ICSTC CH8: Downpour Tomorrow

“Of course I had a blast! You have no idea who I ran into—I bumped into my desk mate!” She capped it off with a sharp SLAP!

Whenever Xu Menghua got excited, she would slap her thigh. The slap was loud this time; luckily her pants were thick, otherwise her leg would have turned bright red.

The car let out a loud thump as it rolled over a speed bump.

Chi Zhiyue focused on driving, only stealing a glance at her when he had a moment, casually pulling out a wet wipe to hand to her: “The desk mate you said leaves super early every day?”

Xu Menghua nodded vigorously: “Yep!”

Chi Zhiyue offered a low ‘oh’: “Didn’t you say he was into obscure stuff, cold as an iceberg, and super boring to talk to?”

That conversation had happened merely two days ago.

Forgetting her past grievances in under forty-eight hours was entirely typical of Xu Menghua’s personality.

“He is a bit on the quiet side, but his older brother is amazing! He’s handsome, super generous, treated us to afternoon tea, and he’s so fun to chat with.” Xu Menghua wiped her face, a bright smile gracing her features as she recalled the afternoon.

“He’s totally Sister Lingling’s type at first glance. Too bad my attempt at playing matchmaker failed. Sigh… he turned it down.”

Having long grown accustomed to Xu Menghua’s overly outgoing nature, Chi Zhiyue played along: “Why didn’t you introduce Baihe instead? She’s been wailing in her moments feed every single day about wanting a partner.”

“Oh right! I’ll bring it up next time. Not that it matters though, his brother isn’t looking to date anyway.” Xu Menghua slumped backward into her seat, massaging her temples repeatedly. “Seriously, why are neither of you guys dating? Anyone else with your face would have turned into a total player by now, dating a new person every day.”

Chi Zhiyue had been listening absentmindedly up until then, but at those last words, his brows knitted slightly: “Where did you learn phrasing like that? Say it again and I’ll cut off your internet access.”

Xu Menghua immediately clapped her hands over her ears: “Ouch, here we go again! They adopted you to be my brother, not my parent!”

As traffic trickled forward slowly, Chi Zhiyue remained silent for a few seconds before speaking in an unhurried tone: “Then next time your teacher calls asking for a parent, don’t give them my phone number. After all, I’m not your parent.”

“No way!” Xu Menghua bounced straight up in her seat. If he changed the emergency contact, she would be completely finished!

Chi Zhiyue remained unfazed, a subtle, intriguing smile curling at the corner of his lips.

Scheming guy… Xu Menghua cursed silently in her heart, forced to admit defeat as she swore to him that she would never speak out of turn again.

Only then did Chi Zhiyue nod. Relieved, Xu Menghua closed her eyes to rest.

As night fell and the streetlights flickered to life, dazzling city lights formed a river of glow stretching across the city center. The car glided smoothly all the way toward Nancheng Apartments.

By the time they arrived home, rain had suddenly begun to fall outside. Dense droplets slammed against the window panes like tossed salt, creeping indoors alongside the chilling breeze.

Chi Zhiyue walked over to close the balcony sliding door, taking the dark blue umbrella and folding it up on his way back.

Just as he turned around, Xu Menghua’s high-pitched voice pierced his ears until they felt numb: “Look at what awesome stuff I bought!!”

Chi Zhiyue: “…” What a waste of a voice not to study classical opera.

Xu Menghua spread out a pile of merch across the living room table. Chi Youfeng, who had been reading in her bedroom, was forcibly dragged out by her daughter.

Mother and daughter shared a striking resemblance, both possessing narrowed jawlines, though Xu Menghua hadn’t inherited Chi Youfeng’s gentle demeanor—instead, she bounced around the living room like a pinball.

“What is all this?” Without her reading glasses on, Chi Youfeng could only make out the items by holding them far away. “Are these for eating or for using?”

“Since you asked, let me give you a grand tour!” Xu Menghua pulled her mother down onto the couch, turning her head toward Chi Zhiyue. “Brother, do you want to listen too?”

Just as Chi Zhiyue was about to speak, Xu Youkang—who was brewing tea nearby—stopped her: “Stop bothering your brother. He’s been driving for half the day, let him rest a bit.”

“He volunteered, okay!” Xu Menghua pouted in protest.

