Chapter 72

*Extra: Marriage Arc — The Wedding.*
*Moon Plan* premiered just as the New Year season was ending. The release was rushed, and the subject matter was niche, so the initial screening schedule was not optimistic. Moreover, there were many films in the New Year season and the competition was fierce. The films that were going to make money had basically already made it, and they had long since firmly occupied the market.
So even after the premiere—though the invited viewers rated the film fairly highly—it still couldn’t change the awkwardness brought by the subject matter “flopping cold.” On top of that, the production side had limited funds. Most of the money had been used on filming; even the actors’ pay had been pressed down to the lowest controllable range. Only the publicity budget was truly limited. Aside from the official account and the main creators working hard to promote it, there were basically no other ways of publicity.
The box office results in the first two days after release were not ideal. The combined two-day box office was only twenty million, still far from covering the money invested. And that was only thanks to the influence Qin Sang brought, barely driving a bit of heat. But it still couldn’t change the shackles caused by the subject matter’s limitations.
The film released in the same period, *Asking the Heavens*, performed strongly. In just two days, the box office reached two hundred million, and the money-sucking speed was astonishing.
After all, it was a famous director’s work, backed by a lineup of big-name actors, with publicity everywhere. Compared with *Moon Plan*, it was like heaven and earth.
In just those two days, there were even faint rumors of an old incident. A marketing account broke news: “A certain female celebrity surnamed Q turned down the film that’s now explosively popular, and plunged headfirst into a cold pit. She even invested quite a lot of money herself—probably wanting to seize the right to speak and transition into being a producer? But she didn’t expect her eye to be bad and her estimate to fail. The work she refused back then is now climbing in box office step by step, while the work she invested in is losing everything. Who knows what she’s thinking now? Just ascended last year and got knocked back to her original form this year. Wild guess: this year’s Golden Bell Best Actress will be the nemesis of Q Best Actress—a female celebrity surnamed L.”
With a tip dropped at this exact time, netizens would have had to be blind not to guess the identity.
【Boldly speaking, the L-surnamed female celeb is Liang Tingwan, and the Q-surnamed one is Qin Sang, who’s been getting good news nonstop lately】
【Winning in love, losing at work. Gains and losses—normal】
【I’ve long felt her fans were too possessed, like they’re bewitched. They rave every day about how amazing she is. Now she just climbed up and gets beaten back to her original form. This wave is truly karmic retribution】
……
But unexpectedly, two days later—along with Maoyan and other ticketing platforms releasing scores one after another, plus “tap-water” audiences finishing the film and spontaneously recommending and promoting it across major platforms—the previously sluggish box office trend of *Moon Plan* suddenly began to rebound on a small scale. Meanwhile, *Asking the Heavens*, which the public had always looked favorably upon, after those first two days of excellent box office performance, began to slide downward all the way.
On the fifth day after release, *Moon Plan* began a comprehensive overtake, and its single-day box office performance ranked the highest among all films in the entire New Year season.
And the reputation of *Asking the Heavens* began to collapse across the board. In contrast, *Moon Plan*’s ratings on major viewing platforms rose higher and higher, very much showing a low start and strong finish.
