The darkness was absolute.
It pressed in from all sides, thick and heavy, broken only by the single, flickering flame of the candle Jian held.
Outside, the storm raged, a relentless symphony of wind and rain.
Thunder cracked, a deafening roar that vibrated through the floorboards, making the very air tremble.
"Ge?" Xiao-Mei's voice, small and a little shaky, drifted up from downstairs.
Jian answered calmly, his voice a steady anchor in the chaos.
"I'm here, Xiao-Mei. Stay put."
He looked at Wei, then gestured toward the door with his head.
"Come on."
Wei followed, the tiny circle of light from the candle dancing ahead of them.
The stairs felt treacherous in the dark, each step a careful negotiation.
Another crash of thunder made him pause, a momentary tightening in his chest.
His fingers, wrapped around the smooth glass of the candle holder, instinctively tightened.
He glanced toward the unseen windows, a primal urge to check the raging storm.
He became quieter than usual, his movements more deliberate, his senses heightened by the oppressive darkness and the roaring wind.
Jian, walking just ahead, didn't comment.
But Wei felt his presence, a solid, reassuring shape in the gloom.
They found Xiao-Mei huddled on the sofa, a blanket pulled tight around her.
Her eyes, wide and dark, reflected the candle flame, making them seem even larger.
"It's really loud," she whispered, when the thunder momentarily subsided, her voice barely audible.
"It's just a storm," Jian said, placing the candle on the coffee table.
Its light was barely enough to push back the encroaching shadows, making the living room feel vast and unfamiliar.
The electricity was gone, but the gas stove still worked.
Jian decided to make something simple.
"Instant noodles?" he asked, looking at Wei, then at Xiao-Mei.
Wei nodded.
"Sounds good."
Xiao-Mei, despite her earlier fear, immediately perked up.
"With egg?"
"With egg," Jian confirmed, heading for the kitchen, the candle's light swaying with his movement.
Nobody told anyone what to do.
Everyone simply started helping.
Jian was fumbling with a pot, trying to fill it with water from the tap, the sound of running water surprisingly loud in the quiet house.
Xiao-Mei, having abandoned her blanket, was rummaging through a cupboard, looking for bowls and chopsticks.
"What should I do?" Wei asked, his voice softer than usual, a little lost in the unfamiliar darkness of the kitchen.
Jian looked at him, then at the candle in his hand.
"Just hold this," he said, taking the pot from Wei and placing it on the gas stove.
Wei held the candle steady, its small flame illuminating Jian's focused face as he adjusted the gas knob.
Later, Jian would ask, "Can you pass me that?" and Wei would hand him the packet of noodles, his fingers brushing against Jian's.
"Can you open this?" and Wei would tear open the seasoning sachet, the dry rustle loud in the silence.
Without realizing it, Jian naturally included Wei in everything, his requests simple, direct, and without hesitation.
Wei, holding the candle, felt the warmth of the flame against his fingers.
Xiao-Mei's voice cut through the quiet.
"Don't burn it, Ge!" she called out from the living room, where she was now setting out the bowls.
Jian sighed, a familiar exasperation in his voice.
"I'm boiling water, Xiao-Mei. How do you burn water?"
"You burned water before!" she retorted, her voice clear and confident.
"...That's physically impossible."
Wei found himself chuckling, a small,
He watched Jian, who was now carefully cracking an egg into the boiling water, his brow furrowed in concentration.
While waiting for the noodles to finish cooking, another loud crash of thunder shook the house.
Xiao-Mei, who had just found three mismatched bowls, suddenly laughed.
"This is just like that school ghost story!" she exclaimed, her eyes bright with a mixture of fear and excitement.
She turned to Wei, her face earnest in the flickering light.
"Wei ge, did it really happen? Ge said Kai screamed first!"
Jian groaned, his face reddening in the candlelight, stirring the noodles with a vengeance.
"Xiao-Mei! Don't tell him that!"
Wei looked at Jian, then at Xiao-Mei, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Kai did scream first," Wei confirmed, his voice dry, a hint of amusement in it.
"And he hid behind one of the girls."
Jian buried his face in his hands, a muffled groan escaping him.
"And you thought the shadows were ghosts," Wei continued, enjoying Jian's discomfort, the memory now feeling distant and almost fond.
"And you grabbed my wrist by mistake."
Jian peeked through his fingers, his eyes wide.
"It was dark! And Chen was just standing there, completely confused, like always."
Wei remembered Chen's bewildered expression, illuminated by the beam of a flashlight.
He remembered the cold grip of Jian's hand on his wrist, a surprising warmth in the chilling darkness of the mountain inn.
Everyone laughed.
Jian laughed, a genuine, uninhibited sound that filled the small kitchen.
Wei laughed, a quiet, deep chuckle that rumbled in his chest, a feeling of lightness he hadn't expected.
Xiao-Mei giggled, delighted by the story, her earlier fear completely forgotten.
The memory, once tinged with the awkwardness of their strained past, now felt funny.
Light.
An old, shared secret, now a source of easy camaraderie.
At one point, Jian quietly said, his voice barely audible above the storm, looking at Wei.
"...Sorry."
Wei looked at him, his expression unreadable in the flickering light.
"...A little late," Wei replied, his dry humor perfectly intact, a small, knowing smile on his face.
Everyone laughed again, the sound echoing in the small, candlelit kitchen, a warm bubble against the raging storm outside.
The battery-powered radio, which Jian had found and placed on the counter, crackled to life, its static a constant companion to the storm.
A weather announcement.
Roads flooded.
Some bus routes suspended.
Heavy rain expected through the night.
"Advise everyone to remain indoors," the announcer's voice concluded, before returning to a mix of static and faint music.
Nobody panicked.
But everyone quietly understood what that meant.
After they had finished their noodles, the empty bowls stacked neatly in the sink Xiao-Mei carried her own bowl into the kitchen.
She placed it carefully beside the sink before wandering toward the window.
Outside, rain lashed against the glass so hard that the street beyond had disappeared.
She stood there for a few seconds, watching.
Then turned around.
Her eyes moved from Jian...
to Wei...
before she asked,
"So..."
"...Wei ge is sleeping here tonight?"
Silence.
Jian froze, his hand halfway to clearing the table, his eyes wide.
Wei froze, his own cup still warm in his hands, his gaze fixed on the flickering candle.
Xiao-Mei looked between them, her brow furrowed in confusion.
She simply asked an innocent question, completely unaware of the sudden tension she had created.
Jian scratched the back of his neck, his ears turning a faint pink in the candlelight.
"...Probably," he mumbled, avoiding Wei's gaze.
Wei cleared his throat, his voice polite, almost formal.
"...If it's alright."
Xiao-Mei shrugged, completely unfazed, her attention already shifted to the next thought.
"Okay."
She immediately started talking about something completely unrelated, the weather, her homework, a new comic book.
Children moved on instantly.
Later, the rain was even stronger.
The wind howled, shaking the windows with a furious insistence that seemed to test the very foundations of the house.
The candle, now shorter, burned lower, its flame dancing wildly in the drafts, casting long, grotesque shadows.
Jian quietly opened the old wooden closet in the hallway, its hinges groaning softly in the dark.
He was looking for bedding.
He pulled out one futon.
One blanket.
He looked inside again, his eyes scanning the shelves, the corners, the very back of the closet in the dim, flickering light.
Nothing else.
He checked again, just to be sure, his fingers brushing against the rough wood.
Still nothing.
The candlelight flickered across his face, illuminating a faint line of worry between his brows.
He quietly realized…
There wasn't enough bedding for everyone.