The Moon Runs to Me

“Still pursuing? So you’re not in a relationship yet?” Madam Chen was genuinely surprised. She knew his situation well—even people at Chen Zhiqin’s workplace had approached her, hoping she and her husband would play matchmaker.

Xie Yuncan curved his lips. “Not yet.”

“Oh my.” Madam Chen wasn’t set on forcing him into a match. Since he already had someone in his heart, she naturally wouldn’t push. In fact, as an elder, she was happy for him. She smiled warmly. “She must be a wonderful girl, to be so cherished by you.”

Xie Yuncan replied smoothly, his tone almost tender. “She really is.”

“Confident? Next time, bring her to meet me and your teacher.” Madam Chen was curious what kind of girl could make him willingly lower his pride.

He traced the rim of his teacup, his meaning clear. “That depends on whether she’s willing to give me the chance.”

Qin Sang understood—every word was aimed at her. Fortunately, as a nobody among academic elites, she attracted little attention. The conversation flowed around her, and no one expected an “outsider” to chime in.

“Haha.” Clearly, everyone there was close to Xie Yuncan, so their teasing was unrestrained, even a little gleeful. “Old Chen, it looks like your prized student is slipping away. See? He’s already throwing his lot in with someone else. Losing confidence like that—doesn’t sound like you.”

Chen Zhiqin laughed too. “I’d be happy to see him suffer a little. A smooth path is good, but if he can’t handle any setbacks, that’s not healthy. I say let him taste some hardship.”

Another chimed in, teasing, “It’s just a shame—once word gets out, a lot of people will be heartbroken.”

Xie Yuncan smiled helplessly. “Don’t tease me. I’m nothing special.”

The others chuckled in agreement, their tone warm and friendly. The topic quickly faded—after all, they didn’t often gather like this. Beyond catching up, they occasionally discussed work, though sparingly.

Besides Xie Yuncan, Song Penny was also put on the spot. Returning from abroad, turning down NASA’s offer to come back—that kind of resolve wasn’t common.

After all, NASA was still at the industry’s cutting edge, with space technology two decades ahead of China’s. Some might say China trailed by half a century—but China’s space program had started late, so lagging was expected. And in recent years, it had been advancing rapidly, learning and catching up.

When asked, Penny spoke plainly: “No point in empty rhetoric. I came back for a simple reason—this is my homeland. If I can give back to the country that raised me, I do so willingly. I’m Chinese. Even at NASA, I’d never touch core technology. Rather than being a gofer, I’d rather come home and contribute to building something together.”

“Academician Qian Xuesen chose to return even under far harder circumstances—and he surely knew what that choice meant.”

“Since I have the freedom to choose, how could I stay in America?”

Their generation stood on the shoulders of past aerospace pioneers. Because those before had laid such a solid foundation, China’s space technology had risen rapidly, taking a leading position in the world.

Though China wasn’t yet a space superpower, it was already among the top—a globally recognized spacefaring nation. How much hardship lay behind that simple summary? Without generations of dedication, today wouldn’t exist.

Before filming the promotional video, Qin Sang had visited the aerospace history exhibition. As an ordinary person, she’d known little about China’s space development—let alone that every breakthrough, however lightly reported, represented years of grueling effort.

Though Xie Yuncan said it was just a job, just fulfilling their duties, and asked not to be idealized or revered…

It was different. She knew.

Not everyone could endure the solitude. Not everyone could survive the narrow gap between reality and ideals.

Their love was profound, their vision beyond ordinary comprehension. No one had the right to judge what they did.

Even if someone chose to give up or walk away—that didn’t make them a failure.

How could anyone condemn another’s life choices?

She thought she finally understood what Xie Yuncan and Song Penny had in common. In fact, not just them—all researchers choosing this path shared the same spirit.

It might sound abstract, but she firmly believed that those who made such choices, who stayed true to their convictions, deserved respect. Their faith was admirable.

After the dinner broke up, Qin Sang waited outside. Penny had also been drinking. Before leaving, she’d said her stomach was upset and she needed to throw up, insisting Qin Sang not follow her.

Standing alone, Qin Sang had left her coat in Penny’s car and forgotten to grab it. Now, late at night, it was getting cold.

She tucked her chin into her collar. She was dressed warmly enough—a high-necked, cable-knit sweater in cream, paired with a milk-tea-colored knit fishtail skirt and beige booties. Earlier, she’d tied her hair back in a simple side braid, which fell over her shoulder. In the dim lamplight, she looked unusually serene and pretty.

