ICSTC CH10: Downpour Tomorrow

Luo Ye stared with wide eyes, quickly exiting the app and reopening it, only to feel even more stunned when he realized it wasn’t a software bug.

What is this guy doing all of a sudden? Burning a hole in his pocket because he has too much cash?

[Luo Ye]: Bro

[Luo Ye]: Slip of the thumb?

[Chi Zhiyue]: Expressing my apology.

Which part of his apology warranted 600 yuan?!

[Luo Ye]: No need for that much.

[Luo Ye]: Bro, I really don’t have time to act as your savings account.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Since I’m rather clumsy with words and haven’t dealt with this kind of situation before, did you misunderstand?

[Luo Ye]: I’m genuinely not angry.

Or rather, his anger had already dissipated the moment he boarded the high-speed train. He hadn’t expected Chi Zhiyue to sound so wronged.

However, the part about being “clumsy with words” was open to doubt—could someone who was truly clumsy with words negotiate so many business partnerships? Luo Ye thought to himself.

[Luo Ye]: Who taught you to throw money at problems?

[Chi Zhiyue]: A friend.

[Chi Zhiyue]: He said sending red envelopes is the best way to show sincerity.

[Luo Ye]: Is your friend super rich?

[Chi Zhiyue]: Old money.

Luo Ye: “…”

Case closed.

Turns out it really was a local tycoon with too much money burning a hole in his pocket.

For a moment, Luo Ye didn’t know how to reply. Since he was pressed for time, he hauled his suitcase out of the railway station first and hailed a taxi.

Then he contemplated how to answer Chi Zhiyue.

In the end, he settled on a single line.

[Luo Ye]: I won’t accept the money. It was meant to be my treat in the first place.

[Luo Ye]: Receiving this much money out of nowhere makes me feel a bit awkward. [Wiping Sweat Emoji]

[Chi Zhiyue]: Okay, then let’s just leave it there.

Luo Ye had assumed Chi Zhiyue would try to push the matter a few more times, and he was already fully prepared with arguments to persuade him. He hadn’t expected him to switch gears so abruptly and agree.

“…What on earth is he trying to do?”

Luo Ye couldn’t quite read Chi Zhiyue—or rather, he had never understood him at all. His understanding of Chi Zhiyue seemed to have only begun the day he got into his car.

This person was a hard one to tell.

[Chi Zhiyue]: I heard you’ve already returned to your hometown.

[Luo Ye]: Yeah.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Okay.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Will you be coming to the wrap-up banquet?

[Luo Ye]: Most likely.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Alright, see you then.

Luo Ye replied with a brief “Alright,” and the conversation ended there.

Luo Ye had originally removed Chi Zhiyue from his circle of fellow enthusiasts in his mind, but because of this incident, he silently moved him back, adding a “pending” tag behind his name.

He tapped open Chi Zhiyue’s moments feed once more. There was nothing special—mostly work-related content, or photos taken on the road.

The camera angles, aperture, and depth of field were all unadjusted—just casual snapshots taken on the fly. Watching them triggered Luo Ye’s professional itch so badly that he desperately wanted to edit out the extra rock sitting in the lower right corner of the frame.

“Right, I’m doing something completely unnecessary myself.” Having mocked himself like that, Luo Ye closed his phone directly.

He picked up his camera and snapped a shot through the taxi window.

The gloomy dusk sank into the lens, slowly merging into nightfall, only to awaken once more in the dawn’s rays, spreading into clear morning light.

Having slept through the night, Luo Ye brushed his teeth with a few tufts of hair sticking up sideways, sizing himself up in the mirror.

His face tended to look slightly puffy in the morning—though still small, it appeared a bit rounder than usual.

Wanting to use cold air to reduce the swelling, Luo Ye pushed open the window, only to catch sight of the countdown timer floating right out there at a single glance, instantly ruining his mood.

“So unlucky,” Luo Ye grumbled with a dark face.

BANG! The window slammed shut again.

Luo Ye groomed the fur on his tail once more, changed into fresh clothes, put on a baseball cap, and stepped out with his camera slung over his shoulder.

