“Jin Yi said that Sister You and Aunt Yan’s baby is due in a few more months. We’re going to have a little sister!” Nannan beamed, her eyes dancing with excitement.
Though her bond with Sister You and Aunt Yan wasn’t as close as Jin Yi’s, she still got to see them once or twice a year thanks to Jin Yi. Sister You would even ask about her mom’s recent life.
She knew her mom and Sister You were good friends, but ever since Mom left Hengyuan for Huai’an, she hadn’t mentioned Sister You again.
Adult matters were beyond her grasp.
What she could understand was that Sister You had a girlfriend now, just like Mom did. They each had their own families.
Living far apart, even the closest friends drifted over time.
It all made sense.
“Ming You and Teacher Yan have a kid?”
Lu Lingxuan asked Xu Yaning, her expression full of surprise. “Did they go abroad for co-egg IVF? Is Teacher Yan the one pregnant?”
Ming You had been on-air hosting shows right up to recently, so it had to be Yan Ningxi carrying the baby.
“Probably. I just found out too. Aunt Yang never mentioned it.”
Xu Yaning hadn’t privately messaged Ming You in nearly two years, though she did send holiday greetings to Ming You’s mom, Aunt Yang.
Back in Hengyuan, she and the newly hired Ming You had lived in the same neighborhood. When Aunt Yang visited Ming You, they’d eat together and naturally grew close.
Both ran food businesses, so even if they didn’t meet often, they’d occasionally voice chat to pass the time.
“Yeah, yeah, they went abroad.”
Nannan cleared up the adults’ confusion. “Anyway, Jin Yi said the baby has genes from both Sister You and Aunt Yan, so it’ll definitely be super pretty and cute.”
One was the former broadcasting department flower of Hengyuan Media University, now Hengyuan TV Station’s most ethereal leading lady. The other was Huai’an No. 3 Middle School’s former language team goddess, now Hengyuan University’s aloof psychology department beauty.
With those two powerhouses joining forces to create a daughter—how could she not be adorable and beautiful?
“Ling Xuan…”
Xu Yaning squeezed Lu Lingxuan’s fingers, unsure what had her so lost in thought.
Lu Lingxuan snapped back and squeezed her hand in return.
She said to Lou Yixuan, “Xuan, you have work tomorrow, so get some early sleep. We’re heading out early to meet up with Sister Su Yi and the others. Let’s call it a night. We’ll catch up when we get back—I’ll bring you something tasty.”
“Got it. Good night. Nannan, Ya Ning-jie—have a great trip!”
“Good night, Lou-jiejie!”
If Nannan hadn’t brought it up this time, Lou Yixuan wouldn’t have known her close friend had such a “connection” with Ming You.
But one thing she did know: back when Lu Lingxuan was pursuing Xu Yaning, there had been a girl Xu Yaning cared deeply about.
So that girl was Ming You.
A rival of that caliber—enough to make Lu Lingxuan jealous for life.
Lou Yixuan didn’t dare dwell on it. If Lin Huayan’s heart held a woman like Ming You—talented, gorgeous, virtuous, and accomplished—what would she do? Go mad? Collapse? Despair?
No—even an ordinary woman, or one born to privilege, would drive her insane, shatter her.
The video call with her friend’s family of three had just ended. The warm scene lingered in Lou Yixuan’s mind—a picture of happiness.
One second, she shared in their joy; the next, as the screen went dark, that warmth faded away.
The world outside her window was separated from her by a single pane of clear glass, reflecting only her solitary silhouette.
Nightfall blanketed the city. The bustle hushed, leaving only myriad lights twinkling and swaying in the darkness.
Like scattered stars.
Each shining bright, echoing one another across the starry sea.
If Lin Huayan was a star, she’d be the brightest—dazzling, unrivaled, forever out of reach.
In the black night, millions of lamps glowed, bright or dim, each carrying on a story, a dream, or a hidden emotion.
The lamp in Lu Lingxuan’s home—Lou Yixuan wondered how late it would burn tonight.
That was their story. She couldn’t join it.
Nor shape it.
Her own story was a tangled mess, knotted and unresolved. She’d scrapped the outline countless times, teetering on collapse.
That person who always slipped into her thoughts unbidden—slipped in again.
