Shattered Window

Chapter 25: No Confession Needed, We Already Love Each Other Deeply

Yang Rui said he would be in touch, but three days passed with no word. Yuanzhou didn't push. He knew these things couldn't be rushed. But as the numbers on the calendar shrank day by day, a fire burned in his chest. Seven days left.

Those days, Seattle was rainy again — not heavy, just a steady drizzle, like the sky sighing. Yuanzhou got back from Old Zhou's restaurant a little before eight. The rain wasn't heavy, so he didn't bother with an umbrella. He walked back to the bookstore in the rain, hair wet, jacket wet, too lazy to run.

When he reached the bookstore door, he saw Shen Zhi crouched on the steps. In front of her sat a cardboard box filled with old books — she must have just moved them out. Raindrops fell on her, sticking a few strands of hair to her face.

"What are you doing crouching out here? It's raining," Yuanzhou said.

"Moving books. The box is too heavy. I thought I'd leave it at the door for a minute, then carry it in."

"Leave it at the door? Aren't you afraid someone will take them?"

"Who would want these old books?"

Yuanzhou smiled, bent down to help her with the box. As his hand touched the cardboard, Shen Zhi reached for it too. Their hands touched. Her hand was cold. His was cold too. They looked at each other. Neither moved.

Then Shen Zhi stood up.

She stood up too fast. Her left leg didn't hold, her knee buckled, and she tilted sideways. Yuanzhou reached out to catch her, but the box got in the way. He couldn't steady her, and Shen Zhi fell back onto the steps.

"Are you okay?" Yuanzhou crouched down beside her.

"Fine." Shen Zhi frowned, rubbing her knee. She was still wearing the knee pads — probably hadn't hurt the bone, but she'd definitely bumped it.

"Can you stand?"

Shen Zhi tried to push herself up, her frown deepening. "Wait a minute. My leg is numb."

The rain kept falling, getting heavier. Yuanzhou took off his jacket and put it over her head. Shen Zhi looked up. "You don't have to—"

"Don't move." Yuanzhou crouched in front of her, turning his back to her. "Get on."

"What?"

"I'm carrying you up. You can't walk like this."

"I can walk."

"You can walk, but I'm carrying you anyway. Get on."

Shen Zhi looked at his back, silent for two seconds. Then she shuffled forward and climbed onto his back. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her body pressed against his back. Yuanzhou stood up, one hand supporting her legs, the other on the railing, and climbed the steps one by one.

Shen Zhi was light. A little heavier than he'd expected, but still light — like carrying a bundle of firewood. Her face was against his shoulder, her breath warm on his neck.

"Lin Yuanzhou," she said. Her voice was so soft it was nearly swallowed by the rain.

"Yeah."

"Don't go."

Yuanzhou's footsteps stopped.

"What?"

"I said, don't go." Shen Zhi's voice trembled, but each word was clear. "I don't know how long you can stay. But don't go. At least... don't go right now."

The rain was loud. The wind chime at the bookstore door clattered in the wind. Yuanzhou stood on the steps, carrying her on his back, rain streaming down his face.

He didn't say "okay." Didn't say "I won't go." He didn't say anything. He hitched her higher and kept climbing. Shen Zhi, on his back, buried her face in his shoulder.

On the second floor, he set her down on the sofa. Shen Zhi's pants were wet, her shoes wet, her hair plastered to her face. Yuanzhou got a dry towel and handed it to her. Shen Zhi took it, but instead of drying her own hair, she first wiped the wetness off her knee pads.

"The pads are wet," she said.

"They'll dry by morning."

Shen Zhi nodded. She kept her head down, the towel draped over her knees, her fingers clutching its edge. Yuanzhou stood in front of her, not knowing what to say. On the steps just now, she'd said "don't go." He'd heard her. He'd heard her clearly. But he didn't know if he could do it — not that he didn't want to, but he didn't know if it was possible. Seven days left on his visa. What right did he have to promise "don't go"?

"Shen Zhi." He crouched down, bringing his eyes level with hers.

Shen Zhi looked up.

"I want to stay," Yuanzhou said. "I want to stay very much. But I can't promise—"

"I know." Shen Zhi cut him off. "I don't need you to promise anything. I just wanted to say... now that you're here, I don't want you to leave."

That simple. No promises needed. No future needed. Just at this moment, right now, she didn't want him to go.

Yuanzhou looked at her. A piece of the wall around his heart crumbled. He reached out and tucked her wet hair behind her ear. Shen Zhi didn't pull away. The tips of her ears turned red, but she didn't pull away.

"I'll make some ginger tea," Yuanzhou said, standing and turning to the kitchen.

Standing at the stove, his fingers trembled slightly. Not from cold — from the warmth of Shen Zhi's body on his back just now. Her face against his shoulder. Her hands on his neck. Her breath on his skin when she spoke.

He took a deep breath, sliced the ginger, and threw it into the pot. The water boiled, the sharp ginger smell burst out, and he sneezed.

He carried the ginger tea out. Shen Zhi had already changed out of her wet clothes, now wearing a clean black hoodie. Her hair was still damp, draped over her shoulders. She took the ginger tea, drank a sip, and frowned.

"Spicy," she said.

"Drink up. It'll warm you."

Shen Zhi took two more sips and put the bowl down. "Lin Yuanzhou."

"Yeah."

"When you carried me just now — was I heavy?"

"No."

"Liar. I've gained two pounds lately."

"Can't tell."

Shen Zhi looked down, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. "Are you going to work tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"No reason. Just come back early."

Yuanzhou blinked. "Okay."

He went to his room and sat on the edge of the bed. Outside, the rain kept falling, pattering against the window. He remembered what Shen Zhi had said with her face against his back — "Don't go."

Not "I like you." Not "let's be together." Just "don't go." But he felt that was better than any confession. Confessions could be taken back. "Don't go" couldn't. When she said it, she'd already braced herself for him to say no. But she said it anyway.

Yuanzhou lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. That water stain was still there, like a faded map. He didn't know how much longer he could live in this apartment, whether he could stay. But tonight, Shen Zhi said "don't go," and he heard her. That was enough.

He picked up his notebook, flipped to the last page, and wrote: "Today it rained. Shen Zhi fell, and I carried her upstairs. She said 'don't go.' I didn't answer because I didn't know what to say. But I wanted to answer."

He closed the notebook and turned off the light. The room next door was quiet, but he knew she wasn't asleep. He heard her soft footsteps — to the window, then back. Then the creak of the bed as she lay down.

Yuanzhou closed his eyes. Tomorrow would bring its own rain. Tonight, the rain fell just right.