Chapter 90: Wind, Moon, and White Moonlight

Even with full mental preparation, the g-force push during takeoff was still too unfamiliar for someone new to Mirror City.

Zhao Chiyun’s expression perfectly illustrated what it meant to have one’s face lose all color.

She recalled the last time she had been so panicked and disheveled: when she opened her eyes and saw Gan Xun dressed in strangely bizarre clothes, then realized she herself wasn’t wearing any.

It was only with Gan Xun’s company and soothing that she overcame the takeoff process, incidentally leaving several arc-shaped, pretty nail marks on Gan Xun’s wrist.

Once it stabilized, Gan Xun said: “Chiyun, if you’re not afraid, you can look out the window.”

Zhao Chiyun lifted her face from her embrace, cautiously turned her head, peered out the porthole, got startled, and ducked back to Gan Xun’s side.

She said weakly: “Why is it so high?”

Gan Xun hugged her tighter, like holding a fragile little cat in need. “It’s high so it can fly fast; it won’t fall.”

Zhao Chiyun’s ears ached a bit, and the cabin was filled with noise. Peering through the gaps, she saw that even the kids on the other side of the aisle were calmly playing on their tablets.

She mustered her courage again, twisted her head back, and slowly approached the window.

A sense of shock descended over her like a vast dream net cast from above.

This time, she held back her urge to retreat. As they ascended, the view grew broader and broader, the entire city laid out beneath her eyes.

The mountains and seas shrank, passing layer upon layer of clouds.

Yet above the clouds, there was no heavenly palace or gods as the legends claimed—only endless, repeating blankness, so pure it felt unreal.

So this was what it felt like to be in the sky.

She had never imagined that one day, she could overlook all living beings from a vantage higher than what power or family background had given her.

She still remembered the day she first saw an airplane trail—Gan Xun had been by her side, accompanying her as she looked up.

She closed her eyes and spoke in her heart to her long-unseen yet constantly thought-of family, expressing her gratitude and joy in this moment.

She feared that one day, when she returned and spoke of these things, others would think it was all a dream.

Was it a dream?

She hadn’t thought so for a long time, but now, in this uncharted space, doubt crept in again. She turned to Gan Xun, and in those puzzled eyes, she reached out to touch Gan Xun’s face.

Her cheek was warm, her lips soft. Gan Xun’s gaze was first delighted, then a bit embarrassed; she even blew a puff of air on her hand to tease her.

The breath tickled her fingers lightly—definitely not a dream.

The gossipy, excited gaze from the female passenger beside Gan Xun couldn’t be faked either.

It seemed like she had been watching them for a while.

Zhao Chiyun quickly withdrew her hand and continued looking out the window. As they flew even higher, there were only clouds.

After the meal, Gan Xun put on her headphones and fell asleep.

Zhao Chiyun’s emotions fluctuated wildly; she couldn’t sleep at all.

They landed at seven in the evening.

It took a long walk to exit the airport, then they got into the car Gan Xun had booked in advance.

Zhao Chiyun hadn’t slept on the plane and dozed off against Gan Xun on the way to the hotel. During that time, she vaguely heard Gan Xun softly say a few words to the driver and laugh.

The slight vibration from her laughter made Zhao Chiyun dizzy for a moment before it steadied again.

In her half-dreaming, half-awake state, she thought: traveling is truly wonderful.

As soon as they got out of the car, a chilly wind swept away all of Zhao Chiyun’s fatigue, carrying a scent she had never smelled before.

She wasn’t sure if it was the local vegetation or just the fierce night wind.

Before departure, Gan Xun had said the temperature difference here was big and that she should wear thick clothes at night, so she brought her a coat. Zhao Chiyun had thought Gan Xun was being overly cautious.

The two shivered together and hurried into the hotel.

Once in the room, they swiped the card, and all the lights came on. Zhao Chiyun hung up her coat and looked out the window.

