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He first meets Lan Jingyi on a rainy day.
Jiang Wanyin normally doesn’t mind the rain, especially in the summer. There is something soothingly therapeutic about the downpour that washes away all the filth in the air, leaving the scent of petrichor in its stead. But when he had looked out the window at the end of a very long week and saw the near storm that was falling outside, and the long line of traffic that is already beginning to form as a result, he had been tempted to curse at the sky.
But Jiang Wanyin is also the CEO of YM Group, one of China’s most successful businesses, so instead, he dismisses his secretary with a tight smile before screaming into his sleeve in frustration. Every day, he loses more faith in the reading comprehension of his investors, who won’t shut up about concerns that have already been addressed if they just look.
The scream had made him feel better, at least, but as he had gathered his things and headed to his car, he hadn’t been looking forward to the drive home at all. There is nothing to look forward to at his apartment anyway, not when it had been empty and cold for nearly a decade.
He is currently sitting in traffic, letting the reporters on the random radio station chatter to fill the silence. Jiang Wanyin isn’t very fond of silence, but as the reporters continue to drone on and on, a headache begins to form, and he has half a mind to turn it off.
Sighing, Jiang Wanyin looks out the window of his car for lack of a better thing to do. He’s no longer on a busy street, yet the line of vehicles continues to stretch as far as his eyes can see, filled with impatient drivers who are hoping to make it home early for the weekend. His eyes inadvertently settle on a small flower shop, tucked between a flashy restaurant and a grocery store.
The shop is fairly nondescript, looking almost pitiful nestled in the middle of two much more impressive storefronts. Still, seeing it lifts his spirits—it’s the flower shop he goes to every year before visiting his family’s graves, and the owner is always very kind to him.
However, it seems the short, middle-aged aunty isn’t at the store today. Instead, a young man who must have been a university part-timer is rushing in and out of the shop, struggling to move all the display flowers inside. The slight overhang of the roof offers little shelter, and with the sudden rainfall, some of the poor petals are already shaking and drooping under the heavy rain.
Something about the young man’s actions draws him in, and it’s not like Jiang Wanyin has anywhere to be, so he pulls out of the traffic to park by the curbside. Ducking out of his car, he walks over to the shop, headless of the rain that is beating down overhead.
The young man is still rushing about, and in his haste, a flower falls from the bouquets he is balancing precariously in his arms, landing in a small puddle. His eyes widen cutely, and he bends forward to pick it up at the same moment that Jiang Wanyin subconsciously reaches forward.
Their knuckles bump awkwardly as they grab the stem of the flower, their hands a distorted reflection in the puddle. The young man yanks his hand back quickly to steady the flowers in his arms, his cheeks flushing from the cold.
His eyes widen further as he accepts the flower from Jiang Wanyin, resembling an awful lot like a puppy. “T-thank you!” he stutters, before scurrying off into the store.
Jiang Wanyin raises his eyebrows. People have always called him intimidating, but they never show that much nervousness when he hasn’t even said anything yet. Is his expression too scary?
He tries to school his features into something friendlier, but after a moment of awkward contortion, he sighs and gives up. Instead, he goes over to one of the larger buckets of bouquets and enters the store.
Inside, the young man is hurrying back and forth, making room to put the flowers that would usually not be taken back into the store until closing time. His head jerks up at the sound of chimes that signals the door opening, seeming surprised when he sees that Jiang Wanyin had followed him in.
“Just put that over there, I can organize it later!” he yelps, his voice pitched high weirdly. Maybe he’s sick?
Wordlessly, Jiang Wanyin follows the instructions, but when he makes to go outside again, the young man stops him. “You don’t have to do that! I mean, I really appreciate it, but I don’t even know you, and you’re getting your suit all wet. And it looks like a really, really nice suit…”
Jiang Wanyin shrugs, unbothered by the state of his clothing. It’s not like his business suit is anything spectacular, and he can care less about it coming in contact with a little water. “It’s really no bother,” he answers. “The owner of this store is an old friend, and I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere.”
“In that case, thank you so much!”
Jiang Wanyin nods, confused at the young man’s enthusiastic, if strange, behaviour. Within a few minutes, they finish moving all the flowers inside. The young man begins going through the motions of cleaning up, explaining that the owner had texted him to tell him to close up early, with how the weather is worsening. For some reason, Jiang Wanyin is compelled to stay, finding the methodical steps of tidying up oddly satisfying.
After everything is put in place, the young man disappears into the back of the shop before reappearing just as suddenly, this time with a small, purple flower between his slender fingers.
“Laoban-niang told me to not give away free things, but I thought that, ah, she might be okay with this time, considering how big of a help you were,” he says quietly, and even in the short time they had known one another, Jiang Wanyin can tell that he’s usually one to be very loud. How odd.
Still, he accepts the flower without a second thought, tucking it into his breast pocket. “Thank you,” his eyes fall to the young man’s name tag, “Lan Jingyi.”
