Chapter 2 Chapter One

The rain is getting heavier. The small vendors who had been prepared for a long time in St. Mark’s Square quickly packed up their stalls and went back; the rest of the tourists who were caught off guard first bought temporary cheap umbrellas with winged lions and gondolas to cover them For a while, seeing that the heavy rain had no intention of stopping, they fled back to the hotel in embarrassment—yes, I should have joined them a long time ago, and I should have returned to my warm and dry hotel a long time ago—now it seems that this is the most important thing. The most sensible course of action.I should have realized, hours before, that the rain ahead was a disaster, when the salty wind howled at the side of my face, blowing away a single pigeon in the square.

Anyway, it's too late now. The rising tide of the sea engulfed all the alleys around the square.The hotel that was close at hand is now far away.I tilted my head back, squinted my eyes, and tried to make out, under the freezing shower, the hundreds of identical Renaissance windows in the building above me, and I figured if there weren't these stupid tourists hanging around the square like me, maybe I can "fly" up.But I thought about it and decided not to take the risk, not to mention that I'm not sure whether my newly revived meager magic will fail in the heavy rain. So I'm still here, standing on the pier, dripping like an ordinary tourist, looking at the rough Adriatic Sea, helpless in the face of out-of-service ships, and then forced to retreat to the Piazza San Marco, which is gradually being flooded by the rain, Crowded in this small coffee shop under the corridor, the seconds feel like years.

This is my fate. But luckily I'm not alone. A well-dressed, elderly French couple; two tall young men with strong northern accents, brothers from Norway or Sweden; a solo Australian backpacker in his early thirties who looked There seemed to be no patience; together with the black-haired young man with an American accent across the way, the seven of us were unfortunate enough to be crowded in this unassuming small coffee shop, and several hours had passed. The old couple leaned against each other by the window, watching the heavy rain outside motionless, as if caught in some distant memory, only the occasional comforting movement of their clenched hands proved that their lives had not followed frozen in time.In contrast, the two young men from Northern Europe were much more lively. They were leaning against the wall, a pair of slender bodies sitting side by side, their four long legs like hemp stalks crossed on the chair, chirping Playing with the video recorder in his hand, playing the previously recorded clips for self-entertainment.The Aussie, whose laptop battery was drained and agitated by the laughter from his neighbor, threw back his messy ginger hair and kept looking at the clock on the opposite wall, but the hands were moving too fast. very slow.

I sweated for him in my heart, because I always felt that this guy was going to explode soon, maybe in the next second, he would suddenly jump up and lift the noisy pair of brothers out like chopsticks, throwing them on the ground Drowning in this big soup bowl in Piazza San Marco.Later, seeing that the situation was not good, the owner hurriedly brought coffee. The Chopstick Brothers continued their annoying attributes, taking advantage of their long hands and feet, and took the lead in grabbing coffee from the wooden tray, and poured it directly into their throats without adding sugar, grinning bitterly.The Australian sneered contemptuously, picked up the cup of bitter espresso, and drank it down in one gulp.The old couple sitting by the window thanked them politely, tremblingly picked up the small milk jug on one side, and carefully added milk to the coffee.

The last two cups of coffee remained in the tray. I looked up just in time to see the dark-haired boy from America winking at me as he picked up his cup of coffee. "Heath! For God's sake! You bastard hiding here all alone!" Before my hand touched the coffee cup, the door was suddenly knocked open.A gust of damp cold wind rushed in instantly.The Australian, closest to the door, was splashed with icy rain.He frowned tightly, and was about to get angry almost immediately, but the appearance of the two soaked chickens at the door was really miserable. He stared at the person who came, and managed to suppress his anger.

It was two young men who were drenched from head to toe.They had umbrellas in their hands, but they had obviously been blown off their supports by the wind, making them completely useless.The two of them did not know how long they had been in the heavy rain, and there was no dry place from head to toe.Their hair was dripping in strands, their glasses were dripping from their frames, their jackets were running from the zipper ends, and the rain was dripping off their faces, fingertips, and elbows.The two of them stood shivering in the wind and rain, like a pair of wax figures that were melting.

At the moment, I really wish they were wax figures.Because of the two tourists I met by chance in this bleak and rainy Venice, unfortunately I actually knew them! The blond boy with glasses on the left happens to be my ex-boyfriend Siegfried—I think his name is too long, so I always call him Little S—after we broke up in Beijing a year ago Never met again.If I remember correctly, he should be studying for his degree in business administration in the United States at this moment, but he was blown to Venice by some wind.And what's more unfortunate is that the little brown-haired girl next to him, whom I saw on Facebook (whose profile picture is a photo of the two of them), happens to be his new girlfriend Emily.

Traveling in a foreign country and meeting your ex-boyfriend in a foreign country while sheltering from the rain, what is the probability of this?I really regret that I didn't buy the lottery before going out. Obviously, he was no less shocked than I was when I looked at the eyes behind the small S lenses, or when his poor eyesight could barely make out my outline among the few guests in the room. "Audrey?" I nodded mechanically, forcing a smile.I think I should be generous, especially when I see my ex-boyfriend who has broken up, especially when I see my ex-boyfriend who has broken up with his new girlfriend.

"Are you Audrey?" Oh, dear Miss Emily is much more generous than him.She flicked the water off her hand and came up to shake my hand, "I've heard a lot about you." Oh really?I really wanted to shrug my shoulders pretending to be free and easy, but unfortunately failed.I move like a rusty mechanical puppet.At the same time, Emily's cold little hand took mine.Her smile is genuine. "What a coincidence." I said in a hoarse voice, "You... how come you are in Venice?" What amazing answer would there be? I really knew why. Sure enough, Emily said: "Come on a trip. Me, Siegfried and Heath, the three of us are in the same class." She just answered my question casually.Oh, I love this girl so much!

"Who knew this guy would leave us behind." Emily flicked the water droplets from her hair, pouted dissatisfied with the black-haired boy in the room whose clothes were dry (the opposite of hers). "I got separated." The boy said, and all his sins were resolved with one sentence.He took a step forward, smiled and nodded to his companion, "I didn't expect you to know each other. This world is really small." "This is Audrey." Little S pointed at me, her face flushed, and I could see that he was not in a better mood than me at the moment.He scratched his head embarrassingly, and continued: "She is my past, um... friend."

friend?I rolled my eyes.I bet ten people in the store are fully aware of our relationship at this very moment. But once again, the black-haired boy easily broke the embarrassment, "Heath Westwin." He extended his right hand to me in a friendly way, "We are destined to meet each other. Nice to meet you, Miss Odell."