Moon-Chasing Diary

“Secretly loving someone means being terrified that he’ll find out… while also fearing that he never will.

Contradictory and ridiculous, like an unripe green apple—one bite leaves your mouth full of bitterness and sourness, with nothing but heartache behind.”

— Moon-Chasing Diary

—

“You seriously turned disaster into fortune this time. You hit the jackpot.”

After hanging up the phone, Sister Wen was grinning from ear to ear. “Do you know who just called?”

Xiao Xiao’s curiosity was instantly hooked. “Who? Who was it?”

Sister Wen didn’t bother keeping them in suspense. “Shen Yi, Director Shen from the Public Relations Department of Jiexing Aerospace Technology Group.”

Qin Sang subconsciously looked up at her in surprise. “Jiexing Aerospace Technology?”

“Exactly.” Sister Wen couldn’t stop smiling. “Director Shen personally called to discuss a collaboration with us. They want to work with you on an aerospace promotional film.”

Qin Sang asked, “And you agreed?”

“Of course I agreed,” Sister Wen said immediately. “Such a great opportunity—how could I possibly let it slip away? Your public image has taken a hit recently because of the HuiTai situation. This promotional film is the perfect chance to recover some goodwill.”

Although Qin Sang and Tong Junjie had clashed unpleasantly during HuiTai’s anniversary celebration, she and HuiTai had still worked together for ten years, and the contract termination had ultimately been handled rather gracefully.

Old Madam Cai personally stepped forward to address the online rumors claiming Qin Sang and HuiTai had fallen out.

During an interview at the nursing home, when reporters intentionally asked whether there was hidden conflict behind the contract termination, the silver-haired eighty-year-old Madam Cai merely smiled kindly and said one sentence:

“Joy in gathering, and joy in parting as well.”

Just eight simple words completely shattered the rumors of a fallout.

Soon after, Qin Sang’s studio also posted a statement on Weibo in response.

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with every small step; a ship that sails ten thousand miles relies upon its compass.① Because of you, there is me. May we never regret our meeting, nor the sincerity we once shared.”

With just a few words, the difference in grace and character became immediately apparent.

Qin Sang had never denied HuiTai’s support. On the contrary, she deeply remembered how HuiTai had once extended a helping hand when she had nothing and was trapped in the depths of hardship.

Even if they would never cross paths again in the future, she would always remember that kindness.

In the end, HuiTai’s official account also stepped forward, reposting Qin Sang Studio’s Weibo post with the caption:

“May your road ahead bloom with endless flowers, and may your future shine brilliantly.② Wishing you all the best.”

Both parties publicly addressed the contract termination, and the matter was resolved with exceptional grace and dignity.

Although outsiders still speculated endlessly, the criticism quieted considerably afterward.

Still, HuiTai and Qin Sang had worked together for an entire decade. Back when Qin Sang had nothing, HuiTai had been the one to support her first. Now that she had finally re-established herself, ending the partnership at this timing inevitably caused uninformed outsiders to interpret her actions as ungrateful betrayal.

On top of that, Qin Sang had recently reduced her public appearances in preparation for filming her next project, so she urgently needed a suitable platform to restore her increasingly fragile public favorability.

Sister Wen had been worrying about exactly that when Jiexing suddenly came knocking on their door.

How could she possibly pass up such a perfect opportunity?

Xiao Xiao still didn’t fully understand the significance behind it all and asked in confusion, “Sister Wen, what exactly does Jiexing Aerospace Technology do? Is it related to Mr. Xie’s profession too?”

That question genuinely stumped Sister Wen.

She wasn’t a professional in the field and honestly didn’t know the exact distinctions herself.

“Well…”

Seeing this, Qin Sang smiled and explained gently, “If I remember correctly, Jiexing’s predecessor was an aerospace industry corporation under state ownership. Later, it was divided into the current Jiexing Aerospace Technology and Aerospace Science & Industry.”

Xiao Xiao still looked confused. “What’s the difference between the two? Why split them into separate companies?”

Qin Sang thought for a moment before simplifying it.

