Chapter 8

*Moon-Chasing Diary*
“A single aisle, like an uncrossable chasm. She could only look from afar at that star she could never reach.”
— *Moon-Chasing Diary*
_
“Ms. Qin and the others went back first?”
Zhou Yihong had waited like he was watching for stars and moon. After all that, the person who arrived was only Xie Yuncheng.
Xie Yuncheng casually draped his coat over the chair back. “It’s too late. It’s inconvenient for them to come.”
“Fair.” Zhou Yihong nodded. “It’s already eleven. Going there and back wastes too much time.”
Two hours earlier, Qin Sang’s manager had called him. The gist was that Qin Sang had an event to attend tomorrow; she had to catch an early flight and likely wouldn’t have time to come for this meal.
Of course, to show their apology for standing him up, Qin Sang privately forwarded him a WeChat contact card for Rongxing Pictures.
Qin Sang said, “I showed your script to Rongxing. They’re interested. But how much investment you can pull depends on your own ability.”
Getting his project approved wasn’t easy; just the approval process could wait him to death. Not to mention he was a half-baked director who’d switched careers midway, with no representative work. Raising funds wasn’t easy.
These days he’d hit walls everywhere. He’d mortgaged his house and car for loans, and even then it was only enough to barely get started.
He’d heard of the production company Qin Sang introduced. Their reputation in the industry was decent. They valued quality and had produced quite a few good works.
Zhou Yihong poured a drink and downed it in one gulp, full of emotion. “Not to laugh at me—I quit my job on a hot head, switched careers, sold my house and car, took loans… thought I could really accomplish something. Didn’t expect making films would be so much harder than I imagined. At banquets I’m practically calling everyone grandpa and begging, smiling everywhere like a grandson… still can’t pull much investment. Ms. Qin was the only one willing to even acknowledge me.”
He chuckled. “At first I thought she was just brushing me off like everyone else. Didn’t expect she actually cared—read the script and even helped me pull investment.”
“In this society, who doesn’t only look out for themselves? Someone as warm-hearted as Ms. Qin—I’ve never seen before.”
Xie Yuncheng didn’t reply. His knuckles tapped the tabletop. A long cigarette burned between his fingers. Two buttons at his collar were undone, loose and careless; you could vaguely see the straight line of his collarbones. He lowered his eyes—no longer the usual clear breeze and bright moon, but carrying a cool, weary air.
Suddenly, his lips hooked—half-mockery, half-scoff. Self-preservation, chasing benefit and avoiding harm—human nature.
Xie Zhenting had once been glorious, like a dragon roaming the seas. With one fall, he became a disaster star everyone avoided.
Uncles and friends avoided him when they could; those who couldn’t still politely conveyed that they were willing but powerless, unwilling to enter the fray and mediate.
“Xie, junior—you’re high school classmates with Ms. Qin, right?”
When Qin Sang’s manager called, she’d briefly explained. Only then did Zhou Yihong learn Qin Sang and Xie Yuncheng had been classmates in high school.
Fate really was mysterious. After looping around and around, it turned out they were all acquaintances.
Zhou Yihong was genuinely curious. “What was Ms. Qin like in high school? Was she this chivalrous too?”
Xie Yuncheng’s gaze paused. He stubbed out his cigarette. “Not sure.”
Zhou Yihong thought about it and understood. “True. You don’t care about things you’re not interested in. I bet you can’t even remember how many people were in your class.”
Xie Yuncheng didn’t argue. Zhou Yihong found it boring. That was just how he was—his eyes could hold nothing but data.
If you put it kindly, it was focus. If you put it harshly, it was coldness. Used to being high above, he spared no mind for others.
Messages kept vibrating on the phone lying on the table:
[Yuncheng, what did Uncle Cai say? Did you go to Tong City to see him? Is he willing to help?]
[Your father’s condition isn’t good. The doctor says surgery is very risky. Can you make time to come to the hospital and see him? No matter what, he’s your father. Don’t be so absolute.]
