Sometimes, a reunion is nothing more than a fleeting miss in passing.
The summer rain has a way of arriving unannounced, without warning. There was an elegant restaurant just below Fang Zhiyuan's office, which had become his regular dining spot. As usual, he sat by the window, intently focused on a contract that had just arrived from overseas. His brow was furrowed, his features even more serious than in the office. The twelve o'clock alarm on his phone reminded him that he had to eat something. The fried rice had gone cold, and the lemon honey tea had become overly sour from sitting too long. But still, he forced himself to finish both.
Eating on time was something she had always insisted on before.
When it came to food, she was particularly stubborn. She paid great attention to seasonal ingredients, loved visiting markets, and was passionate about studying recipes and experimenting with different cooking techniques. Back then, being a "foodie" wasn't exactly a compliment; nowadays, it's seen as a lifestyle choice, even a marker of personal taste. She may not have been a trendsetter, but she was certainly a dedicated food enthusiast.
Fang Zhiyuan, the academic overachiever, couldn't find a single flaw in her culinary logic, so he would silently eat whatever she prepared. After all, a wise man doesn't argue with his stomach, especially when the food is so delicious. She didn't care about his praise; she only insisted that he eat on time. At university, she would arrive at the cafeteria early, studying the day's menu before deciding what to order. She even set up a weekly meal plan, varying the flavors each day. After they started working, she made sure he photographed his meals to prove he was eating on time, or else she'd bombard him with messages.
Her cooking reflected her personality: simple yet deeply comforting. Most of the dishes she made were simple home-cooked meals, with the occasional creative twist, but nothing overly elaborate. It was a kind of comfort that felt ordinary when you had it every day, but deeply missed once it was gone. He still longed for her cooking, a yearning that only grew stronger after experiencing all the so-called delicacies the world had to offer.
Years later, he finally understood: that was the taste of home.
No one reminded him to eat on time anymore, and no one cooked for him.
In a world lit by neon and noise, nothing warms his heart and soul more than a comforting meal, and a light left on just for him, soothing his weary spirit.
That familiar taste was gone, leaving behind not just a lingering nostalgia but also a habit. The three daily alarms on his phone now served as her stand-in, maintaining the routines of the past, and constantly reminding him that he had to find her.
After finishing his cold meal and drinking the overly sour lemon honey tea, he found himself missing the plum soup she used to keep stocked in the fridge every summer.
The rain had lessened, and the difference in temperature between inside and outside fogged up the glass. Raindrops slid down the eaves, trickling into the small ditch outside, creating ripples in the water. A few people stood under the restaurant's awning, taking shelter from the rain. In this kind of weather, there were always those who forgot to bring an umbrella.
Fang Zhiyuan couldn't help but think of her—how she was always so forgetful, often ending up soaked to the skin on days like this. That was why he had developed the habit of checking the weather every day before leaving the house, a habit he still maintained.
He wondered, wherever she was, if she still followed his advice and waited for the rain to stop, just like the people outside?
Or perhaps... someone else was holding an umbrella for her now...
No—there were no records of a marriage. Maybe she had just left the city.
Was she deliberately hiding?
After all, when he left back then, he hadn't given her a convincing reason.
Suddenly, a silhouette flashed past the window, quickly crossing the street.
His nerves tightened instinctively, and he froze, his mind blank.
It was her.
It had to be.
Within two seconds, he was out the door, rushing across the street, searching frantically, but she was nowhere to be found.
Was it just an illusion?
Fang Zhiyuan stood there in the rain, unmoving for a long time.
---------------------------------------------
"I'd like to see your security footage"
He chose to trust his instincts, because they had never failed him before.
The reason for not being given access to the footage was perfectly valid: customer privacy. Combined with his imposing, lawyer-like demeanor, the staff had become even more unwilling to help.
Privacy? Fang Zhiyuan, who talked about it almost daily, hadn't expected it to be the reason for someone turning him down.
Still, if there was even a sliver of a clue, there was nothing Old Guo couldn't dig up. The prospect of redeeming himself fired him up.
In the late hours of the night, Fang Zhiyuan sat in his office, eyes glued to the computer, anxiously awaiting news from Old Guo. The moment the notification chimed, he opened the email without hesitation.
The video had been clipped, trimmed down to the most crucial moment. On the right side of the footage, just after he finished his lunch, a waiter approached to clear the table and refill his water.Meanwhile, at the left side of the entrance, a slender woman with long hair, dressed in a grey-and-white business suit, rushed in holding several file folders. She leaned against the doorframe, paying no mind to her rain-soaked hair. Using her sleeve, she wiped the droplets from the folders, then stared quietly at the puddles on the ground. After a brief pause, she answered a phone call and, despite the rain still falling, hurriedly left.
How pressed for time must she have been to continue on in the rain?
What could've mattered so much that she didn't even care about getting soaked?
Didn't she promise to wait until the rain stopped before leaving?
Old Guo, ever meticulous, had captured a still image from the footage, enhancing it to the best of his ability. So many years had passed, her hair now long, her attire professional and elegant, with all traces of youthful naivety gone, replaced by mature beauty. But that familiar expression, idle as she waited, and her old habit of looking down and fidgeting with her toes, remained unchanged.
She had been scolded countless times for that habit. And every time, she would always lower her head, sometimes offering a small retort.
"I'm just checking if there's any money on the ground."
Old Guo had investigated the surrounding area several times but found no additional surveillance footage, nor could he trace her route any further.
Fang Zhiyuan's almost obsessive determination led him to keep searching for clues in the scant footage he had.
Professional attire, clearly in work mode.
The file folders—those must be important documents.
Braving the rain—she must have been pressed for time.
She didn't hail a cab—her destination must have been nearby.
His deduction was clear: she was likely handling something important nearby, perhaps even working in the area.
A rare smile tugged at the corners of Fang Zhiyuan's lips, a subtle optimism sneaking into his features.
But where did she work? Where did she live now? How was she doing? He needed more clues.
Gently, he traced a finger along her frozen image on the screen—the girl who had haunted his thoughts, day and night.
Whatever the case, this was good news.
At least, she was still alive.