He took an hour-long bus ride to a more remote slum area in Xiangyang.

First, he strolled around the places he used to frequent as a child. The newly paved road came to a halt at a fountain, after which all the remaining paths were uneven and bumpy. Most windows of the low-rise houses were covered with old newspapers, some torn with holes patched up with several layers of tape.

Every household was squeezed into the same narrow alley, making the neighborhood surprisingly crowded.

Luo Ye visited a few familiar shops to record interview footage.

Some store owners remembered him while others didn’t. Having obtained their consent, he shot several documentary clips before heading toward a narrow alleyway.

The countdown timer hung suspended above the empty dead end of the alley. As the wind swept past Luo Ye’s face, he recalled how he used to get into fistfights with his father right here as a child.

Some people’s family dynamics were exceedingly complex—they were genuinely good to you when times were good, but utterly revolting when they turned nasty, leaving travelers with entangled emotions, forever tied to their families by an unbroken string.

Yet Luo Ye’s family was strictly black and white: his father was a universally acknowledged neighborhood bully. He rarely came home, and whenever he did, he was looking for trouble.

Especially after his mother passed away from postpartum depression, whenever he and his father met, it resulted in a major argument every two days and a physical brawl every three days, eventually escalating straight onto the streets—just like right here.

So for Luo Ye, this place wasn’t a good memory by any means.

Yet it was also right here that he had met the little mute.

He still remembered how those crystal-clear blue eyes had stared up at him under the blanket of pure white snow.

Thus, Luo Ye—who had originally planned to get his bruises treated—stayed behind after a three-second internal struggle.

As the white snow faded from memory, Luo Ye murmured toward the empty alley: “If it weren’t to find you, I would have never come here.”

His gaze lingered for a few more seconds before he turned around to leave.

Luo Ye recorded a vast amount of video footage that day, unknowingly staying until nightfall.

The roadside streetlights flickered sporadically, catching tiny motes of dust dancing in the dim glow. As Luo Ye walked across the concrete ground, the thick layer of withered leaves crunched beneath his boots, releasing a raw, earthy scent.

Nighttime in the slums was always like this—a heavy blanket of dampness and poverty. Rows of low houses huddled closely together, while a sliver of dim light leaked from distant shops, barely illuminating the cardboard boxes stacked along the curb. It was considerably neater now; in the past, it had been far messier and dirtier.

Luo Ye filmed as he walked. Spotting a small, lit-up diner from afar, he quickened his pace and pushed open the door.

The small diner was modest in size, but bright and cozy.

Owner Li, who had been waiting for him for a long time, warmly invited him to sit down. He originally wanted to serve several full dishes, but Luo Ye mentioned he had already eaten, so he brought out a plate of sunflower seeds and a Sprite instead.

The owner and his wife were ordinary humans with kind, gentle faces—members of the neighborhood crowd that had watched Luo Ye grow up.

When Luo Ye was young, he often ate meals here. Even though the couple wasn’t wealthy themselves, living in a small room of barely over twenty square meters, they had never charged him a single cent. Even after Luo Peng was born later on, they treated Luo Peng the exact same way.

Therefore, even after Luo Ye left his hometown and changed his phone number multiple times, he kept in touch with them, transferring money to them from time to time.

They had relied on his financial support to renovate the diner, and business had improved significantly.

Because the atmosphere here was so relaxed and comfortable, Luo Ye unconsciously let his cat ears pop out.

He touched his ears—they were no longer like frozen ice sculptures, having turned warm and fluffy once more.

Owner Li brought over a fruit platter, spotting his furry ears, and sat down with a laugh: “Your ears look just like a toy—would they squeak if I poke them?”

Luo Ye let out a chuckle, picking up a jujube for a bite.

The conversation among the three naturally revolved around family and work.

Family wasn’t worth mentioning—just physical brawls from one end of the neighborhood to the other, mostly stemming from his father’s issues.

“My dad hasn’t come looking for me, has he?” Luo Ye asked.

