Chapter 46

Chapter: The Moon Runs to Me

“Is this okay?” Qin Sang’s voice was very low, tinged with hesitation. How had she lost her mind and let herself be coaxed into following him here?

She’d never actually believed that Xie Yunchen lived in Maojing Hutong. She’d assumed he was just making it up, casually inventing an address to fool Granny Sun. But it turned out to be true—after retiring, Grandpa Xie had moved to Ningjiang, and his place was only two streets away from her own home.

“What if we get caught?”

Qin Sang was worried. This was her first time visiting someone’s home, and not only had she come empty-handed, but she’d also arrived in the dead of night, like a thief. It didn’t feel right.

She nervously bit her lip, and the spot where his teeth had grazed her still stung a little, like the skin had broken.

His kissing technique was skilled—it didn’t feel like his first time. But the raw sting on her lips was real enough. Thinking back, he really didn’t seem to have much control over his force; he’d bitten her quite hard, which was why her lip had split.

Recalling that he’d said it was his first kiss, Qin Sang’s ears inexplicably heated up, the small curves of her ears flushing pink in the darkness.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice him stop. She accidentally bumped into his chest, and when she stepped back, she nearly knocked over a trophy on the shelf. Fortunately, he was quick—he caught the edge before it could fall.

Qin Sang was flustered, fidgeting and touching the tip of her nose nervously.

Seeing this, Xie Yunchen couldn’t resist teasing her. “It’s possible, so…”

He deliberately lowered his voice, took her hand, and ran his thumb over her slender knuckles, the corner of his lips curving up. “Keep your voice down, or my grandfather might find out I’ve kidnapped you to elope with me.”

Qin Sang glanced sideways at him, catching the smile in his eyes, and knew he was deliberately messing with her. She shot back, annoyed, “Is teasing me that much fun?”

“Sang Sang, I’m not teasing you.”

Xie Yunchen tightened his grip on her hand. The curve of his lips didn’t change, but the expression in his eyes grew more serious. “With you, I’ve always been serious.”

Qin Sang froze, her gaze dazed.

She realized that some people’s eyes seemed born with the power to captivate hearts.

Once, there’d been a trashy unofficial ranking that rated female celebrities’ appearances—from facial features to body type and height, they compared everything, even listing it all in a numerical chart.

Qin Sang rarely cared about such things, and of course, she despised that kind of commentary. After all, celebrities were people, not goods to be priced and sold, and no one needed to put a price tag on every part of her.

She only knew about that trashy ranking because of Xiaoxiao. The internet-addicted girl couldn’t live without her phone for a day and lurked across every social platform. When she stumbled upon that post on some forum, she couldn’t help but complain: “Are these people sick? They compare everything. Female celebrities aren’t human anymore?”

Wen Jie was unfazed. “What now?”

Xiaoxiao was indignant. “These people made some sort of ‘Top-Tier Female Celebrity Visual Ranking,’ treating female stars like merchandise, pointing fingers—saying this one’s too fat, that one’s nose is too ugly. They should take a look in the mirror—who are they to judge how others look?”

Xiaoxiao had reason to be angry. She sent the post to the work group chat, and even Wen Jie frowned after reading it. No wonder—the content of that ranking post was vile and unbearable to look at.

“Though I don’t really like Liang Tingwan, she’s not as bad as they’re making her out to be.”

Liang Tingwan and Qin Sang had a very similar style. Liang Tingwan had even ridden the “mini Qin Sang” label for a while to boost her own hype, and since she was on the rise at the time, forum users inevitably tied the two together for comparison.

If Liang Tingwan and Qin Sang seemed similar, it was probably in their bone structure. Plus, with makeup techniques, Liang Tingwan’s early styling team had deliberately adjusted her facial proportions to mimic Qin Sang’s features more closely.

But upon closer look, their features were actually quite different—especially the eyes. Liang Tingwan’s eye corners tilted upward, giving her a more striking, aggressive look. Qin Sang’s eyes, however, were more like peach blossom eyes—naturally amorous, with downward-sloping outer corners that softened the sharp intensity of her bold features.

In the forum’s rating, Qin Sang’s features came out on top, so she firmly held the number one spot in the visual ranking, with Liang Tingwan close behind. But Liang Tingwan was highly controversial—some users questioned whether she’d had plastic surgery and even dug up old photos, where Liang Tingwan really didn’t stand out among her peers.

Still, even if Liang Tingwan’s team wasn’t the best, they weren’t as bad as the forum made them out to be. And to go from criticizing appearance to spreading vicious sexual rumors was simply too much.

Qin Sang felt those anonymous forum comments were far too malicious toward female celebrities. She glanced at the post for a moment, handed the phone back to Wen Jie, and after a pause, said, “Just report it. The forum will handle it.”

Later, the post was taken down. Because it was a real-name report, many speculated which celebrity had been caught red-handed and, in a fit of shame and anger, had the forum post deleted overnight—even several accounts were implicated and banned directly.

