Many years later, on a rainy night. Shu Nian met Xie Ruhe again.
The man was sitting in a wheelchair, half of his face was covered by shadows and he had a set of peach blossom eyes with deep double eyelids. He obviously had a passionate face but his expression was as cold as ice.
Shu Nian held her umbrella and called out to him in uncertainty. Then, she said. “Did you not bring an umbrella? How about I—”
Xie Ruhe’s eyes drooped, he didn’t finish listening to her and went straight into the light rain.
Later, Shu Nian came out of the bakery holding a kraft paper bag. In a blink of an eye, the rain had turned heavy, pounding on the concrete floor.
Xie Ruhe appeared from nowhere, holding an umbrella as he stood beside her. Seeing her look over to him, he asked. “Do you have an umbrella?”
Shu Nian nodded and took out an umbrella from her bag. The next moment, Xie Ruhe stretched out his hand to close his umbrella and blankly said: “Mine is broken.”