“He’s busy clinging to influential people now, he wouldn’t come to a run-down place like ours anytime soon,” Owner Li spat in disgust. “Even if he asked, who around here would tell him anything? That complete idiot—”

“Ahem—” Just as Owner Li was about to launch into a long string of curses, Sister Tang cut him off with a cough.

Sister Tang turned to look at Luo Ye: “Pengpeng didn’t come with you?”

“He’s in his second year of high school and quite busy. Plus, I plan to travel on my own for a bit afterward, so I didn’t bring him along,” Luo Ye explained.

The couple nodded in full agreement: “Ah, traveling is great! You’ve worked so hard, it’s about time you went out to stretch your legs.”

They began asking about his travel itinerary, and Luo Ye shared the plans he had drafted so far.

To sum it up in one phrase: a special-ops style itinerary.

Every single day was packed to the brim—waking up at 6:00 AM, going to bed strictly at 11:00 PM, visiting up to seven attractions in a single day, complete with physical activities like cycling loops and rowing boats.

The couple was thoroughly amazed.

“Only someone with your stamina could pull that off; anyone else would be exhausted to death,” Sister Tang remarked.

Owner Li laughed: “You’ll need to find a partner with as much physical stamina as you in the future, otherwise they genuinely won’t be able to keep up.”

Luo Ye smiled, wanting to say that even in his company, there were hardly a few people with stamina comparable to his—surely he wasn’t expected to date a guy?

Just then, a little boy with long rabbit ears poked his head out from the back door. This “little rabbit” was their grandson, nicknamed Tiantian.

When Luo Ye visited last year, Tiantian had gotten along swimmingly with him and even wanted to leave together with him, only to be dragged aside by a calm, level-headed Luo Peng in the end.

Sister Tang gestured to Tiantian, who trotted over cheerfully, throwing himself right onto Luo Ye’s lap and lowering his rabbit ears for Luo Ye to pet.

Luo Ye patted his head with a smile: “These little habits are identical to when Pengpeng was little.”

“Ah, don’t even get me started! Back then, Pengpeng was just like him—a little squirt clinging to you wherever you went,” Sister Tang laughed. “Besides him, there was also the little white-haired kid. The three of you back then were truly…”

Sister Tang’s smile froze mid-sentence.

After a few seconds of silence, Sister Tang leaned in cautiously and asked: “Have you… still not found him?”

Luo Ye shook his head: “That’s actually the main reason I came—I wanted to ask if he ever came back.”

“Nope,” Owner Li chewed on a peanut. “If I had seen him, I would’ve messaged you the very first second.”

The brightness in Luo Ye’s eyes gradually dimmed. His heart felt as though it were tied to a thousand-pound boulder, plunging violently into a freezing marsh.

Tiantian blinked as he stared at him, pulling his hand as if trying to comfort him.

Luo Ye tugged at the corners of his mouth: “I’m fine.”

Sister Tang quickly pushed the peanuts closer, muttering in local dialect: “If anyone is to blame for that matter, it’s that idiot dad of yours—”

“Ahem, there’s a kid here,” Owner Li coughed twice.

Luo Ye: “…”

They really are husband and wife—the phrasing is identical.

Sister Tang poured a glass of water for Luo Ye: “In short, none of it was your fault at all. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Whether he forgives me or not doesn’t matter. I just want to know if he’s doing well—even just knowing he’s alive would be enough,” Luo Ye let out a sigh, his fingers rubbing against his clothes as his cat ears drooped low.

Sister Tang added hurriedly: “He’s definitely alive! Who knows, maybe he went abroad?”

“Exactly, Langlang was such a kind child, there’s no way he would hold a grudge against you. If he saw your videos, he would contact you right away,” Owner Li patted Luo Ye’s shoulder. “He probably just hasn’t seen them yet.”

Even Tiantian patted his arm like that, saying: “Really!”

Knowing they were trying to comfort him, Luo Ye didn’t want to make them worry too much, so he dropped the topic.

They chatted for a while longer, and Luo Ye was dragged by Tiantian to look at his toys.

After hanging around for over an hour, Luo Ye prepared to leave, taking a commemorative photo with them before departing.

