Heavy rain poured once again on Monday morning.
Li Wanqiu stepped into the office building with her umbrella. Despite being careful, patches of her clothes were soaked through, leaving her shivering slightly against the cold draft.
She had reviewed today’s itinerary with Ji Jinyan on WeChat the night before. Ji Jinyan had been invited to speak at a conference in City H; she had accepted and set out early that morning by car.
Assistant An had accompanied her.
With both of them away, the office felt unusually quiet. Wanqiu sat at her desk, replied to a few emails, and compiled the notes from Friday’s meeting, leaving them on the desktop for Ji Jinyan to review upon her return.
After that, she ran out of things to do.
Harvesting in the vineyard was temporarily suspended due to the rain. Wanqiu stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out for a while. Bored, she returned to her desk, rested her head on her folded arms, and closed her eyes.
She drifted off without realizing it.
Soon, a dream took hold. In it were her and Guan Chun—around six or seven years old, back before things had gone sour between them.
Back then, she was a little shorter than Guan Chun and habitually trailed behind her. They were inseparable, sharing every little thought with each other.
“My parents haven’t been back in ages,” Wanqiu said. “The last time I saw them was during the New Year.”
“Your mom and dad are probably just really busy,” Guan Chun sighed, patting her on the shoulder. “It’s okay. Whenever you feel lonely, just come over to my place to play.”
Wanqiu brightened instantly. “Really?”
Guan Chun nodded, hooking her pinky with hers. “Of course!”
With that promise made, they spent that very afternoon exploring Guan Chun’s house. Wanqiu hadn’t been that happy in a long time; a radiant smile remained plastered across her face the entire day.
Until the accident happened.
While playing, Guan Chun accidentally shattered a newly purchased vase. As panic set in, Guan Chun’s father stormed out, his face dark with fury.
Wanqiu froze, instinctively stepping forward to shield Guan Chun. Before she could utter a word, a quiet voice came from behind her.
“A-Qiu.” Guan Chun looked away, her voice faint and eyes clouded.
“Why were you so careless?”
Li Wanqiu: “?”
Wanqiu woke up in a foul mood, not expecting to dream about that incident.
It was a memory that had truly happened. Guan Chun had pinned the blame for the vase on Wanqiu. Unable to defend herself, Wanqiu took the brunt of a harsh scolding. Even though Guan Chun apologized to her afterward, some damages run too deep to ever truly reset to zero.
It was deeply unsettling.
Wanqiu sighed. Feeling a chill creeping over her, she stood up to get a cup of hot coffee. Just as she sat back down, the phone on her desk rang.
It was Ji Jinyan.
“Hello?” Wanqiu answered. “What can I do for you, President Ji?”
“Log into my email,” Ji Jinyan’s voice came through the line. “There’s a contract inside. Print it out, stamp it with the official seal, scan it, and send it back to me as soon as possible.”
“Understood.” Wanqiu nodded, efficiently logging in and downloading the file. While waiting for the printer, she asked, “Is there anything else?”
Her voice was soft, laced with a subtle gloom she hadn’t even noticed herself.
“President Ji,” someone nearby urged quietly in the background before Ji Jinyan could reply, “the speech is about to begin.”
“Understood,” Ji Jinyan replied with a smile, yet she did not hang up the call.
“Li Wanqiu,” she called out again after a beat.
“Yes?” Wanqiu responded, rising to retrieve the printed documents. “Go ahead.”
“There’s a piece of chocolate left in my drawer, right next to the company seal,” Ji Jinyan said casually. “When you’re free, do me a favor and eat it.”
With that, the call ended.
Carrying the printouts, Wanqiu pushed open the door to Ji Jinyan’s office. Alongside the official seal, she indeed found a piece of chocolate. It was wrapped in soft pink packaging adorned with two cartoon strawberries.
Though puzzled by her boss’s intention, Wanqiu didn’t decline the gesture. Once she wrapped up her tasks, she looked down and began inspecting the treat.
Before unwrapping it, she wondered amusedly how Ji Jinyan could have such a youthful, girlish taste. But as she peeled back the outer foil, a line printed on the inner wrapper caught her eye:
May your days be filled with joy.
Li Wanqiu: “?”
The workday drew to a close quickly.
Night fell, but the heavy downpour showed no sign of letting up. Wanqiu grabbed her umbrella and stepped into the elevator, bumping into Sister Yang from the administration department. She smiled, chatting casually for a few moments on the way down.
Stepping out of the main lobby, Wanqiu waved goodbye and opened her umbrella. As she glanced into the distance, a familiar car parked near the entrance caught her eye.
She paused, her brow furrowing instinctively. She quickened her pace, pretending not to notice.
It didn’t work. The next second, the car door opened, and Guan Chun stepped out into the rain.
Today really must be my unlucky day.
Wanqiu let out a quiet sigh. Realizing she couldn’t avoid the encounter, she opted to face it head-on—though she took a few steps back to keep a safe distance. “What are you doing here?”
“A-Qiu, I came to see you,” Guan Chun said. Sensing Wanqiu’s guard was up, she softened her tone. “Your parents told me you were working here.”
“How have you been lately?” She asked gently. “Last time, it seemed like an unpleasant argument broke out between you and your parents because of me. I’m sorry.”
The sudden apology caught Wanqiu off guard. She paused, shaking her head stiffly. “It’s fine. The fault wasn’t entirely yours.”
“Are you free to grab dinner together?” Seeing her soften, Guan Chun smiled. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”
“No thanks,” Wanqiu declined briskly this time. “I have plans.”
Her evasion was glaringly obvious, yet Guan Chun seemed completely oblivious to the brush-off. “What plans? Do you want me to come along?”
Li Wanqiu was at a loss for words. After a brief pause, she found an excuse: “I have to work overtime.”
This time, Guan Chun fell silent.
“You should head back. The rain is getting heavier.” Unwilling to waste any more time, Wanqiu turned back toward the building. The moment she stepped inside, a message from her mother popped up on her phone:
Chun-chun came all this way just to see you. How could you turn her away?
She should have known her mother was behind this.
Wanqiu took a deep breath. A wave of exhaustion and frustration welled up within her chest. She walked over to a quiet, secluded corner, sat down, and clenched her fingers tightly into her palms. Unbidden, her eyes grew moist.
Fortunately, no one was around to notice. Wanqiu sat with her head down, rummaging through her small bag only to find she was out of tissues. Resigned, she wiped her face with the back of her hand.
Before she could finish, she felt someone sit down beside her.
Startled, Wanqiu instinctively tried to pull away. But before she could move, a tissue appeared in front of her eyes.
“It’s really pouring out there,” Ji Jinyan remarked quietly. Her gaze was not on Wanqiu, but fixed out the window, looking into the hazy, rain-streaked night.
“Here,” she said softly. “Wipe your tears.”