The rain tapped gently against the roof tiles, a steady rhythm that filled the house with a sense of calm stillness. Outside the windows, the world was a blur of gray clouds and dripping green leaves. A kettle whistled quietly in the kitchen.

Inside, everything was warm and hushed.

Xie Lian sat on a cushion beside the low table, his sleeves neatly folded, pouring tea into two small cups. The steam curled between them like mist on a mountain.

Across from him, Hua Cheng leaned forward with one elbow on the table, watching him with quiet affection. The red string at his wrist swayed slightly with each movement.

“I could get used to this,” Hua Cheng said softly.

Xie Lian looked up with a small smile. “You say that every time it rains.”

“It’s true every time.”

Xie Lian chuckled, setting down the teapot. He reached for Hua Cheng’s hand, letting their fingers meet halfway across the table. For a moment, they just stayed like that—two people who had lived through storms far worse than this one, now sitting together in the stillness they never thought they’d have.

Just as Xie Lian leaned in, lips parting to say something else—

Creeeak. The door down the hall groaned open.

Both paused. Hua Cheng blinked slowly. Xie Lian turned his head.

Soft footsteps—bare, slightly uneven—padded down the hallway floor. A faint squelch suggested someone had stepped in something wet.

Then, from behind the wooden screen, a small head appeared. Hair sticking up in odd directions. Eyes wide and quiet. A blanket dragging behind them like a cape. No words. Just… there.

Xie Lian straightened immediately, warmth blooming in his expression. “Ah—you’re up?”

Hua Cheng gave a short laugh under his breath, not moving his hand. “Was the rain too loud?” he asked with a slight tilt of the head.