The next morning, it was still raining.
When Shen Zhiyao walked through the school gates under Cheng Ye’s dark blue umbrella, the sky was a dull gray, looking as though it hadn’t fully brightened yet. The rain fell at an angle, swept by the wind, creating a dense, continuous rhythm against the umbrella canopy.
On the handle, the character “Ye” slightly blurred by water sat right beside his fingers.
Shen Zhiyao glanced down at it.
After returning home last night, he had opened the umbrella on the balcony to let it dry for a long time. The canopy was completely dry now, leaving only a few faint watermark rings along the edge.
He had originally intended to return it to Cheng Ye as soon as he saw him this morning.
However, as he approached the bicycle shed, that familiar black bicycle was nowhere to be seen.
Shen Zhiyao paused in his tracks.
He peered inside once more.
The shed was packed with bicycles, yet the outermost spot remained empty. On the ground lay a shallow tire track, already washed faint by the rain.
Did Cheng Ye not ride his bike today?
Shen Zhiyao folded his umbrella and walked into the teaching building.
Not many students were in the classroom yet.
The seat by the window was also empty.
Cheng Ye’s math test paper was held down on the corner of the desk, its red correction marks from last night still crisp and clear. Half a sketchbook peeked out from his desk drawer, its edge bookmarking the scrap paper with the draft copy for the blackboard bulletin.
Shen Zhiyao leaned the umbrella against the wall.
After sitting down, he pulled out his textbooks for the day and pushed Cheng Ye’s test paper slightly inward to keep it from getting damp from the rain seeping through the window gap.
One minute before the morning reading bell, the back door was finally pushed open.
Cheng Ye walked in with his backpack on. The hair over his forehead was slightly damp from the rain, yet he had no umbrella in his hands.
Shen Zhiyao looked up at him.
“How did you get here?”
Cheng Ye was just pulling out his chair when he paused at the question.
“Bus.”
“Why didn’t you ride your bike?”
“It’s raining.”
“You used to ride even when it rained.”
Cheng Ye stuffed his backpack into the drawer.
“My mom said I just recovered from a fever, so I shouldn’t get caught in the rain.”
“So you didn’t bring an umbrella?”
“My dad dropped me off at the bus stop on his way to work.”
“What about from the bus stop to school?”
“I ran.”
Shen Zhiyao stared at his slightly damp shoulders.
“How is that any different from getting caught in the rain?”
“The rain wasn’t heavy.”
“The weather forecast called for moderate rain.”
“I ran fast.”
“Does running fast keep the rain off you?”
Cheng Ye was left speechless.
He looked at Shen Zhiyao, then shifted his gaze to the dark blue umbrella by the wall.
“You brought it?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you’d forget.”
“Why would I forget something that belongs to you?”
The moment the words left his mouth, a sudden silence settled between them.
A hint of a smile slowly welled up in Cheng Ye’s eyes.
“You remembered what I said.”
Shen Zhiyao looked down and flipped through his book. “Because you said it so many times yesterday.”
“I only said it once.”
“Close enough.”
Cheng Ye reached out for the umbrella.
Just as his hand touched the handle, Shen Zhiyao spoke up, “Leave it.”
Cheng Ye turned his head. “Aren’t you returning it to me?”
“It might still rain when school lets out.”
“I can walk with someone else.”
The hand holding Shen Zhiyao’s pen paused.
“Then take it,” he said quickly.
Cheng Ye didn’t move right away.
“Are you angry?”
“No.”
“Your tone was different just now.”
“How was it different?”
“Like you didn’t want me walking with anyone else.”
Shen Zhiyao raised his eyes.
Cheng Ye was looking straight at him, a trace of probing in his expression, along with a warmth he couldn’t quite hide.
“You’re overthinking,” Shen Zhiyao said.
“So should I take the umbrella?”
“Whatever.”
Cheng Ye’s hand remained on the handle. He paused for a few seconds before leaning the umbrella back against the wall.
“Let’s just leave it here.”
“Why?”
“We’ll see at the end of the day.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t press further.
At that moment, the morning reading bell rang.
Zhou Lan walked up to the podium carrying her Chinese textbook. She checked the attendance first, then announced that the bulletin board for the cultural festival had to be completed before the end of the day.
“The student council will evaluate them tomorrow. Photos, text, and decorations must be firmly attached—make sure nothing is at risk of falling off.”
Xu Zhi turned around from the front row and flashed a hand signal to Cheng Ye and Shen Zhiyao.
Cheng Ye nodded.
Zhou Lan added, “Also, the rain is supposed to stop this afternoon. Students in charge of school photography can take advantage of the time before school ends to capture some clear-day shots.”
