Moon-Chasing Diary

“A hidden love quietly buried a seed during that bitter winter. By the time spring returned the following year, it had already broken through the soil without a sound.”

— Moon-Chasing Diary

—

After touring the exhibition hall, Qin Sang called to ask about Xiao Xiao’s condition. When she learned Xiao Xiao had developed acute gastroenteritis after eating something unclean, she became slightly worried.

“Is it serious?”

Sister Wen was staying at the hospital with her. “Not serious, but she needs an IV drip. We won’t be able to get there anytime soon. I’ll have the driver come pick you up first.”

The hand holding Qin Sang’s phone felt faintly warm.

Her gaze drifted unconsciously into the distance.

He was very tall, the kind of man who stood out effortlessly even in a crowd.

And suddenly, it felt as though she had returned to high school again.

Back then, their classroom had been on the third floor.

Her seat had been very close to the window, separated only by a narrow aisle and one row of desks.

The window closest to her, slightly ahead on the right side, had been broken. The metal hinges were rusted and worn down, so the window could never close properly. Whenever it opened or shut, it made creaking noises.

And when the northern winter winds blew, the noise became even worse.

So she especially hated winter.

Every winter, freezing winds poured into the classroom through that broken window. Qin Sang was already someone who feared the cold, and sitting there each year felt like enduring torture.

First High School was a prestigious key school with strong faculty. It followed the harsh educational philosophy of “tempering the body and will through hardship.”

So even after students repeatedly reported the broken window, the school never bothered repairing or replacing it.

Yet despite that, she had never considered changing seats.

Because during class breaks, through that half-open window, she could occasionally catch glimpses of him.

Winter sunlight scattered lazily across the hallway—thin, pale, yet warm.

He stood in the third-floor corridor, tall and relaxed.

The exact same school uniform looked unusually stylish on him.

One elbow rested casually against the railing as he leaned back naturally beneath the sunlight.

His short black hair looked soft and fluffy, smooth and glossy, like the wet eyes of a dog.

And those usually cold eyes of his carried lazy amusement, careless and free-spirited.

She thought—

She truly hated the freezing cold of winter.

But at that moment, during that endless winter, she felt the warmth of spring.

It was as though spring had revived the earth, greenery flourishing everywhere.

And in that bitter winter, a hidden love quietly planted a seed.

By the time spring returned the following year, it had already broken through the soil without a sound.

…

Qin Sang’s eyelashes trembled lightly.

She lowered her gaze quietly and answered softly, “No need. I just happened to run into… an acquaintance.”

“An acquaintance?” Sister Wen was about to ask more, but the hospital suddenly called Xiao Xiao’s number. A nurse was shouting names nearby, and in her hurry, Sister Wen could only respond quickly.

“Alright then. Go home and rest early. Don’t worry about Xiao Xiao—I’m here.”

Qin Sang answered softly before hanging up the call.

…

Coincidentally, Xie Yunchen had also just finished a phone call.

His tone during the call had been indifferent—not warm, but not cold either.

Seeing her approach, he paused briefly before asking, “Would you mind if two more people joined us?”

“It’s fine.” Qin Sang smiled, though she no longer dared meet his eyes directly. “The more people, the livelier it’ll be.”

She pretended nothing was wrong, trying her best to suppress that strange sourness lingering in her chest.

—

The “two more people” Xie Yunchen mentioned weren’t strangers at all.

They were familiar faces.

Zhou Yihong had only just left the apartment.

Since he had no money, he had been freeloading shamelessly at Xie Yunchen’s place lately—not only living there for free, but also surviving by mooching all three meals every day.

It was his temporary method of staying alive.

The group arrived at a seafood restaurant.

Xie Yunchen’s phone had been vibrating nonstop the entire drive there. After entering the restaurant, he glanced at the screen, his gaze darkening slightly before saying calmly:

“I need to take this call. Go ahead and eat first. Don’t wait for me.”

Zhou Yihong clearly knew what was going on, so he wasn’t surprised at all. Watching Xie Yunchen leave, he sighed.

“Calling every single day and night. It’s practically life-threatening.”

Qin Sang looked confused. “You know who it is?”

“Who else could it be?” Just thinking about Zhou Wanqing made Zhou Yihong roll his eyes internally. Speaking quickly without thinking, he blurted out:

“His mom. She calls at least eight times a day. Even in the middle of the night she won’t stop.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Zhou Yihong realized it wasn’t appropriate.

After all, this was Xie Yunchen’s private matter.

He coughed awkwardly. “Anyway, it’s pretty annoying. Forget it, let’s not talk about that. Let’s go inside first.”

“Okay.”

Qin Sang responded softly.

Before entering, however, she subconsciously lifted her gaze and glanced at the man’s retreating figure.

This seafood restaurant had been recommended by Shen Yi. Apparently their department often held gatherings here.

The prices weren’t cheap, but the seafood was extremely fresh.

As for Shen Yi, he ended up being the last one to arrive.

When he finally rushed in, he immediately removed his suit jacket. He had probably hurried over too quickly, because his glasses had fogged over slightly and his breathing sounded uneven.

“Sorry,” he said while catching his breath. “I just finished work. I’m late.”

As he spoke, he loosened the top buttons of his shirt collar before grabbing the water glass on the table and gulping down two cups in one go.

“You okay there?” Zhou Yihong teased. “Out of breath after running a little? Spent too many years in the publicity department and gotten weak, huh? Want me to order you some oysters to replenish your energy?”

Unlike Xie Yunchen, Shen Yi wasn’t frontline research staff despite also working at Jiexing.

Xie Yunchen was considered key technical personnel directly involved in aerospace projects.

