The Moon Runs to Me

“Sang Sang, over here!”

Qin Sang had barely stepped through the door when she spotted a familiar figure sitting by the window. The moment the woman saw her, she waved excitedly.

Qin Sang paused, then walked over hesitantly, unsure at first. “Cousin?”

“What, after a few years, you don’t recognize me anymore?”

The speaker was Song Penny. She stirred her coffee, and when she smiled, her eyes were indeed somewhat similar to Qin Sang’s—the Wen family genes were strong. Those naturally expressive, affectionate eyes could make even a dog look beloved.

Still…

Qin Sang sat down, still a little surprised. “I’m just… surprised.”

Penny was completely different from the polished, elegant image Qin Sang remembered. Growing up in Hong Kong, Penny had always been particular about everything—or rather, quite delicate. While caring about appearances was normal, Penny had been almost obsessively perfectionistic, unable to tolerate the slightest flaw.

But now, Penny’s skin was tanned to a healthy wheat tone. Her once-flawless face, where even a single pimple would have caused a fuss, now had faint sunspots near her nose. She wore the simplest work overalls.

If Penny hadn’t called out to her first, Qin Sang probably wouldn’t have recognized her cousin, who’d been so beauty-conscious since childhood.

“Surprised?”

Qin Sang nodded honestly. “A bit. Your hair…”

She reached out hesitantly, barely believing it.

Penny had once been meticulous about her appearance, especially her glossy, soft hair. She was born with thick, naturally curly hair, so she’d wake up two hours early every day to tame it—deep conditioning, hot oil treatments, carefully applying hair oil to the ends, and using a flat iron to straighten each curl.

Qin Sang hadn’t known and had assumed Penny had naturally great hair. It wasn’t until one winter break when they went home for New Year’s and, because so many Wen cousins were around, she ended up sharing a room with Penny. At four in the morning, Qin Sang had woken up groggy and half-asleep, only to see a dark figure by the window—she’d nearly screamed. Only after waking up fully did she realize it was Penny.

Penny wasn’t much older than her—just three years. Qin Sang hadn’t even finished elementary school when Penny was about to graduate from middle school. That awkward age was when looks mattered most. Qin Sang had rubbed her eyes and sat up, watching Penny apply hair oil, and asked sleepily, “Cousin, what are you doing?”

Penny had been startled too, but quickly shushed her. “Don’t be so loud—you’ll wake everyone up. Come here.”

Qin Sang had nodded, not quite understanding. “Oh…”

Penny’s hair was the thick, stubborn type that puffed out like a lion’s mane every morning. She beckoned, and Qin Sang crawled out of bed to stand before her. Caught in the act, Penny looked a little embarrassed.

She poured some oil into her palm and dabbed it on Qin Sang’s hair ends. A faint jasmine fragrance filled the air.

“This is hair oil,” Penny explained. “It protects your hair and prevents split ends. If you like it, I can give you two bottles to take home. But if you accept my gift, you can’t tell anyone what you saw today, got it?”

“Got it.”

Honestly, even without the gift, Qin Sang wouldn’t have told anyone. Though she was still in elementary school and didn’t understand why it was a secret.

But that night, the unspoken secret between two girls seemed to quietly bridge the distance between them. Even though Qin Sang disliked Aunt Minzhu, she’d never felt the same about Penny.

Qin Sang only remembered that her cousin was fiercely protective of her hair—she’d get upset if anyone so much as touched it carelessly.

But now Penny had cut her treasured long hair into a short bob that barely reached her ears. The ends were curly and fluffy, clearly unmanaged—a bit messy, uneven in length.

Penny didn’t seem to mind Qin Sang’s gaze. Instead, she touched her hair and laughed. “Oh, this? I got tired of it getting in the way, so I just grabbed a pair of scissors and chopped it off.”

Just then, the server arrived with their orders.

Penny said, “I remember you don’t really like Americanos, so I took the liberty of ordering you a caramel macchiato.”

“Thanks.” Qin Sang smiled softly. “Actually, I can handle Americanos now too.”

She’d never liked bitter things—Americanos used to taste like medicine to her. But after spending so much time on set, she’d grown less fond of sweet, cloying drinks. The pure caffeine bitterness of an Americano was better for staying alert.

Penny paused, reflective. “That’s true. People grow up, and growing up means changing. You’ve changed a lot. I have too.”

Years apart, different life experiences—they’d both grown. Neither was the child who’d fought over a toy anymore.

Penny looked a little ashamed. “I still feel bad about that time we fought over a toy, and you got scolded by my mom. Looking back, I was never much of a big sister—I always made you accommodate me.”