There were even authoritative viewers who spoke bluntly:
【Last week some fans asked me to recommend a New Year-season movie, so I bought tickets for the two films with the highest buzz and personally went to “test the mines,” thinking I’d have an answer to give when I came back.】
【Let’s talk about the first one. I’ve always liked Director Li’s works, and online reviews were also very high, so before watching, my expectations for *Asking the Heavens* were the highest. But who said *Asking the Heavens* is good? A full three-hour movie. A single non-member ticket costs 150 yuan. I bought the ticket to watch, and the moment it started I was embarrassed. The flashy special effects make you unable to tell whether it’s a wuxia film or a fantasy film. The narrative rhythm is also a complete mess. I watched for two hours and still couldn’t tell who was who, what they were trying to do, why they were fighting one second and drinking and laughing the next. In the theater I was sitting on pins and needles, itching all over, unable to sit still. For the first two and a half hours I could still persuade myself: I already bought the ticket, just endure it and it’ll pass. But the last half hour made me regret it so much my intestines turned green. It gathers every dog-blood trope under heaven, with no beginning and no end. So I watched three hours and it was basically a trailer? You damn well still want to make a third part? What is this? In the end, the big sucker was me.】
【Director Li, how about we just call it? If you won’t accept getting old, that also won’t work. Don’t, just to earn a bit of black-hearted money, end up at retirement age ruining your late-life reputation.】
【Now let’s talk about *Moon Plan*. Honestly, at first I had zero interest in this movie. The only impression I had was: Sang-sang is so beautiful, Peace and Prosperity is so sweet. Other than that, nothing. But after I actually went to watch—good lord—I admit my prejudice made my understanding narrow and ignorant. Because deep down I looked down on domestic VFX teams, and I didn’t believe China could make good sci-fi. But *Moon Plan* slapped me hard. Let me put it this way: among domestic sci-fi works in the past ten years, *Moon Plan* is definitely a milestone-level good film. Overall, its flaws don’t conceal its merits. The actors all performed excellently. What’s rare is that as a comic adaptation imported from abroad, it was adapted so successfully, with no discomfort at all. The screenwriter’s ability is also very strong: the plot was heavily changed; it’s humorous but not vulgar; it’s moving but not melodramatic.】
【I advise everyone: in the future, don’t worship the “famous director effect” too much. Facts prove even famous directors can make trash films, and a newcomer might give you a big surprise. In *Asking the Heavens* I only saw a famous director’s arrogance, actors’ perfunctoriness, and a production team’s shoddy work and brush-off. In *Moon Plan* I saw the full sincerity of the entire main creative team. I saw their dedication and effort, and I saw what they wanted the audience to see. Who said domestic sci-fi must be ugly? Who said domestic productions must be worse than Hollywood blockbusters? Prejudice is a leaf that blinds the eye. If you’re willing to put down the prejudice in your heart, you will definitely see where it shines.】
……
With both word of mouth and box office harvesting a double victory, *Moon Plan* was practically the textbook example of “low start, high finish.” Besides various film critics, CCTV-5 once again released Qin Sang’s interview video from back then.
Netizens discovered that what Qin Sang said seemed to all be true—without exaggeration at all. And the more they dug into this team, the more interesting it became: basically a “three-nothings” team—no fame, no experience, no funding.
Most of the actors were newcomers. The VFX team was also a fresh brigade formed by people born after 2000 and after 2019. Even the director, Zhou Yihong, was a newcomer who had never directed any film before.
Not only that, Qin Sang, the lead, also contributed a lot: she put in money, acted, and even had to call in people to help. Many roles in the film with few shots were cameoed by artists who came specially for Qin Sang’s sake, almost without charging by the usual pay.
A team with nothing nevertheless produced a good work, which delivered a hard slap in the face to a bunch of famous directors and famous actors. Arrogant pride will make you shallow and ignorant, will make you stubbornly self-righteous.
Even the marketing write-up that had previously been used to smear Qin Sang was dragged out for public execution.
【Thanks for the invite. Sis grabs both love and career—both are going smoothly and satisfactorily】
【Good thing wifey refused *Asking the Heavens*. Facts prove *Asking the Heavens* really is hard to watch. Her taste in picking scripts has always been solid】
【Some female celebrity, stop taking out a loan to “ascend.” I suggest that copycat first learn how to be a person before bragging. I boldly predict this year’s Golden Bell will still be Sang-sang defending her Best Actress title】
……
The explosion of *Moon Plan* also brought a whole group of newcomer creators soaring together, receiving the greatest degree of exposure in the year that followed.
Qin Sang had not originally planned to use this to transition into being a producer, but the feedback from the film instead gave her that idea. She planned to slowly move behind the scenes and begin being a producer and the one with the final say.
That year, Qin Sang’s workload began to decrease accordingly. Compared with before, her exposure also dropped a lot. But her wanting to reduce attention didn’t mean the audience would let her go. Almost as long as she appeared at an event, she would immediately become the topic center.
The most eye-catching thing besides her career was, of course, her relationship.
Ever since Xie Yuncheng posted that photo of their matching rings on Weibo, almost everyone had been waiting for the good news of their wedding. But it had been nearly a year, and there was still no movement.
It wasn’t just netizens who were anxious; even the Xie family began to get anxious. Old Master Xie called Xie Yuncheng again and again to press him: “Xiaochen, did you do something to make Sang-sang unhappy? I’m warning you—if you lose this granddaughter-in-law for me, then you might as well not come back. Your grandma and I won’t recognize you as our grandson.”
When Old Master Xie called, he started off with a scolding, voice loud and full of vigor. Qin Sang, reading a script beside him, heard every word clearly. She was delighted to the point her eyes narrowed with laughter as she toppled onto the sofa, the script covering her face, but the schadenfreude in her eyes couldn’t be hidden.
