The rain poured in torrents.
The pale yellow umbrella in Deng Jiaru's hands was no match for the rushing rain.
By the time she made her way from the East Building to the old house, her white cheongsam was drenched, even the delicate bun pinned behind her head was soaking wet.
A gust of wind overturned the umbrella. Jiaru's strength waned and the umbrella twisted out of shape. In the end, it was carried away by the wind several meters away.
When she turned around, there was no one in sight at the misty gate in the rain.
Jiaru thought that Yun Qing had left.
At that moment, the rain beating on her face and the surging mist entering her eyes, even after wiping them, made her eyes sting and difficult to open. The rain was so heavy that it even made her eyes hurt.
She really thought that Yun Qing had left before the heavy rain started.
Her heart was filled with both desolation and relief, mixed emotions.
She hoped he was there, yet she also hoped he wasn't.