When Xie Yuncan came out, he found her standing idly, kicking pebbles out of boredom.

A stone rolled down the slope, and her gaze followed—until she saw him. She froze, uncomfortable, and after a long pause, managed a dry question: “Have you seen my cousin?”

Everyone else had left, but Penny still hadn’t come out, and she’d insisted on going alone.

Xie Yuncan answered calmly, “She left.”

“Left?” Qin Sang blinked. “But she has the car keys.”

Patiently, he explained, “Engineer Chen drove her home. Come on, I’ll take you back.”

Now she was truly stunned. She swallowed. “Wait—let me call her.”

She called Penny, who answered quickly. Qin Sang complained, “Cousin, why did you leave without me?”

Penny’s voice carried a smile. “What’s wrong? Isn’t giving you an opportunity a good thing?”

This wasn’t an opportunity. The last person she wanted to face right now was Xie Yuncan.

“Sang Sang,” Penny urged, “some things you have to face eventually. Some people you can’t avoid just by running. Since you can’t let go, why not give each other a chance? Even if it’s just to clear the air.”

Qin Sang fell silent.

Xie Yuncan was still waiting, keeping a respectful distance. When she finished the call, he raised an eyebrow. “Sorted out? Willing to let me take you home?”

Qin Sang sighed in resignation. “Let’s go.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d been her driver—no need to be nervous.

She instinctively headed for the back seat, but it was cluttered with things. He chuckled low and opened the passenger door for her. “Get in. I won’t do anything to you.”

Flustered, she realized she wasn’t deliberately avoiding him—it was just habit. Explaining would only make it more awkward. She pressed her lips together, said nothing, and slid into the passenger seat.

He got in, but didn’t start the car. As she was about to ask why, he leaned in—suddenly close—bringing that cool, clean scent mixed with warmth. His hand, which Liu Chengcheng had fantasized about countless times, brushed past her ear as he reached for the seatbelt. His long fingers hooked the black strap, and maybe unintentionally, his warm fingertip grazed her ear.

She froze, barely moving. His eyelashes were really long—dense and thick—his nose high and straight, his profile sharp. Just a little closer, and the tip of his nose would have touched her cheek.

She gripped her skirt tightly. With a soft click, the seatbelt locked into place—and her frayed nerves seemed to snap along with it.

When he withdrew, she let out a silent breath of relief.

Honestly, Xie Yuncan was a better driver than her. She’d gotten her license senior year and barely touched a car since—first because she had no money, later because she didn’t need one.

Today, when she’d dropped off Penny, she’d struggled to park. Xie Yuncan had noticed and helped her.

Outside, neon lights streamed by. Qin Sang drifted in thought. He hadn’t really done anything wrong—back then, he just hadn’t liked her. And not liking someone wasn’t a crime.

Besides, he was truly wonderful—warm, considerate, respectful, always a gentleman. He hadn’t changed.

What she couldn’t let go of was her own obsession. It had taken her so long to reach him. Those dark, endless days haunted her, yet she couldn’t deny that, back then, his existence was like a pillar of strength.

She was even deeply grateful for that long journey—it had given her time to transform.

No matter the path, at twenty-seven, Qin Sang was finally worthy enough to stand by his side.

The car stopped downstairs. She unbuckled and was about to get out when she heard his voice: “Sang Sang.”

She paused.

“Everything I said is sincere. I like you.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer. You don’t have to force yourself to respond. If you’re unwilling, or don’t want to see me—I can stay away, where you won’t see me. But if you need me—or if you’re not that repulsed by me—could you give me a chance? At least let me have a chance to be near you.”

“If I refuse, will you leave right away? Go far away?”

She didn’t turn around, her voice unreadable.

Xie Yuncan’s gaze was deep and obscure. “I won’t burden you or make things difficult for you.”

If his presence caused her pain or discomfort, he wouldn’t force it. But even if she refused, he thought he wouldn’t give up. He just wouldn’t be so obvious—wouldn’t let her feel the pressure.

Qin Sang turned back, her gaze clear and calm. “Classmate Xie, is this a confession—or a threat?”

She sighed, complaining softly, “Who confesses like this? Are you just being unreasonable?”

“Classmate Xie, that’s really not sincere at all.”