Chapter 46

*The Moon Runs to Me*
“Is this okay?” Qin Sang kept her voice very low. She hesitated—how had she gotten muddled enough to be coaxed into coming here?
She’d never thought Xie Yuncheng really lived in Maojing Hutong. Earlier, she’d assumed he was just making something up on the spot to fool Granny Sun, tossing out an address casually. She hadn’t expected it to be true. After the Xie family’s grandfather retired, he moved to Ningjiang, and the place he lived was only two streets away from her home.
“Won’t we be found out?”
Qin Sang was worried. It was her first time coming to someone else’s home, and not only had she come empty-handed—she’d shown up in the dead of night, like a thief. It didn’t feel right.
Nervously, she pressed her lips together. The spot where her teeth had sucked and bitten hard earlier still hurt a little; it felt like the skin had been broken.
He kissed with practiced ease; it didn’t feel like a first time. Yet the sting on her lips was real. Thinking carefully, he really did seem not to have fully controlled his strength—when he bit her, he’d used too much force. That was why her lip had been scraped.
Remembering him saying it was his first kiss, Qin Sang’s ears grew hot. The small curve of her ear, hidden by the night, flushed red as well.
She was lost in thought and didn’t notice the man stop. She bumped into his chest, then, as she stepped back, accidentally knocked into a trophy on the shelf. It nearly fell, but he reacted quickly and steadied it by the edge.
Qin Sang felt awkward. Restless, she touched the tip of her nose.
Seeing this, Xie Yuncheng couldn’t help teasing her. “It’s possible, so…”
He deliberately lowered his voice. Holding her hand, his thumb brushed over her slender knuckles. The corner of his mouth curved as he said, “Keep your voice down, so my grandpa doesn’t find out I tricked you into running away with me.”
Qin Sang looked away at him. Catching the amusement in his eyes, she knew he was doing it on purpose. She replied irritably, “Is it fun to mess with me?”
“Sang-sang, I’m not messing with you.”
Xie Yuncheng tightened his grip slightly. The curve of his lips didn’t change, but the look in his eyes turned more serious. “With you, I’ve always been serious.”
Qin Sang froze for a moment, her gaze blank with surprise.
She realized that some people’s eyes seemed to be born with the power to capture hearts.
Once, there had been an unserious “wild ranking” online that critiqued female celebrities’ looks. From facial features to body shape and height, it compared everything, even putting together a so-called score table.
Qin Sang rarely cared about those things, and she disliked that kind of “review” even more. Artists were people too—not merchandise waiting to be priced. No one needed to put a price tag on every part of her body.
She’d only learned that ranking existed because of Xiaoxiao. The internet-addicted girl couldn’t live without her phone for even a day, roaming every social platform. When she found that post on some forum, she couldn’t help complaining, “Are these people sick? Comparing everything—are female stars not human?”
Sister Wen wasn’t surprised. “What happened now?”
Xiaoxiao was indignant. “These people made some ‘top-tier in-industry female star looks’ ranking. They treat female stars like goods, pointing and judging—saying one is too fat, another has an ugly nose. They don’t even look at what they themselves look like. What right do they have to comment on how other people look?”
Xiaoxiao had her reasons to be angry. She posted the thread into the work group chat. Even Sister Wen frowned after reading it—because it was a mess, foul and hard to look at.
“I don’t really like Liang Tingwan, but she’s not as bad as they say, is she?”
Liang Tingwan’s style was similar to Qin Sang’s. For a time, Liang Tingwan had even marketed herself with the label “Little Qin Sang.” With her momentum back then, forum users naturally bundled the two of them together for comparisons.
If there was any similarity, it was in their bone structure. With makeup skills on top, Liang Tingwan’s early makeup team probably tried to fit her closer to Qin Sang by referencing Qin Sang’s features and adjusting Liang Tingwan’s proportions.
But looked at carefully, their facial features were still quite different—especially their eyes. Liang Tingwan’s outer corners tilted upward, giving a stronger, sharper impact. Qin Sang’s eyes were more like peach-blossom eyes, naturally affectionate; the outer corners dipped in a gentle arc, softening the aggressiveness that could come with striking features.
In those forum “critiques,” Qin Sang’s features were considered better, so her looks ranking sat firmly at number one. Liang Tingwan followed closely behind, but there was a lot of controversy around her. Some users questioned whether she’d had cosmetic work done, even pulling out old photos. Back then, standing among girls her age, Liang Tingwan really hadn’t stood out.
Still, even if Liang Tingwan’s team wasn’t great, she wasn’t as unbearable as the forum made her out to be. And turning “looks critique” into explicit sexual rumor-mongering was far too much.
Qin Sang felt the anonymity in those comments fed an excessive malice toward female celebrities. She glanced at them twice, then handed the phone back to Sister Wen. After a moment’s thought, she said, “Report it directly. The forum will handle it.”
Later the thread was taken down. Because the report was made with real-name information, many people guessed some celebrity had been caught on a sore spot and, out of embarrassment and anger, had the thread sealed overnight. Many accounts were implicated and banned as well.