Meanwhile, Shen Yi worked in Jiexing’s aerospace news and publicity department. Though he technically belonged to the system, his responsibilities mainly involved publicity planning and related media coverage.

Privately, Shen Yi was much more relaxed compared to the polished image he showed at work.

He removed his glasses to wipe away the fog and shot back mercilessly:

“Rather than worrying about me, maybe you should worry about yourself first. Scruffy beard, wrinkled clothes, sloppy appearance. Nobody stopped you at the entrance?”

Zhou Yihong rubbed his chin. The stubble was rough enough to prick his fingers, but he looked entirely unconcerned.

Lifting his chin proudly, he scoffed, “What do you know? This is art.”

“What kind of art?” Shen Yi’s mouth was ruthless. “Performance art? Since when does being artistic require looking homeless?”

Zhou Yihong choked.

“What the hell do you know? This is called individuality. Think about it—which artist doesn’t have some distinctive feature? Which director isn’t scruffy with long hair?”

Then he turned toward Qin Sang for support.

“Right, Teacher Qin? Aren’t art film directors all basically like this?”

Suddenly being dragged into the conversation, Qin Sang paused for two seconds under the simultaneous gazes of both men—especially Zhou Yihong’s hopeful stare.

Finally, she answered tactfully:

“Every director has their own style, but…”

“I think Director Zhou doesn’t need to blindly follow trends. Just like filmmaking, preserving your own unique characteristics is what matters most.”

Zhou Yihong touched the beard he had painstakingly grown out and looked slightly depressed.

Shen Yi put his glasses back on and laughed mercilessly before raising his cup toward Qin Sang.

“Teacher Qin, I’ve learned something today—the art of speaking.”

Qin Sang smiled faintly and raised her glass in return.

Zhou Yihong surrendered immediately. “Alright, I get it now. You two are teaming up against me, huh?”

Narrowing his eyes, he pointed accusingly at Shen Yi.

“You brat. Only been an official for a few years and already acting all high and mighty? Back in university, you weren’t like this. You used to call me ‘Senior Zhou’ so sweetly.”

Shen Yi replied calmly, “Back then I was ignorant. Now I’ve awakened.”

Zhou Yihong laughed and cursed, “Little bastard.”

The familiarity between them felt completely genuine.

Their easy teasing and banter carried the unmistakable comfort of old friends. The atmosphere was so natural that outsiders couldn’t possibly insert themselves into it.

Even existing there felt slightly unnecessary.

Qin Sang smiled faintly, quietly acting as a polite companion.

Occasionally, she lifted her water glass for a sip.

Perhaps worried she might feel left out, Shen Yi explained:

“Teacher Qin, we’re used to speaking recklessly in private. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Qin Sang actually envied this kind of carefree companionship, since she herself had very few close friends.

Then she asked curiously:

“But… were you all university classmates?”

“In a way, yes,” Shen Yi explained.

“Senior Zhou did his undergraduate degree at Nangong University, then got into Qing University for graduate school. He’s three years older than us.”

“Xie Yunchen and I were in the same class originally studying political science, but during sophomore year he transferred into aerospace engineering.”

“Later, he and Senior Zhou ended up under the same graduate advisor. On top of that, we were all part of the same photography club, so after spending enough time together, we naturally became close.”

In reality, Xie Yunchen had only joined the photography club because he was dragged in to act as decorative recruitment bait.

After all, with a face like his, he attracted attention far too easily.

Every year during club recruitment, simply hanging up his photo dramatically boosted enrollment numbers.

Zhou Yihong suddenly remembered something and burst out laughing gleefully.

“Chen Lei—the president of our photography club—still gets cursed out even after graduating. Everyone says he ran a scam organization.”

“He promised new recruits a gorgeous club mascot, but it turned out to be the kind you barely saw once all year.”

Back in freshman year, Xie Yunchen still occasionally showed up at club activities.

His photography skills were excellent, and some of his photos had even been published by National Geographic.

But his interest in photography itself wasn’t particularly strong.

After transferring majors during sophomore year, he genuinely no longer had time for club activities. Sometimes an entire semester passed without anyone seeing him once.

As a result, the junior students who joined because they’d been seduced by his face constantly complained afterward, claiming they’d been deceived.

The more Zhou Yihong talked, the more excited he became.

“You have no idea how crazy those girls were over him. They followed him to class, followed him to the cafeteria—everywhere he went, they followed.”

“If our professors hadn’t strictly forbidden people from auditing classes, students from our own department probably wouldn’t have had seats left.”

“The key point,” Zhou Yihong clicked his tongue twice dramatically, “is that this guy attracted both men and women.”

“He didn’t spare a single gender.”

“Our younger male juniors practically worshipped him as the guiding light of life. Before exams, instead of praying to gods or begging professors for mercy, they treated him like some holy leader and worshipped him devoutly.”

“What did everyone secretly call him back then again?” Zhou Yihong scratched his head, struggling to remember.

Shen Yi seemed to recall it immediately. Pushing up his glasses, he curved his lips slightly without speaking.

Suddenly, Zhou Yihong slapped his thigh excitedly.

“Right! Everyone secretly called him Xie Courtesan.”

“The kind of top courtesan from ancient brothels.”

“Xie… Courtesan?”

The nickname was actually…

surprisingly fitting.

Qin Sang couldn’t help laughing softly.

“It does seem pretty appropriate.”

“Really?”

A voice suddenly sounded from behind her.

At some point, Xie Yunchen had already returned.

Standing behind Qin Sang, he lowered his eyes lazily toward her, a half-smile lingering on his lips.

“And exactly how appropriate is it?”