In the sound of the rain, the girl's voice trembled.
"If you come any closer, I'll call the police."
The voice was soft and glutinous, lacking any deterrence. It was indeed Rae Bennett.
Four men in raincoats closed in on her, cornering her against the wall, and the leader whistled at her in a sleazy manner.
"Don't be scared, little sister. We're not bad guys; we just want to have some fun with you."
Rae had lost her umbrella long ago, and the rain poured down on her relentlessly, leaving her with no retreat. Pressed against the corner, she resembled a pear blossom ravaged by the storm—pitifully delicate, yet trying to appear tough on the outside.
"Don't come any closer!"
The men laughed heartily and continued to advance toward her.
"If you move any closer, I'll call the police!"
No sooner had she taken out her phone than it was snatched away by the leading man: "Oh, quite feisty, aren't we?"
The man inspected her phone and seemed pleased, pocketing it. He had narrow, sinister eyes that, with just a lift of his eyelids, looked extremely fierce: "Take out anything of value."
Rae clutched her bag strap and shuffled backward.
The man snatched her bag and unzipped it. There was a wallet with not much cash, which he took, and the rest were just small everyday items, not worth much at all. As he rummaged through the bag roughly, a band-aid fell out and landed on the ground.
Rae remained silent, her fingertips twitching slightly. Raindrops traced the outline of her hand bones and splashed into the puddles on the ground, stirring ripples.
Just then, a beam of light shone in.
"What are you guys doing?"
Rae lifted her head, following the light through the blurry mist of the rain.
It was Wyatt Wright. This road was on his way home.
He turned off the flashlight on his phone, put it back in his pocket, still wearing the same clothes he had on during the day. The splashes of rain had darkened the fabric, the mist had dampened his eyes, and his lips weren't as red as they had been in daylight. The dim light blurred the contours of his features, like an unfocused, unreal portrait of a beauty.
In his hand, he held a black umbrella, with a camera hanging around his neck. He asked again, "What are you guys doing?"
Rae took small steps to move herself out of the thugs' line of sight and cast a helpless, pleading look at Wyatt: "They're robbing me."
In the torrential rain, she was like a drenched little white flower, truly pitiful.
"Trying to play the hero?" After making his point, the gang leader brazenly said, "Get lost if you know what's good for you!"
Rae, for her part, remained silent. But she had a pair of expressive eyes, eyes that could tug at one's heartstrings. She just looked at Wyatt calmly and quietly, her eyes speaking: please help me.
Fortuitously, the rain continued unabated, and the wind howled without end. It coated the road in mud, nearly stripped the trees bare, and made the already ugly men look uglier, while somehow making beautiful people appear even more stunning.
Rae didn't need to speak; with her pretty brows furrowed and clutching the hem of her dress, she stood there, a deadly weakness to any man.
There were about ten meters between Wyatt and her. He stood still and did not come closer; instead, he slightly raised the umbrella, propped it on his shoulder, and braced the handle with his arm. Then, he picked up the camera dangling around his neck, found the right angle, focused, and with a click, captured the moment.
The four thugs were bewildered.
Wyatt was checking the photo's result, not looking up, "The police station is nearby, aren't you leaving?"
The thugs: "???"
Not coming over for a fight?
The gang leader instinctively glanced at Rae, and after their eyes met, he quickly looked away. Then he exchanged puzzled looks with his cronies before deciding to make a cool exit, maintaining their tough demeanor. The leader furiously threw down the bejeweled bag—oblivious to the fact that the jewels were real—then dug at his eyes with a finger, pointing at Wyatt as if to say, "I've got my eye on you," and spat out a vicious threat—"You just wait!"—before spitting on the ground and leaving with his three minions with a show of force.
Wyatt still stood in place, glancing indifferently at the scene before him from a distance, and then turned to leave.
Rae called out to him, "Wait."
He looked over his shoulder, his gaze calm, waiting for her to continue.
She hesitated before stepping forward a few paces but didn't come too close: "They took my money and phone."
The autumn rain was cold, the flesh-colored stockings under the woolen skirt provided no warmth, and the fluffy autumn sweater worn for its looks was even less protective against the chill. After being battered by wind and rain, she shivered uncontrollably, edging closer to him, tentative and careful.
The sweater, soaked with water, felt heavy. Its wide neckline had slipped off her shoulder, revealing half of her collarbone, where the thin, delicate, easily broken black lace straps of her undergarment rested on her pale skin.
"My home is very far from here, could you possibly shelter me for the night?"
On a rainy day, with desolate streets, flickering and dim streetlights, and a drenched and pitiful beauty, one might expect things to take a turn for the erotic.
Wyatt Wright's gaze merely swept over her shoulder, without lingering.
He took off his camera, "Walk straight down this road for about a hundred meters, turn right at the corner, and you'll see the police station. Show them the photos in the camera, and not only will they shelter you, but they will also help you retrieve your phone and wallet."
The camera held evidence of the robbery by those four thugs, their faces had all been captured, just moments ago.
"How should I return the camera to you?"
He handed the camera to her, "It's yours now."
Rae Bennett didn't accept it, "Your camera looks expensive."
"Not as expensive as your gems."
He moved past her and walked a few steps forward, picking up the bag that the thugs had dropped, which had four red gems embedded around the clasp.
He plucked one of the gems out.
Rae Bennett's expression froze in astonishment for a few seconds, "If it's not too much trouble, could I have your contact information? You've helped me, and I would like to repay you."
She was neither brash nor rude, her voice polite, her demeanor compliant.
Wyatt Wright was silent for a few seconds before plucking out another red gem.
"This one is for repayment."
After saying that, he placed the bag on top of a cardboard box in the corner of the alley, then approached Rae Bennett and hung the camera around her neck.
He walked away with those two red gems.
Just like that, he left.
Rae Bennett's first impulse was to chase after his figure towards the street lights, and her second was to hug his camera to her chest, protecting it from the rain, even though the camera might be waterproof.
She knew he was a photographer, and that he loved his camera, just as she loved her red gems.
A bus sped past the road, and in the blink of an eye, his figure was no longer visible. She lowered her head to look at the band-aid box that had fallen to the ground.
Moments later, footsteps sounded again from behind. She turned quickly, only to see Wyatt Wright coming back around the corner.
Her eyes lit up with joy, "Why have you come back?"
He approached and left an umbrella beside her, resting it by her feet.
"Stay safe."
He walked into the rain, crossing the street.
He left again, taking her red gems, leaving behind both her and his camera and umbrella.
He was not only difficult to handle but an enigmatic person, not swayed by feminine allure, with strong principles.
Such a person, even if caged, could never be tamed, for they have spirit and spine. If deception fails, one must be prepared to break their bones.
Rae Bennett picked up the umbrella and the band-aids from the ground, carefully placing them in her bag along with the camera, then rested the umbrella on the cardboard box to shelter the camera from the rain.
Then, she shifted slightly, "Come out."
Four men emerged from the end of the alley, tiptoeing around the corner, the very four thugs from before.
The one in the lead called out, "Miss... Miss Bennett."
She gathered her loose hair back in place, her voice still sweet, the bright little suns in her eyes undimmed, "If it's just robbery, why did you dirty my band-aids?"