering about their idols, occasionally throwing in words like “wuli.” For a brief moment, she would feel disoriented, then lower her head and continue eating, tears dropping into the steaming rice noodle soup.
Walking at dusk, she’d stop at a tiny daisy sprouting from the roadside greenery along the boulevard. Bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, she’d look up at the evening glow and inexplicably start crying, feeling that it wasn’t as beautiful as the valley’s sky that day.
When watching KPL esports matches, she always found herself staring at the marksman position.
During health checkups, she’d freeze when the nurse pressed a cotton ball against her skin during blood draws.
At the sugar-painting stall on the food street, she’d pester the craftsman to draw a head.
Unconsciously, she’d be captivated by anything related to the Miao ethnic group.
Even a classmate’s casual, laughing tease, calling her “silly,” could trigger tears streaming down her face. Her classmates assumed she was fragile, so they started being more cautious with their words.
No one knew the reasons behind her strange behavior.
Only she understood clearly: the longing in her heart was like an endless rain, every drop landing in emptiness, converging into a river that could never flow back.
Her best friend Qiuqiu, learning of her severe insomnia, called specially to keep her company over the phone.
“In my opinion, it’s probably because it’s too quiet at home,” Qiuqiu chirped excitedly, offering ideas. “You could try listening to music or watching mukbang—I love watching mukbang to fall asleep. Oh, and listening to audiobooks works wonders, especially the more boring, the better! Try math online classes—instant knockout, hahaha!”
Chai Xiaomi went with the first suggestion.
She connected her Bluetooth speaker and casually tapped on the daily recommended playlist.
The opening notes of the first song made her defenses crumble.
G.E.M.’s song—“Love Can Reach Across Distances.”
She stared at her phone, momentarily suspecting it was spying on her life in real time.
During a late-night wave of melancholy driven by the NetEase Cloud app, she couldn’t bring herself to skip it.
By the early hours before dawn, thunder boomed outside the window, rain hammered against the glass, and the neon lights of Jinji Lake blurred into shimmering patches of light behind the rain curtain, reflecting in the wet gleam of the night.
She barely dozed off around three or four in the morning, drifting into sleep before being yanked back by a nightmare.
Outside, the rain hadn’t stopped.
In the dream, it was also pouring rain.
She dreamed—
That beautiful, iridescent stone hovered midair, its surface shimmering with colorful patterns of light.
The young man sat serenely at the center of a rotating circular formation, enveloped in a halo of rainbow glow.
His expression was peaceful and gentle.
Threads of crimson blood stretched from every part of his body, fine as silk, flowing endlessly...
Pumping into the body of the girl lying on the bed.
She wore only a simple white dress, all her ornaments removed.
As the blood threads poured in, her cheeks gradually regained color.
But the young man’s complexion faded paper-white, inch by inch, until the very last thread of blood withdrew, draining all his strength. He collapsed slowly.
“Lili!!!”
Chai Xiaomi jolted awake with a start, trembling as she cried out the name that haunted her heart and soul.
Her pillow was already soaked with tears.
Looking down, she stared blankly at the silver anklet chain on her ankle. She gently touched it, but it sounded no jingle.
She remembered waking up in the hospital after being found, changed into a patient gown. But her mother said that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remove this ankle bracelet—they almost resorted to pliers until she fiercely defended it.
She hadn’t brought anything back with her.
Only this seemed proof that everything had not been a dream.
“Lili...”
But no matter how many times she called his name inside her heart, this bell never rang again.
A crisp sound from the doorbell jolted her back from her jumbled thoughts.
Chai Xiaomi realized it was already seven in the morning.
“Who is it?” She glanced down at her spaghetti-strap nightgown, hurriedly grabbing a jacket before stepping out of her bedroom.
“Miss, your package needs to be signed for in person.”
Who delivers packages at this hour?
Typically, packages are left at the neighborhood collection station or in parcel lockers. Only SF Express or JD.com offers door-to-door delivery.
Could her mother have ordered some fresh groceries from a livestream?
The deliveryman’s voice came through the thick door, muffled as if trapped inside a glass bottle, or deliberately lowered.
“Hold on a second.” Exercising caution, Chai Xiaomi peeked through the peephole.
A deliveryman stood at the doorstep, dressed head to toe in black.
His cap was pulled low, shielding his eyes and brows in shadow, and the zipper of his black windbreaker was pulled up to the highest point, revealing only a sliver of pale nose bridge.
He seemed to have gotten caught in the rain, his clothes clinging with a layer of damp mist, bringing a chill you could feel even through the crack of the door.
That was it. She could see no more.
Not good.
Nothing about this look screamed typical deliveryman.
Could he be a thief checking the house? No—maybe a maniac murderer?
Chai Xiaomi’s heart began thumping wildly, crime documentaries playing one after another in her mind.
"Just leave it at the door, okay? It's not convenient for me to come out," she said, trying to make her voice sound steady.
"It's a living thing. Needs to be signed for in person."