A wave of cheers broke out in the classroom.
It had been raining continuously for days; PE classes and basketball training had all been canceled, and the corridors were constantly wet and slick. Hearing that the rain would stop made everyone feel an immediate sense of relief.
Cheng Ye leaned over slightly.
“Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“It’s going to clear up today.”
“The forecast said overcast in the afternoon.”
“Overcast still counts as no rain.”
“That doesn’t count as a sunny day.”
“As long as the clouds break a little, it counts.”
Shen Zhiyao looked out the window.
The glass was still covered in trails of rain. The distant sports field was blurred behind a curtain of rain, with no sign of the sky brightening.
“It won’t happen that fast,” he said.
Cheng Ye opened his textbook. “Wanna bet?”
“No.”
“Afraid you’ll lose?”
“It’s meaningless.”
“Then let’s bet on whether we can see the sun today.”
“Bet what?”
Cheng Ye thought seriously for a moment. “If we see it, you promise to do one thing for me.”
“What thing?”
“Can’t tell you yet.”
“Then no bet.”
“You can set your condition first.”
Shen Zhiyao glanced at him. “If we don’t see the sun, you can’t eat ice cream for a week.”
The smile on Cheng Ye’s face stiffened slightly. “What does that condition have to do with the weather?”
“To keep you from getting a fever again.”
“My fever wasn’t necessarily because of ice cream.”
“Your mom said it was.”
“My mom doesn’t represent medical science.”
“Forget it then.” Shen Zhiyao bowed his head to read.
Cheng Ye contemplated for a full half-minute before finally muttering, “A week it is.”
“You agree?”
“Yeah.”
“What if you go back on your word?”
“Draw a circle.”
Cheng Ye pulled out a blue pen and drew a circle in the margin of his textbook. “Now it’s your turn.”
“I still don’t know your condition.”
“It won’t be hard.”
“Tell me first.”
Cheng Ye lowered his voice. “If we see the sun today, you take a photo.”
Shen Zhiyao was taken aback for a moment. “I take photos every day.”
“Not just a regular sky photo.”
“Then what?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” Cheng Ye said. “I’ll decide after we see the sun.”
“Conditions can’t be changed on the fly.”
“Then take a photo of something you wouldn’t normally shoot.”
Shen Zhiyao looked at him. “What counts as something I wouldn’t normally shoot?”
“You judge for yourself.”
“Too vague.”
“You don’t have to agree.”
Cheng Ye deliberately flipped his book back, pretending to drop the matter.
Shen Zhiyao remained silent for a few seconds. “Only one photo.”
Cheng Ye turned right back around. “So you agree?”
“Provided we see the sun.”
“Draw a circle.”
“Childish.”
“You say that every time.”
In the end, Shen Zhiyao picked up his blue pen and drew another circle beside the one Cheng Ye had drawn.
The two circles were different sizes, but their edges touched just right.
Cheng Ye stared at them for a moment. “Don’t they look like two suns?”
“No.”
“Then what do they look like?”
“Two poorly drawn circles.”
Cheng Ye let out a soft laugh and pulled his textbook back.
Throughout the four morning classes, the rain didn’t stop once.
In fact, by lunchtime, it fell even harder than in the morning.
The entrance to the cafeteria was packed with umbrella-touting students, and water was tracked everywhere under the eaves. Cheng Ye and Shen Zhiyao shared the dark blue long-handled umbrella, walking together from the teaching building to the cafeteria.
The umbrella canopy wasn’t small.
Yet when the wind blew sideways, rain still managed to drift in.
Out of habit, Shen Zhiyao tilted the umbrella slightly toward Cheng Ye.
After a few steps, Cheng Ye reached out and held the umbrella handle.
“Keep it centered.”
“You just recovered from a fever.”
“You’ll get sick if you get wet, too.”
“I won’t.”
“Everyone says that before they get sick.”
Cheng Ye pushed the umbrella back slightly.
Both of their hands rested on the handle at the same time.
Shen Zhiyao’s fingertips twitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away right away.
Rain poured continuously from the edges of the canopy.
Students brushed past them in a hurry, their soles splashing into puddles and sending up small sprays of water.
“Why are your hands so cold again?” Cheng Ye asked.
“The umbrella handle is cold.”
“I’ll heat up some milk for you when we get back to the classroom.”
“No need.”
“I didn’t buy extra this time.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s specifically for you.”
Shen Zhiyao turned his face toward him.
Cheng Ye was looking straight ahead, speaking naturally, as if this had already become something that needed no explanation.
“Why?”
“Because your hands are cold.”
“Drinking milk won’t make my hands warm right away.”
