The Moonbound Diary

“Xie—you’re not wrong, you haven’t lost, and you’re certainly not inferior to anyone.”

—The Moonbound Diary

_

“What did you say!” Tong Junjie glared, looking at her as if he wanted to tear her to pieces.

Qin Sang feigned surprise with an “eh,” “Isn’t that so? I remember that as class monitor you always placed second in competitions and exams. Everyone envied you — steady performance, no surprises.”

Heavens know she meant every word without a shred of malice. The Experimental Class at No. 1 High School was a gathering of top students, with fierce competition and an uncertain future. Under the crushing pressure of the college entrance exam, everyone raced against the clock, barely finding time to breathe. Every mock exam saw failures for a variety of reasons, but the class monitor’s performance was consistent, year after year holding steady in second place on the merit list.

In some respects, being able to stay in second place without ever dropping was a kind of skill.

But Tong Junjie didn’t see it that way. He hated being reminded of it more than anything; that title was a humiliation to him, as if it constantly reminded him that he was inferior to Xie Yuncheng.

Tong Junjie was so angry his teeth itched; he let out a sinister cold laugh. “Qin the big star, my advice is mind your own business. Think twice before you act. Before sticking up for someone, weigh yourself first—don’t let a momentary urge for triumph cost you your endorsement.”

Tong Junjie was petty and vengeful; at the class reunion she had publicly humiliated him and made him lose face, and he hadn’t forgotten it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have come here brazenly with Tan Xiaoxiao to steal the endorsement this time.

Tan Xiaoxiao was Director Song’s niece—no great talent, but her ambitions were sky-high. She dove headfirst into showbiz, daydreaming about becoming a major star. If Director Song hadn’t instructed him to look after her properly, he wouldn’t have bothered with such a brainless lightweight.

But it also happened to give him an excuse to use Tan Xiaoxiao’s gun to smear Qin Sang, a deliberate strike of revenge—things he had done plenty of. He tossed out a couple of casual jabs, and Tan Xiaoxiao immediately started making a fuss, insisting on competing for that endorsement.

Director Song had always been indulgent toward this niece. Riding on the recent cooperation between Huitai and CITIC, he had him step in and bring Tan Xiaoxiao over to hijack the deal.

If Huitai hadn’t changed hands, whether this would succeed was still pretty uncertain—he wasn’t confident either. But he knew Cai Shengbin, that pusbag, very well: someone who avoids harm and chases profit, obsessed with gain. If he hadn’t been so eager for credit and indecisive in handling things, it wouldn’t have come to this. Only when Old Madam Cai fell gravely ill and there was no other choice did she hand Huitai’s decision-making power to him.

Tong Junjie sneered sarcastically, his words laced with threats. Xie Yuncheng frowned, and the color in his eyes went cold.

But before he could speak, Qin Sang lazily cut him off, dismissive. “If that’s the case, then there’s nothing to be done. Collaboration is about mutual benefit — pleasant cooperation. If the fit isn’t right, why force it?”

Her expression was so calm it was as if they were merely discussing today’s weather, completely unfazed by Tong Junjie’s threat, as if losing the endorsement was nothing more than a trivial matter to her.

Tong Junjie couldn’t hold back; the smug certainty he’d had was crushed, and his expression turned extremely strange, even somewhat comical.

He repeated, “Have you thought it through? Is losing the big for the small worth it? If you’re willing to apologize—out of our classmate relationship—this can be let go. I won’t argue with you as a woman; women, after all, have long hair and short sight. But I thought after years in the scene you’d have gained some sense, not shamelessly throw your face away.”

Tong Junjie had a lot of flaws. It was probably from thriving in the workplace all these years and getting used to it—he’d developed this rotten demeanor: arrogant, selfish, narrow-minded; most importantly, he looked down on women.

If those veiled and overtly sexist remarks had come years ago, she would have exploded. Fresh-faced and fearless back then, she would probably have gone toe-to-toe with him, forcing him to lower his head and admit he was wrong, making him swallow every bit of the bullshit he’d said.

Now, though, time had smoothed her edges; the fiery youthfulness had been worn down into the still surface of a lake. No matter how much someone tried to stir up a storm, she stayed calm.

She thought she’d tempered her temper a lot over the years—her words were not as sharp as they used to be. After mulling it over for a while, she nodded in agreement, “A face like that is always earned. If someone gives it to you, that’s charity.”

“I don’t have many other virtues, but my backbone is pretty strong. What I want and what I have, I won’t apologize for—I fought for them openly and honestly.”

“But—”

Qin Sang pretended to size him up, looking him over from head to toe, and said with a touch of regret, “You probably won’t understand the pleasure of earning your dignity with your own hands, will you? After all, compared to standing tall, you seem better at wagging your tail and begging.”

That face, she thought, was earned, not given; she prided herself on her upbringing, so she was willing to give him a little face.

There was nothing to be done — she couldn’t resist: Tong Junjie was shameless enough to accept insult, and no matter how well-bred she was, she couldn’t help throwing a few barbs.