Qin Sang had always been aboveboard in her work, rarely hesitant or fearful. She didn’t want to drag more people into it either, so when she learned that her action had caused public backlash, she asked for her phone back right after wrapping up a scene and logged straight onto Weibo.

Qin Sang V: “I reported that post. There’s no bullying through power, no inside story. I simply don’t like this culture of judging and critiquing people’s appearances. I accept criticism—I accept all reasonable, proper feedback.”

Of course, her move was rash, and not all netizens were on board. Plus, she’d had her share of scandals in the past, so people inevitably dug up old dirt and traced back to those dusty stories.

Luckily, Wen Jie was used to it and had plenty of crisis management experience. She quickly contacted the forum to issue a notice stating that the banned posts and accounts had violated the forum’s rules. Then, Qin Sang’s studio swiftly launched a counterattack, releasing solid evidence. Though some parts were blurred, you could still tell how vile those anonymous accounts’ comments were—trash-talking female celebrities’ looks and making crude sexual jokes.

Qin Sang Studio V: “Regarding the recent ban of accounts HP1086, hp58892, hp76962, etc., on xx forum, which have caused adverse effects on our artist, we have collected evidence and are formally issuing a notice. Our studio will consider retaining the right to pursue legal liability. The internet is not a lawless place—please watch your words and do not spread rumors.”

Later, she followed through and did take those people to court. But the public didn’t care much about the outcome, so few knew that she won the case and that all the past scandals about her were proven to be rumors.

She was lost in thought, suddenly remembering this old story.

Not for any particular reason, but because at this moment, she finally agreed with something one forum user had said: “The eyes are the window to the soul. Some people’s eyes are naturally affectionate—they’re born with the power to captivate hearts.”

She hadn’t believed it before, but now she was certain—some people didn’t need to do anything. You didn’t even have to hear what they said. Just one glance from afar, and you’d fall.

In the narrow space, there was utter silence, only their breathing intertwining in the still night.

She suddenly realized that choosing to come here with Xie Yunchen—to his home, his room—had been a highly irrational decision.

That inexplicable surge of emotion twisted tightly inside her, as if their brainwaves were in sync, their souls resonating the moment they touched.

“I know.” Her throat was dry, her voice tight.

Qin Sang spoke very softly. “I’m not a very brave person. I’m even pretty petty. You’ve probably noticed—I’m calculating, contradictory. If…”

“If you hadn’t taken that step toward me first, so firmly and so surely, I wouldn’t have agreed.”

All these years, every time she took a step forward, she’d occasionally think: if she stood higher, in a more visible place, maybe one day his eyes would fall on her too, and he’d pause for her like others did.

So she spent ten years—each long year representing one step closer—until now, with only the last step left. But she’d stopped, because she’d walked too long. That single step’s distance wasn’t close at all—it was a chasm she couldn’t cross.

She curled her lips into a smile. “Actually, I’m really happy you told me you like me.”

She’d vaguely sensed his feelings, but she couldn’t be sure, and she didn’t want to gamble. Not until he took the initiative to hold her back.

His confession wasn’t particularly brilliant, not especially special, not even romantic.

But…

It still made her heart race.

Because even if he did nothing, even if he just stood there, she’d still fall for him.

Just like in her first year of high school, when she’d looked up at him from the audience and had already fallen completely.

She could finally let go. So those past years didn’t matter anymore, no taboo.

She relaxed, confessing, “You probably don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say you like me.”

She’d always thought there were no real coincidences in this world. And if fate truly had a plan, it certainly shouldn’t have been her wish that came true.

“Actually—” Her voice caught. Her lashes lowered slightly, her lips still curved, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I was planning to give up.”

Her life wasn’t just about him—there was Xiaoyan, her mom, Wen Jie, even Xiaoxiao. She couldn’t let herself waste away too long in a hopeless romance. She didn’t want others worrying about her, and she definitely didn’t want to become an “outsider.”

“I like you, but I couldn’t let you be my only reason for living. I didn’t know what the future would hold, but I knew that back then, I’d already decided to let go.”

“I made a wish out loud—I wanted to forget you.”

“What a coincidence. The moment I opened my eyes, I seemed to see you.”

At the time, she hadn’t realized that was a sign—that her wish was doomed to fail. He’d appeared in an unexpected scene, suddenly crashing into her view. On that ordinary night, he came so abruptly, so swiftly, and with almost no effort, made her raise her hands in surrender.

“I know.”

Xie Yunchen’s gaze was deep, but his voice inexplicably hoarse.

“You know?”

Qin Sang was stunned, a little confused.

What did he know? That she’d had a crush on him for all those years? That from the moment they’d reunited, she’d had ulterior motives?

“Sang Sang, I’m grateful that before you completely let go of me, I still had a chance to win you back.”

Xie Yunchen looked into her dazed eyes, paused, and his voice grew especially rough. “Rather than muddling through and losing you forever.”