“At least it’ll help a bit.”
“There’s no basis for that.”
Cheng Ye turned to look at him. “Why do you always have to look for a scientific basis whenever someone cares about you?”
Shen Zhiyao’s footsteps halted.
The person behind him almost bumped into him and let out an annoyed shout.
Cheng Ye immediately grabbed his wrist and guided him to the side. “Let’s keep walking.”
Once they stepped into the cafeteria, the space beneath the umbrella suddenly felt empty.
Cheng Ye let go.
The warmth of his palm still lingered on Shen Zhiyao’s wrist.
“What did you ask earlier?” Shen Zhiyao asked.
Cheng Ye folded the umbrella. “Nothing.”
“You clearly asked something.”
“It’s too noisy right now.”
“You don’t usually mind noise.”
Cheng Ye gave a soft smile. “I’ll tell you tonight on the rooftop.”
“We have to finish the bulletin board today.”
“After we finish.”
“The teaching building will be locked.”
“Then we’ll talk in the hallway.”
“There’s no need.”
“There is.”
Cheng Ye held the umbrella and walked toward the tray area. “I want to know.”
Shen Zhiyao stood in place, watching him for two seconds before finally following him.
After lunch, the rain gradually lightened.
By the time the first afternoon period started, only scattered raindrops tapped against the glass.
The sky remained overcast, but it no longer felt as oppressively low as it had in the morning. Thin light-colored fissures appeared between the cloud layers, and the wind had picked up.
Cheng Ye glanced out the window every few minutes.
Shen Zhiyao finally couldn’t hold back. “Can you pay attention in class?”
“I’m observing the weather.”
“Teacher Chen is already on question three.”
“As long as you remember it, it’s fine.”
“I can’t take the exam for you.”
Cheng Ye pulled his gaze back. “Then explain it to me later.”
“Listen yourself.”
“I was listening just now.”
“What did the teacher say?”
Cheng Ye looked at the blackboard.
Conveniently, only the final step hadn’t been erased yet.
“Prove that two planes are parallel.”
“How do you prove it?”
“First, find two intersecting lines.”
“And then?”
Cheng Ye paused.
Shen Zhiyao pushed his notebook toward the middle. “Look here.”
When Cheng Ye looked down, he noticed a tiny cloud drawn in the margin of the notes.
Half a circle peeked out from behind the cloud.
The lines were very light, looking as though Shen Zhiyao had drawn it absentmindedly while listening to the lecture.
“What’s this?” he asked.
Shen Zhiyao followed his gaze. “Just a random scribble.”
“The sun?”
“Not really.”
“You’re waiting for it to clear up, too.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why draw it?”
“My pen just happened to pause there.”
Cheng Ye didn’t expose him, merely chuckling as he continued looking at the problem.
By the end of the second period, the rain had stopped completely.
The hallway quickly filled with people.
Some reached out to catch the water dripping from the eaves, while others stood by the railings taking photos of the sky. A moist breeze blew into the classroom, bringing with it the scent of damp soil and leaves.
Cheng Ye was the first to stand up. “The rain stopped.”
Shen Zhiyao looked out the window. The clouds hadn’t parted yet. “There’s no sun.”
“There are still two classes left.”
“Are you already starting to worry about not eating ice cream for a week?”
“I’m waiting for you to take that photo.”
“Won’t be able to.”
“It’ll happen.” Cheng Ye sounded utterly certain.
Shen Zhiyao didn’t know why he had so much confidence in the weather.
Perhaps he was simply used to believing that things would turn out well.
Just as he naturally assumed there would be many more photos in the future, and naturally assumed they would meet on the rooftop again next time.
This kind of certainty was foreign to Shen Zhiyao.
He didn’t dare to believe easily, yet he couldn’t help wanting to know just how long Cheng Ye’s belief could hold out.
Before the final class in the afternoon, Xu Zhi walked to the back row with the revised text draft.
“Teacher Zhou said the last line can be used.”
Cheng Ye raised his head immediately. “Really?”
“She said it doesn’t sound like a traditional bulletin board slogan, but it fits the photos really well.”
Xu Zhi placed the paper on the desk.
The final version was almost identical to what they had written, with only two punctuation marks changed:
Before the rain stops, the light has already fallen.
It passes through damp walls, traverses old windows, and gently settles on our shoulders.
And this time, we don’t have to wait for clear skies alone.
After reading it, Cheng Ye turned to look at Shen Zhiyao. “Our copy.”
Shen Zhiyao looked down at those three lines. “Xu Zhi revised it, too.”
Xu Zhi said, “I only tweaked the punctuation; I won’t put my name on it.”