“To put it simply, Aerospace Technology Group is like the carrier—it’s responsible for sending you into the skies. Aerospace Science & Industry researches completely different things. What they develop is responsible for sending enemies to the afterlife.”

“One serves civilian development, the other focuses on defense. That’s the most fundamental difference.”

“The Aerospace Technology Group has eight research institutes under it. Xie—”

She paused, swallowing back the name that nearly slipped out.

“Classmate Xie works at the Fifth Academy, which is one of the institutes under Aerospace Technology Group. It’s a confidential unit. You can basically think of the Fifth Academy as a subsidiary under Aerospace Technology Group.”

Realization finally dawned on Xiao Xiao. “So that’s how it is. Sang Sang, you know so much.”

“Seriously,” even Sister Wen sounded surprised. “How do you know all this so clearly?”

Qin Sang merely smiled faintly without answering.

Why did she know so much?

Because he was there.

Because everything related to him was something she wanted to understand.

Even if the world he lived in had absolutely nothing to do with hers…

Even if mountains and oceans separated them…

She still wanted to cross every mountain and river to move closer to him.

Even if it was only a little closer.

—

Although Jiexing Aerospace Technology Group held open campus events occasionally, security was extremely strict outside of those dates.

All visitors had to undergo detailed identity registration and verification before even being allowed through multiple layers of security inspection.

Xiao Xiao had never seen such intense procedures before. Both curious and intimidated, she patted her chest nervously.

“The security here is so strict. It’s kind of scary.”

“What did you think this place was? A public marketplace?” Sister Wen laughed. “You think just anyone can walk in here?”

“That’s true.” Xiao Xiao nodded. “Since it’s a confidential unit, strict management makes sense.”

“I’m sorry, I’m late.”

Shen Yi finally arrived.

Wearing glasses and dressed sharply in a suit, he looked surprisingly young. Rather than a scientific researcher working in aerospace, he appeared more like a successful businessman.

When Shen Yi’s gaze landed on Qin Sang, unmistakable admiration flashed through his eyes.

Smiling, he greeted her warmly, “Hello, Teacher Qin. I’ve heard so much about you. Seeing you today, your reputation truly doesn’t disappoint. You’re even more beautiful in person than on camera.”

Qin Sang had heard countless polite compliments like this before.

She curved her lips into a practiced smile. “You flatter me.”

“I’m not just saying that out of courtesy.” Shen Yi seemed to see through her thoughts and explained with a gentle smile, “I’ve watched all of your films. I’m actually a loyal fan. Every movie you’ve starred in, I’ve watched at least ten times over.”

“Though compared to your award-winning work The Sound of Cranes in the Wind, I personally prefer Letters From Afar, the movie you acted in right after debuting.”

That genuinely surprised Qin Sang.

Letters From Afar really had been one of her earliest films.

However, because the subject matter was considered somewhat sensitive and was accused of encouraging high school romance, the film had failed to receive mainland theatrical release approval. It was only screened on a limited scale in Hong Kong and Taiwan.

As a result, very few mainland viewers even knew the movie existed. Only older fans were aware she had once acted in a youthful secret-love-themed film like that.

And in truth, her role in the movie hadn’t been especially large.

Since the story unfolded primarily from the male lead’s perspective, she couldn’t even really be considered the main protagonist.

Back then, she had played a deaf-mute girl named Yu Sibei.

Yu Sibei came from a poor family. Her parents had divorced, and because she was disabled, neither wanted her. After each remarried, they treated her like unwanted baggage and irresponsibly dumped her onto her elderly grandmother.

She had never experienced parental love and grew up lonely beside her grandmother, though she remained sensible and obedient.

Until one year, her school held an exchange program with a Taiwanese high school.

And because of that, she encountered the only ray of light in her life.

Xu Jiashu.

The exchange student from Taiwan was knowledgeable, humorous, gentle, and kind. He had never looked down on her for being deaf and mute.

He taught her how to play the harmonica.

She taught him sign language.

She liked him.

Hopelessly and irreversibly fell in love with him.

But reality stood mercilessly before her.

She was merely an ordinary girl among countless ordinary people. She had nothing. She couldn’t even speak, nor could she hear.

