Chapter 38

The Moon Runs to Me

“To be honest, I was a little surprised when you asked for the film source last time. After all, whenever I recommended it before, you said you weren’t interested.”

Shen Yi exhaled a stream of smoke, a teasing smile on his lips.

He wasn’t just flattering—he truly was a fan of Qin Sang’s work. The year Letter from Afar was released, he’d been participating in Tsinghua’s exchange program with HKU and had spent a year in Hong Kong. At the time, his then-girlfriend had dragged him to see it, claiming he’d missed her birthday.

It was strange—he couldn’t even remember what that girl had looked like. How tall she was, whether she was pretty, her figure—nothing. All he remembered was that she was capricious; the slightest thing would set her off for half a day.

He hadn’t felt much of anything—he couldn’t say he’d liked her all that much. She’d just happened to catch him during a gap, pursued him for two or three months, and finally cornered him in the library to confess publicly. He was always good at keeping his emotions in check—perhaps wearing that gentle mask for too long had given people the wrong impression that he was easygoing.

Shen Yi hooked his glasses and wiped the lenses slowly. The peach blossom eyes hidden beneath were naturally amorous, so it was hard to notice the faint impatience in their depths. He smiled mildly, but his eyes were cold. “Let’s try it, then.”

He couldn’t recall her face clearly—that relationship hadn’t lasted long anyway. She craved novelty, sought stimulation and absolute devotion from men. But Shen Yi, for all his gentlemanly appearance, was cold to the core.

He had no interest in her quirky ideas, was perfunctory with her demanding whims, and couldn’t give her the romance and excitement she wanted. Eventually, she’d had enough and ended it herself.

He wouldn’t deny it—he was cold. People like him used all their capacity for love on themselves. Two equally selfish people together would only drain each other.

He wasn’t willing to give, and she only wanted to take.

The most memorable moment was that night they went to the movies. She’d dragged him up a mountain in a sports car at midnight, insisting on watching the sunrise from the peak.

Women of that age seemed to have a romantic streak—even a pampered heiress wasn’t immune. She’d said happily, “I heard that if you watch the sunrise together on Lovers’ Mountain, you’ll stay together forever.”

But people’s hearts changed—how could a single sunrise secure forever?

Shen Yi smiled sardonically.

The sunrise never came. The fickle heiress soon retreated into the convertible, complaining, “It’s so cold. I don’t want to watch anymore. Shen Yi, let’s go back.”

He raised an eyebrow, unsurprised.

As they drove down, she wasn’t willing to give up just yet. She tugged his sleeve and said, “My birthday was last Saturday, and you missed it. You have to make it up to me tonight—a full birthday. You’re not going back to the dorm.”

“Otherwise, take me to a movie.”

Shen Yi agreed half-heartedly and found a 24-hour private cinema.

They had a good selection of films—many European, American, and niche titles. It was late, so the place was empty. He booked a private room.

When it came to picking a film, Shen Yi didn’t care and was about to choose a random Hollywood movie, but she grabbed him and said, “Let’s watch this. I heard it’s been getting good reviews in Taiwan.”

He glanced down casually. No objection. “Whatever you want.”

The film was about an hour and a half.

The girl, who’d been chattering nonstop before the screening, fell strangely quiet during the movie.

After a while, soft sobs echoed through the dark room. Through tears, she said, “If I were Yu Sibe, I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

Shen Yi raised an eyebrow, turning his gaze to the screen. The plot wasn’t novel, but the visual language was impressive. The actors were clearly newcomers—their skills visibly raw—and that very rawness suited the characters.

Seventeen- or eighteen-year-old boys and girls were exactly like that—clumsy, like unripe green apples, sour when you bit into them.

Shen Yi was a bit surprised. For an unknown crew, the work was actually quite good.

Art-house films in the domestic market usually had poor reception and were filled with duds. Apart from the annual Valentine’s Day gimmick to provide fodder for couples, they had little to offer.

The film’s ending was heavy. After the long end-credits song, the final Easter egg froze on the first meeting.

The actress looked young, her features still green. When she smiled, her eyes curved like crescent moons, the beauty mark beneath them faintly visible. Holding a bouquet of sunflowers, she looked at the boy arriving from afar. That shared glance between them was more captivating than any contrived scene.

The sea wind whipped her pleated skirt. She tucked her windblown hair behind her ear, revealing a hearing aid on her small left earlobe.

Wind chimes hanging from the rocky cliff spun in the breeze, their glass rings clinking crisply.

It was hard to say—whether it was the wind moving, or their hearts.

The sound of those wind chimes was perhaps the frequency of their hearts stirring at first sight.

“Youth is a hymn of regret. Secret love is a fruit that never ripens.”

