The Moon Runs to Me

Qin Sang stared at him without blinking, then slowly fluttered her lashes. For a moment, it was as if her thoughts had snapped—her mind stuck at some juncture, unable to turn back. Only her heartbeat, pounding faster with each beat.

“What do you mean?”

She barely managed to find her voice, but her tone was off-key, her voice trembling at the end.

She wasn’t stupid. Xie Yuncan’s behavior had been telling, far beyond the bounds of a normal “old classmate” relationship. Someone as measured as he was wouldn’t repeatedly cross the line for a mere reunion with an old friend.

She’d just been avoiding the possibility. With even one percent of uncertainty, she’d convince herself she was overthinking.

She was genuinely afraid—afraid that the answer, whatever it was, would be more than she could bear.

Qin Sang’s expression looked a little dazed, the corners of her eyes slightly downturned, that tiny mole like an accidental drop of ink. Her usually bright, affectionate eyes somehow appeared rounder and more childlike.

She didn’t react with the shy, bashful hesitation of most girls when faced with a romantic advance. She was slow, almost as if she were missing a nerve, and so straightforward it was almost amusing.

“Sang Sang, you’re smart.” Xie Yuncan paused, caught by her clear, unguarded gaze. His Adam’s apple moved, his voice turning rough. “You must know what I’m trying to say.”

She couldn’t figure it out, so she just hung her head and played dead.

“Sang Sang?” His voice was tender, his tone soft.

Penny’s speaking time had already passed. By the time Qin Sang followed Xie Yuncan in, the hall was full. She only caught the tail end of the speech, followed by thunderous applause. She reflexively clapped along.

But the applause was loud, and she hadn’t quite heard what he’d said beside her, so she leaned in slightly. “Hm? What?”

The man curved his lips, tilting toward her. Close enough that his warm breath brushed her delicate earlobe, making the tiny hairs stand on end.

His voice was lazy, carrying a hint of allure. “Wait for me.”

Her ears burned, her heart racing. It felt like plummeting from 5,000 meters—adrenaline spiking, a subtle electric current rushing through her brain, leaving her dizzy and faintly euphoric. She felt unlike herself.

Her mind in chaos, she nodded vaguely with a murmured “Mm,” using the applause to mask her ragged breathing. Her ears still tingled—she ducked her head and rubbed them, trying to dispel the lingering warmth.

Pathetic.

She exhaled quietly, her eyes misty, following his figure.

She watched him move through the crowd, pausing by the stage. Beside him stood a distinguished-looking academician—clearly an old acquaintance—who smiled warmly and patted his arm. After a brief exchange, the man glanced toward her.

Before she could react, the smile deepened. He gave her a friendly nod. Nervous, Qin Sang offered a polite smile in return.

Penny came over, saw her standing there in a daze, and waved a hand in front of her face. “What are you looking at?”

Her view blocked, by the time Penny lowered her hand, the man had already looked away. Penny followed her gaze and understood. “So you were looking at Engineer Chen.”

“Engineer Chen?” The name sounded familiar, but she didn’t recognize him.

Penny nodded. “He’s the director of the Fifth Academy—Chen Zhiqin.”

“Bureau-chief level, academician of both the National Academy of Astronautics and the Chinese Academy of Engineering, and chief designer of the Shenzhou spacecraft. He doesn’t like being called Academician Chen, so most people call him Engineer Chen or Director Chen.”

Qin Sang nodded. So he was the chief designer of the Shenzhou spacecraft—no wonder he looked familiar.

Penny raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know? I thought you’d know—Engineer Chen is Xie’s mentor.”

“I didn’t know.”

She said it softly.

She’d once tried so hard to get closer, but could never find the way. Always lingering outside his world.

So all she could do was watch from afar.

Watch as he walked further and further away, while she stayed rooted in place.

She’d once thought that summer night’s reunion was fate’s greatest gift to her.

But people always grew greedier. Just getting a little closer, and she wanted more—closer still.