The room had a balcony with glass sliding doors. The night lights were refracted into a blurry haze, and vaguely, she could see a body of water nearby.

Listening closely, she even heard the sound of autumn wind stirring up waves.

As clever as Zhao Chiyun was, she vaguely guessed something but didn’t point it out.

Gan Xun quickly closed the curtains. “We’ll look outside tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” Zhao Chiyun was very cooperative.

The two snuggled affectionately for a while and went to bed early. They didn’t wait until midnight to celebrate; Zhao Chiyun said she preferred to rest up.

In her hazy sleep that night, she kept hearing the sound of splashing water, as if she were sleeping in water.

When she woke, the first words she heard were Gan Xun’s “Happy birthday.”

Gan Xun kissed her cheeks nonstop, like rousing a hibernating little beast, gradually chasing away her sleepiness.

Then she got out of bed, stood by the window, remote in hand. “Now I’m giving you my gift. Get ready to receive it.”

Zhao Chiyun nodded expectantly.

Gan Xun pressed the button, and the curtains slowly parted, sunlight bursting in.

Zhao Chiyun sat in the middle of the bed with her long wavy hair loose. Outside the window stretched endless azure waters and rolling waves, blending sea and sky. Her already large eyes widened even more.

Gan Xun had pulled off a magic trick; it felt like another illusion.

She opened her mouth but made no sound; it was Gan Xun who cheered for her, letting out a silly, joyful noise.

“You said before that your hometown never gets typhoons, and I figured you hadn’t seen a beautiful sea, so I wanted to bring you to see one.”

“This room is pretty nice, right? You can enjoy the view from here for a couple of days.”

Zhao Chiyun didn’t know what to say—was it thank you, or I love you?

She raised a brow, feigning vigilance. “Does that mean I can’t go out for these two days?”

“. . .”

Gan Xun straightened up, defending herself: “I’m not that greedy; I just wanted to show off that I booked an ocean-view room.”

“Not a great value, is it?”

“No, you like it—that makes it worth a lot.”

Zhao Chiyun smiled and reached out, drawing the summoned Gan Xun into an embrace.

“Thank you for the birthday gift. I love it.”

“It’s the most special gift I’ve received in my 23 years.”

Zhao Chiyun received a one-of-a-kind love.

This person took her soaring to the heavens to gaze at the sea, giving her blazing light amid the deepening autumn chill.

Zhao Chiyun changed into one of Gan Xun’s long skirts—black base with scattered floral patterns like a field of stars.

That night’s Gan Xun had been so beautiful that she felt if she didn’t pick her up, someone else would.

It fit her perfectly; the black accentuated the few extra touches of cold elegance on her regal, luxurious face. Gan Xun sidled over, clingy and sticky: “I kinda don’t want to leave the room now.”

Zhao Chiyun kissed her once as a perfunctory response.

After breakfast, Gan Xun took her straight from the restaurant to the seaside.

Zhao Chiyun had a phobia of bodies of water. Though she wanted to learn swimming, she still feared such waters—after all, she’d once been choked unconscious by lake water, leaving no good impressions.

The seaside wind was strong, and with the weather turning cold in early November, few people ventured into the sea. She and Gan Xun linked arms and walked along the beach for a bit.

Gan Xun said: “Tonight we’re watching the sunset. Sunsets at the sea are beautiful.”

That evening, Gan Xun took her to a pre-booked restaurant near the hotel, where they ate dinner while watching the full orange-sea sunset.

The seaside at dusk exuded a romantic, gentle atmosphere. When the sun sank into the sea, they heard collective sighs and admiration from the other sunset-watchers.

Gan Xun’s little cake was brought out.

A square two-person cake—not large, but complete with cream, fruit, initials, and English birthday wishes.

The candle flames were the first new sunrise of her new year.

Gan Xun told her to make a wish.

After Zhao Chiyun finished, she opened her eyes through the candlelight and saw Gan Xun’s smile.

