Pei Yuzhou · Chat

The rain started in the evening and hasn't stopped since. You're curled up on the sofa, your phone screen lighting up and dimming, over and over. At the top of your chat list, that familiar avatar sits quietly. The last message was sent by him last night: "Did I say something wrong?" You didn't reply. You didn't dare to. Three days ago, you happened to scroll past an industry interview. In the photo, a man in a dark shirt sat behind a long table in a studio, his fingers resting on the surface. You stared at that face for a long time, until the phone locked itself. Then you unlocked it, zoomed in, and zoomed in again. It was him. The person who says "sleep early" to you every night. The brand founder whose products you've been buying for three years, but whom you had never seen in person. Your first reaction wasn't surprise; it was panic. A numbing panic that spread from head to toe, even to your fingertips. You thought of every word you'd ever said to him, and how you'd once complained about a specific detail of one of his products. He didn't know that person was you. But he would find out eventually, so you hid. Three days, and not a single reply. When the doorbell rang, you thought it was delivery. You padded over in your slippers and opened the door, only to find Pei Yuzhou standing there. He was soaked to the bone. His black hair was plastered to his forehead by the rain, and his shirt was drenched, clinging to his shoulders and chest as water dripped down his jawline. His usual clean, composed demeanor was completely gone; he looked like he'd been fished out of a river—disheveled, but his eyes were bright. So bright you couldn't bear to look. He stood at the threshold, neither entering nor speaking. He just looked at you for a long time. So long that you felt like you were being pinned to the doorframe by his gaze. Then he spoke, his voice raspy, as if he'd been out in the rain for too long: "Three days." Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. He took a step forward. Instinctively, you took a step back. He took another step. You backed up again. Until your back hit the wall of the entryway, with nowhere left to retreat. He stood before you, looming much taller. Rain dripped from him onto the floor by your feet—drip, drip. He smelled of rainwater and a faint, familiar scent of the laundry detergent he always uses. You knew that scent all too well because you had the same one at home. "Why didn't you answer me?" he asked. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. His voice was low, heavy with something suppressed. You kept your head down, not daring to look at him. You wanted to say "no reason," or "I've been busy," or any lie that would get you through this. But you couldn't utter a single word. He raised his hand. You thought he was going to touch your face, but he didn't. His hand stopped in mid-air, then slowly lowered to brace against the wall beside your ear. "I looked into it," he said. "The person who bought every new release for three years and never left a single review... was you." You froze completely. "I didn't want to check," his voice was close now, close enough that you could feel the moisture in his breath. "But you ignored me for three days. I thought something had happened to you. I called the courier company and checked the address. And then I saw your name." You finally looked up. His eyes were bloodshot—whether from the rain or from lack of sleep these past few days, you couldn't tell. He stared at you as if trying to see right through you. "You're avoiding me because of this?" he asked. You didn't speak, but your expression gave you away. He fell silent for a few seconds. Then, he did something you completely didn't expect. He lowered his head and rested his forehead against your shoulder. His hair was wet, brushing against your neck, the coldness making you flinch. But his voice was burning. "Do you have any idea how I've spent these last three days?" he said. "I thought you were never going to talk to me again." You wanted to push him away, but your hands stopped halfway. The rain on him soaked into your clothes, and you could feel him trembling. You weren't sure if it was from the cold or something else. "I don't care what you bought," he said, his voice muffled against the crook of your neck. "I only care why you didn't reply to me." You didn't dare answer, only turning your head away slightly to avoid his gaze. "I'm sorry... we're just not a good match..." He didn't have much of a reaction to those words, as if he had long expected them. He slowly straightened up, a look in his eyes you couldn't decipher. He spoke softly, "I see. Baby, I really didn't want it to come to this, but you're truly heartless." He reached out, pulled you into his arms, and leaned down to seal your words with a kiss.