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He knew it was this man. He hadn't had a chance to look at him that closely on the street, but still there was something about him that caught his eye. Tall, well-built, dressed in a light shirt, with long hair, partly done up, so it didn't fall on his face. However, that wasn't the main thing that attracted attention. For the man was unbelievably sad, and his reddened eyes made it clear that he had been crying not long ago.
Jiang Cheng was sure that the marks he saw on the man's cheeks weren't the shadow of raindrops that hurriedly slid down his skin. After all, the stranger was hiding under an umbrella, trying to avoid getting wet, trying to avoid what for some children was a pleasure in itself. Not on a day like this, however, when it was clearly shaping up to be a storm, a real storm that couldn't be escaped so easily.
Apparently the man had decided to hide from it for a while, and now he was simply sitting in a corner of the café, hidden behind a bookcase full of books that guests could read at any time. There were also cartons of games and puzzles lying next to them, because Jiang Wanyin nevertheless assumed that meeting friends at the café he ran could be even better entertainment.
At this moment, however, it didn't matter in the slightest; the stranger was certainly not interested in any of these things and only stared unconsciously at the streams of rain hitting the glass of the large window. He only twitched slightly when Jiang Wanyin placed a teapot full of freshly brewed tea in front of him, which he had asked for earlier, but now it seemed as if he didn't remember it at all. His thoughts were definitely running far away, focusing on something that other people couldn't see.
"Shall I get you a blanket?" the café owner asked quietly, not wanting to frighten off his customer.
He looked at the stranger for a moment, noticing a shadow of incomprehension in his gaze. His eyes, a beautiful deep brown, seemed empty and darkened, and the redness around them didn't help. It was obvious that the man was tired, that something had happened that had completely crushed him, but he was apparently unable to talk about it at all. Anyway, this wouldn't make any sense, if they didn't know each other.
Nevertheless, sometimes it was easier to talk about things, when one didn't know something. Something as important as who you were actually dealing with. Despite everything, however, Jiang Cheng didn't want to force his way in with politeness, didn't want to utter advice that wouldn't do anything, that wouldn't bring peace, that wouldn't do anything to dull the grief that apparently resided in his client's heart.
Jiang Wanyin was about to retreat when finally the stranger nodded and quietly apologized for his behavior, admitting that he wasn't feeling well, and the weather certainly wasn't helping him. He added, almost inaudibly, that the rain always brought back memories he would rather be rid of, and the café owner merely nodded in agreement, beginning to understand a little more. Not everything, but he wasn't stupid or lacking in empathy enough to not figure out where this was all going.
He stepped back to pick out one of the thickest blankets he had prepared for his customers, and then hesitated, looking towards the sizable chocolate chip cookies he had baked that morning. He knew the man hadn't asked for them, but he took one with him anyway, also reaching on the shelf for one of his favorite volumes of poetry. They weren't depressing; on the contrary, there was a hope hidden in them that couldn't really be escaped from.
"Here," he said simply, in an unobjectionable tone, as he handed everything to the other man.
He could see the surprise painted on the man's face, but he had to admit that in that moment his client looked far more real and alive than he had just a few minutes before. It was as if the fact that he had something to focus on gave him hope that he could handle literally anything. Of course, that might have been illusory, but nevertheless, Jiang Cheng hoped that he could somehow improve his mood.
"Thank you, but..." the man finally began, sliding his hand uncertainly across the cover of the book.
"My older sister thinks that when something hurts, it's important to have something to focus on. And lots of chocolate, to at least trick your body that way," the café owner interrupted him, sounding a bit gruff.
This happened whenever Jiang Wanyin started to get stressed, and he couldn't do anything about it. He had been trying to get rid of this habit for years, but he was still unable to do so, he got nervous when others paid undue attention to him, he feared that he might be judged at any moment, that he might hear words that would cause him to withdraw from life again. He grunted now, feeling at the same time that he was blushing slightly, so he rubbed his cheek a little nervously with his hand curled into a fist.
"He may be right," the other man said quietly.
He looked at the café owner for a moment longer, glancing behind him as he hurriedly left to serve more customers, and then tapped his fingers on the cover of the book he had brought. Lan Xichen didn't know at all what he should think about it, but he figured he must have presented a real picture of despair if it hadn't escaped the stranger's attention. It had always been like this that day, and it hadn't changed in five years, although he had tried.
