Wei and Jian were still upstairs, sprawled on the floor of Jian's room.
The late afternoon sun, though muted by the dusty window, still cast a warm, golden glow across their books.
The old ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, its rhythmic whirring a familiar backdrop to the soft scratch of their pens.
Outside, the cicadas sang their endless summer song, a vibrant, buzzing chorus.
Everything felt ordinary.
Comfortable.
They continued their study, a quiet rhythm established between them.
Wei, ever precise, meticulously checked Jian's calculations.
Jian, ever prone to dramatic sighs, occasionally helped Wei with a particularly obscure historical fact.
"That answer can't be right," Jian mumbled, peering at Wei's notebook.
Wei didn't even look up.
"It is."
"It looks wrong."
"It also happens to be correct."
Jian sighed dramatically, a sound that was now as familiar as the cicadas outside.
They argued over the exact date of a historical event, then over the correct formula for a chemical reaction.
Small disagreements, easily resolved, leaving behind a comfortable silence.
Outside, unnoticed by either of them, the sky began to change.
Clouds, dark and heavy, gathered on the horizon, slowly creeping across the vast expanse of blue.
The cicadas, for a moment, seemed to quieten.
The room slowly became darker.
Not because evening had arrived, but because the storm clouds had swallowed the sun.
The golden glow faded, replaced by a dull, grey light that seemed to press in from all sides.
The fan, still turning, suddenly felt slower, heavier.
The air grew thick, humid, almost difficult to breathe.
Xiao-Mei opened the bedroom door, her head poking in.
"It's getting really dark," she observed, her voice a little subdued.
Jian finally looked up from his textbook, his gaze drifting toward the window.
"Oh," he said, a simple, unconcerned sound.
Neither of them was particularly worried.
Summer storms were a common occurrence in Taiwan, a brief, intense downpour before the heat returned.
Downstairs, the radio, which had been playing a cheerful pop song, was suddenly interrupted.
A serious voice announced a weather bulletin.
A tropical storm, which had been lingering off the coast, had unexpectedly strengthened.
Heavy rainfall was expected.
Possible typhoon warning for the northern regions.
Auntie heard it from the kitchen, where she was preparing a quick meal before leaving for her evening shift.
She paused, listening for a moment, then resumed her chopping.
"Looks like tonight will be troublesome," she murmured to herself, a practical assessment.
No one paid much attention.
Life, and the demands of work, continued.
Auntie finished her preparations, her movements efficient and practiced.
She came upstairs, her work bag slung over her shoulder.
"A-Jian," she said, standing in the doorway of his room.
"I'm working the evening shift. If the rain gets bad, don't wait up for me."
Jian nodded, already distracted by a physics problem.
Then, Auntie turned to Wei.
Her expression was calm, but her eyes held a hint of concern.
"Wei-er, if it gets dangerous, don't force yourself to go home. You can stay here."
She said it casually, as if offering a cup of tea.
Neither Jian nor Wei fully registered the weight of her words.
They were too accustomed to the casual warmth of her hospitality.
She left, the soft click of the front door echoing through the house.
The house suddenly became quieter.
Only Jian, Wei, and Xiao-Mei remained.
The air grew heavier, the silence more profound.
Then, the rain began.
Soft at first, a gentle whisper against the windowpane.
It was almost comforting, a lullaby to the approaching evening.
The three barely noticed, still engrossed in their books.
Ten minutes later, the whisper became a steady drumming.
Harder.
More insistent.
Twenty minutes later, the drumming turned into a roar.
The windows began to shake, rattling in their frames.
The room grew darker, the grey light outside fading into an ominous gloom.
Thirty minutes later, the rain was a solid wall of water.
It poured sideways, driven by a furious wind that howled around the house.
Thunder cracked overhead, a deafening explosion that made the floor vibrate.
Tree branches outside thrashed violently, dark silhouettes against the churning sky.
The room grew darker still, plunged into a premature twilight.
The old ceiling fan, which had been turning so lazily, suddenly sputtered.
It slowed.
Stopped.
Silence.
Then—
Everything went black.
Nobody spoke immediately.
Only the relentless roar of the rain, the booming thunder, and the frantic rattling of the windows filled the void.
Then, Xiao-Mei's voice, small and a little shaky, drifted up from downstairs.
"Ge?"
Jian answered calmly, his voice steady in the darkness.
"I'm here, Xiao-Mei. Stay put."
Wei quietly stood up, his senses heightened by the sudden darkness.
He couldn't see anything, the room a void of black.
He took a step, then bumped into something soft.
"Sorry," he murmured, a hand reaching out instinctively.
"It's okay," Jian's voice replied, close by.
Jian moved with purpose, a faint rustling sound in the dark.
He knew where everything was in this house, even in absolute blackness.
He returned a moment later, a small, flickering light appearing in his hand.
He had found a candle.
He lit it, the small flame casting dancing shadows across the walls.
The room changed completely.
Familiar objects took on strange, distorted forms.
Everything felt unfamiliar, even though it was the same room they had been studying in just moments before.
The flickering light made their faces appear stark, almost otherworldly.
They moved to the living room, where Xiao-Mei was huddled on the sofa, her eyes wide.
Jian placed the candle on the coffee table, its tiny flame a beacon against the encroaching darkness.
They looked outside.
The street was almost invisible, a churning mass of grey and white.
Rain poured sideways, driven by a wind that roared like a hungry beast.
Water was already gathering in the gutters, threatening to overflow.
Wei quietly said, his voice barely audible above the storm.
"...I should probably leave."
Jian didn't answer immediately.
He simply looked outside, his gaze fixed on the chaos beyond the window.
Then, slowly, he turned his head, his eyes meeting Wei's in the flickering candlelight.
Neither of them wanted to be the first to say it.
Jian looked at the rain again, a solid, impenetrable wall.
"...I don't think you can."