64. Jiejie, I miss you.

Qin Zhaoyi arrived at Moon Island on a sunny day, but the day she left was overcast.  

The sky was gray, as if rain might fall at any moment.  

Luo Yue was in class at school, and Yan Ci’s café was operating as usual. She stood at the counter, carefully selecting coffee beans.  

The only one to see her off was Cheng Shiyu.  

After Qin Zhaoyi and Zhong Yu loaded their belongings into the car, they waited inside, giving her enough time and space.  

The gloomy weather was very similar to the day Cheng Shiyu left Jiayi.  

Cheng Shiyu stood opposite Zhong Ling, their eyes met, but no words were spoken.  

For a moment, neither knew what to say.  

“After this, we really won’t see each other again.” Zhong Ling smiled, her round deer-like eyes squinting slightly as she opened her arms toward her. “One last hug, a proper goodbye.”  

If one listened carefully, they might hear the choking in her voice when she paused.  

But she had disguised it well enough.  

She made the farewell look dignified.  

Cheng Shiyu, however, did not move for a long time. She just stared at her intently, as if trying to see through her eyes and understand what she was thinking.  

“Not going to hug?” Zhong Ling raised her arms slightly, preparing to retract them. “Then for…”  

Before the words were finished, Cheng Shiyu suddenly stepped forward and held her tightly.  

Disregarding that they were in public, disregarding that this was on Moon Island, disregarding the people passing by, for the first time, she openly and reluctantly embraced her.  

This was someone she liked.  

This was their last hug.  

Tears welled up in Cheng Shiyu’s eyes as she softly reminded, “Take good care of yourself. Don’t stay up late, don’t drink too much, go home early, and make even better films.”  

As she spoke, she couldn’t control her voice. Before it choked completely and she couldn’t speak, she stopped.  

Zhong Ling had imagined many ways to reunite with her and many scenarios to bid her farewell.  

But she had never imagined that their goodbye would be so dignified.  

Moon Island truly seemed like a magical place.  

After coming here, seeing the endless blue sea every day and looking up at the vast sky, people seemed insignificant in the grand scheme of things.  

So many things naturally fell away.  

Her previous obsessions and persistence seemed to vanish in an instant.  

She had once been so adamant about knowing why Cheng Shiyu left, but in the end, she never truly asked.  

She just seized the present moment.  

This time, Zhong Ling acted like a mature adult, gently patting her back. “Before I came here, I always missed you. During the years we were apart, too. I can’t say whether it was because of love or hate. You were the first person to dump me. Just the day before, we were still discussing where to go on the weekend. The next day, you sent me a text to break up, then vanished completely.”  

“I knew where your home was, but I never went looking for you.” Zhong Ling’s voice was calm. After healing herself here, she found she could face Cheng Shiyu peacefully, though there was some sadness in her words.  

“I kept waiting for you to come back because I thought I understood you. The Cheng Shiyu I knew wasn’t someone who would leave me out of boredom. You must have been held back by something unavoidable.” Zhong Ling smiled. “So I waited for you. I even thought, when you came back, I would punish you by making you wash my feet and write me a self-reflection essay, just like when you got in trouble at school. But you never came back.”  

“As things stand now,” Zhong Ling said, “you’re moving forward, and I should let go. Moon Island is great. You once told me the place you lived was picturesque, and now I believe it.”  

Cheng Shiyu’s arms tightened around her as if trying to crush her in her embrace.  

Zhong Ling didn’t ask her to loosen up; instead, she allowed it.  

It seemed like only this way they could feel each other’s presence.  

Zhong Ling paused slightly. “If there’s a chance, I will come back to Moon Island.”  

Cheng Shiyu couldn’t hold back, softly pleading, “Don’t leave.”  

Her voice carried a hint of begging.  

Zhong Ling shook her head. “There’s no reason left for us to hold each other back.”  

Time had passed; circumstances had changed.  