“Dedicated to the you of the past—the secret you never got to say. It’s ‘I like you.'”

As the film ended, Shen Yi was intrigued. He’d expected pretentious art-house fluff, but the viewing experience was unexpectedly good. He snapped a photo and posted it to the club group chat.

Zhou Yihong loved this kind of thing—he’d always been more interested in literature than aerospace. So Shen Yi shared the title with him.

Zhou Yihong replied quickly: “Damn, the lead actress looks young—a newbie? Pretty cute. What’s her name?”

Shen Yi glanced at the cast list on screen. “Qin Sang.”

Zhou Yihong: “Never heard of her. Definitely a newcomer. I checked—it’s not showing on the mainland, but Douban’s already rated it, and it’s pretty high. This girl’s got a bright future! Is the film worth watching? It’s not one of those dramas where the plot’s more boring than the boring parts, is it? (terrified emoji)”

Shen Yi scoffed. “Not bad.”

Zhou Yihong: “If even someone as picky as you says it’s good, it must be good.”

Zhou Yihong: “@Xie, come watch it with me. You’re always alone anyway—what’s the point of spending all your time in the lab? A young man should enjoy himself. Come on, my treat.”

X: “Not interested.”

Shen Yi’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he let out a low laugh, casually loosening his tie. Gone was the gentle, polite facade—between puffs of smoke, those eyes behind his glasses had a lazy, alluring curve. “So what made you change your mind? Got some sudden interest?”

Xie Yuncan merely glanced at him coolly and didn’t answer.

Shen Yi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Now I’m curious. For someone who’s transcended base pleasures and considers leisure a waste of life—are you interested in the work, or the person?”

Xie Yuncan stayed silent, his throat inexplicably dry.

Interest? His understanding of Qin Sang was far shallower than others’. The only impression that lingered was from that night he’d returned from the northwest.

He’d stood by the window in the pavilion, watching her hurry past—her silhouette like a migrating butterfly, unusually light and vivid in the night.

Back then, he hadn’t even known her name.

He only remembered that on some deep night stationed in the northwest, he’d received a tag notification in the group chat.

The class group was lively—people arranging meetups, gatherings.

Someone asked if he was coming. He didn’t reply, only scrolling through the messages indifferently.

The discussion had started because of her.

[Image]

[This is Qin Sang, right? Damn, she’s gotten gorgeous after a few years!]

[Definitely her. She’s famous now—just won Best Actress a few days ago. Her promos are everywhere.]

[Who would’ve thought? The bottom-of-the-class Qin Sang is now the most successful among us. What does that tell you? Good grades and brains are no match for good looks.]

[@Tang Minmin, calm down. No need to be so sour. You’ve always had it out for Sang Sang—still gossiping behind her back after all these years. Some things never change.]

[@Liu Chengcheng, ha, you’re no better. Always playing lapdog. Think she cares about you now? She’s a big star—why would she bother with you? Go ahead and bark—she can’t see you defending her anyway.]

Half of the 999+ messages in the group were from that argument.

Other classmates jumped in to mediate.

[Stop fighting—peace and prosperity!]

[How about I organize a reunion? Let’s catch up—curious to see how everyone’s doing.]

Tang Minmin: [Fine, I’ll find a place. Let me know who’s coming. @Liu Chengcheng, since you and Qin Sang used to be attached at the hip, why don’t you ask her if she’ll come? Since it’s you asking, she’ll have to show up, right? Otherwise, wouldn’t that embarrass you?]

It was such an obvious provocation, and Liu Chengcheng fell for it.

[Fine, I’ll ask. You think I’m afraid?]

Tang Minmin: [Great. By the way, does anyone have Xie’s contact info? Ask him too. Jiang Mingyi’s abroad—definitely can’t come—but isn’t Xie still in Jingcheng?]

Tang Minmin: [Actually, it’s funny—I remember Qin Sang seemed pretty interested in Xie back in school. @Tong Junjie, class rep, right? She really made a name for herself going after you. Too bad Xie was recovering then and missed her heroic performance.]

[Well, it’s normal to have a crush on someone as outstanding as Xie. Not surprising.]

Liu Chengcheng: [Cut the crap. Stop spreading rumors.]

Tang Minmin: [Am I spreading rumors, or is it true? If Xie had been interested, she’d have thrown herself at him, don’t you think?]

With classmates watching, her words were clearly mean-spirited.

Xie Yuncan’s brows furrowed slightly, but he only glanced briefly and didn’t give it much thought.

Now…

He lowered his eyes with a bitter smile. The mint candy’s flavor spread across his tongue, carrying an inexplicable bitterness.

So he really had missed her—so many times.

A boomerang come full circle.