The young man—Lan Jingyi—glances at him in alarm. “How did you know—?” He looks down, following Jiang Wanyin’s gaze, and flushes in embarrassment. “Oh, right.”
They fall silent, lingering at the door just long enough for it to become awkward, and Jiang Wanyin is about to clear his throat and bid Lan Jingyi goodbye when he looks up at Jiang Wanyin again, a determined look in his eyes.
“You have my name, but I don’t have yours. After closing up shop together, we can be considered friends now, so it’s only fair that I know your name, right?”
Jiang Wanyin holds out a hand. “Jiang Wanyin, nice to meet you.”
Lan Jingyi wipes his palm on his shirt quickly before taking it, his hand warm even as the storm blows chilling winds at them. It’s definitely just because Jiang Wanyin hates the cold that he mourns the loss of Lan Jingyi’s hand when they let go.
Turning to the falling rain, Lan Jingyi sighs at the dark clouds and takes a deep breath, holding his backpack above his head.
Jiang Wanyin frowns, putting a hand on Lan Jingyi’s arm to stop him. “Where are you going?”
“Oh! I’m, I’m just going back to the dorms. If I run, I can probably make the next bus without having to wait too long.”
“It’s raining,” Jiang Wanyin saids, deadpan.
Lan Jingyi turns to him, tilting his head adorably in confusion. “Yes?”
Jiang Wanyin clears his throat awkwardly. “So, if you want, I can take you back. It’s not a big deal.”
It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, Lan Jingyi shakes his head rapidly. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly ask that of you when I’ve already taken up so much of your time!”
Jiang Wanyin quirks his lips into a wry smile. “You were the one who said we were friends after closing up shop together. Don’t friends help each other out?”
“O-oh, if you don’t mind,” Lan Jingyi murmurs, and ah, there is the strange blush again. Maybe spending too much time in the cold rain has given him a fever.
Jiang Wanyin leads him to the car, opening the passenger side door out of habit, and Lan Jingyi stutters a thanks before ducking inside. The traffic has cleared up somewhat in the time that they spent closing up the flower shop, so Jiang Wanyin is able to turn into the opposing lane with little trouble, heading in the direction of the university.
Along the way, perhaps because learning Jiang Wanyin’s name has made him less intimidating, Lan Jingyi chatters brightly, talking about everything from his classes to how it is working at the flower shop. He also asks Jiang Wanyin about his job, and how he got to know the flower shop’s owner, but at his vague answer, he must have sensed Jiang Wanyin’s avoidance about those subjects, so he quickly diverts the topic again. For how much he talks, Lan Jingyi is surprisingly perceptive when it comes to the emotions of others, and Jiang Wanyin finds that he much prefers listening to the young man talk to the annoying radio station hosts.
“…Anyway, I think if your job makes you that miserable, you should consider quitting,” Lan Jingyi is saying, as the university’s dorm building comes into view.
Jiang Wanyin laughs. “Who ever said anything about being miserable? And besides, I can’t quit.”
Lan Jingyi’s expression immediately turns sympathetic. “Wait, why not? Actually, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Do you have anyone to talk to, though? My best friend always says it’s bad to keep things bottled up inside. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. Wait, no, that would be weird, we just met today. U-um, you can just ignore me. I’ll shut up now.”
“I don’t have any way to contact you,” Jiang Wanyin replies, smiling.
“I know, I talk too much sometimes, don’t take it to heart—wait, what?”
“How can I talk to you if I don’t have any way to contact you?” Jiang Wanyin repeats himself. It’s extremely uncharacteristic of him to actively reach out to other people, but something about Lan Jingyi’s positive energy is infectious, compelling, and he suddenly makes the rainy evening not seem as dreary.
Lan Jingyi fumbles in his pockets for a moment before taking out his phone. “Can I have your number?” There it is again, that unusually soft tone.
Jiang Wanyin hums, entering the number of his personal cell into the contact list and sending himself a simple text.
Lan Jingyi exits the car then, waving goodbye with a bright smile, and Jiang Wanyin realizes with a startle that he feels reluctant to let the young man go. The drive back to his apartment is silent, Lan Jingyi’s absence leaving an emptiness that only makes the radio hosts sound more irritating.
His first order of business when he gets home is to change out of his clothes, now uncomfortably damp. As he peels off his suit jacket, he notices the small purple flower that is still tucked in the pocket. Carefully, he removes it, but spending all that time in his pocket has made it wilty and sad. Unwilling to let the flower’s life be even more short-lived, Jiang Wanyin carefully lays it between two sheets of tissue paper and tucks it into a novel, before weighing it down with more books.
He has just set the last book down when his personal phone lights up with a notification, lightening the empty feeling in his chest.
from: unknown number
i hope you have a good weekend!!
don’t let your job determine your happiness!!
you got this!!
Jiang Wanyin shakes his head, smiling softly before saving the number in his contact list.