Chapter 2

*Moon-Chasing Diary*
“Who hasn’t had a crush back in school?”
— *Moon-Chasing Diary*
_
#Qin Sang Ten-Year Promise#
#Qin Sang Golden Bell Best Actress#
After the Golden Bell Awards, Qin Sang’s name seemed glued to Weibo. Every movement of hers could trend. Even now, on the hot entertainment board, eight out of ten items were still tied to her—an absurd share.
As for the “aerospace” keyword that had been caught on camera by chance and turned into a linked term, it was drowned in this tidal wave of chaotic information and no longer looked so conspicuous.
Only her manager felt something was off. Afterward, she pressed her: “Why were you reading aerospace news out of nowhere?”
Qin Sang spoke righteously. “What, ordinary people can’t care about our country’s aerospace development? I can’t have an eager, positive heart that wants to learn?”
If they hadn’t been together day in and day out, the manager might’ve bought it. She sneered. “Sure. There’s no place to learn except at an awards show? What—think you’ve reached the peak, so now you’re planning to go conquer the sky too?”
Qin Sang thought about it. “Not impossible.”
The manager was so mad she laughed. “Stop bullshitting me.”
Right then, a work call came in. The manager stopped digging. After nine years of running as the perpetual bridesmaid, Qin Sang finally took the Best Actress crown this year. It wasn’t just recognition—it was the best possible boost to fame, profit, and status.
From the moment the good news went public, invitations flooded in—magazines, interviews, variety shows, film and TV projects. Olive branches from every direction. As her manager, she was swamped.
Even if her instincts caught a faint wrongness, she didn’t have time to think.
After the manager left, Qin Sang finally breathed.
She removed her makeup, worked out—never idle for a moment.
When Liu Chengcheng video-called, Qin Sang happened to be doing skincare. Watching the whole routine made Liu Chengcheng dizzy. “Being a female celebrity is way too exhausting.”
Qin Sang closed her eyes, wearing a mask under a red light. “Sure, I was born gorgeous and it’s hard to give up. But if I want to look good on camera all the time, how could I have zero effort behind it? No pain, no gain—ever heard that?”
“Fair.” Liu Chengcheng nodded in approval. “That’s why you became a celebrity.”
Qin Sang wagged a finger. “Wrong. The prerequisite for me becoming a celebrity is that I’m pretty enough.”
“Right, right.” Liu Chengcheng laughed hard on the other end, playing the perfect straight man. “Our naturally gorgeous superstar—free next week? Could you grace us and meet up with old classmates?”
“Us?” Qin Sang caught the plural. “Besides you, who else?”
“You didn’t check the class group?”
“No time.”
Since the awards ended, her workload had doubled. Shoots, interviews, programs, offers—24 hours on a loop. She didn’t even have time to close her eyes, let alone read class group chatter.
Liu Chengcheng nodded. “Alright. After you won, the internet was flooded with your news. Your ads were everywhere—bus stops, subway stations. Our classmates saw you and got lively, saying we should set up a dinner and catch up.”
“But nobody knows you’re in the group, and we don’t have your contact. Since you and I used to be close, they asked me to check.”
“I’m just asking. If you’re busy or you don’t want to go, I’ll turn them down for you. It’s just a few old classmates—not like you must see them. Might be awkward anyway.”
Liu Chengcheng stumbled over her words; she couldn’t hide things. In the end, she spilled it all.
“Let me be honest—this is Tang Minmin’s gathering. You remember her, right? Back in school she always liked to needle you and compete with you.”
Though it was long ago, the name rang a vague bell.
Qin Sang nodded. “So?”
“She also sent an invite to… that person.”
Liu Chengcheng was evasive.
Qin Sang was distracted and missed the implication. “Which person?”
Liu Chengcheng blurted, unable to hold it. “Xie Yuncheng.”
“Even though he hasn’t replied and may not come, I’m worried ‘just in case.’ If he really comes, it’ll be awkward.”
Qin Sang went silent, eyes dazed for a second.
It had been too long since she’d heard that name. Hearing it suddenly, she couldn’t quite catch up.
Liu Chengcheng said sheepishly, “Honestly, I thought it was nothing. So many years have passed—you should’ve let it go…”
After graduation, Qin Sang had almost completely cut contact with her classmates. Even Liu Chengcheng—her close friend from school—was only added back two years ago. Because of work, they hadn’t talked much.
Before tonight’s call, their last topic was from last week: Liu Chengcheng had heard from a senior in investment banking that the Xie family had run into trouble—trouble that affected Xie Yuncheng’s work; he might even be suspended.