The gap between them was impossibly vast.

She could never cross that divide to reach his side.

No matter how deeply her love overflowed within her heart, she could never voice it aloud.

She could only bury it in the deepest corner of herself, never letting anyone notice, never daring to let anyone know.

But all meetings eventually ended in separation.

The exchange program came to an end, and Xu Jiashu had to return to Taiwan. Perhaps they would never meet again in this lifetime.

The night before his departure, she wrote him a letter and tucked it inside the book he had once gifted her before handing it to him.

…

“Back then, although your acting wasn’t as polished and skilled as it is now, it was incredibly easy for audiences to empathize with you.”

Shen Yi praised her generously.

Qin Sang drifted off momentarily.

At the time, her acting really hadn’t been particularly good. She hadn’t even graduated yet, while many of her classmates already had clear career paths ahead of them.

Only she wandered endlessly between film sets, desperately searching for even the smallest role.

Letters From Afar had been the first movie where she played a significant role.

Back then, she hadn’t really been acting.

She had simply drawn from reality.

Secretly loving someone meant being terrified that he would find out… while also fearing he never would.

Contradictory and absurd.

Like biting into an unripe green apple—nothing but sour bitterness filling your mouth.

But Yu Sibei was far luckier than she had ever been.

At least Yu Sibei and Xu Jiashu had shared memories together.

As for her…

After being classmates with Xie Yunchen for three years, he probably didn’t even know her name.

To him, she had perhaps been nothing more than a nameless classmate.

Just an insignificant passerby in his life.

Qin Sang snapped back to reality and smiled lightly.

“Thank you for liking it. Honestly, after filming so many projects over the years, this movie is still my favorite too.”

Suddenly remembering something, Shen Yi asked, “Would you mind giving me an autograph? Right here.”

Qin Sang looked surprised.

What he took out was actually an official postcard from Letters From Afar.

It was her solo promotional print.

On the back was a handwritten letter—the exact confession letter Yu Sibei had written to Xu Jiashu in the movie.

Qin Sang’s emotions turned complicated.

Holding the pen he handed her, she accepted the postcard and signed her name beneath the letter.

But before returning it, her clear gaze swept over the final line written there.

“In the south grows the finest tree; in the north grows longing.”

Translated plainly, it meant:

Yu Sibei loved Xu Jiashu.

The young girl’s affection had nowhere to go.

Even her confession had been so indirect and restrained.

Dared not say it.

Could not say it.

How pitiful.

Qin Sang lowered her eyes, an indescribable bitterness rising within her.

…

Shen Yi guided them through the accessible exhibition halls, testing workshops, and laboratories.

Just as they reached the exhibition area, Shen Yi received a phone call.

His expression immediately turned serious.

After hanging up, he apologized hurriedly, “I’m sorry. Something urgent came up that I need to handle immediately. How about this—I’ll have a colleague continue showing you around.”

Qin Sang nodded understandingly. “It’s alright. Please go handle your work first.”

Clearly the matter was urgent. Shen Yi gave an apologetic smile before quickly turning and leaving.

Before arriving earlier, Xiao Xiao had eaten something bad and already gone to the restroom once. Now her stomach churned violently again.

Clutching her abdomen, her face pale, she could barely remain standing.

Seeing her like this, Qin Sang became worried. “Sister Wen, maybe you should take Xiao Xiao to the hospital first.”

Sister Wen was worried too, though hesitant. “If I take Xiao Xiao to the hospital, will you be alright alone?”

Qin Sang joked lightly, “What, in a place like this, are you afraid something dangerous might happen to me?”

Sister Wen obviously realized how absurd that sounded given the nature of the facility and laughed helplessly.

“Fine. I’ll take Xiao Xiao to the hospital first and come back for you later.”

“Mhm.” Qin Sang nodded slightly. “Go ahead.”

After the two left, Qin Sang wandered leisurely through the exhibition hall alone.

Suddenly, she stopped in front of one of the displayed instruments.

Curious, she leaned closer to examine it.

Then, behind her, a familiar lazy voice sounded softly—

“Classmate Qin, need a tour guide?”