In the end, they still parted ways.  

When the time was about right, Zhong Ling broke free from Cheng Shiyu’s embrace.  

Not far away, a woman was staring at them, her gaze sharp, like two arrows.  

Zhong Ling stared back without showing any fear. After a moment, she felt childish and withdrew her gaze, focusing all her attention on the person in front of her. 

Cheng Shiyu suddenly asked, “What if I go to Jiayi with you?”

Zhong Ling was slightly startled, not expecting her to say that.

“I’ll go to Jiayi with you,” Cheng Shiyu said, “just like my brother.”

Why could Cheng Shijing freely pursue the life he wanted and be with the person he liked, but she couldn’t?

Just because she liked girls?

But Zhong Ling was so excellent.

Before their reunion, the longing could still be suppressed.

It would surge repeatedly, only to be forcibly held back each time.

Staying in that room alone, guarding the memories of her, thinking she could end her life that way.

But after reuniting, the vibrant person from her memories appeared once again before her eyes.

Expressions vivid, voice so pleasant, as if it had irrigated and filled her desolate heart anew.

The barren wasteland blossomed once more—how could she allow it to become desolate again?

Cheng Shiyu was unwilling to give up.

She hadn’t tried yet, and she wanted to be like Cheng Shijing.

“And then?” Zhong Ling asked, “Who can guarantee that if you go to Jiayi, you won’t leave again like before, without saying a word?”

“I won’t.” Cheng Shiyu promised her, “I’ll stay by your side.”

“Xiao Yu.” A rather authoritative female voice came from behind. Cheng Shiyu instinctively shuddered, looked back, and her wrist was already grabbed by the person who came, “The showerhead at home is broken, I was just looking for you.”

The tone of her speech was one of negotiation, completely ignoring the fact that Cheng Shiyu was still bidding farewell to someone. With a firm grip on her wrist, she pulled Cheng Shiyu in the opposite direction.

“Mom,” Cheng Shiyu called her.

She remained unmoved, continuing to drag her forward. “Your brother isn’t home now; come with Mom to take a look.”

Cheng Shiyu called her again but was still dragged along.

Her wrist turned red from the grip, and it stung sharply.

Cheng Shiyu, with her strength, could have broken free, but she was afraid of hurting her.

In the end, she couldn’t hold back anymore. Seeing Zhong Ling heading toward the car, Cheng Shiyu shook off her mother’s hand. “Can you stop being unreasonable?”

“I’m being unreasonable? Xiao Yu, wasn’t it this person back then?” Yang Huiyi, over sixty, with gray hair at her temples and a face etched with the marks of time, had a kind-looking face but now appeared somewhat ferocious as she spoke. “Didn’t you promise me you’d never contact her again? Why is she here? How long have you two been meeting?”

A series of questions overwhelmed Cheng Shiyu, nearly suffocating her.

“You won’t break up with her, will you?” Yang Huiyi said, “Then I’ll be the bad guy and tell her.”

Saying this, she was about to confront Zhong Ling. This time, it was Cheng Shiyu who grabbed her hand, afraid she would say something harsh.

Cheng Shiyu could only stand still and watch Zhong Ling get into the car.

She saw her roll up the car window, her face disappearing behind the glass.

Rain was about to fall.

Summer rain on Moon Island always came fast and heavy. The large raindrops hit with a clatter, almost submerging the whole world.

No one could hear the sound of crying.

Yang Huiyi saw her dazed expression and once again forcefully pulled her forward.

Cheng Shiyu said coldly, “Do you want to drive me to my death?”

Her voice was lowered, hoarse and gloomy, just like the stormy sky.

Yang Huiyi froze, “Xiao Yu…”

“If you take one more step,” Cheng Shiyu threatened, “I’ll die right in front of you.”

The confrontation between the two was fully visible to the people in the car.

Zhong Ling showed no reluctance. “Let’s go.”

