Chapter 29

The Moon Runs to Me

“Xiao Chen, you’ve been busy—come sit down and rest for a while,” Wen Shuyu invited.

Xie Yuncan’s gaze drifted lightly past the closed door. Ever since they’d returned, Qin Sang had locked herself in her room.

At the restaurant, she’d stood there, isolated and alone, her thin frame so fragile it seemed it could snap like a broken branch. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow and vacant. The malicious stares and speculations from all sides had nearly swallowed her whole.

She’d been afraid. Her body trembled uncontrollably, and her hands were cold enough to be alarming.

When he’d led her away, she’d still been dazed, as if her soul had been drained, leaving only an empty shell.

Wen Shuyu handed him a glass of water. “Have some water. Thank you so much for your help tonight.”

“Auntie, you’re too kind.”

Xie Yuncan accepted the glass, his gaze calm as he discreetly surveyed his surroundings.

The home was cramped and old. Dampness had left patches of green mold on the walls, and the plaster had peeled away in places, exposing bare red brick.

But it was warm and cozy—filled with framed pictures, ornaments, and trophy displays. Almost all of them were awards Qin Sang had won as a child: youth art and singing competitions, and a Taoli Cup dance gold medal. Beside them stood a family portrait. In the photo, the three of them were huddled close. The happiest among them was the little girl held in the man’s arms.

She was a delicate, beautiful child, with bright, expressive eyes and chubby cheeks still carrying a trace of childishness. Only those eyes—luminous and brilliant—crinkled at the corners as she smiled, as sweet as honey.

Wen Shuyu looked at the photograph, and her troubled features softened. “That was taken when Sang Sang was seven. She’d just won the Taoli Cup gold medal. Her father was so overjoyed he insisted on dragging the staff over to take a family photo.”

Xie Yuncan’s gaze lingered on the little girl’s radiant smile, and his usually cool, proud features gradually softened. “Classmate Qin resembles her father.”

They said Qin Sang looked like her uncle Wen Hengyu, but seeing the photo, it was clear she actually took after her father.

Wen Shuyu paused, then sighed. “Yes, Sang Sang looks like her father. And she has his personality too—optimistic, easygoing, always considerate of others.”

“She’s been like that since she was little—always sharing the good news and hiding the bad.”

Wen Shuyu spoke with guilt and shame. “When she was small, I was often hospitalized. Her father couldn’t take care of her, so we had to leave her with the Wen family. I thought that since her cousin Penny was there too, the two children could keep each other company—better than growing up alone. But who knew…”

Who knew that Wen Minzhu would go so far, treating her daughter like a plague. A child that young, left to fend for herself—that was bad enough. But to not even allow her to sit at the table for meals was beyond excessive.

“As you saw, her aunt has a domineering personality—not easy to get along with. That poor child must have endured so much in silence, but she never told us. Every time she called, she said she was fine, told us not to worry.”

Every time she called, the little girl would sweetly call her “Mommy” and say: “Grandpa and Grandma are very good to me. Auntie teaches me to count. Cousin Penny shares her toys with me and plays with me. I’m very happy here. Don’t worry, Mommy. Daddy said you’re sick, and being sick is hard—so get better soon!”

She was only four. A four-year-old, so considerate it made her mother feel utterly inadequate.

Wen Shuyu’s heart ached. “I was a failure as a mother. Her father and I let her down so much. That’s why she’s had such a hard time all these years. When her father passed away, she was only eighteen.”

Eighteen—the prime of youth. Other people’s children were planning for their upcoming college lives, but her Sang Sang had shouldered responsibilities that were never meant for her, all because of her parents.

Qin Dahai had been a well-known contractor in Ningjiang. He’d signed a contract with a construction group for a project. But the other party had embezzled funds, leading to a collapse that injured many workers and buried others under the rubble.

Qin Dahai hadn’t been at the site at the time. He could have escaped. But he’d gone in to save Xiao Yan’s father—and lost his own life. Xiao Yan’s father was rescued, but his injuries were severe. After three days in the ICU, he too passed away, leaving behind Xiao Yan and her elderly grandmother with no one to care for them.

By rights, as the contractor, Qin Dahai should have borne some responsibility. But he was already dead. The project manager and the group’s head—the ones who bore the most blame—had fled with the money. The debts fell on the mother and daughter.

Many workers had died or been injured. When their families couldn’t get compensation, they came after them.

