The Moon Runs to Me

“Because… I wanted to see you.”

—

The alley was quiet, save for the two cats keeping each other company by the bushes, inseparable. The tabby glanced at the person on the phone nearby, then turned its head to look at the man sitting to the side.

Under the moonlight, his silhouette was exceptionally sharp and refined. He sat lazily on the steps, his expression proud and aloof, yet not lacking in grace.

The tabby stared at him curiously for a long while before padding over. Its furry head rubbed against the hand resting at his side, letting out a soft, pleading “meow.”

Xie Yuncan’s lips curved slightly. He indulged the tabby as it leaped into his lap, gently stroking its head. The cat, as if finding a new delight, squinted lazily and stretched out its limbs.

Not far away, Qin Sang was on the phone. Her phone had slipped from her hoodie pocket earlier and fallen, cracking the screen. Though it could still power on, the touchscreen was unresponsive. She’d tried several times to swipe to no avail, watching helplessly as Wen Shuyu’s call came in without being able to answer.

Left with no choice, she’d borrowed Xie Yuncan’s phone to call back. Wen Shuyu answered with a hesitant “Hello?”

Qin Sang quickly replied, “Mom, it’s me.”

Hearing her daughter’s voice, Wen Shuyu was surprised. “Sang Sang, why didn’t you pick up for so long? And why do you have a different number?”

“I…”

Qin Sang paused, instinctively glancing back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man sitting lazily nearby, the tabby curled in his lap, looking utterly docile—completely unlike its usual self.

This tabby had been released multiple times because it was too wild to tame. Though it wasn’t afraid of people, it wasn’t particularly affectionate either. At most, after being fed often by locals, it would deign to let them pet it—like a true king granting a favor.

And even that was only with familiar faces. Even Qin Sang, after being away for years, had been met with wariness when she first encountered it. Yet now, it had willingly jumped into his arms, rolling around and demanding attention, more obedient than any house cat.

Qin Sang silently grumbled to herself: Traitor cat. So much for all my goodwill—you’re just a shallow creature who falls for a handsome face. Mom has to beg just to get a pat, and here you are acting like a lap cat.

She lowered her gaze, her fingers idly twisting the drawstrings of her hoodie, a little distracted. “No, I dropped my phone and broke it. I’m borrowing… a classmate’s phone to call you.”

The tabby stirred, its claws catching on the loose black turtleneck the man wore. The collar was pulled down, revealing a hint of straight collarbone and pale skin. The cat seemed intent on pushing further, even sticking out its tongue to lick his clearly defined jaw.

The man let out a low chuckle, casually freeing his sweater from the cat’s grip and lifting it by the scruff. “You sure know how to take advantage.”

Qin Sang felt inexplicably parched. She averted her gaze, not daring to look further. Her mind drifted back to moments earlier—when her legs had gone numb and she’d lost her balance, stumbling backward into his chest. Even through the thick fabric, she could feel his warmth, hear the steady, powerful beat of his heart.

Then he’d let out a low laugh, his chest vibrating with the sound, his voice low and husky, unlike his usual cool detachment. “Classmate Qin, just a few days apart—no need to be so eager.”

Her ears burned. She snapped back to full alertness, flustered as she scrambled out of his arms.

But that murmured whisper, brushing past her ear, was almost like an intimate lover’s tease. The warm breath grazed the tip of her ear, making the tiny hairs stand on end—more intoxicating than alcohol.

She pressed her lips together, her ears tingling, and couldn’t help rubbing them. In the deep, boundless night, the small lobes had flushed a rosy pink, brighter than March peach blossoms.

Luckily, no one could see from a distance. Her long, straight hair hid the redness as she kept her head down, listening obediently.

Wen Shuyu sighed. “As long as the phone’s the only thing broken and you’re fine, that’s what matters. You said you borrowed a classmate’s phone?”

Qin Sang gave a soft “Mm,” nudging a pebble with her toe.

“Then make sure you thank them properly. Don’t be rude, okay?” Wen Shuyu was particular about reciprocity—she hated owing favors.

Qin Sang’s voice was soft and low. “Got it.”

After hanging up, she leaned against the wall, phone in hand, and let out a quiet breath. The cool autumn breeze brushed her face, oddly refreshing. She rubbed her cheeks, then walked back to return the phone.

The mischievous tabby had since settled down, lying across the man’s lap. His well-defined fingers stroked its thin back, its tail drooping lazily, eyes half-closed in contentment. The timid white cat had long since retreated into the bushes, its bulky shape hidden in the shadows.

His gaze was calm, his tone unhurried. “All done?”

Qin Sang stood there, her eyes darting away, not quite daring to meet his. She nodded, murmuring, “Here’s your phone back.”

He looked down. Her hands were small, slender fingers gripping the phone, her pinky unconsciously pressing against the charging port, fidgeting—a clear sign of nervousness.

He lifted the tabby aside and stood up, his expression neutral. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Qin Sang froze for a second. He took the phone casually, his long fingers brushing the back of her hand—a fleeting touch, cool and slightly numbing.

She pressed her hand to the spot, wanting to say it wasn’t necessary, but he’d already turned and started walking, leaving her only a lean, refined silhouette.

Bewildered, she didn’t quite know how things had ended up this way, but she followed along, step by step.

He seemed to be waiting for her, walking slowly, like he was out for a leisurely stroll—lazy and unhurried.

She’d walked this bluestone road for over a decade. She knew every brick, every tile, every tiny crack.