She’d treated it as gossip and told Qin Sang, thinking it was fine.
Then, two days later, she saw the trending topic about Qin Sang openly slacking off at the awards show.
Liu Chengcheng couldn’t sit still—afraid Qin Sang hadn’t let go, and afraid Xie Yuncheng might really agree. If they met, wouldn’t it be unbearably awkward?
After thinking and rethinking, she decided to be honest.
Qin Sang zoning out—she’d always known aerospace was Xie Yuncheng’s dream.
But she didn’t know that after graduation he’d actually entered an aerospace research institute. With his family’s conditions, how could they allow him to do what he wanted?
Even at the awards show, she only thought of him by accident—thought of that old thing.
Out of curiosity, she’d just browsed a bit of related news. That was all.
“Are you okay?” Liu Chengcheng asked uneasily, guilty like she’d meant well but done harm.
Qin Sang came back to herself. “What could happen to me?”
“You don’t mind?” Liu Chengcheng was surprised this time.
Qin Sang’s tone was easy. “Mind what? It’s just a past of loving someone you couldn’t have. Who hasn’t had a crush in school?”
“Besides,” Qin Sang said dismissively, “missing out was his loss, not mine.”
Looking at the stunning face on the other end, Liu Chengcheng agreed fiercely. “Exactly. Xie Yuncheng hasn’t shown his face since graduation. None of our classmates have seen him in ages. Maybe he’s gained a ton of weight, and since he does research, he probably can’t keep his hair—he might be totally different now.”
“True.”
Qin Sang ripped off her mask with a vicious air, as if grinding her teeth, though her words carried an unsteady hint of guilty bravado.
What Xie Yuncheng looked like now—she didn’t know.
Back then, he really did deserve the “heartbreaker” label: excellent in character and grades, wealthy family, and that face—clear, upright features and the unique youthful vigor of his age.
Even after ten years in the industry and countless male co-stars, she still hadn’t met someone of his type—someone you could fall for at first sight.
Back then, she was just another ordinary student—average background, not good enough grades, not smart enough, and as for her looks…
Qin Sang touched her cheek unconsciously. Maybe the only advantage she had was this face.
But at that age, beauty wasn’t like it is now—not yet a weapon that could cut through everything.
Grades and rankings—that was what people cared about, what they talked about.
Still, it had been so long. It didn’t matter.
The things she once couldn’t accept, couldn’t let go—had become “the past.”
In these ten years, she’d never even thought of a person called “Xie Yuncheng.” They were people of different worlds; they probably wouldn’t cross paths in this life.
Qin Sang thought about it. She’d been uninterested in this reunion—yet now her mind changed.
“How about this,” she said. “Later send me the time and address. If I don’t have other work that day, I’ll go.”
Seeing her so frank, Liu Chengcheng finally relaxed. “Okay.”
…
As a public figure, Qin Sang had strict eating habits and a strict schedule. When she wasn’t working, she generally had to be in bed before ten, avoiding any lifestyle habits that might affect her camera appearance.
Tonight, chatting with Liu Chengcheng cost some time. After the call ended, it was already ten-thirty, yet she still wasn’t sleepy.
Qin Sang tossed and turned, then groped her phone from the bedside table and opened WeChat.
She had two accounts: a work account for business coordination, and a more private one where her Moments mostly shared her day-to-day life.
She logged in and found the Jingcheng No.1 High School class group. The group wasn’t very active. It showed 999+ messages, but in reality the chat had stopped two days ago.
People talked about her and other classmates. After high school, everyone scattered across the country; many were still in Jingcheng, so this long-overdue reunion happened.
Some had changed their nicknames to their real names. As Qin Sang scrolled, she saw an account named “Tang Minmin” in the group “pat” an account named with a single letter, X.
[“Tang Minmin” patted “x”]
[Tang Minmin: Classmate Xie, you’re in Jingcheng too, right? Are you coming to the class reunion next week?]
Classmate Xie?
Was “X” Xie Yuncheng?
She paused, then kept scrolling.
The group was chatting hotly; only the “X” that had been @-ed directly never replied.
Qin Sang raised an eyebrow slightly. That did fit Xie Yuncheng’s style—always cold and distant.
She wasn’t interested in their bragging or their private lives. But…
Qin Sang held her phone, hesitated for a long time, then clicked into “x.”
This didn’t count as snooping, right? She was just curious how Xie Yuncheng was doing now.
If he’d truly “grown ugly,” wouldn’t that just prove her past taste was terrible?
Qin Sang pressed her lips together, heart beating faster without permission. She opened his Moments—
and was instantly disappointed.
“X” had no Moments.