[Yuncheng, Mom isn’t threatening you. Mom just doesn’t want you and your father to fight to the point of no return. Now our family of three is all we have. If you keep going against your father, Mom really has no way out.]
[Is your job that important? More important than your biological father’s life? Why can’t you be a little more obedient? If you’d listened to me back then, your father wouldn’t have abandoned us. Now that he’s in trouble, why can’t you, as his son, sacrifice a little and give up that job?]
Xie Yuncheng glanced at it lightly and didn’t reply. He didn’t avoid it; Zhou Yihong naturally saw it too.
Zhou Yihong’s hand holding the glass paused. After working together for a year, he didn’t know much about Xie Yuncheng’s private life, but he’d heard about what happened to the Xie family recently.
Everyone at the institute was saying he might resign. In fact, he’d already been implicated; the institute had him temporarily suspended on leave.
Anyone would find that stifling and unlucky. And for Xie Yuncheng—he’d poured nearly all his heart into aerospace—being dragged down like this must feel awful.
Zhou Yihong didn’t know how to comfort him. After a long silence, he said, “Why don’t you come out and do this with me? If the project succeeds, if I get a share, you’ll have your portion too.”
Xie Yuncheng stood up and grabbed his coat casually. “I’m leaving.”
—
Qin Sang slept only two hours before Sister Wen woke her to rush the schedule. She flew thousands of miles from Jingcheng to Tong City to attend an event.
This event was Huitai’s ninety-fifth anniversary jewelry exhibition. As Huitai’s spokesperson, she had to show up.
Sister Wen flipped through a tablet, arranging work in an orderly way. “Our endorsement contract with Huitai is about to expire. A few popular actresses have been in contact with them, but their side seems more inclined to renew with us. Later I’ll take you to meet the person in charge. Keep a good attitude—don’t offend them.”
Huitai Jewelry was founded in the 85th year of the Republic era. Its origins traced back more than ninety years. It couldn’t compare to top luxury brands like Cartier or Bulgari, but in China its recognition was extremely broad—considered a first-tier high-end jewelry brand.
Madam Cai Shuyu, Huitai’s chairwoman, was Qin Sang’s fan. Back then, she chose the then-unknown Qin Sang as Huitai’s brand ambassador, and the cooperation continued until now.
But not long ago, Madam Cai fell ill and could no longer serve as chairwoman, so now Huitai was handed to her eldest son, Cai Shengbin.
After Huitai changed hands, Qin Sang met the new chairman. He was worldly and slick, never letting a word leak. When renewal came up, his attitude was vague. He neither made it explicit nor agreed, only saying, “No rush. Ms. Qin has worked with Huitai for many years; I understand. But renewal—we’ll have to wait.”
Wait for what? Back then, the Golden Bell Awards were approaching. Cai Shengbin simply wanted to hedge his bets.
He wanted the “Golden Bell Best Actress” buzz to create a win-win partnership. So he also sent a generous gift to Liang Tingwan; the jewelry Liang wore to the ceremony that night was sponsored by Huitai.
If Qin Sang hadn’t won, she wouldn’t have been attending today’s exhibition. Qin Sang wasn’t surprised by any of this.
She only felt a little sentimental. In her lowest days, Madam Cai had once stood firmly behind her. The first time Qin Sang was nominated for the Golden Bell, competition was fierce. Because of private scandal rumors, she missed the crown. Brands questioned her commercial value and didn’t dare bet on her.
Madam Cai once declared, “As long as I’m at Huitai, Huitai’s ambassador will never change. One setback is nothing—Huitai will grow with Miss Qin, moving forward together.”
Now Huitai had changed hands, and she had become a “candidate.”
Qin Sang gave a perfunctory “mm,” scrolling listlessly. Her finger paused on a black avatar.
Last night, after she scanned the QR code and added Xie Yuncheng on WeChat, he drove her and Sister Wen back to where she was staying.
On the way, Sister Wen and Xiaoxiao tested and probed in every direction.
“So Mr. Xie actually knows our Sang-sang?”
