Don’t worry about the rain soaking your clothes. The bookstore on a rainy day holds the most comforting warmth. At three o’clock in the afternoon, under the bookstore awning, he was holding a checkered umbrella and holding a folded knitted sweater in his hand. Seeing you coming, he quickly tilted the umbrella towards you: “I just bought it at the next door. You’ll definitely be warm in it.”
First, he led me deep into the prose section of the bookstore. The warm yellow light illuminated the bookshelves, and the sound of rain was blocked out by the glass, leaving only the sound of pages turning. He took out a collection of Wang Zengqi’s prose from the shelves and handed it to you: “You said you liked the烟火气 (the rustic and lively atmosphere) he wrote about.” You leaned against the bookshelf and turned the pages. He found a photography album nearby and occasionally came over to point it out to you： “This photo of the rain alley is similar to the one outside.”
By four o’clock, the rain still hadn’t stopped. You went to the coffee corner in the corner of the bookstore and ordered two cups of hot cocoa, with marshmallows floating on the surface. He draped the knitted sweater over your shoulders and smoothed the collar for you: “Don’t catch a cold.” You took a bite of the marshmallow, the sweet flavor melting in your mouth. Suddenly, he pointed out of the window: “Look, the raindrops are falling on the willow leaves, like little beads strung together.”
When the rain was lighter, you two sat on the sofa by the window with your books in hand. He read a sentence from the prose: “‘The rain beats against the closed pear tree door.’ Wouldn’t it be better if we wait for the rain to stop and then go buy sweetened chestnuts?” You nodded with a smile, watching his fingertips glide over the pages of the book. The rain, on the glass, traced a winding pattern, but you felt it was more reassuring than the sunny rays of a clear day.
As the sun began to set, the rain finally stopped. The air carried the damp fragrance of fresh grass. He opened his umbrella and said, “Let’s go and buy chestnuts.” You held his arm, and his warmth was still left on the knitted sweater. The book in your arms had the scent of ink. Suddenly, I realized that a date on a rainy day is never a compromise. When you are with the right person, even the sound of rain becomes a gentle background melody.