It was Xia Xinghe’s second time at Bai Qingzhou’s house, and he still felt a little uneasy. Bai Qingzhou, on the other hand, looked calm and unreadable.
Without Bamboo’s company, the atmosphere between the two seemed to cool down again. After entering the house, Bai Qingzhou casually said, “Make yourself at home,” then walked to the window to close it, switching effortlessly back to his usual composed state. He took off his coat, changed his shoes, pulled a book from the bookshelf in the living room, and sat on the sofa with his legs crossed—so at ease it was as if Xia Xinghe didn’t exist.
Raindrops tapped softly against the window glass, and flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder occasionally echoed from outside. Inside, it was extremely quiet, cutting off the wind and rain completely. Bai Qingzhou focused intently on his book, and Xia Xinghe didn’t know what to say either. He quietly sat down on the other end of the sofa, waiting patiently for the rain to stop.
Half an hour.
One hour.
The rain showed no signs of letting up. Xia Xinghe curled up on the sofa, glancing over at Bai Qingzhou in boredom, and found himself unconsciously observing him closely.
Bai Qingzhou was holding an English book, hardcover. Xia Xinghe didn’t know what it was about, but judging by the look, it had to be a very difficult technical read.
Xia Xinghe had been watching him for a while. Bai Qingzhou’s eyes remained fixed on the same page, maintaining the same posture, never flipping the page even once.
If he took this long to read one page, then it must be a truly dense book.
The room remained silent. After a long time, Xia Xinghe grew tired of watching and turned his gaze away. The calm mood he’d been in started to feel a little restless.
He didn’t have much draft saved, and he hadn’t finished writing tomorrow’s update yet.
11 PM.
The rain still hadn’t stopped.
The sky was oppressively dark, and the endless sound of rain had become torture in his ears. Xia Xinghe couldn’t help but get up and walk to the window. When he saw the scene outside, he cried out in shock.
“The water’s pooling outside!”
The murky water had become so deep it was impossible to tell just how deep. It was mixed with fallen leaves and broken branches, covering the ground. Occasionally, a vehicle passed by, splashing waves of water.
Xia Xinghe frowned deeply and strode to the entryway. He opened the shoe cabinet to change his shoes, turning to Bai Qingzhou and said, “I’m going back. If the water gets any deeper, I really won’t be able to leave.”
Bai Qingzhou finally looked up from his book, frowning slightly. “It’s still raining.”
Xia Xinghe said, “I’ll take the subway back.”
Bai Qingzhou replied, “It takes at least half an hour walking from here to the subway. You’ll be soaked.”
“Then… the bus?”
“The bus stop isn’t close either.”
“A taxi?”
“Given the current weather, it’ll be hard to get one.”
“But…”
Xia Xinghe hesitated, at a loss for words. Bai Qingzhou lowered his eyelids slightly, expressionless, and added coldly, “Of course, whether you go or stay has nothing to do with me. I’m only reminding you out of professional responsibility. In this kind of weather, walking for half an hour, with your constitution, you’re almost guaranteed to catch a cold.”
“…”
Xia Xinghe opened his mouth but had to admit he was right.
He was from the north and could handle cold, but it was like a curse—if he got caught in the rain, he’d inevitably get sick.
Liaohu was in the south—humid and rainy. When the two of them were still together, Bai Qingzhou often had to go to the hospital, while Xia Xinghe was still in school, running back and forth between campus and hospital every day.
The walk from the university to the hospital was over twenty minutes. Xia Xinghe had suffered through many rainy days, and eventually, after it happened too often, Bai Qingzhou suggested they live together. What he’d said was: “Work at the hospital is already exhausting. I don’t want to come home to a sick person too.”
“Have you thought it through?”
That same clear tone echoed in his ears now. Xia Xinghe froze, caught up in the memory.
Then Bai Qingzhou asked again, “Do you have something you need to go home for?”
Xia Xinghe finally snapped out of it and nodded. “I need to go home to write.”
“I see.” Bai Qingzhou nodded slightly, picked up the car keys from the shoe cabinet, and said, “I’ll drive you.”
“No need—”
Xia Xinghe reflexively tried to refuse, but Bai Qingzhou gave him a flat glance and said coolly, “In weather like this, if something happened to you after leaving my house, I’d bear some responsibility.”
Xia Xinghe opened his mouth but had nothing to say in return. He could only bite his lip and murmur, “Then… thank you.”
After changing shoes, the two headed out together. Bamboo was still lying under the eaves watching the rain. When it saw them come out, it stood up excitedly and barked twice. Xia Xinghe patted its head affectionately, and at that moment, Bai Qingzhou’s phone rang.
“Sorry, I have to take this.”
After seeing who the caller was, Bai Qingzhou’s expression changed slightly. He stepped aside to answer the call, murmured a few responses, and when he returned, his brow was tightly furrowed.
He said to Xia Xinghe, “A new patient just arrived at the emergency room. I have to head over.”
Being a doctor meant being on call 24/7—that was a duty and mission one couldn’t shirk. Xia Xinghe understood completely.
“Alright, you go,” he nodded, then blurted out, “Be careful on the way.”
The words sounded a little intimate, but given the urgency, Xia Xinghe didn’t think too much of it. Bai Qingzhou only gave him a quick glance, then said, “Wait at home. It’s raining hard—don’t go out alone.”
“Wait—”
Xia Xinghe still wanted to say something, but Bai Qingzhou had already walked into the rain with his umbrella. His tall figure quickly disappeared into the distance.
“Awuu?”