“Does a bulletin board even need bylines?” Shen Zhiyao asked.
“No,” Cheng Ye said. “It’s enough that we know.”
Xu Zhi glanced at the two of them. “After school, stick the text up, secure the photos, and add a bit of border decoration, and we’ll be done.”
“How long will that take?” Cheng Ye asked.
“About an hour.”
Cheng Ye looked out the window.
The cloud layer had thinned significantly compared to the afternoon.
A long, narrow streak of brightness appeared in the western sky, looking as if someone was slowly pulling open a seam from behind a gray curtain.
“We’ll make it in time,” he said.
“Make it in time for what?” Xu Zhi asked.
“Nothing.”
When the dismissal bell rang, everyone responsible for the bulletin board stayed behind.
The area in front of the back blackboard was piled with colored paper, tape, chalk, and paint. Xu Zhi stood in the center coordinating tasks, while Lin Po finally received an official duty—he was in charge of handing the cut cardstock to others.
“Hand it over only,” Xu Zhi emphasized. “Don’t go sticking things up on your own.”
Lin Po grumbled, “Am I really that unreliable?”
Cheng Ye said, “Last week, you stuck the school emblem upside down.”
“That pattern was almost symmetrical to begin with!”
“Was the school name symmetrical, too?”
Lin Po fell silent.
Shen Zhiyao was in charge of mounting the photos.
Each had removable adhesive on the back; he aligned them with the draft layout to verify the distance first, then smoothed them out from the center to the edges.
When he reached the side profile shot of Cheng Ye, a hand reached out from beside him.
“Let me help you hold it.”
Cheng Ye stood at his side, using his fingers to gently press against the bottom of the photo.
“The left side is a bit high,” he said.
“No, it isn’t.”
“A little bit.”
Shen Zhiyao took half a step back. “How about now?”
Cheng Ye squinted and looked for a moment. “Looks level again.”
“You saw wrong earlier.”
“Maybe.”
“Then what were you holding it for?”
“Just participating.”
“This photo is already of you.”
“That’s why I need to participate even more.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t bother arguing with him.
Together, one higher and one lower, they pressed the photo against the blackboard.
Cheng Ye brushed his fingers gently along the edges to make sure nothing was peeling up.
“It’s secure.”
“Mm.”
“Remember to give it to me after the exhibition ends.”
“I know.”
“Don’t forget.”
“Why would I forget something that belongs to you?”
The moment Shen Zhiyao finished speaking, he realized he had repeated his words from this morning.
Cheng Ye clearly remembered, too.
He didn’t laugh right away, merely looking at Shen Zhiyao.
After a couple of seconds, he said softly, “Okay.”
Halfway through working on the board, the world outside the window suddenly brightened.
It wasn’t the kind of artificial light from classroom lamps.
It was a soft, warm glow that slowly seeped out from behind the clouds.
Someone standing near the window shouted, “The sun is out!”
Almost everyone looked up at the same time.
A large tear had opened in the western cloud layer.
The sun hadn’t completely revealed itself only a small portion of its rim was visible. Yet golden light slanted down through the gaps in the clouds, illuminating the damp sports field and the classroom windows.
Puddles sparkled in the glow.
Drops of rain clinging to camphor leaves glistened like tiny beads.
Cheng Ye was the first to turn to Shen Zhiyao. “I won.”
Shen Zhiyao stood in front of the back blackboard, a strip of clear tape still in his hand. “The sun is barely showing.”
“A little bit still counts as the sun.”
“There are still a lot of clouds.”
“Our bet was on whether we could see it, not how long it would stay sunny.”
Xu Zhi asked from nearby, “What did you guys bet on?”
“He promised to take a photo he wouldn’t normally take,” Cheng Ye said. Then, as if afraid Shen Zhiyao might go back on his word, he immediately picked up the camera bag from the corner of the desk and handed it over. “Now.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t take it. “The bulletin board isn’t finished yet.”
“The sun won’t wait for you.”
Xu Zhi looked over the progress at the back. “We can finish the remaining borders. You guys go ahead.”
Lin Po asked curiously, “Take a photo of what?”
Cheng Ye replied, “Haven’t decided yet.”
“I wanna go, too!”
“You stay here and hand out cardstock.”
“Is this some kind of sacred duty I must fulfill?!”
Xu Zhi stuffed a stack of paper into his hands. “Yes.”
Shen Zhiyao ultimately accepted the camera bag.
When he and Cheng Ye stepped out of the classroom, the corridor was already lined with people watching the sun.
The light after the rain was remarkably gentle.
