She was drowned in the rain

The rain grew fiercer, perhaps the heaviest in this endless rainy season.

Water droplets formed a pale, misty veil, visibility less than a meter. Red mud mixed with pooling water, emitting a rotten, icy stench.

Such extreme weather instinctively stirred unease.

Liu Tingsong stared at her phone, sending multiple messages without reply. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Was Xu Fengluan retaliating for her earlier silence, or was something else at play? Thinking this, she sent a pleading cat emoji. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

The emoji was adorable, captured when she and Xu Fengluan sat on a carpet, trying to teach San Jin to backflip.

The silver Maine Coon looked pitiful, head on paws, tail swishing, gazing at them with aggrieved charm. Xu Fengluan, amused, added “I’m sorry” text above its head, making it Liu Tingsong’s go-to emoji.

She sighed softly, but unease lingered, like a premonition. The noisy, crowded students around her made the air feel thin.

Recalling recent events, she was certain Xu Fengluan wasn’t mad—her messages were understood. Yet, the seat beside her remained empty.

So… why?

Liu Tingsong pursed her lips. The dance performance had ended, but after Burning Meteor’s set, the following acts drew little attention—just perfunctory claps. Nearby students chatted idly, mentioning the honorary alumni.

She meant to ignore them, but froze when a familiar name was spoken.

“Xu Nanzhu didn’t abandon medicine for business? How’s she an honorary alumna here?”

“You don’t know? She later studied at our business school, so she counts as one of us.”

“That’s how it works—big shots polish their image, and the school happily takes the credit.”

“But my teacher said Xu Nanzhu’s different. She actually attended classes. No idea why she studied medicine if she loved business so much.”

Liu Tingsong’s fingers chilled. To avoid being spotted, she hadn’t taken her seat until Burning Meteor’s performance, unaware Xu Nanzhu was present.

Despite the muggy air, she felt plunged into an icy pit, lips paling.

Panic surged. Before she could react, her phone lit up.

It was Xu Fengluan calling.

Without hesitation, she stood, hurrying to a secluded spot. As the call connected, she blurted, “Baby, where are you?”

Clinging to hope, her trembling voice betrayed her, barely managing clear words.

But the other end offered no comfort, only howling rain.

“Baby?”

“Where are you?” Her anxious words spilled through the speaker.

Xu Fengluan stood in the misty rain, lashes wet, water dripping, eyes red-rimmed. Her soaked clothes clung to her, far from the vibrant stage star, now utterly bedraggled.

Her canvas shoes crushed leaves, her cap lost somewhere, wet white hair plastered to her forehead, like a soul-drained shell. She managed, “Liu Tingsong, I just saw Xu Nanzhu.”

Her voice wavered, nearly lost in the rain, laced with grievance, like a bullied dog. “She said you approached me with a motive. She said it was to get back at her.”

“Baby,” Liu Tingsong trembled, leaning against a wall to steady herself.

She murmured, “A-Feng…”

“Liu Tingsong, I don’t believe her. I only believe you.”

Tears fell with rain, shattering in puddles.

Xu Fengluan bit her lip, steadying her voice, firm and deliberate, “I only believe you.”

“Liu Tingsong, I don’t believe her, only you.”

“Just tell me now her words are lies, and I’ll believe you.”

Her voice was almost a plea, crying, “Tell me.”

Liu Tingsong’s lips ground together, wanting to speak but choked by phantom fear, struggling to breathe.

She knew if she denied it as Xu Fengluan begged, Xu Fengluan would trust her completely, dismissing Xu Nanzhu’s claims. One sentence, and Xu Fengluan would stand by her unwaveringly. But…

But what about guilt?

Liu Tingsong closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath. Her trained poise, her ever-straight spine, began to curve.

“Baby…”

Her murmur was lifeless, heart deadened.

No answer.

Xu Fengluan’s hands and feet grew cold, her slim frame soaked. For the first time, she realized something hurt worse than Liu Tingsong’s abandonment.