That smile was clear, kind, and simple—as if she didn’t care if the wish was to leave her soon, just happy for this moment.

“This isn’t the happiest, most carefree birthday of my life, but it’s the one closest to my heart. No early mornings or tedious ceremonies, no flattery from irrelevant people. Instead, sea water, setting sun, a cake hiding fruit, and the company of my beloved. I only wish this day lasts forever, and that we stay together in the days to come.”

—Back at the hotel, while Gan Xun showered first, Zhao Chiyun wrote these words with the room’s pencil and paper, placing them on Gan Xun’s pillow.

That night, they both had a little wine; Gan Xun got drunker, so she went to wash up first.

She had already been a bit chatty on the way back to the hotel. Afraid she’d say something wild, Zhao Chiyun covered her mouth, manually muting her.

The driver wasn’t focused on the road and was watching short videos at the red light.

The video featured an exaggerated, excited marketing account saying the Luo Corporation’s heiress was marrying the Yin Family heir, even using archaic terms like “apple of the eye and crown prince.”

Zhao Chiyun found it odd and asked softly: “You guys still have crown princes here?”

Gan Xun chuckled: “Not like you mean. Put it this way: even an ordinary family of three can call their son crown prince.”

“An era where even crown princes are devalued.” The world was declining.

Gan Xun listened along. “But this one’s a real crown prince—eldest son of a wealthy family, super rich!”

Zhao Chiyun smiled faintly, not very interested.

“Wait, Luo Family, Yin Family?”

Gan Xun thought slowly: “Not Yin Shangwen’s brother and sister-in-law, is it?”

“Really? No wonder your dad wanted to stuff you into marrying over. With a crown prince brother-in-law, even a bastard son is a golden nugget.”

Gan Xun huffed just like Zhao Chiyun usually did, domineeringly: “I don’t care if he’s upright or sideways, gold or silver—if he likes it, Gan Hua can marry him himself.”

Zhao Chiyun was helpless: “Talking nonsense again.”

That night, they went until the wee hours; Gan Xun had prepared everything needed, and Zhao Chiyun hadn’t even noticed when she packed those things in the suitcase.

Moonlight shone clear; sea waves crashed onto the beach one after another, each higher than the last, wetting more and more ground.

It started quiet, but later the tides surged, wind and moon both losing all restraint.

They slept until noon the next day. While changing, Gan Xun saw the marks on Zhao Chiyun’s back—mostly pinkish red, with two faint bruises on her waist.

Probably from holding her too hard last night without controlling her strength. “Does it hurt?”

Zhao Chiyun felt it—not too painful. She turned and asked: “Thinking to care about me now? Who was it last night who wanted to fool around?”

“My legs are even…”

She couldn’t finish, just shot Gan Xun a glare.

Gan Xun got the message and filled in mentally: sore from kneeling.

Zhao Chiyun had complained to her before, cursing her for being brazen, for being utterly wicked—all true words.

They ordered lunch at the hotel restaurant. While eating and chatting about where to go that afternoon, someone stood by their table.

Gan Xun realized it wasn’t just passing by. She looked up, stunned, thinking: no way it’s this persistent ghost.

Across from her, Zhao Chiyun had already stood up. The sudden movement sent her table knife clattering crisply onto the tiles, making a piercing sound in Gan Xun’s ears.

Gan Xun saw the other person staring at Zhao Chiyun, and Zhao Chiyun’s eyes were only on her.

Stunned, panicked, teary, wanting to laugh but biting her lip.

The other person smiled, instinctively bending her leg before straightening and choosing to hug Zhao Chiyun tightly.

Her voice was gentler than any Gan Xun had ever heard, like finding a long-lost treasure: “Chiyun, so you’re here too.”

So the one she had always wanted to see was Zhao Chiyun.

Gan Xun lowered her gaze and ate the last piece of beef on her plate.