Owner Li saw him to the door, smiling warmly: “Come back to visit whenever you have time! I’ll buy you local specialties next time.”

Luo Ye felt a bittersweet sensation in his chest, yet he still forced a cheerful smile, waving to them: “See you next time.”

Sometimes, regret works just like this.

The other party looks forward to the next meeting with bright anticipation, while he is the only one who knows that this was their very last farewell.

Taking a deep breath, Luo Ye opened the door and stepped out of the small diner.

The door slowly glided shut behind Chi Zhiyue.

Inside the spacious KTV private lounge—capable of accommodating over twenty people—sat a single handsome man. Sporting slicked-back blonde hair, his black shirt was unbuttoned down to his collarbone, with a heavy coat piled up beside him as he sang while swaying the wine glass in his hand.

He was singing “Abnormal” by the Wild Grass Band.

Hearing it made Chi Zhiyue’s brows knit tightly, feeling a bit abnormal himself.

This wasn’t just being tone-deaf; the man didn’t even hit five correct notes.

Amid the sound of chaotic vocals, Chi Zhiyue walked over unfazed, casting a glance at the milky-white liquid inside the wine glass.

The man singing happily knitted his brows, tilting his head back: “Hey, what are you doing? I can’t see the lyrics anymore.”

“You’re not even on key, what’s the point of looking at the lyrics?” Chi Zhiyue bent down, using two fingers to pinch up a bottle of Wahaha milk drink from the table: “Du Ruo, your mom is right to cap your daily allowance. You don’t even drink alcohol, yet you order a red wine glass—burning a hole in your pocket because you have too much cash.”

“You’ve got the order reversed! It’s because I can’t drink alcohol that I drink milk beverages,” Du Ruo’s voice boomed through the speakers.

Holding the microphone, he casually crossed his legs: “Seeing that you have the free time to nag me, is that matter with your colleague resolved?”

“Resolved.” Chi Zhiyue casually picked a grape from the fruit platter, tasting it before shaking his head, “This one’s a bit sour.”

Just then, a waiter entered to clear the trash. Chi Zhiyue stepped aside, helping lift the heavier fruit platter.

Du Ruo casually placed a hundred-yuan bill on the table: “Thanks for the hard work, this is your tip.”

The waiter showed a surprised expression—likely not expecting these two men to be so exceptionally polite.

Accepting the tip, he left happily.

“My method works great, doesn’t it?” Du Ruo nodded in satisfaction. “Apologize first; if the other person still feels wronged, offer a bit of financial compensation. That’s how the consolation prizes in my company came to be.”

Chi Zhiyue shook his head gently: “I sent the red envelopes the moment I added him as a friend.”

Du Ruo sprang up abruptly, staring in shock at this universally acknowledged high-intellect individual: “Are you insane?! Sending them the second you add him—do you think you’re playing a CEO in a TV drama? Who would dare accept that? You’re lucky he didn’t curse you out!”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s best if he accepts it, but if he doesn’t, that’s fine too—my goal was achieved,” Chi Zhiyue said with a smile. “He will have a deep impression of me.”

Du Ruo was intelligent as well, instantly grasping Chi Zhiyue’s line of thought.

Self-sabotaging one’s own reputation like this, merely to leave a slightly stronger impression on someone who had already resigned. What could be more memorable than a company colleague sending you 600 yuan out of nowhere?

He’d probably bring this up even after becoming a manager at another company.

Holy crap, this black-bellied romantic.

Du Ruo: “…You’re getting further from a normal human being and closer to an absolute weirdo every day.”

Chi Zhiyue: “Still pales in comparison to you.”

Du Ruo: “…”

He had never won a single verbal duel against this guy—how could his mouth be so fast?

“You said before that you had a thing for him, and I thought you were fooling me. I didn’t expect you to be so deeply devoted,” Du Ruo couldn’t help asking. “Since you’re so hopelessly attached to him, why didn’t you just leave with him?”

Chi Zhiyue raised an eyebrow slightly: “How do you know I haven’t left with him before?”

At that look, Du Ruo remembered as well, pointing at him: “Oh right! You joined DFG because of him in the first place, didn’t you?”