It lacked the piercing glare of high summer, feeling instead like warm light filtered through an unevaporated mist, settling softly on everyone.
Cheng Ye asked, “Where are we taking it?”
“The sports field.”
“The old teaching building?”
“It’s blocked by clouds over there.”
“The library?”
“Too much glare.”
Cheng Ye followed beside him as they walked downstairs. “Aren’t you supposed to shoot something you wouldn’t normally take?”
“That’s why I’m thinking.”
“Can I decide?”
“No.”
“I set the condition.”
“I take the photo.”
Cheng Ye nodded. “Fine, you decide.”
The two of them ran out of the teaching building.
The air still held the cool crispness of post-rain chill, and a few poorly drained puddles remained on the ground. Passersby slowed their pace, careful not to splash their shoes.
A good number of students had gathered on the field.
Some were taking photos of the sky, some stood by the track looking at the clouds, and a few boys took advantage of the PE teacher’s absence to dribble basketballs onto a spot that had just dried up.
Shen Zhiyao raised his camera.
The sky filled the viewfinder first.
Large swathes of grayish-white clouds parted to either side, allowing a little less than half the sun to peek through the gap. Golden light slanted down, illuminating a line of trees along the edge of the field.
He adjusted his settings and pressed the shutter.
Cheng Ye stood beside him. “Does this count as something you wouldn’t normally take?”
“No.”
“Then why are you shooting it?”
“Because I wanted to take this one.”
“What about the one for our bet?”
“Haven’t decided yet.”
Cheng Ye didn’t rush him.
He followed Shen Zhiyao as they strolled slowly along the track.
The field felt emptier than usual after the rain, and the air was exceptionally clear. Far away, the glass windows of the old teaching building reflected the setting sun, resembling a grid of lit squares.
Shen Zhiyao photographed water droplets on tree leaves, puddles along the track, and the shifting play of light and shadow on the building’s exterior walls.
Every shot was good.
Yet every shot was something he would normally take.
Cheng Ye asked, “What don’t you normally take?”
“A lot of things.”
“Like what?”
“Group photos.”
Cheng Ye’s footsteps paused. “You never take photos with other people?”
“Rarely.”
“Why?”
“It’s unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary again.”
Shen Zhiyao looked through the viewfinder at the distance. “Group photos require posing.”
“You don’t have to pose.”
“They also require someone else’s help.”
“You can use a timer.”
Shen Zhiyao lowered his camera. “Do you want to take one?”
Cheng Ye looked at him.
The sunset had emerged mostly from the cloud layer now.
Light fell into the boy’s eyes, reflecting a faint gold.
“Can we?” he asked.
Shen Zhiyao didn’t answer right away.
He had almost never taken a photo with a peer before.
In the past, during school spring trips, sports meets, or class events, others would pair up and stand in front of the lens. He was usually the person holding the camera.
Standing behind the lens meant he didn’t need to show an expression, nor did he need to stand too close to anyone.
More importantly, the photographer would never appear in the picture.
That way, when flipping through photos in the future, he would only remember what he had seen, without ever having to see himself standing beside anyone.
“Is this the condition?” Shen Zhiyao asked.
Cheng Ye thought for a moment. “You said only one photo. I want you to be in it, too.”
“Then we need to find someone else.”
Cheng Ye looked around.
Xu Zhi wasn’t here, and Lin Po was still trapped in the classroom. There were a few familiar classmates nearby, but Shen Zhiyao clearly didn’t want too many people knowing they were deliberately taking a photo together.
“We can shoot our shadows,” Cheng Ye said.
Shen Zhiyao looked at the ground.
The setting sun cast light from behind them, drawing two long shadows across the pavement.
One tall, one shorter.
A small distance remained between their shoulders.
Cheng Ye took a step toward Shen Zhiyao.
The two shadows on the ground leaned together as a result.
“This way, no posing, and no need for anyone’s help,” he said.
Shen Zhiyao looked down at the shadows.
The track was dark from the rain, and golden sunlight spread across it, outlining their slender figures with crisp clarity.
Not far away lay a puddle.
The water’s surface reflected the two of them alongside the sky; when the wind blew, the shadows swayed gently.
“How about it?” Cheng Ye asked.
Shen Zhiyao raised his camera.
Instead of shooting the ground, he walked up to the puddle and aimed his lens at the reflection in the water.
Cheng Ye’s shadow appeared on the right side of the water.
“A little closer,” Shen Zhiyao said.
Cheng Ye shifted a step toward him.
Their shoulders touched.
“More?”
“No need.”
Through his lens, Shen Zhiyao saw their two shadows in the water.
The sunset hung above them.
The cloud layer was reflected beneath their feet.
