An autumn rain began to fall without warning, blanketing the city in a damp, cold fog. Lin Zhou closed the bookstore early and went home to cook a bowl of hot ginger soup. Outside, the rain pattered against the window, tapping against the glass and her somewhat empty heart.
Rainy nights like this always made one nostalgic. She remembered a rainy day when Shen Che had waited for her at the bookstore entrance under a large umbrella, tucking her cold hands into his warm pocket. She remembered another rainy day when they had argued over something trivial. She had run out into the rain in a huff, only to be pulled back by him, wrapped tightly in his coat, him cursing "idiot" while his eyes were full of nothing but concern.
The memories were sweet, and they were sad.
She turned off the lights and lay in bed, trying to sleep, but the sound of the rain and her restless thoughts kept her tossing and turning. Just as she was about to drift off, a sound came from upstairs again.
It wasn't the usual annoying noise. It was a melody.
It was a guitar, played haltingly, intermittently, as if the player lacked strength or was distracted. But the melody—it was one Lin Zhou knew all too well.
Her drowsiness vanished instantly. She froze, holding her breath, listening intently.
Yes, that was the tune. It was the song Shen Che had written for her in their sophomore year, one of a kind. He had named it Zhou. He said she was his boat (zhou), carrying him through all the boring times. The melody was simple and gentle, like a lover's whisper, and he had played it for her countless times on his dorm balcony, on the school lawn, and in the small apartment they rented.
How… how could it be this song?
Lin Zhou's heart began to race. A thought so absurd she found it laughable própriosed into her mind: could Shen Che be living upstairs?
Impossible! She immediately dismissed the idea. Shen Che was halfway across the world; how could he be here? It had to be a coincidence. Maybe someone had heard the song somewhere and happened to play it. Shen Che had posted it on the university forum once. It wasn't famous, but it was possible someone had heard it.
Yes, that must be it.
She tried to comfort herself, to suppress the fluttering in her heart with logic. But the guitar continued, each note a tiny hammer striking the deepest part of her memory. The way it was played, the habit of pausing after making a mistake—it was all exactly like Shen Che.
Lin Zhou couldn't lie still any longer. She shot up in bed, her heart pounding like a drum. She had the urge to rush upstairs, knock on that door, and see just who was inside.
But she didn't.
She was afraid. She was afraid that if the door opened to a complete stranger's face, she would look like a total lunatic. And she was even more afraid… what if it really was him behind that door? What would that make her three years of waiting, her longing that spanned an ocean? A colossal joke?
In the end, reason won out over impulse. She threw herself back onto the bed and pulled the covers tightly over her head, forcing herself not to listen to that damnable melody.
The guitar fell silent at some point in the night, but the melody echoed in Lin Zhou's mind all night long.