Xie Yuncheng helplessly promised again and again that he would definitely bring Qin Sang back to the Xie family. Seeing her laughing so hard she was wobbling, he reached out to steady her, his hand loosely resting at her waist. After the call ended, he lowered his eyes to look at her. “You heard it. If you still won’t give in, they’re going to kick me out.”
Qin Sang lay down, using his leg as a pillow while reading the script, pretending to be innocent. “Then you can’t blame me. Your profession is too special. It takes time to handle things. I can do it anytime, of course.”
Qin Sang had long since figured out how the wedding should be done. It was only that on Xie Yuncheng’s side, they couldn’t “let him go” for the time being. He needed to get through the declassification period and inspection before he could be cleared.
She curled her finger, and when he lowered his eyes to look at her, she leaned up, hooked an arm around his neck, and kissed him—meant as comfort. But unexpectedly, the man seized the opportunity, cupped the back of her neck, and deepened the kiss. By the time they separated, they were both already panting.
Xie Yuncheng held her hand and stroked the cold ring band. “It’s me who’s owed you. Even the wedding has you considering it for me.”
Qin Sang didn’t think much of it. “Are you silly? The moment I said yes, I already thought there might be this situation. And I never liked noisy crowds to begin with. I also don’t want a wedding that’s too grand. A wedding with so many strangers gathered together—I’d feel very uncomfortable.”
“I think living life is a matter between two people. Whether the feelings are good or bad is also a matter between two people. The wedding is an explanation to both families, and also a kind of dignity for ourselves.”
“Talking about whether it’s owed or not—before reuniting with you, I never even thought about getting married.”
She had thought she would be lonely to old age. But before autumn arrived, he came stepping on the tail end of midsummer, abruptly and forcefully barging into her barren, monotonous life.
“Because it’s you, I’m willing to choose to believe that marriage is beautiful, and that the future can be looked forward to.”
She had trudged through twenty-seven ordinary years. She had experienced everything—except she had never thought about starting over. Because she realized that no matter how many years passed, she still couldn’t completely forget his name.
It was probably that: when she looked at mountains, it was him; when she looked at water, it was him; and even when she occasionally dreamed, the dreams were all his figure.
Only, in the dreams, she didn’t dare hope they could have an “after,” could have a “future.” And now, her wish had been fulfilled. She had no regrets.
“Let’s go see your parents,” Qin Sang said, hugging his waist and looking up at him. “Just treat it as… giving them an explanation.”
Xie Yuncheng was silent for a long time—so long that she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then she finally heard him respond in a low voice: “Okay.”
……
Qin Sang’s impression of Zhou Wanqing was still stuck at that brief meeting ten years ago, back in high school.
Zhou Wanqing was forceful and autocratic, leaving no room for doubt. But this meeting, she was completely different from the slightly pathological woman in Qin Sang’s memory.
Zhou Wanqing seemed to have known long ago that they were coming. Qin Sang thought she’d run into some difficulties, or at least a bit of cold treatment. After all, Zhou Wanqing always held Xie Yuncheng tightly in her grasp, refusing to loosen. She probably even wanted to use marriage as a bargaining chip in her calculations.
How could it be? Someone like her, from an ordinary family background, didn’t meet Zhou Wanqing’s standard for a future daughter-in-law at all.
But Zhou Wanqing didn’t say anything. When they came, she only smiled and entertained them briefly. It was as if she had stripped off those sharp thorns and had already let go.
Xie Zhenting had been hospitalized for a cerebral hemorrhage. Later, doctors said it was a stroke with hemiplegia. After nearly two years of recuperation, he had gradually improved a lot. At least he could get up and move around; there weren’t big problems with basic daily life.
Xie Zhenting’s case had also long since been cleared. He was indeed a scumbag: irresponsible to the family, cold and heartless to his wife and child. But ever since he learned that the one who plotted against him and framed him was the mistress he had protected with all his heart, Xie Zhenting had been silent for a long time. He locked himself in his room for a full week, without eating or drinking. Later, he fainted in the room. When he woke again, he had changed. He seemed to know he was wrong.
Now, seeing Xie Yuncheng, he was both ashamed and didn’t know how to face him. Perhaps because father and son had never communicated for half their lives, when they faced each other, neither had anything to say.
Zhou Wanqing called Qin Sang away. “Sang-sang, can you come help me for a moment?”