Qin Zhaoyi started the engine and tentatively asked, “Aren’t you going to check on her?”

Zhong Ling firmly insisted, “Let’s go.”

Move forward, without looking back.

There weren’t so many roads to retrace in life.

The car left Moon Island, driving along the coastline, finally heading toward the highway, out of sight of the endless sea.

And the heavy rain on Moon Island fell as well.

The strong winds drove the sea waves to crash against the reefs. The school windows rattled under the impact of the rain, and the entire island was shrouded in dense fog.

In the café, a Cantonese song was playing—

“Autumn would be beautiful, if only you were still here.”

In the yard of a small white building, Cheng Shiyu knelt on the ground.

The pouring rain drenched her hair and back, but she knelt straight.

“Get up,” Yang Huiyi tried to pull her up.

Cheng Shiyu looked up at her. “I don’t want to compromise anymore.”

Those long and narrow eyes were very red, and her attitude was unusually firm. “Why can my brother do it, but I can’t?”

“Xiao Yu.” Yang Huiyi tried to drag her into the house, but she didn’t budge.

“Your brother and Luo Xing will get married in the future. You’re different,” Yang Huiyi said. “Can you marry her? This is abnormal. She must have deceived you.”

“It’s not her deceiving me,” Cheng Shiyu said. “Since I was a child, I just didn’t like men. Why must liking men be the only right way?”

“If you think I’m a pervert, if you regret giving birth to me, then you might as well kill me.” Cheng Shiyu said helplessly, “I don’t want to live the way you want me to anymore.”

So tired.

“What are you saying?” Yang Huiyi said, starting to cry, “If this gets out, it’ll be such a disgrace. How am I supposed to explain this to your dad? This… this… this is just sick.”

Cheng Shiyu shook her head, “I’m not sick.”

“The ones who are sick are you all.” Cheng Shiyu screamed, “It’s this damned place.”

It’s these damned notions.

Yang Huiyi pointed at her, just about to scold her, but after saying two words, she fell backward.

At the last moment, Cheng Shiyu caught her.

The person in her arms felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, almost suffocating her.

She was helpless, sorrowful, and struggling, letting out a loud scream.

It was as if she wanted to release all the pain of these years in that single cry.

Hearing the scream, a neighbor rushed in and, seeing Yang Huiyi had collapsed, immediately went to find a doctor.

But Cheng Shiyu, indifferent, opened the drawer in her room, took out the medicine, and fed it to her with warm water.

Her expression was somber, her body drenched, looking entirely different from her usual self.

She had grown up on Moon Island, and in everyone’s impression, she was a cheerful person.

Straightforward and sincere, she treated others warmly and was always helpful.

Especially after becoming a police officer on Moon Island, handling all sorts of trivial matters, she had never shown any impatience.

“Shiyu, had a fight with your mom?” the neighbors asked with concern, “What’s wrong with her? Does she need to go to the hospital?”

Cheng Shiyu left her room without a word, ignoring the water dripping off her body.

Rainwater streamed down her hair and clothes, pooling into a damp patch on the wooden floor.

Thunder roared outside, lightning slashed across the sky, illuminating everything briefly.

Cheng Shiyu clutched her phone and sent a message to Zhong Ling: “If I could go to Jiayi, can we start over again?”

The moment the message was sent, a red exclamation mark appeared.

[You are no longer friends. Please add the user as a friend before sending another message.]

The string Cheng Shiyu had been holding onto finally snapped.

In the end, she chose to make that call.

Moments later, the call connected. It was noisy on the other end, and he was responding to others but still found time to ask, “What’s up?”

The familiar voice came through, but Cheng Shiyu didn’t speak.

She couldn’t get the words out, found it hard to start.

She had been holding on her whole life.

But this time, she was really overwhelmed.

Cheng Shijing, thinking she had dialed the wrong number, asked again, “Mei? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Suddenly, Cheng Shiyu broke into loud sobs, “Cheng Shijing, come back. I can’t take it anymore.”

