Chapter 8: The Studio on a Rainy Night and the Soaked Secret

After the summer festival, the unspoken understanding between Xiaoya and me seemed to have been pierced by the grand fireworks display. Although neither of us said it aloud, we could both sense a subtle, sweet ambiguity in the air.

We chatted more frequently, and the topics became more personal. She would complain about her model being criticized by her mentor, and I would vent about how difficult the new project manager was. It was like we had found a safe space to pour out all our emotions, and we became each other's most loyal listeners.

She started calling me "A-Zhe" instead of "Mr. Zhe" or my full name. This small change always felt like a feather gently tickling my heart, a pleasant, ticklish sensation.

She placed that giant Shiba Inu plush pillow on her designated seat in the studio. Every time I went to the studio, I would see her burying her face in the pillow, taking a nap, and I would always watch that scene for a long time.

Time seemed to be fast-forwarded, and before we knew it, the rainy season had arrived. The continuous drizzle shrouded the entire city in a damp, gray hue.

One Friday afternoon, I had just gotten off work when I received a WeChat message from Xiaoya, her tone sounding somewhat anxious.

Ya: "Zhe! Where are you? Can you come to the studio? I... I'm in a bit of trouble."

My heart skipped a beat, and I immediately called back. The phone was answered after one ring.

"Xiaoya? What's wrong? What happened?"

"I...I'm fine," came her tearful voice from the other end of the phone, accompanied by the sound of pouring rain and faint rumble of thunder. "It's...it's a head case I customized for a client, it's due for delivery tomorrow, but when I was applying the last coat of protective paint, I accidentally dropped it..."

"It fell?" My heart sank. I knew that for these creators, a nearly completed work was like their own child.

“Um… there’s a crack near my eye,” she said, **** back tears. “It’s not very noticeable, but… I can’t give a flawed piece to a client. I… I don’t know what to do… My mentor went out of town for an exchange meeting today and won’t be back until the day after tomorrow… I don’t dare tell her…”

Hearing her helpless sobs on the other end of the phone, my heart felt like it was being squeezed. I imagined her alone in an empty, dimly lit studio, facing her shattered artwork, with rain pouring down outside—how **** she must have felt.

"Don't cry," I said immediately, my voice unconsciously rising, "Wait for me in the studio, don't move, I'll be right there!"

I hung up the phone, not even bothering to eat dinner, grabbed my umbrella and rushed out of the house.

The sky seemed to have been ripped open, and torrential rain poured down. I rushed to the roadside, soaked to the bone, and finally managed to flag down a taxi.

"Driver, to the University Town Creative Park, please hurry!"

The car sped across the flooded road, splashing water high into the air. Looking out the window at the neon lights blurred by the rain, I had only one thought in my mind: faster, faster.

When I pushed open the heavy iron door of the studio, panting, what I saw was a scene that broke my heart.

Xiaoya sat alone, curled up in the cold chair in front of the workbench, hugging her knees, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed. Only a few dim spotlights illuminated the huge studio, casting her lonely, slender shadow. Before her lay a head, a face I had never seen before—a cold, beautiful girl with short silver hair and icy blue eyes.

But at the corner of her left eye on that perfect face, a thin but clear crack, like an ugly scar, ruined all the beauty.

Hearing the door open, she abruptly looked up. When she saw it was me, a hint of surprise flashed in her red and swollen eyes, followed by a torrent of tears, as if all her grievances and helplessness had found an outlet.

“Ah Zhe…”

She stood up, staggered towards me, and then buried her face in my chest.

I froze completely.

Her soft body pressed tightly against me, trembling slightly. I could smell the fresh scent of shampoo in her hair, and feel her warm tears seeping through my rain-soaked T-shirt and onto my skin.

My mind went blank. Instinctively, I reached out and gently hugged her, awkwardly patting her back.

"It's alright...it's alright, I'm here." I repeatedly and softly comforted her.

She cried in my arms for a long time, until the crying gradually subsided into soft sobs. Only then did she shyly pull away from my embrace, her face flushed, her head lowered, not daring to look at me.

"I'm...I'm sorry, I..."

“It’s okay,” I interrupted her, speaking as gently as I could. “Don’t think about it too much. Let me see the child.”

I walked to the workbench and carefully picked up the skull. The crack wasn't large, but for a work of art that strives for perfection, it was fatal.

"Can this... still be repaired?" I asked.

“It can be repaired,” Xiaoya sniffed, her voice still thick with nasal tone. “It needs to be filled with special resin glue, then sanded, repainted, and recolored… But this requires very delicate work, and it will take at least a dozen hours to dry completely. I… I’m afraid I won’t have enough time by myself, and I’m also afraid… I’ll make it even worse.”

Looking into her eyes, which were filled with exhaustion and self-doubt, I felt a pang of pain in my heart.

“I’ll help you,” I said earnestly, looking at her.

“You?” She was stunned. “But…you’ve never done this before.”

“I haven’t done it before,” I admitted, “but I made a lot of architectural models in college. Although the materials are different, I think the requirements for precision are the same. I can help you, hand you tools, and help you mix materials. At least, I can make things less tiring for you.”

“And,” I smiled, “my shooting skills prove that my hand… is very steady.”

Xiao-Ya looked at me, and slowly, a glimmer of light returned to her swollen, red eyes. She hesitated for a few seconds, then finally nodded firmly.

"good."

That rainy night, the empty studio was brightly lit.

I became Xiaoya's most capable assistant.

Under her guidance, I learned how to use a precision dropper to accurately fill the tiny crack with thick resin glue, drop by drop. My hand was surprisingly steady, without the slightest tremor.

While waiting for the glue to partially harden, she cooked me a steaming bowl of instant noodles and watched me wolf it down.

Then came the long process of sanding. She taught me how to use sandpaper of different grits, dampened with water, and with the gentlest pressure, to sand the filled area little by little until it was completely flush with the surrounding surface, leaving no trace. This was a task that extremely tested one's patience and dexterity. We sat side by side at the workbench, silently and attentively working under the bright light of the desk lamp.

The room was quiet, with only the soft rustling of sandpaper against the resin surface and the gradually diminishing sound of rain outside the window.

I could smell her pleasant scent, see her slightly furrowed brow as she focused, and feel our arms occasionally brushing against each other when we were getting tools.

The atmosphere, without anyone noticing, became subtle.

After sanding, the more challenging task of touch-up painting began. Xiaoya, holding the airbrush, carefully mixed paint that perfectly matched the skin tone of the scalp, like a professional painter. Meanwhile, I stood beside her, holding the hairdryer on a low heat setting to speed up the drying of each thin layer of paint.

We're working together more and more seamlessly, as if we've been partners for a long time.

As the final layer of protective paint was perfectly applied to the shell, the sky was beginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn.

We huddled together, holding our breath, and carefully examined the repaired areas.

In the dim light of the early morning, the crack had completely disappeared, as if it had never existed. The face of that aloof young woman had regained its original, flawless beauty.

"It's a success..." Xiaoya murmured to herself, her voice filled with unbelievable joy.

She turned her head abruptly, looked at me, and her face lit up with a radiant smile I had never seen before. Then, she did something that completely caught me off guard.

She stood on tiptoe, reached out her arms, wrapped them around my neck, and gave me a light, quick kiss on the cheek.

The touch was soft, warm, and carried a hint of paint and resin smell.

My brain completely shut down in an instant.

All that remained was the slight dampness on my cheek and the first golden rays of sunlight after the rain outside the window.