Qin Sang had always acted openly. At work, she rarely hesitated or tiptoed. She didn’t want to drag more people into it, so when she learned her action had stirred up the online storm, she asked for her phone after filming and logged into Weibo.
Qin Sang (verified): “I reported the post. There’s no ‘throwing my weight around’ and no ‘inside story.’ I simply don’t like this atmosphere of judging and pointing. I accept criticism, and I accept all normal and reasonable guidance.”
Of course, it was a reckless move. Not everyone bought it. And with her past “black material,” people inevitably traced things back and dug up old stories.
Fortunately, Sister Wen was used to it. Her accumulated crisis-management experience kicked in. She quickly contacted the forum to post an announcement that the thread and the banned account IDs were due to violations of forum rules. Then Qin Sang’s studio quickly counterattacked, producing stronger evidence. Even with the sensitive parts blurred, it was still obvious how disgusting those anonymous accounts had been—criticizing women’s looks and making obscene remarks.
Qin Sang Studio (verified): “Regarding the recent negative impact on our artist caused by accounts such as HP1085, hp58892, hp75035 and others on xx forum, we have collected evidence and formally issued this notice. We will consider reserving the right to pursue legal responsibility. The internet is not outside the law. Please watch your words and actions and do not fabricate rumors.”
Later, she did what she said. She really sued those people. But outsiders didn’t care about the outcome, so few knew she won—and that it proved the various past rumors about her were all false.
…
In a daze, she suddenly remembered that old incident.
Not for any other reason, but because at this moment, she unexpectedly agreed with something a forum user had once said: “Eyes are the windows of the soul. Some people’s eyes are born with affection; they’re born with the power to capture hearts.”
She hadn’t believed it before. Only now was she sure—sometimes, someone doesn’t need to do anything. You might not even hear what he said clearly; you only have to look at him from afar once, and you fall.
In the cramped space, it was silent. Only their breathing tangled in the calm of the night.
She suddenly realized that choosing to come with Xie Yuncheng—coming here, to his home, to his room—was an irrational decision.
That nameless surge of feeling twisted and tightened, as if their brainwaves had synchronized, as if their souls had touched and sparked a resonance in an instant.
“I know.” Her mouth was dry; her voice tight.
Qin Sang spoke very softly. “I’m not a very brave person. I’m even kind of petty. You’ve probably noticed—I nitpick, and I’m contradictory. If…”
“If this step hadn’t been you walking toward me first—so firm, so certain—I wouldn’t have agreed.”
Over the years, every step she took forward, she couldn’t help thinking at times: if she stood a little higher, in a more visible place, maybe one day his eyes would also catch her—maybe he would, like everyone else, pause for her for a moment.
So she spent ten years. One long year was one step forward. Until now, only the last step remained. Yet she stopped, because she’d walked for too long. That last step wasn’t “within reach” at all to her—it was a chasm she couldn’t cross.
She curved her lips in a smile. “Actually, I’m really happy you told me you like me.”
She’d faintly sensed his feelings, but she didn’t dare confirm them, and she didn’t want to gamble. Not until he held her back first.
His confession wasn’t clever. It wasn’t anything special, much less romantic.
But…
She was still deeply moved.
Because even if he did nothing at all—just stood there—she would still be drawn to him.
Like in her first year of high school: she’d only looked at him once from afar in the audience, and she’d fallen completely.
Maybe she could let go of it now. Those past things weren’t some taboo after all.
She relaxed and admitted it plainly. “You might not know… I’ve waited for you to say you liked me for so long.”
She’d always thought there were no such things as coincidences. If there really were a hand of fate arranging things, it wouldn’t be her turn to have her wish granted.
“Actually…” Her throat tightened. Her lashes lowered slightly; her lips were still curved, but there was sadness in her eyes. “I was planning to give up.”
Her life wasn’t only him. There were many people—Xiaoyan, her mother, Sister Wen, even Xiaoxiao. She couldn’t let herself keep wasting away in a hopeless feeling for too long. She didn’t want others to worry about her, and she didn’t want to become an “outsider.”
“I like you, but I can’t let you become the only thing I have left. I don’t know what the future will be like, but I know that back then, I’d already decided to give up.”
“I made a wish with my own mouth—I wanted to forget you.”
“Isn’t it funny? The moment I opened my eyes, it felt like I saw you.”
At the time, she still hadn’t realized it was a kind of omen—that her wish was destined not to come true. He appeared in a plot she hadn’t expected, crashing into her sight. On that ordinary night, he came without warning and so swiftly that he made her surrender almost without effort, raising her hands and defecting willingly.
“I know.”
Xie Yuncheng’s gaze was deep. But his voice was inexplicably dry.
“You know?”
Qin Sang froze, confused.
What did he know? That she’d had a crush on him for so many years? That from the moment they reunited, she’d been harboring ulterior motives?
“Sang-sang, I’m very glad that before you completely let go of me, I still had a chance to make it up to you,” Xie Yuncheng said, looking into her bewildered eyes. He paused, his voice especially hoarse. “Instead of losing you in a daze, just like that.”