Old alley roof tiles, rain threads descending from the sky.
Despite the distance, Xu Qingyan could still clearly see her delicate and pretty eyebrows and eyes. His mind hadn't caught up yet, when those beautiful eyes had already pierced into his heart uninvited.
"Okay."
Xu Qingyan moved closer, Pei Muchan was slow to react. She instinctively tiptoed, stretching out her pale white hand to hold the umbrella higher, an action that was inexplicably goofy.
"No need to hold it so high, rain will blow in."
"Oh."
He folded his own black umbrella, flicked his wrist to shake off the rain, and then reached out his hand.
"Let me hold it."
"Okay."
As the umbrella handle changed hands, Xu Qingyan took it sturdily, instantly feeling the lingering warmth in his palm.
The two squeezed under one umbrella, their expressions unchanged. The alley wasn't too long; a single walk was enough time for him to think of all the related ancient poems and verses.