Her remark sounded harsh; Xie Yuncheng raised an eyebrow and looked at her. It wasn’t that he found her aggressive, but he was a little surprised that this high school classmate of his was so silver-tongued — a few words and she’d left the other with nothing to say.

Tong Junjie’s face twisted. In a burst of anger he actually tried to strike, but before his raised hand could fall it was stopped in midair. Xie Yuncheng’s grip wasn’t strong; he held the wrist and effortlessly neutralized his force. His expression was composed, only his tone—calmer than usual—was colder: “Had your fill of acting crazy?”

Tong Junjie ground his teeth in pain. The hold on his wrist wasn’t heavy, but no matter what he couldn’t break free. He knew Xie Yuncheng — ordinarily an upright, breezy sort who put on airs, but with a streak of ruthlessness underneath. The angrier he got, the calmer he looked.

Tong Junjie stepped down, his heart heavy; seeing this, Xie Yuncheng loosened his grip.

He rubbed his wrist, then quickly came to himself— the Xie family was nothing like it used to be, and Xie Yuncheng was only an empty figurehead. What was there to fear?

Tong Junjie gritted his teeth, indignant: “Xie Yuncheng, the Xie family has fallen. You’re nothing but a mangy dog now—what’s the use of putting on airs in front of me?”

“Chu,” Qin Sang couldn’t help it and let out a laugh.

Seeing the two of them looking over, she covered her mouth and explained with an innocent expression, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your flow, it’s just that what you said was kind of funny and I couldn’t help it.”

Qin Sang’s eyes curved and his tone was calm, “What does whether the Xie family falls or not have to do with him? He’s himself, the Xie family is the Xie family. Xie is not some parasite who lives off his family. He had the courage to give up easy riches and glory to go his own way. And you?”

“Could you do it? If it were you, would you be willing to let go of everything you have now to chase your dreams?”

He couldn’t, and neither could Qin Sang.

In this materialistic world, ordinary people busy themselves with survival, scrambling for a tomorrow that’s never guaranteed; the more they own, the heavier their sense of gain and loss becomes, and the harder it is to let go.

Someone like him, born into Rome, possessing wealth and status ordinary people spend a lifetime without attaining, would be willing to put it all aside, hold fast to his original intentions, stay on the front line, and do work others cannot comprehend.

“Do you think that makes you inferior? That you finally beat him at something?”

Qin Sang smiled with a touch of irony. “But I think you’ve lost even worse than before. You have no dignity, you haggle over every penny, your character’s rotted. You’re not as honorable as you used to be—at least then, when you lost, you accepted it and used it to improve. Now you sit in your well, guarding that three percent of profit, and you think you’re more capable than anyone else.”

“Wealth and status have never been the only measures of success. Those who stay at their posts, remember their original intentions, and quietly dedicate themselves to research—aren’t they far better than petty people like you who reek of money and are so arrogant you don’t know how high the sky is? At least… they have noble character and a spirit of giving. And you? You can’t even speak like a human being, you can’t even learn basic respect. Strong? Where are you strong? Lost—so how has he lost?”

Xie Yuncheng’s eyes flickered, and he glanced at her with slight surprise. After Xie Zhenting’s accident, others were either sorrowful or gloating, but without exception there was a touch of disdain and mockery. Even Zhou Wanqing, unable to bear the fall from grace, would repeatedly bring up old grievances, blaming him for ignoring advice and stubbornly choosing a more difficult, obscure path.

After Xie Zhenting was hospitalized, Zhou Wanqing’s resentment reached its peak. “You’re always like this—never willing to listen to me. If you’d obediently followed the plan back then, how would you have ended up like this? You couldn’t help your father and only gave outsiders something to laugh at.”

“Busy, busy, busy—you act like you’re busier than anyone, but has all that busyness produced any results?”

“If you had listened to me, would the Xie family be in this state now? Would we have to bow our heads and beg for help everywhere?”

Zhou Wanqing couldn’t let go of her “dignity,” nor could she let go of the past glory the Xie family had brought. With nowhere to vent, she could only pour all her dissatisfaction and resentment onto him.

No one had ever respected his decisions, and no one ever thought the path he chose was wrong.

Others only thought he had more and therefore ought to live more easily and be more successful.

And now, she spoke with such certainty and appropriateness: “There is no single definition of success. You pursue wealth and status, the supreme power at the pinnacle — that is your lifelong pursuit. But some people abandon selfish desires, chase ideals, protect a patch of purity, and use their talents for scientific progress and the future of humanity.”

“How can you therefore conclude that he is inferior to you? Must life’s pursuits really be ranked into first, second, third?”

Qin Sang stood at the center of the whirlpool of fame and fortune, yet she had never been tainted at heart, so even now she couldn’t understand the other’s mindset: why would someone who devotes themselves to scientific research be considered less than him?

    Qin Sang asserted, “Xie isn’t wrong, he hasn’t lost, and he’s by no means inferior. He is clearly braver than any of us. What right do you have to mock him?”