After all, the Qin Sang of ten years ago had been just another unremarkable face in the crowd—to him, no more than a stranger who happened to share the label “classmate,” a fleeting passerby in his life.

Back then, she could only stand below, gazing up at the brightest morning star.

And now, she still stood below, looking up through the crowd.

He was still brilliant, radiant.

At sixteen or seventeen, he’d been sharp-featured, intense, his very bones exuding a rebellious, untamed pride.

Now, ten years had passed. The boy had grown into a man—more mature, more composed. He’d softened his edges, settled like a moon sinking into a cold, still pond—clear and elegant.

Standing at the podium, his gaze swept the crowd until it found her.

The world was a silent, dark night; others were mere shadows of light. But she was the sole vivid color among them—bright, brilliant, forever passionate.

“I imagine many of you are surprised I’m still standing here.”

“To be honest, so am I.”

“Because two months ago, I was adrift, hovering on the edge of giving up. I wondered whether I should leave this profession. I questioned whether my persistence was pointless—a mistake, both to others and to myself.”

Xie Yuncan had always been proud and aloof. Before Xie Zhenting’s downfall, he’d never doubted his choices.

As Zhou Wanqing had once accused him: “You and your uncle are cut from the same cloth—self-righteous, always thinking everything is under your control, always believing your choices are right. I say you’re the most selfish—you’ve never considered how others feel. If you cared even a little about your family, you wouldn’t be so stubborn. You have the ability to solve things, yet you make me beg and plead for your mercy. I know you resent me—for not giving you a complete family, for forcing you into things you don’t want. But have you ever put yourself in my shoes? Have you ever considered my struggles?”

“You know more about a few broken stars than you do about me. As your mother, I may have fallen short, but I don’t think I’ve wronged you. I’ve given you everything—all my energy, all my planning. I was domineering, but only to secure a good future for you.”

“And how do you repay me? You never think of me—not one bit. You know exactly what your father is like, yet you still take his side, always opposing me. All my suffering, all my efforts to keep this family together—who was it for?”

“You see your father as a sinner. You despise me, you despise him, you despise having his blood in your veins. So you stand by and watch him fall, cold and indifferent, judging us from your moral high ground.”

“But from where I stand, you’re no different from your father—even worse.”

Zhou Wanqing laughed bitterly. “He’s just unfaithful. But you—you have no heart. You can’t see my pain, can’t feel my suffering.”

She’d accused him of every crime, as if he were the worst sinner.

That night after returning from the northwest, worn down by it all, he’d seriously considered giving up.

But then—just as the world seemed to fall silent—a window opened.

Through its warm, yellow glow, her silhouette appeared, outlined in a few soft strokes—hazy yet unmistakably bright.

“But then someone told me: life isn’t a fixed track—it’s a wilderness of hope. The brave get to enjoy this world first; the cowardly only live in the fears they create. Not being recognized by the world’s standards doesn’t mean your choices were wrong.”

Xie Yuncan’s lips curved, his gaze gentle.

He was looking at her.

She was sure of it.

Even Penny noticed—the intensity of his focus. She nudged Qin Sang lightly. “Sang Sang, he’s talking about you, isn’t he?”

Qin Sang’s gaze was dazed. She didn’t answer.

Those were her words.

She just couldn’t bear to see the person she once loved so downcast. And she’d never thought he’d done anything wrong.

Others always judged with their own standards—believing he should follow their path to be considered “successful.”

But who could guarantee that “better” standard was truly correct?

If he were just an ordinary person, all these baseless accusations would fall apart.

The audience seemed to sense something unusual—heads turned, searching.

But at that moment, she felt none of those searching glances.

All she saw was him—like a bright, eternal moon, never fading.

“In her eyes, I’m omnipotent, flawless.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not as capable as she imagines.”

“I make mistakes too. I hesitate.”

Xie Yuncan paused, his gaze growing softer—as if the cool barrier had finally cracked. At this moment, he was just a reckless young man waiting for the one he loved to answer.

“I’m not as good as she thinks. But if I could, I’d want to be the one and only in her heart.”