Unexpected rain
The love and hate, pressed tightly in their chests and unable to be relieved, like a series of ups and downs, finally met in this weary scene of an unexpected rainstorm. The protagonists, holding umbrellas and smiling faintly, were merely fleeting acquaintances.
All that is gone.
All the love, hate, anger, and infatuation, those tiny sorrows and grievances, are but a drop in the ocean, slowly returning to the relentless, raging torrential rain that threatens to engulf the world in a frenzied storm.
Unexpected rain, unexpected emotions, an unexpected earth and its people.
The struggles and conflicts of life are but a fleeting itch in the universe. Through the empty sky, we can glimpse countless chaotic wars and the clanging of glasses amidst the toasts and revelry of millennia, where deceit and treachery secretly unfolded. We can hear the cries of newborn babies amidst the roar of gunfire and the subtle hissing of burgeoning power struggles and arrogance. We consider a thousand years as a mere blink of an eye; the old dreams of this world are already stumbling blocks to the future.
What kind of person would hate rainy days?
If rain represents the darkest side of the earth, then the "rats" living and thriving in the gutter will find particular pleasure in the torrential downpour. Their broken bodies and wills will grow anew under the piercing cold raindrops, like centipedes and geckos. They will rise again, and then the cycle will turn once more. The leaves of the wild apricot tree are covered with raindrops as white as shards of glass. The ripe, yellow fruits drip down one by one from the clouds, landing heavily on a patch of withered grass, emitting a horrifyingly hoarse sound.
Those who stand for the light never stoop to a life of mere survival. That year, the spirited Xiang Yu clearly still had a chance to rise again, yet he lamented, "Yu Xi, Yu Xi, what can I do?" while resolutely heading towards the underworld. Was that fierce determination a testament to steely resolve, or merely another manifestation of cowardice?
All that is gone.
When people today talk about past achievements and mistakes, do they ever look up at the cold moon that has waxed and waned for thousands of years, and at the vast and absurd rain that seems to fall without warning, just like the rain that fell a thousand years ago?
After things settled in Minkou, you might be wondering, where did Qiu Xici go? And what about that once-passionate underground team? Where did they all go? Did they find their direction? Where will they go?
But first and foremost, let's return to that somewhat forgotten Lankang.
After hastily concluding Miss Yan's funeral, Hua Xusheng walked along the road, now a desolate wasteland. The rain was pouring down; he carried no umbrella, walking mechanically forward. A fleeting glance revealed the movie theater they had once watched together, now a lifeless heap of rubble. The vibrant posters of celebrities that once adorned the walls, their beautiful faces and slender figures, now appeared utterly horrifying.
Turning his head, amidst the crumbling city, the indifferent smells of corpses, gunpowder, and rain, he began to weep.
He had never truly cried before, but now it seemed as if he finally realized that his beautiful and virtuous wife, Miss Yan, would never return to him. So, under the influence of the rain, he squeezed out his tears, one by one. Those long teardrops slid down from the corners of his eyes, down his chin and neck, soaking his clothes.
That person is dead. Looking at the streets we used to walk together every day, I now feel a lingering romance, a sense of love and longing. I think of how she used to walk these streets with me day after day, sometimes walking alone, her heart filled with love for me. Even a pebble seems beautiful, as if it were a piece of jade that had rolled off her ring. A garden along the road seems like her garment; even someone who wouldn't normally care for flowers and plants finds them charming and lovely. But reminiscing only deepens the regret; that person is gone forever.
A person who wets his pants at the age of thirteen hopes it will rain, so that others won't know he's still a child at heart.
When this person turned twenty-five, he cried uncontrollably, still hoping for a rain like that, hoping that others wouldn't see his shattered heart.
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