Chapter 33

*The Moon Runs to Me*
“Sang-sang, over here.”
As soon as she stepped into the cafe, Qin saw someone by the window wave at her, grin bright through the glass.
She hesitated, then walked over. Up close, she still wasn’t entirely sure. “Cousin?”
“What, a few years and you don’t recognize me?”
It really was Song Penny.
She stirred her coffee lazily. Up close, her eyes held a softness that reminded Qin of her own. The Wen genes were strong—those naturally tender eyes that made you look deep in love even when you were just looking at the menu.
Only…
Qin sat down, still a little stunned. “I’m just surprised.”
The Penny she remembered had been delicate and meticulous, raised in Hong Kong with every comfort. She’d obsessed over her looks; a single pimple had been a “crisis.”
Now her skin was a warm wheat color. There were faint sun-freckles over her nose. She wore plain overalls, no designer labels in sight.
If Penny hadn’t called out, Qin might not have recognized her at all.
“Surprised?” Penny asked lightly.
“A bit. Your hair…”
Qin reached up reflexively to touch her own.
Penny had always cherished her long hair. It was naturally coarse and curled; every morning she would get up two hours early to oil, mask, blow-dry, and straighten it until it shone.
Qin had once woken in the half-dark over New Year and thought the figure at the window was a ghost—only to realize it was Penny doing her hair at four in the morning.
Back then Penny had whispered, “Shh, you’ll wake everyone. Come here.”
She’d beckoned Qin over, poured a little jasmine-scented hair oil into her palm, and smoothed it over Qin’s ends.
“This protects your hair,” she’d said. “If you like it, I’ll give you two bottles to take home. But you can’t tell anyone you saw me like this, okay?”
“Okay,” Qin had promised solemnly.
That secret, silly as it was, had felt like something that made them real sisters for the first time.
She’d always remembered how much Penny loved her hair. How she’d glared at anyone who dared tug it.
Now that hair was gone. Penny’s curls ended at her ears, uneven and fluffy, as if she’d just hacked them off herself.
Penny seemed to read her thoughts. She ruffled the short curls, unconcerned. “This? I thought it was in the way. So I took scissors to it.”
The waiter arrived with their drinks.
“I remember you don’t like Americanos,” Penny said. “So I ordered you a caramel macchiato.”
“Thanks.” Qin smiled. “Actually, I can handle Americanos now.”
She hadn’t liked bitterness once; Americano had tasted like medicine. But years on sets had changed her. Sweet drinks cloyed; the clean bitterness of coffee worked better when you had to stay awake.
Penny paused. “People grow up. We all change. You have. I have too.”
A few years apart, their lives had diverged. They’d both grown. Neither was the child who’d thrown a tantrum over a toy.
“I still feel bad about that,” Penny said suddenly. “That time with the bear. I made a scene; you got yelled at. I’ve never really acted like an older sister to you.”
She’d been spoiled—raised on everyone’s indulgence, told from birth that everything in the Wen house was hers. It was no wonder she’d bristled at an “outsider” cousin.
“You probably don’t know,” Penny went on. “After Uncle took you home, I got yelled at too. Uncle made me stand and write a reflection. He didn’t speak to me until he left the country again.”
Qin shook her head. “It’s all in the past.”
Penny looked at her and exhaled, expression complicated. “I’m sorry. For my mom. For myself. For everything these years. Not just the old stuff, but what happened the other night. I know she hurt you. I wasn’t here when Uncle had his accident. I didn’t help. Uncle told me things have been hard for you. I know it’s partly because of what my grandparents and my mom said that you refused any help from the Wens. You wouldn’t even see Uncle.”
Back then, the elders had shown up at the funeral—but with cold faces and colder words. It had been enough.
Qin had never been able to beg.
Hearing Penny apologize felt strange.
In truth, Penny herself hadn’t done much—aside from the two childish fights, she’d barely been around. She’d soared, year after year—from HKU honors to overseas programs, straight through to a PhD. She was the sort of genius whose path only ever went up.
She’d even defied her mother once—choosing rockets and satellites over an MBA and a spot in the family business. Then she’d left, six or seven years without coming home.
“I’m not saying this to force you to forgive me,” Penny added quickly. “You have every right not to.”
Her tone had changed. The old arrogance was gone.
After the disaster at the restaurant, Qin had holed up at home for days. If Penny hadn’t returned and asked to meet, she might still be there.
“I haven’t blamed you,” Qin said quietly. “Or Aunt.”
She stirred her coffee, smile light. “That’s the truth.”
She wasn’t fighting them anymore. Only herself—and the past she couldn’t let go of.
“Are you leaving again after this?” she asked, changing the subject.
Penny shook her head. “No. I’m moving back. Even if I got into NASA, as an Asian woman I’d be sidelined. No core work. Our own space program is doing just fine. I’ll have more room here.”
Her major was space engineering—satellite communications and AI.
“To be honest,” she said, “I already have a job. I came back for a space-tech conference. Shanghai Academy’s eighth institute invited me.”
Her excellence was obvious. She and Xie Yuncheng were of the same breed—the type who could see beyond the horizon while others squinted at the next step.
He could give up everything for his ideals. She had walked away from high-paying offers overseas to return.
Sitting between them, Qin always felt a little small.
She lowered her lashes and took a sip of macchiato. The sweetness coated her tongue. Somehow, it tasted cloying.
“By the way,” Penny said suddenly, eyes crinkling, “are you free this weekend? Come with me?”
“Me?” Qin blinked. “I don’t know anything about that stuff. I’ll be out of place.”
“Oh, come on.” Penny made a face. “I’ve been away for years. I barely remember which subway line is which. Think of it as charity. Keep me from getting lost.”
“I’ll be less nervous if you’re there.”
Qin wavered. Penny pressed her palms together, pleading. It was hard to say no to those eyes.
Qin sighed and nodded. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”