He took out from his pocket the crumpled train ticket and looked at it reproachfully, as if he wanted to say that it was the fault of this very paper that he couldn't simply go to the seaside. He couldn't bring himself to do it, constantly recalling the accident that had happened when the three of them had gone on the trip. From then on, he had only associated the coast with tragedy, with death, with abandonment. It was the same with the rain that day, which he found downright overwhelming.
There were moments when Lan Huan wondered what would have happened if he had been even more late that day. If he had asked his friends to postpone the trip, if he had noticed earlier that a downpour was coming, and it would probably be difficult to really concentrate on driving. Perhaps, despite his fatigue, he should be the one driving, not snoozing in the back seat, focusing neither on the conversation nor on the music coming from the radio on.
He remembered virtually nothing else from that day. He also didn't remember much from the time he was in the hospital, except that his family and Nie Mingjue's younger brother visited him. Qin Su didn't show up once, but he didn't resent her for it, he didn't think it was a bad thing, she had to take care of an infant who had lost his father after all. After that, neither she nor Nie Huaisang moved away from him, which was amazing to him, but at the same time a bit overwhelming.
He felt, constantly, like a living symbol of tragedy, something he didn't want but couldn't escape from. He couldn't slip away from it, and on the anniversary of that accident, on the anniversary of the death of his friends, he stopped thinking at all, became an empty wreck of a man who couldn't cope with anything. It was the only day of the year when he closed his flower shop and disappeared, trying to reach the sea, to reach where they had failed then.
Lan Huan shook his head, trying not to think about it, trying not to wonder about it, and finally opened the book the other man had brought him, wondering why the man wanted him to read it. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly when he realized that he had poems in front of him, but he wasn't discouraged, figuring that he should somehow disperse his thoughts anyway, completely uncollected, completely inappropriate.
Time passed surprisingly quickly as he concentrated on his reading, not caring that the rest of his tea had long since cooled. He wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, trying not to listen to the rain rumbling against the windows, and only moved when the first thunder ripping through the sky reached him. It sounded like the roar of a wild creature, and it caused Lan Xichen to look out the window at the street, which was drowning in rain.
However, he immediately turned away when the café owner placed a lantern on the tabletop in front of him, in which he had lit a candle moments earlier. Jiang Cheng smiled slightly at the corner of his mouth as he realized that the customer was looking at him with consternation, once again pulled out of his thoughts, but appearing much calmer than before. He wasn't crying, and that, according to the café owner, was, at least in theory, a step into the brighter side of life.
"The power might go out in a while. This often happens during storms," Jiang Cheng explained.
"Oh, I'll be in the way then" stated Lan Huan somewhat uncertainly.
"No, I just won't be able to brew another cup of tea, so if..."
"Yes, actually it would. I'd like to read all those poems, if I may. They're... comforting."
Jiang Wanyin nodded slightly, happy after all that he had managed to do something good for the stranger, and then retreated from the table to actually prepare another teapot of tea. The rest of the customers had already left, deciding to try to run to the bus stop or the cab stand before the real storm started. So they stayed in the café, just the two of them, but the owner didn't feel strange about it.
In fact, one could even say that he felt like he was straight out of some story about a fairy who performs good deeds. He laughed under his breath at the thought, and then walked over to the table with the tea prepared, where Lan Huan was actually still reading poetry. He seemed to pay no attention to the increasingly threatening murmurs of the storm, which were finally crowned by lightning.
Jiang Cheng had been right about the power outage, for barely a moment later the lights flicked on and off, leaving them in semi-darkness. The candle flame twitched slightly, casting a faint light around them that was impossible to read by, but at this particular moment none of them seemed to mind. Especially at the moment when Lan Xichen asked the café owner when was the last time he had been to the seaside, only to part his lips in surprise when the man confessed that he had never.
"Maybe... It's a good time to go there?" he asked uncertainly.
"Now? I'm not sure I'd want to see what the storm is like," Jiang Wanyin replied, smiling again at the corner of his mouth, then glanced uncertainly at the crumpled ticket still lying on the table.
"I'm afraid to go there alone," he said.
"I'd love to see the seacoast."
Lan Huan parted his lips uncertainly again, then smiled, having no idea how he could have even gotten himself into this situation, but he wasn't going to complain. He was only surprised when the man shook his head as he tried to introduce himself to him, but immediately merely nodded as a sign that he agreed with the café owner's assertion. After all, sometimes it was actually easier to talk to a stranger. And to shrug off all their mistakes and problems without asking for anything else.