“Alright, alright,” Chi Youfeng adored her daughter after all, lovingly pinching her cheek. “Just tell me.”

Xu Menghua’s bear ears popped out in an instant as she held Chi Youfeng, singing “Mother is the Best in the World” at the top of her lungs, waving the merch items in her hands in time with her singing.

The resulting scene was Xu Menghua belting out a song while two chibi standees on a folding acrylic rod frantically pressed their lips together in the air.

Chi Zhiyue: “…” What a bizarre sight.

“Zhiyue.”

Xu Youkang threw Chi Zhiyue a glance from the side, prompting Chi Zhiyue to follow him into the study.

This study was shared by the whole family, holding psychology books, finance textbooks, and high school test preparation volumes alike.

Books of varying sizes sat misaligned across the rosewood bookshelf, the glass cabinet doors reflecting Chi Zhiyue’s handsome yet serene side profile.

He stood before the desk as Xu Youkang poured two cups of warm water, handing one over to him.

The old man launched into his usual nag: “You too—you spoil Mengmeng way too much. There’s no need to yield to her on everything. If it were up to me, I would’ve made her ride her bicycle back on her own.”

“Last time she got tired from running and gasped for air on the ground, you guys were about to dial emergency medical services. If she actually rode a bike back today, you’d probably need an oxygen mask yourself,” Chi Zhiyue noted dryly, instantly exposing Xu Youkang’s hypocrisy.

“The mouth on you siblings!” Xu Youkang huffed. “The doctor should have stuffed a giant jujube into both your mouths the moment you were born to keep you quiet.”

Chi Zhiyue shrugged casually: “Then you could only feed her that. I wasn’t born to you two anyway.”

Xu Youkang slapped his forehead, bursting into hearty laughter: “Oh right! I forgot again.”

Xu Menghua was the youngest daughter born to them when they were already in their nineties of combined age—a late-life child treated as the apple of their eye from day one. Fearing they might pass away early and leave Mengmeng without companionship, the couple went to an orphanage to adopt a child, selecting the seventeen-year-old Chi Zhiyue back then.

Over the past eleven years, they had treated him no differently from a biological son—arranging the best for his food, clothes, housing, tuition, and studies.

Chi Zhiyue had certainly lived up to expectations, maintaining clear goals and building his own successful career. When he returned to the country this year and mentioned wanting to work at DFG Company to check things out, they didn’t quite understand it, but supported him nonetheless.

It worked out nicely, as he could still come home every day. Whenever the house grew lively, the couple would completely forget that Chi Zhiyue was adopted, scolding the two siblings together just like that.

Every time Chi Zhiyue corrected them, a subtle warmth settled in his heart.

He leaned casually against the wall, the pitter-patter of rain sounding softly behind him.

Xu Youkang took a slow sip of tea: “You mentioned on WeChat that you went to the seaside today?”

“Yeah.” Chi Zhiyue nodded.

“Looks like your headaches really are much better than before.” Xu Youkang looked at Chi Zhiyue with relief.

“It’s all thanks to him.” Chi Zhiyue held up his water cup. “Joining the company really was the right call.”

The tea-infused water inside the cup mirrored the hue of the sea meeting the sky earlier that afternoon.

The ocean in Zhaonan wasn’t crystal clear.

Yellow sand drifted suspended beneath the surface; when sunlight hit the water, the shimmering waves carried a tinge of jade green—strikingly similar to the iris color of a certain someone.

So he had stared at it for a long time.

Long enough that a fisherman approached to ask why he was standing out there braving the cold wind.

Oddly enough, despite standing there for so long, he hadn’t felt the slightest discomfort. His mind remained entirely clear, even retaining vivid memories of the local fisherman’s accented dialect.

As the ripples in his cup gradually settled, Chi Zhiyue raised his hand and took a sip.

He then heard Xu Youkang ask: “Didn’t you say that person is resigning soon? Are you meeting him in private?”

“I don’t have his personal contact info,” Chi Zhiyue replied.

Xu Youkang was taken aback: “Still don’t?”

“I have his work account, but haven’t added his private one. Besides, he’s extremely vigilant and keeps avoiding me, so there hasn’t been a good chance.”

Chi Zhiyue rubbed the handle of his cup, recalling the cat fur bristling up on the other man and that suddenly alert, cautious gaze, letting out a soft chuckle.

