Rainy Day

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter!

Bean-sized raindrops hammered heavily against the bus shelter’s roof, producing crisp, sharp sounds.

Beneath the shelter, Wen Yiqian stared blankly at the rain, his mind racing as he tried to think of a solution.

In the novel, the male protagonist was a high-IQ psychopath with no moral boundaries. Whenever he ran short of money, he simply “borrowed a little” from others or from shops and banks.

But in real life, Wen Yiqian was the model citizen: if he saw someone drop their wallet, he’d be the first to pick it up and return it.

The idea of taking money from others was something he simply couldn’t bring himself to do.

He glanced around. Because of the rain, the people waiting for the bus had either left or scattered. Apart from him, the only ones left at the stop were an elderly woman holding a little girl’s hand.

The little girl wore a backpack, her hair tied into two ponytails. She looked fair-skinned, delicate, and utterly adorable.

The old woman’s expression was wooden, her face pale and weary, as if she had just suffered some devastating blow. There was no life in her eyes.

“Grandma, why did the police officers lock Mommy up? Is Mommy a bad person?” The little girl looked up at the old woman beside her. “And where did Daddy go?”

The old woman’s eyes reddened. She patted the girl’s head but said nothing.

Not far away, Wen Yiqian couldn’t help but freeze.

Could these two be Xu Xuanmei’s mother and daughter?

Most likely, like Wen Yiqian, they had just left the police station and were waiting for the bus at this stop.

In the novel, it was mentioned that Xu Xuanmei had a daughter. After killing her husband, she had called her mother to take care of the girl, who was still in kindergarten.

In the book, these two were nothing more than nameless extras, not even worthy of having their names mentioned.

Yet now, in front of Wen Yiqian, they felt so real.

Looking at this frail, elderly woman, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of emotion.

Your own daughter kills your son-in-law with her own hands… anyone would fall apart after something like that, right?

Instead of pitying others, maybe you should pity yourself first.

Wen Yiqian shook his head self-mockingly.

He wasn’t much better off himself: exhausted, hungry, his right hand bandaged from an injury, without a single cent to his name. He didn’t even know where to get the bus fare home.

Since the protagonist’s backstory was that of an orphan, he had no relatives in this world. He had no idea how he would get through tomorrow.

Thinking of this, his nose prickled and his eyes stung.

Other people who crossed over got everything they wanted, but on his very first day, he had nearly died and was now reduced to such a pitiful state.

And things might only get worse from here.

The more he thought about it, the more miserable he felt. Tilting his head back did nothing to stop the tears, and he couldn’t help but cry.

“Grandma, this big brother is crying!” The little girl noticed and tugged at the old woman’s sleeve. “Crying at his age, how embarrassing!”

“None of your business!” Wen Yiqian gave up all pretense and burst into loud sobs.

“Nyeh!” The little girl stuck her tongue out at him.

“Xiangxiang, don’t be rude.”

His pitiful state, tears and snot streaming down his face, was too much even for the old woman to ignore. She couldn’t help but ask, “Young man, what’s wrong? Are you in some kind of trouble? Tell me about it. Maybe I can help you?”

Hearing her concerned tone, Wen Yiqian only cried harder, squatting on the ground and wailing uncontrollably.

When someone is crying bitterly from grievance, they can least bear others’ concern: it’s as if emotions have found an outlet, making them cry even harder.

“You’re still so young, there’s nothing you can’t overcome. Not like me, an old woman: I’m afraid this old body of mine probably wouldn’t have made it through this time…” The old woman, touching on her own sorrow, felt her nose sting as if by contagion, tears streaming down her aged face.

Thus, beneath the night bus shelter, a bizarre scene unfolded.

An old woman and a young man wailed loudly, their cries rising and falling as if competing to see who could cry more pitifully.

Only the little girl beside them was left bewildered.

Who am I? Where am I? What’s happening now?

…

Inside the fast-food restaurant, Wen Yiqian finished gnawing the last chicken leg clean, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and let out a satisfied burp.

“Had enough, young man? Would you like to order more food?” The old woman sitting across from him asked gently, with concern.

“No need, thank you for treating me,” Wen Yiqian shook his head sincerely.

The little girl Xiangxiang, sitting beside the old woman, secretly made a gesture at him: rubbing her eyes and pretending to cry.

Wen Yiqian couldn’t help but recall his own pitiful crying earlier, his face flushing slightly.

As a protagonist, being able to embarrass oneself to this extent is also a kind of talent.

“It’s fine, I should thank you,” the old woman smiled. “If I hadn’t followed your lead and had a good cry to vent, this old body of mine probably wouldn’t have made it through.”

She glanced outside. “It’s getting late, and the rain has stopped. We should head home.”

As they walked out of the fast-food restaurant, Wen Yiqian saw that the rain had completely stopped and breathed a slight sigh of relief.

It seemed that even in his book, not every rainy day necessarily meant a serial killer would appear.

“Young man, although I don’t know what setbacks you’ve encountered, you’re still so young: stay optimistic.” The old woman patted Wen Yiqian’s shoulder and took out a hundred-yuan bill, stuffing it into his hand. “I know you don’t have any money on you. Take this for your fare home.”

Warmth filled Wen Yiqian’s heart. He wanted to express his gratitude properly but didn’t know how, so he said earnestly, “Consider this money a loan. Please leave me your phone number: I’ll return it to you another day.”

“No need,” the old woman waved her hand with a smile, hailing a taxi. She stopped Xiangxiang, who was about to scramble into the car as the door opened. “Xiangxiang, haven’t you said goodbye to big brother yet?”

“I know,” Xiangxiang said with a look of resignation. “Goodbye, big brother who loves to cry.”

With that, she stuck her tongue out at Wen Yiqian and quickly slipped into the back seat of the taxi.

“Such bad manners,” the old woman shook her head. After bidding farewell to Wen Yiqian, she also got into the taxi.

As the car drove off, Wen Yiqian turned around.

Suddenly, his body froze in place. He turned his head, staring at the gradually receding taxi.

“Was that just now…” His face was filled with shock and disbelief.

A moment ago, Wen Yiqian had only glanced habitually at the taxi driver.

A red mask, a tattoo on the neck, and a cartoon smiley face sticker on the right hand gripping the steering wheel.

These features felt strangely familiar to him, instantly imprinting themselves in his mind.

If these traits were written out in words, he would immediately recognize what they meant.

But seeing them on a real person required an extra mental step.

Now that he had calmed down, these characteristics gradually overlapped with the image of a character from the book.

A serial killer.

A complete and utter psychopathic serial killer.

Watching the taxi gradually disappear into the distance, Wen Yiqian stood there with a dazed expression, his entire body chilled to the bone.

Whoosh!

The sky began to rain once again.

(End of Chapter)