Chapter 4

*Moon-Chasing Diary*
“The moon won’t fall. It’s only been briefly covered, its light obscured.”
— *Moon-Chasing Diary*
-
After the mission ended, the group returned from the desolate Gobi to Jingcheng. He Chengyu shoved his luggage aside, threw his arms wide, and inhaled deeply.
“I’m finally back—my bustling human world.”
Song Ziyue smacked him on the back of the head from behind. “What are you suddenly acting up for? Quit blocking the way.”
He Chengyu clutched his head, about to blow up, when his gaze slid past Song Ziyue’s shoulder. Instantly, he stopped being mad. He flashed a sycophantic grin.
“Boss, how about we find a place to relax? Been living plain in the desert for months—my mouth is so bland it’s about to grow feathers.”
No wonder he complained. The Gobi was barren and harsh; sand and stones flew everywhere. You rarely saw birds or beasts, let alone people. And since they were on assignment, their schedule and exact coordinates were classified; even contact with the outside world was strictly controlled. Food, clothing, shelter, transportation—there was no room for “refinement.”
It had taken everything to get back to Jingcheng. He Chengyu thought, no matter what, he had to loosen up tonight—soothe the organs that had suffered for months.
He stared eagerly toward the back. The man who’d just stepped down from the off-road vehicle wore a black windbreaker. Sand clung to the edge of his combat boots. He looked travel-worn but not disheveled; his thin lids hid his emotions, giving him a lofty, solitary distance.
He put away his phone and answered lightly, “Okay.”
He Chengyu instantly cheered. “I know a great Sichuan place—how about we go there?”
The suggestion was rejected without mercy. Song Ziyue sneered. “Trying to shorten your lifespan? You just got discharged after an appendectomy and you still want Sichuan food?”
Before returning to Jingcheng, He Chengyu had been hospitalized for appendicitis. The doctor suggested he rest longer, but he’d always been tough. After the appendix was removed, he stayed three days and ran out of the hospital.
Even if he felt fine now, he was still in recovery. He needed to avoid spicy and greasy food.
Unfortunately, He Chengyu lived for heat. Asking him to abstain was worse than killing him.
He still refused to give up. “I’m really fine. A little spice is good for health, b—”
Before he could finish, Song Ziyue hooked an arm around his neck, slapped a hand over his mouth, and dragged him away. “Alright, alright. Skipping spice for one meal won’t kill you. Stop wasting time. Come on—tonight your big bro’s treating you to Cantonese. I’ll let you taste something new.”
He Chengyu got hauled off. Even from far away, you could still hear him cursing: “Song Ziyue, you idiot! Let go of me!”
At the Cantonese restaurant, Song Ziyue took He Chengyu to order. Xie Yuncheng didn’t go in right away; he stayed outside alone to smoke for a while.
The smoking area was dim. There was only one window. Cold moonlight fell through it onto him, giving him an unreal, illusory air.
“Xiaochen, your father’s condition doesn’t look good. And the family has no one with enough clout to speak for us. Shouldn’t you consider reality and come back to help?”
“I know your father was wrong back then. But he’s old now. Are you really going to sulk with him until he dies?”
He held the phone and listened. His other hand rested casually along the window rail. The cigarette between his fingers had burned halfway; he didn’t smoke it, letting that point of red glow silently in the dark. The smoke was thin and drifting, blurring the clean outline of his brows and eyes.
…
“What’s wrong with only knowing how to study? Studying is for understanding and wisdom—not for showing off. Working is for survival. Jobs don’t come ‘noble’ or ‘low.’”
…
Summer was stifling. Perhaps to air the room out, the private dining room across from him had its window propped open. From this angle, he could glimpse a corner of the room.
The owner of this Cantonese place had taste. The private rooms were arranged with elegance—backyard rockeries, odd stones, a pond where lotus flowers bloomed brilliantly.
The figure across the way was blurred by lamplight, impossible to see clearly. In the long summer night, everything was quiet. The only sound was that woman’s voice, retorting with sharp precision. Her tone wasn’t shrill; it was clear and gentle, yet unyielding. Calm words—stronger than scolding.
Her diction was crisp, each phrase ringing; with nothing but her mouth, she routed her opponent and sent him fleeing in shame.
A handful of lines—enough to make someone want to crawl into the ground.
“He studies to realize an ideal, and he works to make that ideal real. Someone who strives for our country’s aerospace development has a big heart and a big-picture mind…”
“…You keep bringing up the Xie family. Did he ever use his family’s power to beat you?”
…
“Xie Yuncheng—he’s truly excellent. And he never uses his excellence to look down on others.”
“At the very least, come back and see your father. Just… consider it your mother begging you.”
…
Two voices braided together by his ear.
Across the way, the “battle” seemed to have ended. A young woman stormed out from the opposite building’s ground floor, mask and baseball cap on. Her steps were fast—furious. She accidentally bumped into a server; a dish spilled and stained her clothes.
The server apologized repeatedly. She waved him off. Whether she’d run out of steam or gone numb with anger, she left in a mess, thoroughly wretched.
Xie Yuncheng leaned against the window rail and watched her figure recede. The summer wind stirred ripples. The cigarette burned to its end; ash fell onto his skin. His fingers twitched on instinct—so slight, like a butterfly from Siberia beating its wings.