“He doesn’t seem to be avoiding me as much recently. I plan to ask him for his contact info on Monday.”

Xu Youkang immediately shook his head: “Monday won’t work.”

“Why not?” Chi Zhiyue looked up at him.

Xu Youkang pulled open a drawer, retrieved a notepad, put on his reading glasses, and flipped through the pages before laying it flat on the desk: “Did you forget? Didn’t DFG take on the product line from Du Ruo’s family business? It was agreed back then that you’d go meet him, and I’d tag along for a meal.”

Chi Zhiyue’s expression sank lower and lower: “…”

He had genuinely forgotten.

Talking to Du Ruo felt like work to him—just clocking in every day to get the chat over with. That buddy of his didn’t care much for formalities either, as they were both used to being casual.

Chi Zhiyue pressed his hand against his brow, revealing a rare trace of frustration.

It was seldom that Chi Zhiyue showed such a foul mood. Sitting in his cushioned chair, Xu Youkang offered comfort: “You’re not an official DFG employee anyway—you’re flexible staff. It’s fine if you come back early; I can stay behind in Qingdao to keep Little Du company.”

Chi Zhiyue took the notepad, staring at the black handwriting, and asked: “How many days roughly?”

“If things go quickly, Tuesday afternoon. If there’s a delay, Wednesday morning at the latest.” Xu Youkang closed the notebook and put it back in the drawer.

Chi Zhiyue lowered his eyes, the cup in his palm almost feeling hot to the touch: “Wednesday. I should still make it in time.”

Luo Ye remained busy from Sunday straight through to Wednesday.

On Sunday, he told Luo Peng about his resignation and his plan to “go traveling.” Luo Peng expressed complete understanding, promising to wait for him at home.

Luo Ye felt a mixture of guilt and touched emotion. Having recovered from his cold, he immediately took Luo Peng out for a feast.

On Monday and Tuesday, he handled his work handoffs at the company.

There were simply too many things he needed to transfer over, so much that his paid bathroom breaks were slashed from thirty minutes down to fifteen.

With immense effort, he finally wrapped everything up, and in the blink of an eye, Wednesday arrived.

On Wednesday morning, Luo Ye ordered over a dozen cups of boba tea for the department. Unsure of which shop to pick initially, he hesitated over menus for a long time before finally placing an order based on recommendations from users on Weibo.

The moment the boba arrived, he grabbed a large cup of Red Velvet Pearl Milk Tea and went up to the External Outreach Department on the ninth floor.

The floor plan of the Outreach Department differed from the floors below: an independent front desk was situated right at the entrance, and non-department staff couldn’t enter even by face scan.

Luo Ye had visited once two days ago, but the receptionist had told him Chi Zhiyue was still away on a business trip, so he deliberately waited until today.

Today’s receptionist was a new face Luo Ye hadn’t seen before—likely an intern.

Spotting Luo Ye, the young girl stood up politely and asked: “Hello! Are you looking for someone?”

“Is Chi Zhiyue back yet?” Luo Ye peered through the glass door; the interior was sparsely populated, with no sign of that tall silhouette. Even Wan Qing was nowhere to be seen.

The receptionist shook her head: “Not yet. He should be back this afternoon. Did you want to leave something for him?”

“Yeah.” Luo Ye pulled down his mask, placing the boba tea on the counter.

“Alright, we log all incoming items here and deliver them to the workstations later.” The receptionist flipped open a logbook, handing it over to him. “You can write down your name and the item.”

Luo Ye opened the registry.

Under Chi Zhiyue’s column, starting from Monday, various people had repeatedly dropped off items—totalling an astonishing sixteen gifts.

“He sure is popular,” Luo Ye remarked while writing. “Do people who have a crush on him take the chance to slip him gifts?”

The receptionist nodded: “It used to happen before, but he basically accepts none of them. He either returns them, or if they can’t be returned, he distributes them all among colleagues.”

“He only keeps the ones he likes?” Luo Ye capped his pen after writing.

“You’re funny,” the receptionist closed the logbook. “Why would he keep the ones he dislikes?”

“Fair point,” Luo Ye chuckled softly. “Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome! Feel free to drop by whenever you have time,” the receptionist said.

Luo Ye waved his hand: “I’m resigning today. I’ll drop by if I ever get the chance.”