The outlines that had originally been separate gently overlapped now and then, carried by the ripples on the water.
“Don’t move,” he said.
Cheng Ye immediately stood still.
Shen Zhiyao’s finger rested on the shutter release.
Just as he was about to press down, Cheng Ye suddenly raised a hand and formed a circle between their shadows.
“What are you doing?”
“Drawing a circle.”
“You can’t draw on a shadow.”
“It’s fine as long as you can see it.”
Cheng Ye curved his thumb and index finger into an imperfect circle, positioning it right over the reflection of the setting sun.
In the water, the circle looked as though it had framed the sun inside it.
Shen Zhiyao looked for two seconds.
He didn’t tell him to put his hand down.
Click.
The shutter sounded.
A gust of wind happened to brush across the puddle, causing the reflection to ripple softly.
The photo froze right before the ripples could scatter the image.
Cheng Ye immediately asked, “Did you get it?”
“Mm.”
“Let me see.”
Shen Zhiyao looked down to review the image.
In the frame, the sky was inverted by the water’s surface; the golden sun rested at the bottom, with the shadows of two boys standing inside the light. Cheng Ye’s raised hand framed the sun, while Shen Zhiyao’s hand held the camera, his shoulder leaning against Cheng Ye’s.
The composition wasn’t entirely neat.
A fallen leaf floated near the edge of the water.
Yet that momentary blend of light, shadows, and ripples had all settled into just the right places.
Cheng Ye leaned over. “It looks really good.”
“It’s alright.”
“When you say ‘it’s alright,’ it means it’s really good.”
“There’s no such rule.”
“Send this one to me.”
“You’ve already asked for a lot of photos.”
“This one is different.”
“How is it different?”
Cheng Ye pointed at the screen. “It has both of us in it.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t speak.
Cheng Ye asked again, “Is this the first time you’ve taken a photo like this?”
“Pretty much.”
“Then should we give it a name?”
“Photos don’t necessarily need names.”
“Don’t your folders only have dates?”
Shen Zhiyao was slightly startled. “How did you know?”
“A guess,” Cheng Ye said. “You write dates first even in your logbook, so I figured your photos are the same.”
Shen Zhiyao stared at the screen. “What do you want to call it?”
Cheng Ye raised his head to look at the sky.
The sun had fully emerged from behind the clouds.
Raindrops still hung from the tree leaves, and the field hadn’t completely dried, but the entire campus was wrapped in a warm, golden aura.
“The First Sunny Day,” he said.
Shen Zhiyao looked up at him. “I’ve shot plenty of sunny days before.”
“But this is the first one with us.”
Cheng Ye said it completely naturally.
Shen Zhiyao’s gaze fell back onto the camera screen.
The first one with us.
Those words felt harder to ignore than “group photo.”
Because a group photo merely meant two people appearing in the same frame at the same time.
Whereas “us” implied that they were no longer just figures casually drifting along the edges of each other’s frames.
“Too plain,” Shen Zhiyao said.
“Then you think of one.”
“Just use the date.”
“The date again?”
“Dates are the most accurate.”
“A name can be accurate, too.”
Cheng Ye looked at the photo. “It was sunny that day, and we took our first photo together. What about that isn’t accurate?”
Shen Zhiyao offered no rebuttal.
After a moment, he turned off the camera screen. “We’ll talk about it when we get back.”
“‘Talking about it’ means you’re undecided.”
“Mm.”
“Then there’s still a chance.”
The two walked along the track together.
Now that the sun was out, more and more people gathered on the field. The thud of basketballs hitting the ground, laughter, and music from the distant broadcast system filled the campus once again.
After walking a few steps, Cheng Ye suddenly turned to look at Shen Zhiyao. “Did you just smile?”
“No.”
“After we took the photo.”
“You saw wrong.”
“I’m standing so close to you, there’s no way I saw wrong.”
“The sun was too bright.”
“See? Another excuse.”
Shen Zhiyao ignored him.
Cheng Ye was in high spirits, following him all the way back to the teaching building.
When they reached the classroom, the bulletin board was nearly complete.
Xu Zhi stood at the back inspecting the final borders, while Lin Po sat nearby, wrapping leftover tape around his fingers for fun.
Seeing the two return, Lin Po immediately asked, “What did you take photos of?”
Cheng Ye said, “Secret.”
Lin Po stared at him in shock. “Since when do you and Shen Zhiyao have so many secrets?”
Shen Zhiyao’s steps paused.
Cheng Ye, however, didn’t panic. “Friends can’t have secrets?”
Lin Po opened his mouth.