Qin Sang understood her intent. She wanted the father and son to talk alone. Qin Sang nodded. “Okay.”
When they reached the kitchen, Zhou Wanqing saw Qin Sang was absent-minded. She laughed softly. “Don’t worry. They won’t quarrel. After Zhenting’s serious illness, his temperament became much gentler.”
Qin Sang nodded blankly and didn’t respond. To be honest, she didn’t know how she should get along with Zhou Wanqing. She only stepped forward, took the grapes from Zhou Wanqing’s hand, and said, “I’ll help you.”
Zhou Wanqing watched from the side. Only after a long while did she speak. “Are you worried I’ll make things hard for you?”
Qin Sang paused. After pondering for a moment, she answered, “I’m not worried. Even if you really wanted to make things hard for me, I wouldn’t be angry—because I know that no matter what you say, I won’t give up.”
“Not because your words carry weight, and not because you’re an elder. Simply because I love him, so I’m willing to respect his family. But that doesn’t mean I’ll just accept everything and obey you.”
Zhou Wanqing was stunned for a long time. She looked at Qin Sang for a long time, then suddenly laughed at herself. “No wonder… no wonder Xiaochen likes you. You really have the ability to make people like you. I’m very glad he could meet someone like you who thinks for him. I’m not qualified to say anything—after all, I’m not a qualified mother.”
Qin Sang raised her brows slightly, a little surprised.
But Zhou Wanqing didn’t avoid it. “You’re surprised I would say this? In the past, I really did go down a dead end and blamed all my misfortune on Xiaochen. These years, I kept forcing him to live according to the standards I set. I know he wasn’t happy. I also know he hates me. Xiaochen is like his father: in his bones he’s cold—cold and indifferent toward everyone.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Qin Sang said.
“If he hated you, he wouldn’t suffer because of it. You might not know: when you and Uncle had trouble back then, he also hesitated—about giving up everything of his. He isn’t as cold-blooded as you think, and he isn’t as resentful of you as you think. He’s just not good at expressing it. That doesn’t mean he can’t feel.”
“As an outsider, I don’t want to participate in your family affairs, and I’m not qualified to criticize who is right or wrong. But there is one thing I’m very clear about.”
“He loves you more than he loves himself—even if you don’t love him, even if he never got even a shred of attention from you.”
“People say blood ties are bonds you can’t cut, and family affection is an eternal, unchanging link. But water can drip through stone, and knives carving the heart still hurt. He’s just a person of flesh and blood—someone who will be sad, who will be hurt. He also gets tired. He also gets weary.”
“Even so, he has never given up on you. Isn’t that right?”
Zhou Wanqing looked stunned, as if she’d forgotten how to argue back.
Qin Sang sighed softly. “Actually, coming here today, I only thought: Uncle and Aunt are his parents. We’re getting married—we should tell you. That’s the etiquette and duty we, as the younger generation, should fulfill. But… I regret it a little. Knowing full well coming here would hurt him, I still came.”
“Aunt, what you regret is not that you failed to be a qualified mother, nor what you did to him in the past. You only regret that you didn’t wake up earlier, that you shouldn’t have jumped into this fire pit. Your guilt is only to make your own conscience feel better, so you use it to perform in front of me.”
“I’m very sad. What makes me sad is that for more than twenty years he lived here, and no one ever cared about his feelings. No one ever truly loved him.”
“Do you really love your son? Maybe what you love more is yourself. That’s why you could, without hesitation, take him down an extreme path. What you thought about wasn’t how to pull yourself together, but how to drag him with you and fall into the abyss together. Now you’ve woken up, so your shallow conscience tells you that you must do something—to make up for what you owe him. Only then can you live the second half of your life a little more comfortably.”
“But…”
“Why? Why is it that because you want to apologize, he has to accept? Because you want to make up for it, he has to forgive? There is no such principle in this world that bullies people like this.”
Qin Sang couldn’t stay any longer. She only felt suffocated here, and she regretted coming here.
“Sorry. As a junior, I shouldn’t arrogantly judge your life. Coming to your door today was my rashness and disrespect.”
After saying that, Qin Sang turned to leave. But when she reached the door, she ran into Xie Yuncheng.
Qin Sang froze. “You… when did you come?”
“Just now.” He was at the door. He heard everything clearly.
Qin Sang pressed her lips together. After a long while, she spoke. “Let’s go home—back to our own home.”
Xie Yuncheng curved his lips gently and said, “Okay.”
When they left, Zhou Wanqing seemed to have sobered up. She called out, “Xiaochen.”