“Liu Tingsong, I’ll ask, you answer,” she said, clinging to hope, teeth trembling, green eyes dull, driven by instinct.

“Did you approach me to get back at Xu Nanzhu?”

Liu Tingsong’s breathing quickened, tears gathering, truths she dared not face or reveal peeling open. She feared imagining the outcome.

Surrounded by dark, stacked desks, she felt trapped.

No answer. Xu Fengluan lifted her eyes, a faint hope flickering like fireflies, cautious, “No answer means denial, right?”

Lightning cracked, a purple serpent weaving through clouds, illuminating the city. Thunder followed, rain like hail, pelting down.

Xu Fengluan’s back and arms stung, red marks rising. Fallen leaves shattered, impossible to piece together.

“…Yes.”

The worst answer came through the speaker, crushing her last hope.

Liu Tingsong collapsed, legs giving out, falling to the ground.

Regret churned, but there was no redo. She couldn’t even promise she’d confess if given another chance.

As lies snowballed, she lacked the courage to unravel them, fearing they’d crush their fragile bond. She lived in daily dread, hoping against hope.

But crises don’t dissolve. If not Xu Nanzhu, someone else would expose it. Eventually, Xu Fengluan would stop waiting and demand truth. What then? It just came sooner than expected.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” Liu Tingsong repeated, murmuring endlessly.

“I’m sorry.”

Xu Fengluan stood frozen, lips purple, trembling. Her pleas went unanswered, turning to cold, bitter sorrow, like an abandoned wild dog, all sharp thorns in a gaunt frame.

“Liu Tingsong, I told you,” she rasped, throat raw despite being drenched.

“I told you everything—my past, my pain, my neglect, who I am, how I became this. I laid myself bare, five years ago and now.”

Words from the hospital echoed—once complaints, acceptance, forgiveness; now accusation, collapse, incomprehension.

She said, “Liu Tingsong, this world hasn’t been kind to me. You know that. I told you everything, not to demand kindness, but to show how much you mean to me.”

Xu Fengluan took a deep breath. Not one to cry, she’d wept for her again and again, hiding in endless rain.

“But you used it to hurt me.”

“No, no, baby,” Liu Tingsong protested.

Xu Fengluan didn’t hear, only venting, accusing, “Liu Tingsong, this world isn’t kind to me, and neither are you.”

“You’re hurting me,” her words grew childish, like a kindergarten kid, unsure how to tell parents or teachers of her pain, left with tears and, “You’re hurting me.”

“Why are you hurting me?”

“Why do this to me?”

“She’s the one who did wrong,” Xu Fengluan’s voice shook, barely audible.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” Liu Tingsong’s prepared defenses failed. She couldn’t explain. She wanted to say it wasn’t all true, that she’d fallen for her, regretted it, but guilt drowned her. No justification could erase her initial deceit.

Lightning flashed, the world stark white, pure for a moment.

But as light faded, complexity returned. Leaves piled at her feet, ankle-deep, like a self-sorting trash heap of discarded things.

She struggled to speak, “Liu Tingsong, did you ever love me…”

She stopped herself, bitter smile forming, “Was your kindness love or guilt?”

“I can’t tell anymore.”

Liu Tingsong trembled, clothes wet despite no rain. She said, “Where are you? I’ll come to you. Can’t we talk face-to-face?” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

“No,” Xu Fengluan closed her eyes, voice soft, as if force would shatter her fragile shell.

“Liu Tingsong, I don’t want to see you now.”

How absurd—she’d been the proud stage star, commanding cheers and flashes, spotting her lover, feeling she had it all. Yet it shattered ten minutes later.

The auditorium buzzed, but she was cut off from it.

Before she could say more, Li Jianbai called, reminding her of obligations.

She took a deep breath, saying, “I don’t want to see you for a few days.”

“I’m not going back. Don’t come find me.”

Her voice paused, ignoring the other end, “I’ll find you later.”

“Liu Tingsong, I need the truth from your mouth.”

With that, she hung up, no matter the response, pulling her legs from the debris, trudging forward heavily.