Why could he be with the person he liked, while she had to keep compromising over and over?

Help her hold on for a bit.

She just wanted to be with the person she liked.

It wasn’t raining in Jiayi. The evening sky was filled with clouds, painting half the horizon red.

But Jiayi was stiflingly hot. As soon as they got out of the car, they were hit by a heatwave. Qin Zhaoyi nearly turned back to the car, but Zhong Ling tugged her along reluctantly.

The three of them stopped midway at a service station to switch drivers.

They were hungry by now, so they went straight to a familiar Hunan restaurant.

As soon as Qin Zhaoyi entered the private room, she checked in with Luo Yue and asked if it was raining on Moon Island.

Luo Yue: [It’s raining, pouring rain.]

Qin Zhaoyi: [Have you had dinner?]

Luo Yue: [I have. What about you?]

Qin Zhaoyi: [About to eat.]

When the dishes were served, Qin Zhaoyi took a photo and sent it to Luo Yue, receiving compliments on the food and encouragement to eat more.

Qin Zhaoyi said: [The food here is pretty good. I’ll bring you here next time.]

Luo Yue didn’t disappoint: [Okay.]

Telling her to enjoy her meal, Qin Zhaoyi asked what she was doing.

Luo Yue sent a photo in reply—papers scattered across the table, densely packed with formulas and numbers, many crossed out.

Qin Zhaoyi: [Then I won’t disturb you.]

Qin Zhaoyi: [Good luck.]

Luo Yue didn’t reply again.

Among the three who returned from Moon Island, only Zhong Ling seemed in good spirits, making a call to her dad midway to report that she had brought back Zhong Yu but was too tired to hold a family meeting tonight, suggesting they do it tomorrow.

During dinner, Zhong Ling casually joked around, seeming carefree.

Qin Zhaoyi handed her lawyer’s card to Zhong Ling to prepare for how to handle the public opinion later.

After the meal, Qin Zhaoyi planned to head home and assumed Zhong Ling would do the same. But Zhong Ling said she was going to the office.

Qin Zhaoyi: “?”

“So competitive?” Qin Zhaoyi asked.

Zhong Ling: “Those people have been arrogant for too long, haven’t they? I have to retaliate.”

When in a bad mood, clean up the trash.

Qin Zhaoyi: “…”

Qin Zhaoyi went in the opposite direction. After saying goodbye to the sisters, she drove home alone.

It had been a long time since she returned. The furniture in the house was as it always was, but there was a thin layer of dust floating in the air.

Qin Zhaoyi tidied up the bedroom a bit to ensure she had a place to sleep that night, then made a video call to Luo Yue.

Luo Yue was buried in a pile of papers, wearing glasses.

“You’re nearsighted now?” Qin Zhaoyi asked.

Luo Yue shook her head: “My eyes feel a bit uncomfortable, so I got a pair of plano glasses.”

Qin Zhaoyi reminded her: “Don’t push yourself too hard. Rest early.”

Luo Yue marked something on the paper, a bit unwilling: “It’s almost done.”

Just a little more.

But anyone engaged in this kind of research knows that the slightest error can lead to major discrepancies.

It’s very possible that this one formula could take a lifetime to figure out, or even remain unsolved forever.

Luo Yue always felt it was within reach, yet she couldn’t grasp it.

This mysterious and elusive sensation is the most frustrating.

She put down her pen, picked up a nearby cup of water, took a sip, and asked about the weather in Jiayi, then what Qin Zhaoyi planned to do that evening.

After chatting a bit, Luo Yue kept glancing at the papers instinctively. Seeing she was distracted, Qin Zhaoyi ended the call early and told her to focus on her work.

Qin Zhaoyi returned to her study, took a can of fruit wine from the fridge. The blueberry aroma filled the air. She took a sip and felt a rare moment of happiness.