The old town was a maze of intersecting streets and willow-lined alleys, its bluestone bricks weathered with age. Vehicles weren’t allowed on the access roads to prevent excessive wear, so when she was little, Qin Dahai would carry her on his bicycle to school.

Year after year, every midsummer, the pomegranate trees in the front courtyard would burst into bloom. Their branches stretched out lush and green, dotted with brilliant splashes of fiery red.

And now, the person walking this road with her was Xie Yuncan. He moved at a leisurely but steady pace, traversing this long bluestone lane.

It was as if he’d stepped into her world, taking in the brief decade or so of her life.

“How did you end up here?”

Curiosity got the better of her.

She hadn’t seen Xie Yuncan since that dinner gathering. As Shen Yi had said, he was someone who kept his distance. But the last words he’d spoken before they parted had shattered that careful boundary, thoroughly unsettling her.

She didn’t dare guess, didn’t dare dwell on it.

She tried to return to how things were before, to stay on her own track.

She worked day and night—filming, shooting commercials, doing promotional shoots—keeping herself constantly busy, afraid of letting her thoughts run wild.

Even though she told herself not to overthink, during rare moments of stillness, she couldn’t help but peek into his life.

His Moments feed was so clean. Others shared bits of their lives, vented about anxieties and trivial worries.

But he posted almost nothing—except for the occasional reposted article from the Aerospace Institute.

Only on the day the CASC officially released the promotional video did he break his pattern and repost it.

After the class reunion, many of her former classmates had added her on WeChat. She couldn’t refuse them, so she’d seen the comments under his post.

[Wow, never thought I’d live to see Xie break his silence!]

[Hey, isn’t that Qin Sang? How’s she connected to your institute?]

[You skipped the big reunion but met up with Qin Sang alone—that’s playing favorites. Don’t be the type to prioritize romance over friendship, Xie.]

Even Liu Chengcheng had seen the post and privately messaged her.

Liu Chengcheng: [What’s going on? You and Xie met up?]

Qin Sang didn’t hide it: [Yeah, we did.]

Liu Chengcheng: [When?! Why didn’t you tell me?!]

Qin Sang was surprised herself and recounted the whole story.

Liu Chengcheng: [Ah, that explains it. I was wondering why someone as aloof as Xie would suddenly repost your promo video.]

Qin Sang corrected her: [It’s not my promo video—it’s the Aerospace Institute’s. He reposted it for work.]

Liu Chengcheng was silent for a long time. When she messaged again, she didn’t explain—just sent a screenshot.

Liu Chengcheng: [Image]

The screenshot was of Xie Yuncan’s repost. Underneath, many classmates had commented—some joking, some bewildered.

He hadn’t replied to any of them. Except for the one about “prioritizing romance over friendship.” He’d responded in typical fashion—coolly, with just a single word: “Mm.”

Liu Chengcheng: [Still for work?]

Qin Sang was stunned. She hadn’t known he’d replied to any comment.

Liu Chengcheng sent several more screenshots, all from the class group chat. Someone had posted a screenshot of Xie Yuncan’s reply, and the chat erupted.

Gossip was only natural. These were people who now had families and children of their own, yet they were still buzzing with excitement in the group.

[Classmates, am I just slow? Help me analyze this. Is Xie agreeing with the first half or the second?]

[Probably the second half—it’s gotta mean something, right?]

The beauty of the Chinese language was that you didn’t need to spell it out—everyone understood exactly what “something” meant.

[Holy crap, does this mean we’re getting a major reveal even years after graduation?]

[Xie never fails to impress—making us do reading comprehension even after we’ve graduated.]

[So does anyone know what’s really going on between these two? Is this a public announcement?]

Qin Sang couldn’t describe the feeling as she stared at those screenshots. She was just as baffled.

Liu Chengcheng: [The class group is in an uproar. So many people are asking me if I know what’s going on between you and Xie.]

In high school, Liu Chengcheng had been Qin Sang’s only close friend. Though the experimental class had been cutthroat, and people had been cold at first, over time she’d realized it wasn’t deliberate exclusion—they just had tunnel vision for academics.

Aside from a few arrogant ones who looked down on her small-town origins, most students simply didn’t care. They only cared about grades and rankings.

That was why even though Xie Yuncan was so distant, his classmates were happy to follow him. It was the psychology of admiring strength—only those who were truly formidable could afford to ignore others’ opinions.

Liu Chengcheng: [🤷‍♀️ What am I supposed to say?]

Liu Chengcheng: [So what’s going on between you and Xie now?]

What was going on?

She didn’t know either.

At first, she’d only wanted to use their shared history as high school classmates to get close to him. But after a few brief encounters, greed had crept in. Once that dam broke, everything collapsed like a landslide.

She couldn’t figure out what Xie Yuncan meant.

He’d helped her get that promotional opportunity not out of a sense of debt. He’d responded to a joking comment.

Something was clearly hanging in the air, yet she still couldn’t bring herself to open that Pandora’s box.

So lately, in a very cowardly way, she’d chosen to run away.

And now he was right in front of her, having come all the way from Jingcheng to Ningjiang, stepping into her world.

It felt like the moon she’d admired from afar for so long had suddenly fallen, giving her a chance to reach out and touch it.

She didn’t understand—but didn’t dare to ask outright.

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the person ahead had stopped, and nearly walked straight into him.

“Because…” He paused.

Xie Yuncan stood in the deep night, moonlight spilling a silver frost across the ground. His lips curved in a faint smile, and the way he looked at her was more focused than before, his tone gentler. “I wanted to see you.”