A living thing?
That sounded even more suspicious.
Her mom only ever bought frozen stuff, never anything alive.
"No way? Are you sure you have the right address? My family wouldn't order anything alive."
But his next sentence made her eyes go wide.
"I'm sent by the Transmigration Bureau. You sure you don't want it? Then I'll throw it away."
The Transmigration Bureau? That meant the oil stick! So that bookstore wasn't her imagination! It was real!
"Wait, wait, wait!" Chai Xiaomi forgot her fear and yanked the door open. "Yes, yes, I want it. Where do I sign?"
She practically snatched the delivery box, and a receipt and pen were handed to her.
Chai Xiaomi quickly wrote her name on the box.
Halfway through, something felt off.
Female intuition—though the person in front of her had his face well-covered, she could clearly feel his gaze on her legs. A very intense gaze.
Before opening the door, she had thrown on a hoodie and zipped it up, but the lace-trimmed silk camisole dress she wore underneath wasn't very long. Only a circle of lace peeked out from under the hoodie, and her two bare legs were conspicuously exposed.
Her hand trembled, and the last character of her name came out crooked.
Just then, a voice came from above, its tone deliberately altered—low and slow: "Chai, Xiao, Mi. Pretty name."
Her head buzzed, alarms blaring. She didn't dare look at him again, especially at his hand reaching for the receipt—still wearing black motorcycle gloves.
Could he be... afraid of leaving fingerprints?
No one had ever complimented her name before. Her best friend would at most call it cute, but there was that one sarcastic guy who said her name was ugly.
Chai Xiaomi shoved the receipt into his hand and quickly slipped inside.
"Bam!"
The door closed.
"Thanks, bye!" she added through the door, her voice short and rushed, but at least she remembered to be polite.
But there was no sound of footsteps walking away.
She leaned against the door, her heart pounding as if it might leap out of her throat. She hugged the delivery box, not daring to move.
After a few seconds of silence.
She heard a faint, delicate sound—like something fiddling with the lock.
Once.
Twice.
The electronic lock made a subtle buzz.
Chai Xiaomi's scalp tingled, and her hands holding the box began to shake.
She tiptoed away, thoughts racing through her mind. Calling the police wouldn't be fast enough. Hiding in her room was useless—this guy could pick locks! The balcony. Yes, the balcony had an air conditioner platform where she could call for help from the neighbors.
She dashed to the balcony, pushed open the window, and tremblingly climbed out.
Fortunately, the platform was wide enough.
But she hadn't expected it to be so slippery from the accumulated rain. Before she could even steady herself, her foot slipped!
As her body lost balance and fell, she couldn't even scream, only managing to shut her eyes.
The sound of wind and rain filled her ears.
But there was no expected pain.
A pair of hands caught her firmly—one supporting her back, the other cradling her knees. She was securely lifted into an embrace and flown back inside.
In that close moment, a familiar scent.
"You—"
She snapped her eyes open.
She met a face half-hidden by a hat brim, so close she could see the curve of his eyelashes.
The person looked down at her, a hint of helplessness in his distinctive eyes: "Silly, why'd you run."
At the Jiming Temple, Chai Mingde and Yao Xue followed the elderly up early to burn the first incense of the day.
The old couple was still spry, and even after paying their respects, they were reluctant to leave.
The old lady suddenly slapped her thigh: "Oh, I forgot to pray for our sweetie's love life. She's in college now. It's time she had a boyfriend."
Chai Mingde immediately disagreed: "Mom, our little girl hasn't even become 'big rice' yet. She's still young. What's the rush?"
Yao Xue shot him a disgusted look: "You started chasing me in high school, and back then you didn't think I was too young."
"Nowadays, young people dating is totally normal. Plenty even get married in college. If she doesn't find someone soon, all the good ones will be taken."
Chai Mingde choked on that but argued back: "Online they all say if you come to Jiming Temple single, you'll be single for three years. Let's forget it."
"You don't know anything," the old lady waved dismissively, speaking in standard Mandarin. "That's about cutting bad karma and fostering good fate. Those who stay single show their bad fate's been blocked. Our sweetie's never dated before—her true fate will come as soon as she prays for it."
Unable to out-argue the elder, Chai Mingde reluctantly went to pray for his daughter's love life.
Holding three sticks of incense, he stood before the shrine, still muttering "She's too young, what's the rush," but his hands respectfully raised the incense above his brow.
The moment he closed his eyes, all the stubbornness and reluctance vanished.
He remembered his daughter riding on his shoulders to watch the parade at the amusement park, her smiling back at him as she carried her little backpack to school for the first time, and the night before her college entrance exam when she tossed and turned—he stayed guard outside her door until dawn.
Time went so fast, he thought. In a blink, his daughter had reached the age for this kind of wish.
He took a deep breath and said earnestly in his heart:
May the Buddha bless my sweetie. Let her never suffer, never endure the pain of love. May the person she meets not need to be rich or powerful, but just someone who loves her more than I do, who's more reliable than I am, who can make her happier than I can, and who loves her more than I ever have.