Qin Sang clearly felt the hand holding hers stiffen for an instant. He paused for an instant. Qin Sang squeezed his hand tightly in return. This time they left the Xie house together, and he never looked back again.
The word “home,” to him, had once been distant and unfamiliar. He expected nothing from it and felt nothing about it.
But now, because she was there, “home” became concrete. Everything from the past was no longer important.
This time he came back—it was both notification and closure.
Xie Zhenting had nothing to say. He only said with guilt, “Xiaochen, these years—I’m sorry to you.”
Xie Yuncheng only lifted the corner of his lips coolly. It was hard to tell whether it was sarcasm or self-mockery. He didn’t need Xie Zhenting’s guilt.
And as for Zhou Wanqing, he had already done all that duty and righteousness required. From now on, whatever should be, would be. He had already tried his best.
Spring goes, autumn comes; cold comes, heat goes.
Another deep winter arrived. The year-end Golden Bell Awards ceremony arrived as scheduled. This time there were many popular female stars, but the one with the highest call was Qin Sang.
*Moon Plan* almost became the ultimate winner of this session’s Golden Bell Awards. Best New Director, Best Screenplay, Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Visual Effects were all taken into its arms.
Of course, what drew the most attention was who the Best Actress crown would go to this year. The chase was even fiercer than in previous years.
At the moment the award was announced, the presenter held the card and said with a smile, “This year, she harvested both love and career. This year, relying on her own effort, she successfully transformed, and won the audience’s love and praise. She is our Golden Bell Best Actress, who went from nothing to something, from love to pursuit—Qin Sang.”
“Let us congratulate our Sang-sang, once again defending the Best Actress title of this Golden Bell Awards.”
Under everyone’s gaze, under the pursuit of flashes, Qin Sang stood up and slowly walked to the center of the stage. The spread blue skirt hem was like a mermaid’s tail, glittering brilliantly under the lights.
Stepping onto the familiar stage again, holding the same trophy, she paused for a long time before speaking in her acceptance speech:
“Actually, for me to receive this award today, I want to thank all of the main creative team of *Moon Plan*. I also want to thank Director Zhou’s tireless persistence and effort. I want to thank my work team for more than a year of hard work. And I want to thank my family and my fans for their tolerance and support.”
“This year, I really experienced a lot. I met mentors and friends in my life. I met more partners who share the same ideals. And most importantly—”
“I met my lover.”
“The person I want to thank the most.”
“Because of him, I learned that the power of persisting in one’s dreams is great. Because of him, I learned that a life of futile busyness can also become rich and colorful.”
“Classmate Xie, if you can hear me, then you must listen carefully this time.”
“Thank you, and also—”
“I love you.”
It was a confession spanning many years—words she should have said on graduation day, yet lacked the courage to speak.
Today, with time flowing on, now that she had already changed and grown, she finally had the courage to stand on this stage and express her feelings completely.
……
After the awards ceremony ended, Qin Sang declined the media interviews. When she lifted her skirt hem and walked out, her gaze stopped.
Not far away, the person waiting there stood quietly in a black trench coat in the thick night. His brows and eyes were clean and gentle. He smiled at her, and no one knew how long he had been waiting.
Qin Sang suddenly quickened her steps. At first she was only walking fast; slowly she started running, until she threw herself into his arms without caring about anything.
He reached out and held her, smiling gently. “Sang-sang, I heard it.”
“Mm.” Qin Sang’s voice was thick with nasal tone. She buried her face deeply in his chest, smelling that faint mint fragrance on him. Her thin arms wrapped him tightly, refusing to let go.
Later, that night, the only impression left for the media and the public was that embracing pair of silhouettes, and the blue mermaid tail trailing behind, as if spilling a whole Milky Way across the ground.
……
Before the New Year, Xie Yuncheng’s declassification period had already passed, and the application he submitted was formally approved.
He would go with an inspection team to Iceland, and Qin Sang was also among the accompanying group this time.
Before setting off, Qin Sang had already arranged everything. Early in the year, she had consciously reduced unnecessary work. Moreover, she wanted to transition behind the scenes. Starting last year, she tried investing in several web dramas and two niche films. The responses were not bad, and she made a small profit.
This time, their timing was also very fortunate. They arrived in Iceland smoothly before the New Year. When fireworks bloomed, in the ice-cold, snowbound night of a snow country, in a foreign land, they held a small but solemn wedding.