Bamboo stood beside Xia Xinghe, watching its owner leave. Then it bit at Xia Xinghe’s pant leg and nudged against him. Amid the raging wind and rain, it looked rather lonely. Xia Xinghe sighed lightly, bent down to pet Bamboo, and took it back inside with him.
Forget it—he’d just wait a little longer for Bai Qingzhou.
The sky grew darker and darker, and the rain still pounded down relentlessly. Xia Xinghe couldn’t move around much, so he opened a document on his phone, intending to do a bit of writing. But just after typing a few words, a WeChat notification suddenly chimed.
[Bai: The computer is in the study. You can use it if you need to.]
[Bai: The study is the last room down from the living room. The door’s not locked.]
[Bai: If you get sleepy, there’s a guest room—it’s the room next to the study.]
He still remembered that Xia Xinghe needed to write.
It seemed Bai Qingzhou wouldn’t be back anytime soon. Xia Xinghe didn’t decline and simply replied, [Okay,] then followed his instructions to the study.
At a glance, he saw a large bookshelf filled with all kinds of certificates and trophies, neatly arranged by year. Just the awards from one year already exceeded everything Xia Xinghe had received during his entire time in university. Many of the certificates were in English, filled with long, complicated professional terms that Xia Xinghe couldn’t even understand.
He admired them for a moment, then thought: they really weren’t from the same world.
Since the study was still a private space, Xia Xinghe didn’t want to stay there too long. Besides, Bamboo was sticking to him like a little tail, barking every time it lost sight of him. So Xia Xinghe simply moved Bai Qingzhou’s laptop to the dining table outside and continued writing as he waited.
Maybe it was the change in environment, but something felt off—his typing just didn’t flow.
This was a dual-perspective scene: the owner working at the hospital while the dog waits at home. It involved some medical knowledge, so Xia Xinghe spent nearly two hours researching, then writing and deleting repeatedly. By the time midnight had passed, he had barely managed to write a thousand words.
And he’d written himself into sleepiness.
With Bai Qingzhou still not home, and his own head empty and uninspired, Xia Xinghe gave up. He rested his arm on the table and spaced out, staring blankly at the laptop screen. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, until they slowly shut.
…..
Bai Qingzhou didn’t return until the early morning.
The downpour that had lasted all night was finally showing signs of stopping, with just a light drizzle refusing to leave. The water on the ground still hadn’t receded, and the streetlamps reflected flickering light across the puddles.
A rainy night. The emergency room. A critically ill patient.
Rushing to the hospital in the rain on a day off, doing emergency resuscitation and surgery until the middle of the night, then dragging himself home exhausted—no matter how dedicated you are, that kind of night is never pleasant.
Bai Qingzhou rubbed his brow, weariness clear between his eyes. As he turned the corner and entered the courtyard, he suddenly noticed the lights in the house were still on.
The warm yellow light spilled through the glass windows onto the windowsill. Bai Qingzhou’s expression unconsciously softened.
He pushed open the door to find Xia Xinghe fast asleep at the table. His head was resting on his arm, facing the door. Long eyelashes, dark as crow feathers, cast soft shadows on his cheeks.
At the sound of the door opening, Xia Xinghe mumbled something in his sleep. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. Bai Qingzhou walked over quietly, and when he got closer, he heard him mumble, “Why are you only just getting back?”
The slight whine of complaint in his tone struck directly at the softest part of Bai Qingzhou’s heart.
Just like so many times before.
Back then, Bai Qingzhou was always busy, often coming home very late. He would tell Xia Xinghe to go to bed first, not to wait, but Xia Xinghe always curled up with a small blanket in the living room waiting for him. No matter how sleepy he was, he refused to sleep first.
Bai Qingzhou once asked him, “Why don’t you just go to bed?”
“I have to leave a light on for you,” Xia Xinghe had answered matter-of-factly, eyes curved in a smile, dimples faintly showing at the corners of his lips. “Otherwise, you’d come home to a pitch-black place every night. That’s too lonely.”
But what about later?
Bai Qingzhou thought: after giving me your light for so many dark nights, why did you still leave me in the end?
Bamboo was also asleep, curled at Xia Xinghe’s feet with its head resting on its front legs. Its eyes were drooping, lashes trembling slightly—its posture remarkably similar to Xia Xinghe’s.
Bai Qingzhou looked at the pair—man and dog—for a long moment, then a faint smile curved his lips.
“Xia Xinghe.”
He called softly.
“Mm?”
Xia Xinghe let out a sleepy hum but didn’t wake up.
Bai Qingzhou murmured to himself, “You two really are alike.”
He had never planned to keep a dog. Bamboo had shown up on its own.
At the time, Bamboo was covered in wounds and dirt. No matter how many times Bai Qingzhou tried to chase it off, it wouldn’t leave. Maybe it was those wet, soulful eyes and that persistent expression—it looked just like Xia Xinghe. After trying to drive it away a few times, Bai Qingzhou finally gave in. He bathed it, vaccinated it, dewormed it, bought it bowls and toys… and finally gave it the name “Bamboo.”
If Xia Xinghe were awake, he’d probably be furious that Bai Qingzhou was comparing him to a dog. But he was too sleepy and didn’t register what was being said. He just let out a sleepy murmur and continued resting peacefully.
Bai Qingzhou looked down at him and slowly said, “Didn’t you ask me before why I named the dog Bamboo?”
“…”
Xia Xinghe didn’t respond, but Bai Qingzhou continued anyway:
“‘Bamboo branches, bamboo branches—nothing holds more longing than this.’ Isn’t that a line you once told me?”
I named him Bamboo because he reminded me of you.