Her fingers landed on the keyboard, smoothly typing the first line of text.

Thus, a quiet night passed.

When the distant horizon began to brighten with the first light of dawn, Qin Zhaoyi stretched, leaned back, and stared blankly while reclining in her chair.

She was in the middle of an exciting part and didn’t want to stop.

But Qin Zhaoyi was hungry. She went to the cabinet to grab some bread, only to find it empty.

Her mom must have visited earlier and thrown out anything expired.

Qin Zhaoyi glanced at the time—6:04 a.m.

Picking up her phone, she noticed Luo Yue had sent a message at midnight, asking when she planned to sleep.

She had been so engrossed in writing that she hadn’t checked her phone. Now, she replied: 【Just wrote a bit, about to sleep now.】

Luo Yue was probably still asleep, so there was no reply.

Hungry and out of food, Qin Zhaoyi ordered delivery, took a shower, dried her hair, and the delivery arrived just in time.

She hastily ate a few bites and, too tired to care about her phone, fell asleep.

When she woke up, it was already past 2 p.m.

She had unintentionally fallen back into a reversed sleep schedule.

The good habits she had built on Moon Island were now completely shattered by her work routine.

After waking up, Qin Zhaoyi felt dazed for a moment. She opened her phone to find a flood of notifications.

Zhong Ling had been busy. She logged into her account, assured everyone she was safe, and posted partial records of blackmail, repeated late-night blackmail calls, as well as chat logs and legal complaints against Lu Xinyan before the latter deleted her messages.

Zhong Ling had not been idle during her time on Moon Island but had quietly done a lot of work.

However, the online opinion hadn’t shifted because of her evidence. Since so much time had passed, many people doubted its authenticity, accusing her of fabricating fake evidence.

The loudest criticism questioned why she hadn’t spoken out immediately when the incident first occurred.

At 2:14 p.m., Zhong Ling posted on Weibo:

【@ZhongLing: I didn’t want any of my ex-girlfriend’s personal information to be exposed online. She is an ordinary person and the sole victim. Out of a protective instinct, I chose to endure the matter at the time, not expecting some individuals to act so immorally, revealing the content even after extorting a huge sum of money.

Years ago, she and I were in a normal relationship. We didn’t harm anyone, and we eventually parted ways for personal reasons. As a director, my work should be the focus, not my private life. As for whom I like, that’s my own business.

I, Zhong Ling, have only been in one relationship and have only had one intimate partner since birth. With anyone else, I’ve always maintained proper boundaries. Ms. Lu is an actress I admire, but I have never used my position to sexually harass her at work. I firmly deny all such accusations and will address them legally.

With my ex-girlfriend’s permission, I’m releasing one photo. She told me: ‘A beautiful body can be shared openly, but those who install cameras in hotel rooms to satisfy their voyeuristic desires deserve to be punished.’】

Thanks to her understanding and tolerance, wishing her peace, joy, and a bright future.】  

The photo had a great atmosphere.  

The lighthouse’s light illuminated the night. Cheng Shiyu and Zhong Ling were wearing swimsuits by the seaside, meeting and brushing past each other.  

Their figures were exceptional, especially Cheng Shiyu. Her legs were long and slender, like a model’s, with well-defined abs and a clear waistline, rivaling the standouts of early Hong Kong beauty pageants.  

However, her face was censored, likely wearing a wig as well—long curly hair.  

Even people familiar with her might not immediately recognize her.  

Qin Zhaoyi liked the post and reposted it with her main account: 【Time will prove everything.】  

These posts quickly stirred up a storm online, with fans from various groups entering a chaotic battle.  

The male lead of *Chasing the Wind* somehow got dragged into the mix, and the fans’ arguments in the public square became increasingly harsh.  

Especially the fans of Lu Xinyan, who seemed fueled by adrenaline, fighting fiercely with the determination to drag Zhong Ling into the mud as revenge for their sister’s past grievances.  