Bringing a soul-devouring loneliness.
Like a gentle, endless drizzle, soaking her lashes one by one, then trickling down her cheeks.
She opened her damp eyes and, through the blur, lit up her phone screen.
September 30th
Tuesday
10:53 PM
Just 1 hour and 7 minutes until tomorrow.
Lin Huayan.
Tomorrow would be October again.
…
On October 6th, Mid-Autumn Festival, Lou Yixuan brought gifts to her little uncle’s house that evening. She joined Grandma and her uncle’s family for reunion dinner.
Grandpa had passed from illness three years prior.
Her eldest uncle lived abroad long-term, so Grandma stayed with her youngest son.
Lou Yixuan’s father sent 100,000 AUD in annual support each year—a generous sum. Her little uncle’s family felt balanced: big brother provided the money, they provided the care. No hard feelings.
Before dinner, Lou Yixuan video-called her parents in Australia and received her first birthday wish of the year: “Happy birthday” from her dad.
Grandma and her little uncle both gave her thick red envelopes, insisting she take them.
She was just starting work; she had to accept this year’s.
Next year, no more—they were waiting for her to spoil them with red envelopes, happily.
Lou Yixuan smiled and agreed, silently wishing her 80-year-old grandma health and longevity amid those layers of wrinkles.
She didn’t stay late, leaving by 8:30.
Lu Lingxuan sent her a group photo: 【By order of your godmother—my old mom—we Photoshopped our family’s treasure Xuan in. How’d I do?】
The photo was a group shot of Lu Lingxuan, Xu Yaning, Nannan, Lu Dad, and Lu Ma around the table. Lu Lingxuan held her phone for a selfie, then cut Lou Yixuan from their selfie and pasted her in.
【Lu Lingxuan: Hehe, as you wished—now you’re same generation as Nannan.】
【Lou Yixuan: Passable. Tomorrow, take a bunch of sister pics with Nannan. Thanks for the assist, Little Aunt.】
【Lu Lingxuan: Little Aunt at your service.】
Lou Yixuan saved the photo to her album, exited, and tapped into the constantly buzzing 【Tianmu Class 9 Teacher Group】.
The teachers were sharing Mid-Autumn greetings.
She chimed in: 【Happy Mid-Autumn to all teachers—may everything go your way!】
After sending, she scrolled up, checking if Du Heming had appeared.
After that pre-holiday dinner, Du Heming posted a shooting star in Moments the next day—and nothing since.
Lou Yixuan wasn’t great at comforting people. She just left a [hug] emoji in the comments.
He Huan left the same [hug].
She scrolled dozens of messages—no Du Heming.
But she saw Lin Huayan’s 【Mid-Autumn Togetherness】, posted half an hour before hers.
On a day for reunion, with fractured family ties and shattered love—what was there to be “happy” about?
Since the day Lin Huayan vanished without a word, there’d been no happiness.
Eight years on, Lin Huayan’s WeChat name, avatar, and Moments bio were unchanged.
“Reflect on one’s own faults, speak not of others’ wrongs.”
Suddenly, she felt like being impulsive—doing something to make herself happy.
So she sent Lin Huayan a friend request: 【Done reflecting. Can I add without transferring money, Teacher Lin?】
Whatever the outcome.
In that moment, she was happy.
Because in that moment, she foresaw: You’ve passed my friend verification. We can chat now.
Lou Yixuan wasn’t in a rush for a reply. She started the car and headed home.
She’d just taken a sip of water when her phone rang. It was her dad, Mr. Lou.
As expected.
During dinner’s video call, she and her mom, Lady Zhao, hadn’t exchanged a word. Not even a “happy birthday”—and her actual birthday wasn’t until the day after tomorrow.
“Dad.”
“I figured you’d be home by now.”
“Yeah.”
Though she’d lived with her parents in Australia for eight years, she’d rarely opened her heart to them, never truly confided.
She and her father had always been distant, bonds thin from years apart. With her mother, the rift ran deeper.
Feelings were feelings, duty was duty. For eight years, she’d played the perfect daughter—no trouble from her.
After a brief silence, Lou Weizhao asked, “Have you checked your email lately? One of your paintings at Bona Art Museum, titled Flower Face, got a bid up to 200,000. The curator couldn’t reach you, so she contacted your mom.”