Recalling their previous conversation by the basketball court, his expression suddenly turned somewhat awkward. “They can, of course they can.”
He lowered his head and went back to wrapping tape, asking no more questions.
Shen Zhiyao looked at Cheng Ye.
Cheng Ye was inspecting the bulletin board, as if those words had just been blurted out offhandedly.
Yet this time, he didn’t use “deskmates” to explain their relationship.
Nor did he worry about Lin Po prying further.
Xu Zhi walked over to the two of them. “Did you get the photo?”
“Got it,” Cheng Ye said.
“Can we put it on the board?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Private photo.”
Xu Zhi raised an eyebrow. “Your decision?”
Cheng Ye immediately looked at Shen Zhiyao. “He decides.”
Shen Zhiyao set the camera bag on the desk. “It’s not suitable for the board.”
Xu Zhi didn’t press the matter. She took a few steps back, gesturing for everyone to admire the final result.
The visual on the back blackboard was now complete.
In the center was a line drawing of the old teaching building, the faint crack on its wall barely drawing attention. Photos were distributed along the left and right sides, transitioning from post-rain puddles and overcast windows all the way to the sunlit sports field.
At the very bottom were the three lines of text they had written together.
The title, Before the Rain Stops, was written at the top in pale blue chalk.
Sunlight streamed through the window, landing right on the bottom right corner of the blackboard.
Xu Zhi asked, “How is it?”
Lin Po was the first to speak. “Extremely good.”
“Just now you said you couldn’t tell where the old building was.”
“I can tell now.”
“Because Cheng Ye pointed it out to you.”
“Of course I can tell once I know where it is!”
Other classmates nodded in agreement, one after another.
Cheng Ye stood beside Shen Zhiyao. “What do you think?”
Shen Zhiyao looked at the entire board. “Better than the draft.”
“Only ‘better than the draft’?”
“Very good.”
Cheng Ye smiled. “Then that means exceptionally good.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t deny it.
Teacher Zhou came to inspect the board before everyone left.
She stood in front of the back blackboard for a long time, her eyes finally lingering on those three lines of text.
“Who wrote this?”
Xu Zhi said, “Cheng Ye and Shen Zhiyao.”
Teacher Zhou turned back to look at them. “Not bad.”
She didn’t dissect the sentences, nor did she ask about the meaning behind them, saying only: “True growth doesn’t mean waiting for all difficulties to disappear before moving forward. The fact that you could write this shows you’ve at least begun to understand.”
Cheng Ye glanced at Shen Zhiyao.
Shen Zhiyao kept his eyes on the blackboard, remaining quiet.
After Teacher Zhou left, the other students packed up their things to go home.
The sun was nearing the horizon.
The clouds outside the window were dyed a pale orange, and puddles on the field were still reflecting the light.
Cheng Ye picked up the dark blue umbrella. “We don’t need it now.”
Shen Zhiyao said, “The forecast says it might rain again tonight.”
“Are you trying to get me to leave it here?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll take it?”
Shen Zhiyao looked at the character “Ye” on the handle. “Mm.”
Cheng Ye picked up the umbrella, then handed it over to Shen Zhiyao. “You keep it.”
“Why?”
“I take the bus, so I don’t have to walk far.”
“I take the bus, too.”
“It might rain over by your house tonight.”
“How do you know?”
“Just checked the weather.”
Shen Zhiyao was slightly surprised. “You check weather forecasts now, too?”
“Influenced by you.”
“Then all the more reason you should carry it yourself.”
“There’s another one at home.”
“A dark blue one?”
“Black.” Cheng Ye grinned. “Didn’t you think black and dark blue were pretty much the same?”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t take the umbrella. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is the weekend.”
“Monday then.”
“Monday works, too.” Cheng Ye stuffed the umbrella into his hand. “Either way, you won’t forget.”
Shen Zhiyao gripped the handle. “You trust me a lot?”
Cheng Ye looked at him. “Mm.”
His answer bore not a moment’s hesitation.
Shen Zhiyao had wanted to ask why.
Yet seeing the brightness in Cheng Ye’s eyes, he ultimately didn’t ask.
The two left the classroom together.
When they reached the school gate, the setting sun happened to rest at the end of the street. The ground hadn’t completely dried yet, and passing cars rolled through puddles, splashing golden spray from their tires.
They didn’t open the umbrella.
Cheng Ye pushed his bicycle, walking beside Shen Zhiyao toward the bus stop.
“When are you sending me the photo?” he asked.
“Tonight.”
“Remember to name it.”
“Haven’t agreed to that yet.”
“You don’t have any other name for it.”
“I can use the date.”
“Dates don’t have feelings.”