Before the aurora arrived, under the priest’s witness, they vowed they would be loyal to each other—forever loyal, forever never leaving nor abandoning.
On the wedding night, Qin Sang was inexplicably nervous. Even though she had long since experienced it, she still felt uncomfortable.
When the cool mint scent came like an overwhelming tide, and the shared breaths gradually became impossible to distinguish whose was whose, in her daze she seemed to see that the wind and snow had stopped. Only branches bent under the weight of frost and snow couldn’t bear it, and the fine winter snow fell down in soft, rustling flurries.
And she was lifted, then gently brought back. He avoided the wet marsh, slowly drawing out from it, yet was also sucked back by the marsh, slowly sinking into that soft warm bed.
The winter night was bitterly cold, but the firelight in the fireplace burned fiercely. Tears seeping from the corners of her eyes and sweat mixed together, impossible to separate.
She stared blankly at that hand until the hand wearing a silver ring swept across the white, brushed past the edge of her ear, searching, and found the hand she was gripping tightly. He pried open the hand clenched so tightly, brushed through her fingers, and held her tightly—fingers interlaced, ring bands pressing together.
Then breath blended. He kissed her brows and eyes, the tip of her nose, with deep emotion. His breath fell between her lips and teeth. She responded proactively, passionately and boldly.
She didn’t think about the past, nor consider the future. She only wanted to sink into this moment forever, to fall forever into this flirtatious springlike, gorgeous old dream.
……
At midnight, half-dreaming and half-awake, she seemed to hear exclamations. The surroundings were noisy. When she groggily crawled up, Xie Yuncheng was already up.
Seeing her sit up holding the down quilt, he bent down and kissed her forehead. “Do you want to see the aurora?”
Qin Sang jolted fully awake and nodded hard.
She dressed and bundled up. Xie Yuncheng zipped her coat, put on her scarf and gloves, then held her hand and led her out.
The aurora was dreamlike and illusory. A miracle you’ve seen once—seeing it again no longer has the same shock as the first time. But this time was different, because by her side, someone was already accompanying her.
“Why did you think of coming here?” Xie Yuncheng suddenly asked.
Holding the wedding in Iceland was Qin Sang’s idea. It was only that on Xie Yuncheng’s side, procedures were troublesome: it was hard for personnel involved with secrets to go abroad. He had to follow procedures, pass the declassification period. And this time, he wasn’t traveling purely for personal reasons—he was coming with the inspection team for a year.
In other words, for this year, he would not return to the country.
“Because when I wanted to give up, you appeared. At that time, I made a not-very-good wish here. So this time, I want to make a wish again.”
She wanted to make a wish again: hoping there would be him accompanying her in the future, hoping she could grow old with him for the rest of her life.
Xie Yuncheng silently tightened his hold on her hand. His gaze fell on her bright, smiling brows and eyes. His eyes grew deeper. One year ago, when he was here, he had never thought that not far away, there would be someone he wanted to stay with for a lifetime.
“Sang-sang, actually we met earlier than you think. You just didn’t know, and I didn’t pay attention.”
When he returned to the Xie family, in the study he not only found that letter, but also many past things hiding secrets.
It turned out that even earlier, in the summer vacation of the third year of middle school, when he went to Yiling to gather inspiration and take reference photos, in that award-winning set of photos, her figure had also appeared.
At that time, she wore a white short-sleeved shirt and light-blue jeans, following beside her parents, taking photos not far from him. She smiled at the camera, her brows and eyes curved into crescent moons—more stirring than the clear mountains and waters of Yiling, making the heart unable to settle.
Perhaps, when he pressed the shutter, there was an instant of distraction. Perhaps, they had already brushed past each other in the surging crowd long ago. It was only that back then, he and she were merely strangers who did not know each other.
In a flash of memory fragments, there remained a faint shadow. Only the photos recorded that chance meeting of their youth.
Later, one day, in that sudden spring reunion, they loved at the tail end of midsummer, and in the snowy night of deep winter, they stayed together for a lifetime.
Qin Sang would occasionally think of it and ask him: what exactly did he say to her mother that day?
He pondered. “Sang-sang, Auntie loves you very much, so she needed a promise that would be enough for her to feel at ease handing you to me. I told her: in this world, there won’t be anyone who loves their child more than their parents do. My feelings may never compare to everything she once gave you, but I guarantee—”
Xie Yuncheng paused, lowering his eyes to look at her. In his eyes there was a whole stretch of gentle, soft tide.
“I love you more than my own life.”