After a long time, he finally answered,
“I understand.”
…
“Oh my little ancestor—did you go to a class reunion or to war? How did you end up like this?”
When her manager got the message and rushed over to pick her up, she nearly fainted at the sight of Qin Sang soaked with soup and sauce.
But Qin Sang refused to say much. She stayed silent all the way. Seeing her mood was off, Sister Wen didn’t dare press. After Qin Sang got home, showered, and changed out of the dirty clothes, Sister Wen watched her go barefoot around the house, digging out two bags of chips from some corner, then rummaging through the fridge for a tub of ice cream.
That wasn’t enough. She even opened her phone to order delivery—high-calorie food across the board.
Sister Wen’s brow jumped again and again. Finally she snapped, yanked the phone away. “Are you insane? You don’t want your figure anymore? It’s this late and you still dare eat this stuff!”
Qin Sang shot her a resentful look, then scooped a huge spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and mumbled, “Don’t stop me. I’m turning grief and rage into appetite.”
“Fine. I won’t stop you.” Sister Wen sneered. “Eat all you want. Tomorrow, that appetite will turn into honest-to-god fat.”
Qin Sang immediately lost her appetite—stuck between swallowing and spitting.
They faced off. Thinking about how one bag of chips would take at least an hour of exercise to burn off, Qin Sang deflated at once.
Only then did Sister Wen finally breathe.
“What happened? Weren’t you pretty happy when you left? Why are you all wilted now?”
Sister Wen wasn’t stupid. She could roughly guess Qin Sang’s sudden mood swings had to do with the reunion.
Then she remembered something and instantly went jumpy, lowering her voice. “You didn’t run into a sasaeng, did you? Should we call the police?”
Some extreme stalker fans would do anything. When Qin Sang first debuted, she’d run into something similar—being harassed for two or three years. It took everything to crawl out of that shadow.
Qin Sang shook her head. “No.”
“Not that?” Sister Wen relaxed, then frowned again. “Then you’d better explain what happened tonight.”
Qin Sang had a bellyful of words. The fire she’d held in finally found an outlet—only for her to go mute at the last second, mind blank.
She really couldn’t say the exact reason.
It was just that the moment she heard someone belittle Xie Yuncheng, her body moved faster than her brain.
As if defending Xie Yuncheng had become a reflex.
Qin Sang lowered her head. “It’s nothing. Just… today was unlucky in every way. I’m annoyed.”
Sister Wen could tell she didn’t want to talk, so she didn’t push. She glanced at the time. “Forget it. It’s late. Today was exhausting—you should rest early.”
Qin Sang gave a sullen “Mm.”
Not long after Sister Wen left, Qin Sang’s phone rang.
Liu Chengcheng made two WeChat video calls in a row. At first Qin Sang didn’t want to answer. But when it rang the third time, she picked up.
Liu Chengcheng sounded worried. “Sang-sang, are you okay?”
Qin Sang acted as if nothing was wrong. “I’m fine.”
Seeing her expression was normal, Liu Chengcheng finally exhaled. “Good. You stormed out earlier—I was scared something happened. But you really scared me just now…”
Qin Sang froze. “Did I look scary?”
“Not scary, exactly,” Liu Chengcheng shook her head. “Just… unexpected. I’ve never seen you angry. Back in school, Tang Minmin always targeted you; at most you’d complain about her privately. But just now when you went at the class rep, nobody dared speak. He was so stunned; even when we dispersed, he still hadn’t come back to himself.”
“Sang-sang, are you…”
Liu Chengcheng trailed off. Qin Sang’s eyelid twitched quickly. She cut in first: “I just don’t like him insulting a classmate. You know me—I’ve always been very righteous.”
“That class rep’s mouth is really nasty,” Liu Chengcheng agreed. “I guess he hated being suppressed by the top student back then. Now that the Xie family’s collapsing, he…”
Qin Sang paused, interrupting. “Is the Xie family’s situation really that bad?”
Liu Chengcheng thought, then told the truth. “It sounds huge. I heard Chairman Xie was taken away for investigation because of bribery. There’s still no result.”
“Now that the Xie family has no backbone, the company’s in chaos. The top student has it hard too—ideal on one side, family on the other. And if the evidence is confirmed, he might even be implicated by his father and lose his job. Economic crime isn’t a small matter.”
“Bribery…?” Qin Sang frowned. She’d only known vaguely that something happened—she hadn’t known it was this severe.
“Yeah. But it’s still the evidence-collecting stage,” Liu Chengcheng sighed. “Even if the top student is willing to give up his aerospace job and go back to clean up the mess, he might not be able to turn things around. This time he might really take a hard fall.”
Qin Sang fell silent.
She leaned by the window and looked out. Jingcheng’s nightscape was lush. Thousands of lights dotted the city in neat layers. Fog rose in the night; clouds blurred together, covering the cold moon so tightly that only a few lonely stars could be seen, hanging off to the side.
“He won’t,” she said quietly.
She watched as the moon gradually pushed through the cloud, revealing its clear, bright glow.
“The moon won’t fall. It’s only been briefly covered, its light obscured.”