Penny had been spoiled as a child, willful and headstrong, raised by her grandparents and constantly told by her mother that everything in the Wen household was hers. Naturally, she’d resented Qin Sang as an outsider.

“You probably don’t know this,” Penny said with a small laugh. “After you left with Uncle, Uncle Wen made me stand in the corner and write a self-criticism. And he didn’t speak to me again until he left the country.”

Qin Sang shook her head. “It’s all in the past.”

Penny glanced at her, a little embarrassed, and sighed. “I’m really sorry—for all the times I and my mother made things hard for you. Not just for when we were kids, but for what happened the other day. I know my mother humiliated you. I’m sorry.”

“When Uncle passed, I wasn’t in the country and couldn’t help. Uncle Wen told me you’ve had a hard time all these years. I know it’s because of what Grandpa, Grandma, and my mother said that you refused help from the Wen family—even Uncle Wen, you wouldn’t see.”

After Qin Dahai’s death, the Wen family had made an appearance. But her grandparents had been harsh, apparently embarrassed by the scandal Qin Dahai had caused, and had made cutting remarks to Wen Shuyu and her granddaughter. Though Qin Sang was soft, she had her pride—she couldn’t bring herself to beg.

Still…

Qin Sang was a little surprised to hear an apology from Penny. Penny hadn’t really done anything wrong—just a couple of childish scuffles. But she’d rarely seen Penny after that. Penny had excelled in everything—admitted to Hong Kong University on a direct recommendation, then gone abroad for graduate studies, completing a combined master’s and PhD. Not everyone could reach that peak.

She’d even argued with Wen Minzhu over going abroad. Her mother wanted her to stay, get an MBA, and eventually take over the Song family business. But Penny, who’d never rebelled in her teens, finally did as an adult—disrupting her mother’s plans and going abroad without a word. She’d been gone six or seven years.

“Don’t misunderstand—I’m not saying this to force you to forgive me. You have every right not to.”

Penny’s personality had changed a lot.

After leaving the restaurant that night, Qin Sang had stayed home for days. If Penny hadn’t come back and reached out first, she probably wouldn’t have come out.

“I never blamed you. Or Auntie.”

Qin Sang stirred her coffee, a warm smile on her face. “I mean that.”

She’d never blamed Wen Minzhu—only herself. Wrestling with the past, unable to let go.

“Now that you’re back, are you staying?”

She changed the subject.

Penny shook her head. “Not leaving. I’m planning to come back to work here. Even if I got into NASA abroad, as an Asian I’d just be sidelined—no access to core tech. Besides, China’s aerospace technology has developed well. I’m not worried about finding the right opportunities here.”

She’d studied aerospace engineering overseas, specializing in satellite communications and artificial intelligence.

“To be honest, I’ve already found a job. I came back at the invitation of the Space Technology Academic Conference.”

Penny’s excellence was undeniable.

Strictly speaking, she was the same kind of person as Xie Yuncan—both driven, seeing further than most. While others could only see ten steps ahead, they were looking at humanity’s future.

Xie Yuncan was willing to give up everything for his ideals—and Penny was the same. She’d turned down high-paying job offers in the US to come back and start over.

Beside them, Qin Sang always felt a sense of inadequacy.

She lowered her gaze, sipping her coffee. The rich, creamy macchiato filled her mouth, but somehow felt cloying.

“Oh, by the way,” Penny said, smiling at her. “Are you free this weekend? Why don’t you come with me to the conference?”

“Me?” Qin Sang blinked. “I don’t know anything about that stuff. I’d feel out of place.”

“Oh, come on.” Penny looked innocent. “I’ve been away so long—I’m not familiar with how things work here, I don’t even know the streets. Take pity on me, be a dear, and come with me.”

“Having someone familiar around to cheer me on would make me less nervous.”

Qin Sang hesitated. But Penny’s expression was too pitiable—hands clasped, looking at her with such pleading eyes that it was hard to refuse.

After a moment’s pause, Qin Sang sighed and reluctantly nodded. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

(No female rivalry—she’s here to help.)

(About Sang Sang’s personality—I’m afraid some readers might find her a bit hard to take.)

(She’s actually the type who tends to shrink back easily. But she’ll stand up for people she cares about. When it comes to herself, though, she becomes hesitant and timid. Partly because of the online bullying she went through early on, which changed her personality—she already had low self-esteem, and that public backlash destroyed whatever little confidence she had.)

(Plus, everyone around her is so outstanding—her uncle, her cousin—they’re the kind of people who are one in a million. Add the trauma of her father’s death, and it’s no wonder she feels insecure and conflicted.)