“Filenames don’t need feelings.”
“But photos do.”
Shen Zhiyao looked at him.
Cheng Ye held the handlebars, looking straight ahead. “If you had feelings when you took it, the photo has them, too.”
“How do you know what I was thinking when I took it?”
“I don’t,” Cheng Ye said. “That’s why we need to give it a name.”
Shen Zhiyao quieted down.
When they arrived at the bus stop, the Route 17 bus hadn’t arrived yet.
The two stood side by side beneath the bus stop sign.
The setting sun had already dipped behind the cluster of buildings, leaving only a sliver of light lingering at the edge of the clouds.
Cheng Ye suddenly extended his hand. “Give me the camera.”
“What for?”
“Let me take a look.”
“Didn’t I say I’d send it to you tonight?”
“Looking now feels different from looking tonight.”
After a brief hesitation, Shen Zhiyao passed the camera to him.
Cheng Ye received it with both hands, looping the camera strap around his wrist before turning on the screen.
The photo of the reflections quickly popped up.
He looked at it quietly for a while. “It’s really pretty.”
“You’ve said that already.”
“It’s still pretty looking at it again.”
Cheng Ye raised the camera, aiming it toward the spot where they were standing now to frame a shot. “Next time, we can take one from the front.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“Why?”
“This time was for the bet.”
“We don’t need a bet next time.”
Shen Zhiyao didn’t answer.
The bus approached from the distance.
Cheng Ye handed the camera back to him. “The filename should be The First Sunny Day.”
“You’ve already decided?”
“A suggestion.”
“I might not accept it.”
“Then I’ll wait and see tonight.”
After boarding the bus, Shen Zhiyao sat by the window again.
As the bus started moving, Cheng Ye stood beside the bus stop sign, raising his hand toward him.
This time, he didn’t wave.
He simply formed a circle with his thumb and index finger.
Just like the gesture that had framed the sun in the photo.
Shen Zhiyao watched through the bus window for a few seconds.
Right before the bus turned the corner, he raised his hand as well, gently forming a circle.
The movement was subtle.
Yet Cheng Ye saw it.
On that ever-bright face, the smile instantly deepened.
That evening, Shen Zhiyao imported the photo onto his computer.
He created a new folder first.
The cursor hovered over the name field.
Following his usual habit, he ought to enter today’s date.
April 25th.
Simple, accurate, leaving behind no unnecessary meanings.
Yet his fingers stayed still for a long time.
In the end, the folder was named:
The First Sunny Day
There was only one photo inside the folder for now.
Water surface, setting sun, two shadows standing shoulder-to-shoulder, and the light framed between Cheng Ye’s fingers.
Shen Zhiyao sent the photo to Cheng Ye.
In less than ten seconds, a reply came back:
Cheng Ye: You really used that name?
Shen Zhiyao: It’s just a folder name.
Cheng Ye: I really like it.
Shen Zhiyao: Mm.
Cheng Ye: What about you?
Shen Zhiyao looked at the photo.
Shen Zhiyao: It’s alright.
Cheng Ye sent back a smiley face.
Cheng Ye: Then that means you like it a lot.
This time, Shen Zhiyao didn’t refute him.
He closed his computer and pulled out his blue logbook.
Today’s date was already written at the top of the page.
Weather: Rain turning to clear.
Temperature: 17°C to 24°C.
In the blank space below, he wrote:
Finished the bulletin board today.
Teacher Zhou used the final line we wrote.
After the rain stopped in the afternoon, Cheng Ye and I went to the field to take photos.
His pen paused there.
He recalled the two overlapping shadows in the viewfinder, as well as the circle Cheng Ye had drawn in the sunset before the bus pulled away.
Shen Zhiyao continued writing:
I took my first group photo.
He stared at it for a moment, then lightly crossed out “group photo.”
And changed it to:
I took our first sunny day photo.
The sentence was a bit long.
Yet it wasn’t deleted.
At the very bottom of the logbook, he transcribed the final line from the bulletin board:
And this time, we don’t have to wait for clear skies alone.
Just as he finished writing, his phone lit up.
Cheng Ye had sent a goodnight message.
After replying, Shen Zhiyao set his phone aside.
The clouds outside the window hadn’t completely scattered yet.
No stars could be seen in the night sky, and lingering rain traces remained along the balcony. The weather forecast said a brief shower might fall again around dawn.
Yet Shen Zhiyao didn’t check how long the rain would last like he used to.
Because he already knew that today’s rain had indeed stopped.
The sun had truly shown itself.
And during that fleeting stretch of clear light, someone had stepped up to stand right beside his shadow.
Without standing too far away.
And without walking away early.