Xie Yuncheng gave an “mm.” “High school classmates.”
Sister Wen looked thoughtful. “High school—then that’s been a long time. About ten years since you’ve seen each other? Where does Mr. Xie work now?”
Xie Yuncheng didn’t avoid it. “Currently at the Fifth Academy.”
Xiaoxiao was surprised. “The Fifth Academy? Like… the one that handles rocket launches?”
Xie Yuncheng explained, “Different aerospace units cover different fields. The Fifth Academy mainly focuses on space technology development—spacecraft R&D, deep-space exploration.”
Sister Wen and Xiaoxiao listened, stunned. Xie Yuncheng paused. “In simpler terms: satellites and the space station.”
Only then did the two understand. “Oh… so that’s it.”
Qin Sang listened absentmindedly. Only when their reactions grew exaggerated did she lift her head and glance over.
They looked dazed, clearly impacted.
The man in the driver’s seat kept his eyes on the road. Light and shadow swept across his face—bright, then dim—his expression unreadable. The hand on the steering wheel had long, even knuckles; it looked taut, full of strength.
Back in high school, Liu Chengcheng—one hundred percent a “hand control”—had once commented on his hands. She’d said with a sly grin, “Don’t you think the top student’s hands are kind of… erotic? Long fingers, veins sticking out. When he uses force, the tendons pop.”
In girlhood, hearts were prone to spring. Even with heavy coursework, their little “leisure seasonings” quietly slipped off the rails, leading to an unknown world.
Between friends, the topic could never escape “the person you like.”
Back then, Liu Chengcheng was the only one who knew Qin Sang’s secret. Qin Sang didn’t deliberately hide it—because at the time, she was too insignificant, like dust adrift in the universe, dim and lightless.
The universe was silent. With no medium, sound couldn’t travel.
Just like that love that never came to anything—never seeing daylight, quietly ending.
…
The car stopped. Xie Yuncheng looked at her. “We’re here.”
Qin Sang had been lost in thought. When she suddenly met those calm eyes, a bitter, indescribable feeling rose in her throat. Luckily it was dark; you couldn’t see the flash of awkwardness on her face.
She got out as if nothing was wrong. “Thank you. Sorry to bother you tonight.”
Xie Yuncheng’s lips curved. “Between classmates, no need to be polite.”
Adult socializing always stopped at just the right point.
Qin Sang nodded politely and smiled. “Drive safely.”
“Goodbye, Classmate Xie.”
“Goodbye.”
…
After she got home, her heartbeat still refused to slow. She ran, worked out like crazy—using high-intensity exercise to dull the stabbing pain that came with that one instant of her heart tightening.
But the night grew deeper. Even at three in the morning she still couldn’t sleep. She sat on the sofa, staring at her phone. In the end, she couldn’t help opening Xie Yuncheng’s WeChat.
She discovered he didn’t have *no* Moments—he’d simply set permissions so strangers couldn’t see them. Friends could view normally.
However, just as he said, he didn’t really use social apps. His Moments were few. Most were forwarded public-account posts—popular science articles and promotional pieces related to aerospace.
Qin Sang opened them all. Some were too obscure and specialized; to her, they were products from another world.
She couldn’t digest them, and she truly didn’t understand.
Just like years ago in high school: she and Xie Yuncheng were separated by only a single aisle.
One aisle—like a chasm. She could only look from afar at that star she could never reach.
Now ten years had passed, like a grain in the ocean.
She shamefully realized she could still be so easily controlled by his every move.
That chasm she could never cross—still existed, even now—cleanly dividing two worlds.
…
Qin Sang sat in the lounge. Sister Wen went to coordinate the event flow with staff. Xiaoxiao pushed the door open from outside. Seeing Qin Sang touching up her makeup, she hurried over, excited. “Sang-sang, guess who I saw outside?”
Qin Sang’s interest was thin. “Who?”
Xiaoxiao glanced at the makeup artist, deliberately lowering her voice but unable to hide her excitement. “Your high school classmate—the engineer Xie from the aerospace institute.”