After making his wish, he opened his eyes and found them a little damp.
The old lady leaned in: "Done praying?"
He grunted in response and quickly walked away.
After a few steps, he turned back and bowed again toward the shrine.
A six-year-old got up to use the bathroom and ran back to the bedroom in shock.
"Mom, Mom, I just saw Batman! Batman really can fly!"
Disturbed from her rare holiday sleep, the woman rolled over impatiently: "What Batman? Go bother your dad. Don't bother me."
A little while later, the child ran in again: "Dad, Dad, the rain stopped. There's a rainbow! A rainbow!"
The man, arms around his wife, didn't even open his eyes, mumbling drowsily: "A rainbow... Well, make a wish. Wish for Batman to come make us breakfast."
The child leaned against the window again, rubbing his eyes.
He had clearly seen a figure dressed all in black like Batman, but though the rainbow was still there, Batman had vanished.
At that moment.
Across the street in a building.
Inside a living room on one floor.
Two people stood facing each other.
Chai Xiaomi stood frozen, speechless.
The raindrops from the soaked baseball cap dripped one by one, landing on her cheek.
Chai Xiaomi didn't blink. She just stared straight at him, as if afraid that if she blinked, he would disappear like in a dream.
Outside, the rain had stopped.
But her vision grew blurrier and blurrier.
Wu Li looked down at her, his eyes curving into crescents, revealing a hint of adorable canine teeth and a childlike smile.
He reached out, using his thumb to wipe away the droplets on her cheek—whether rain or her tears, he couldn't tell.
“Compliment your beautiful name, and you run away in fright?”
His tone was as lazily carefree as ever, but his voice trembled.
“Chai Xiaomi.” He spoke her name.
“You said salt and oil are the most ordinary things, but indispensable in everyone’s life. You are that indispensable presence.”
“Mimi, without you, I can't live.”
Chai Xiaomi mumbled, “Am I dreaming...?”
Wu Li took her hand and pressed it to his own face. “Or how about you hit me and see if I yell in pain?”
Chai Xiaomi could no longer hold back. Tears fell heavily, splashing onto the back of his hand.
Burning hot, as if they could sear through his skin.
“Stinky Lili, I barely managed to save your life,” she sobbed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she cursed him angrily. “And you just throw it away so recklessly. If it weren’t for Youtiao, you’d be gone! Do you even realize that?”
He turned his hand over, gripping her wrist, and pulled it to his chest. Through his soaked clothes, she could feel his heartbeat.
Thump, thump—strong and real, steady and alive.
Scolded after so long, Wu Li’s nose stung and his throat tightened with pain.
“Feel it,” he said, pressing her hand harder. “It’s still beating. Even if I die, it will beat for you, forever and ever.”
Chai Xiaomi cried even harder.
Wu Li could no longer hold back. He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly it felt like the entire world was reduced to this one small refuge. “I looked for you for so long... so, so long...”
Chai Xiaomi felt the trembling he desperately tried to suppress. She buried her face in the familiar chest. “How did you find me?”
“A venomous scorpion darted out from beside the sacred tree and bit me. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a bookstore called the ‘Transmigration Management Bureau.’ I’ve learned all your secrets.”
Chai Xiaomi froze.
It was Youtiao.
Who had brought Wu Li here.
She turned to look at the delivery box on the table. Inside, the black scorpion perched on the edge of the box, its tail curled up, frantically trying to crawl out, its six legs scraping against the sides with a faint rustling.
Wu Li, displeased by her wandering attention, turned her face back toward him.
He caught her hand again, lacing their fingers together.
Palm against palm, cool against cool, slowly kindling warmth.
“Mimi... my Mimi...” he called her name, his voice growing lower and raspier with each word.
His fingers clutched hers desperately, as if afraid that if he let go, she’d disappear.
“I struggled so hard to find you. You can’t leave me again.”
He really couldn’t endure another parting.
His mismatched eyes stared straight at her—damp, red-rimmed, and fractured.
Like a stray dog that had roamed for ages, surviving countless trials, finally following a scent to home. Cautious and terrified, it feared a foot might shove it back out the door.
But he didn’t know.
She had waited for him so long inside that door.
The eyes looking back at him were also damp.
“Welcome home, my husband.”
“I’m sorry you had to walk such a long road alone. From now on, I’ll walk it with you. I won’t let you be alone again, ever.”
“Starting now, let’s write our story, okay?”
“Not as a side character, not as a spin-off, not as someone else’s shadow. Our story, from beginning to end, is just us.”
Outside the window, a crack split the clouds, and sunlight slanted in, falling on the boy’s wanderings-worn past, on the girl’s tear-streaked yet smiling face, on their intertwined shadows.
The light after the rain, warm and pure, dried all the gloom.
In that barren field, new sprouts finally began to grow.
[The End]