“I know you and Sang Sang were classmates.” Wen Shuyu had only learned from Wen Hengyu that Xie Yuncan had been in the same high school class as her daughter. She smiled bitterly. “Your parents raised you well—much better than her father and I ever did. We couldn’t provide her with a good home. Instead, she suffered for our mistakes. On the day of your college entrance exams, her father’s coworkers came to our house, creating a commotion and surrounding the place.”

The families of the workers smashed and yelled. They broke the windows with bricks, forced their way in, ransacked the house, and took anything of value. But it was a drop in the bucket—it didn’t solve the underlying problem.

They surrounded the mother and daughter, refusing to let them go. Even after calling the police, even after her desperate pleas to let her child take the exam, they wouldn’t relent. They demanded answers.

“Sang Sang…”

Wen Shuyu choked up. “She didn’t take the gaokao.”

Qin Sang never had the chance. She didn’t accept help from the Wen family either. When her mother collapsed from grief, the eighteen-year-old girl was forced to grow up overnight, taking on the burden of the family.

Setting aside her own grief, she held her mother’s hand and said, “Mom, don’t worry. Everything will pass.”

She gathered every resource she could—bank savings, the family car, even the property her father had bought in the capital for her to live near university. Everything that could be mortgaged or sold was converted to cash and given as compensation to the injured workers’ families.

Only Xiao Yan’s situation was special—she was young, hearing-impaired, and her grandmother was plagued with illness. They’d been neighbors for years. When Qin Sang went to deliver the money and saw their desperate state, she quietly took them in and took on the responsibility of supporting them.

Few people knew Qin Sang hadn’t taken the gaokao. After high school, she’d nearly lost contact with all her classmates.

Jiang Mingyi had made extensive inquiries and pulled many strings to find out. On a video call, he’d told him: “She really didn’t take the exam. After graduation, she found a job—worked as a cashier at a coffee shop. That was from a Class 3 classmate who said they had a reunion there and recognized her. It was called…”

He thought for a moment. “MEETING Coffee. At the time, they assumed she was just working a summer job for pocket money. Who knew her family was going through such a crisis?”

If Xie Yuncan hadn’t asked, even he wouldn’t have known how difficult Qin Sang’s life had been.

Xie Yuncan frowned. “What did you say the coffee shop was called?”

“Meeting Coffee.”

Jiang Mingyi suddenly caught on. “Wait—we’ve been there, haven’t we? After graduation, when the class monitor organized one last get-together—wasn’t it at that café?”

After senior year, the class wanted to meet one final time. The location was chosen by the class officers. Since their class monitor was also friends with Class 3’s monitor, it made sense they’d pick the same spot.

Jiang Mingyi remembered. “I think we even took a group photo then. Let me look for it.”

In the class, only Xie Yuncan had good photography skills, and only he had professional equipment.

Jiang Mingyi had pestered him endlessly to convince him to come to the reunion. But at the time, Xie Yuncan was in a bitter dispute with Zhou Wanqing. Even though he’d come, he had no interest in socializing. He’d tossed his DSLR to Jiang Mingyi and barely said a word.

“Holy shit—”

Jiang Mingyi couldn’t help cursing. He sent the photo to Xie Yuncan. “Look what I found.”

The photo Jiang Mingyi sent showed its age—the lamination had yellowed slightly, and the corners were creased.

The photographer’s technique was clearly subpar—the focus was blurry, the depth of field off.

The lines of light and shadow were mottled, many faces indistinct.

Only the young man at the far side was clear: tall, with a languid, weary look in his eyes. He wasn’t looking at the camera—he was looking at his phone.

Because the focus had shifted to him, the photo was a mess. The figures on either side were blurred. But the figure behind him was sharp and clear.

A girl in a café uniform, head bowed, stood sideways, clearing the table behind them. She held a tray and empty coffee cups. Even in profile, her fair, jade-like features made her unmistakable.

She looked exhausted, thin. Compared to now, she’d been much more youthful and unpolished.

Back then, she’d quietly hidden among the crowd, unnoticed.

At that time, he’d been in repeated conflicts with Zhou Wanqing over his choice of major. Even when he’d come out to escape, she wouldn’t let up—calls, texts, one after another.

He’d stared coldly at his phone, completely checked out of the gathering, unable to recall the details of that day.

But he did remember one thing—the coffee had come with a yellow sticky note on the cup.

No signature. Only a brief message: “Wish you happiness every day ^ ^.”