Meanwhile, the male lead’s fans sided with the director, accusing Lu Xinyan’s fans of smearing Zhong Ling’s name and bullying their favorite actor.  

Thus began a lively war, with countless entertainment marketing accounts jumping in to stir the pot.  

The battlefield expanded, dragging in more people.  

Zhong Ling then announced an even bigger piece of news: The production team of *Chasing the Wind* had ended their collaboration with Lu Xinyan and was publicly recruiting a new female lead—someone tall, capable of fighting, and fierce. Filming would restart soon.  

This announcement shocked everyone.  

Zhong Ling, with such a notorious reputation, shouldn’t she have been blacklisted? How could she still direct a film?  

Wasn’t *Chasing the Wind* supposed to be shelved? How could they replace the female lead and restart production?  

What kind of capital backed Zhong Ling to allow such brazenness?  

As for Lu Xinyan, where would she go from here? After such a scandal, she likely wouldn’t be able to land another role anytime soon.  

If Zhong Ling’s backing was that strong, Lu Xinyan might end up completely blacklisted.  

The more fans speculated, the more terrifying it seemed, causing the uproar to grow even louder. Some fans even took it as far as holding banners to protest at Lu Xinyan’s company.  

At the same time, Zhong Ling sued Lu Xinyan for defamation.  

The online chaos continued, and Qin Zhaoyi only sent Zhong Ling a “well done” sticker.  

Zhong Ling found a moment to ask: 【What time are you going to visit the grave tomorrow?】  

Qin Zhaoyi: 【Around six.】  

Zhong Ling: 【I’ll go with you.】  

Qin Zhaoyi: 【No, I’ll go alone.】  

Zhong Ling: 【…】  

Zhong Ling didn’t insist further and simply told her to return early and join her for dinner that night.  

This was an unspoken understanding between them.  

Zhong Ling was afraid Qin Zhaoyi would get stuck in bad emotions or spend the night alone at the cemetery. On the anniversary of her brother’s death, Zhong Ling would always invite her to a lively dinner in the evening—sometimes hotpot, sometimes barbecue—to pull her out of loneliness and into the warmth of human connection.  

Qin Zhaoyi agreed.  

It was destined to be a sleepless night.  

Even though she was writing an exciting part, Qin Zhaoyi didn’t dare to stay up late. She set an alarm for midnight, said goodnight to Luo Yue, and went to bed.  

She wore an eye mask and earplugs, afraid of being disturbed by any noise, yet she was still jolted awake by a nightmare around three in the morning, gasping for air.  

That suffocating feeling crept over her again. Qin Zhaoyi closed her eyes, thinking she could already get up, only to see it was just 3:15.  

Sleep eluded her.  

She sent Luo Yue a message asking if she was awake, but immediately realized it was a pointless question and retracted it.  

But being alone in such a large house was terrifying.  

She had never felt this way before.  

Perhaps it was because she had never experienced what it was like to have someone by her side—knowing that after waking from a nightmare in the middle of the night, there would always be someone in the next room, bringing an incomparable sense of reassurance.  

Her heart felt as empty as the house, as if someone were quietly sobbing.  

After much hesitation, she cautiously called Luo Yue.  

She knew that when Luo Yue slept with her, she would always turn on “Do Not Disturb” mode.  

So she didn’t expect the call to go through.  

But before long, the call connected, and Luo Yue’s hoarse voice came through: “What’s wrong, baby?”  

It seemed she had been abruptly woken but still maintained incredible patience.  

And she knew it was her.  

Qin Zhaoyi suddenly felt her heart soften into a mess. Standing by the window, under the bright moon and stars, gazing at a scene completely different from Moonlight Island, longing overflowed.  

She leaned close to the receiver, lowered her voice, and said, “Jiejie, I miss you.”  

A soft whine, pitiful and helpless.