Bidding farewell to the receptionist, Luo Ye took the elevator back to his own department.

Taking advantage of the free time, everyone gathered in the break room sipping boba tea, their fluffy animal ears perked up as they reminisced about stories over the years.

Like pulling late-night overtime and grabbing midnight snacks together; like the annual company gala lottery where the biggest prize went to someone absent, followed by joining hands to roast those awful leaders and those fallen celebrities whose reputations collapsed.

And the shows they had rushed to finish; who ended up with whom; who in which department was getting married; and the first-place award their team had once won.

As the conversation flowed, the room filled with gentle, shimmering memories.

Bai Nan remained reluctant to let Luo Ye go, staring at him pitifully: “Master! I only have one thing to say.”

Luo Ye: “Out with it.”

Bai Nan patted the back of Luo Ye’s hand, declaring solemnly: “After you leave, please post more selfies on your moments feed!”

Luo Ye: “…Just how much do you love looking at my face?”

The break room erupted into laughter. Zhou Weitian pinched his fingers into orchid gestures, teasing Bai Nan: “Ah? Who was the one who told me right when they joined that Luo Ye looked hard to get along with, and now you’re acting like he’s the best?”

“Oh? You said that?” Luo Ye glanced at her sideways.

Bai Nan stammered as she shifted her gaze away, sticking her tongue out at Zhou Weitian: “I never said that! Don’t slander me!”

“I literally have the voice message you sent me, timestamps and all!”

“Holy crap! Delete that right now! I withdraw it!”

The banter between the two brought another wave of laughter to the room, and Luo Ye found himself laughing along too.

Someone chimed in: “Hey, let’s take a photo together!”

Everyone raised their cups, taking a group photo in front of Luo Ye’s workstation, along with various Polaroid shots.

In every photo, Luo Ye was crowded right in the center, his mask pulled down loosely around his chin to reveal his sharp, clean face, looking exceptionally handsome.

At 3:00 PM, having finished all offboarding procedures, Luo Ye put on his backpack and waited for Lan Ju in the main lobby.

Lan Ju wore glasses and a company jacket, looking once again like a walking spring roll.

Luo Ye had also thrown on the company jacket today, paired with a plaid scarf chosen by Luo Peng. Being tall with long legs and a sharp shoulder line, he looked crisp and stylish.

The two sat at a window seat inside “Not Only Thirsty,” each ordering a latte.

Lan Ju rubbed his chubby cheeks, asking: “Where’s Old Wan Qing? Didn’t he say he’d be back this afternoon?”

“Let me ask.” Luo Ye was already holding his phone.

[Luo Ye]: Brother Qing, Ju and I are waiting for you.

[Wan Qing]: Coming, coming! Just got back, grabbing something quick!

[Wan Qing]: Don’t leave!

[Wan Qing]: Wait for me!

[Wan Qing]: I’m jumping off the building right now!

[Luo Ye]: No need to go that far, no need.

“Guess how many minutes it’ll take Old Wan Qing to get here,” Lan Ju asked.

“At his speed, five minutes,” Luo Ye said, looking at the countdown timer.

Today’s sky was a pale, soft blue. The rain from the past two days had washed the clouds completely clean, leaving only a few wisps of thin clouds floating lazily, while the numbers of the countdown appeared significantly clearer and brighter.

Five minutes and thirty-eight seconds later, a windblown Wan Qing rushed inside, holding a cup of boba tea tightly in his hand.

Luo Ye’s gaze landed on that cup—it was from the exact same brand he had ordered this morning.

Looks like the netizens were right after all; this shop really was delicious—even Wan Qing, who usually disliked boba tea, had ordered a cup.

Once Wan Qing sat down, Lan Ju teased him: “Brother Wan’s made it big, huh? Sipping on teenage-yuan boba tea now!”

“Yeah, when are you treating us?” Luo Ye joked with a smile, casually raising his coffee cup to take a slow sip.

Wan Qing glanced down at the cup in his hand. Remembering where it came from made him burst into a happy grin, chuckling as he spoke: “How could I possibly buy such expensive boba tea? Chi Zhiyue didn’t want this cup, so he tossed it over to me.”

…What?

Luo Ye was like a lamp blown out by a sudden gust of wind—the smile on his face froze solid in an instant.

Whipping his head around violently toward Wan Qing: “Who did you say gave it to you?!”