200,000 AUD.
Nearly 900,000 RMB.
The Bona Art Museum curator was a female Chinese expatriate.
Lou Yixuan had met her through a mentor in university, worked part-time and volunteered there, and they’d become friends naturally.
The museum was large, with halls of varying sizes and themes.
A trove for precious art collection and exhibition, it also sold high-end contemporary works and merch.
Lou Yixuan was a rising young artist locally, known for romanticist aesthetics.
Her highest sale: 66,000. Average around 50,000. Cumulative? Millions in RMB in her piggy bank.
The new car downstairs? Paid in full with her own cash.
“Not for sale. No matter the price.”
“Got it, not for sale. Your mom told me—it’s your favorite, marked NFS in the gallery. The curator probably thought 200k might tempt you, so she checked.”
Every word from her father circled back to “your mom,” nudging them toward reconciliation.
She got it, even unspoken.
“Yeah, I’ll reply to the curator.”
Before returning home, she’d said goodbyes to Aussie friends via phone.
With the curator, it was in person at the museum.
They didn’t chat often. After switching phones, she’d only reinstalled domestic apps—old social notifications went unchecked.
“Yixuan, don’t blame your mom. Blame me if you must—for always prioritizing career over family time.”
“These past twenty-plus years, many of her decisions were for me, for our family. I owe you both. Any anger, any grudges—put them on me. Your mom juggles home, you, work—it’s not easy…”
Hearing her father shoulder the blame for their rift, Lou Yixuan’s heart twisted in knots.
At herself.
“Dad, I have no anger, no grudges. I’ve never blamed you—really.”
“As a kid, I wanted to study in Australia. Living there with you and Mom was my biggest dream then.”
But later, I changed my mind.
I fell for someone—hard. Wanting to build a life with her outweighed wanting one with you.
“People grow up, Dad. What we want changes with experience.”
Mom’s unwavering choice was you. Mine is Lin Huayan.
Mom’s luckier, happier. In love, you’ve only ever loved her—above all else.
I resented that once, had my petty jealousies.
But once I had my own favorite, I understood you both.
Even envied you.
“Yes, you’ve grown—with your own views, dreams, pursuits. Your mom and I respect that.”
“Because we respect you, and you’ve been sensible since childhood, we don’t demand much. Whatever you want to do, we support.”
“I know, Dad. I know.”
“You’ve given me so much, never letting me lack for anything. You’ve always supported all my interests and hobbies—it was even something I used to show off to my classmates. So I only feel grateful to you both, no resentment.”
“Grateful?”
Lou Weizhao found the word unfamiliar.
Especially when his daughter used it on him, to define their parent-child bond—it stirred an inexplicable irritation in him.
“Lou Yixuan, we didn’t bring you into this world and raise you as some kind of favor. Don’t use words like ‘grateful’ or ‘thankful’ with me.”
“Your mother’s painstaking guidance and advice were all for your sake—to help you become someone who knows right from wrong, understands gain and loss, has real ability, true value, and makes something of herself.”
“Dad, don’t get worked up, I…”
Her father had high blood pressure. In severe episodes, he’d collapsed and been hospitalized; the doctors had diagnosed him with precursors to a cerebral hemorrhage—very dangerous.
Fortunately, in their family, relations between the three of them had always been harmonious. They’d never had a fight that left them red in the face and veins bulging.
“Twenty-six years, from here in the country to abroad—everything your mother did for you wasn’t about controlling your life. We don’t want your repayment or gratitude either.”
“Today, just answer me honestly: What exactly has your mother done to let you down?”
“Why push her to the point where she says she has no daughter like you? We don’t want your gratitude, so naturally we won’t accuse you of biting the hand that feeds. But Lou Yixuan, the last person in the whole world you have any right to hurt is your mother!”
Faced with her father’s stern questioning, Lou Yixuan was at a loss for words, with grievances she couldn’t voice.
Her feelings for Lin Huayan were something her father didn’t know about. Her mother had only discovered them eight years ago, on the day she moved out of Hongding Court.
She’d caught her trying to slip an envelope under the door across the hall.
Her mother had snatched the envelope away—and seen what was inside.
