Chapter 56 The White Moonlight Returns Home

International Arrivals Hall, Terminal 3, Beijing Capital International Airport.

The afternoon sun at four o'clock streamed through the huge glass curtain wall, making the smooth floor reflect light. Flight information was constantly updated on the electronic screens, and announcements in various languages ​​rang out alternately, with a constant flow of people.

Lin Wei deliberately slowed her pace as she pushed her suitcase out of the gate.

Today she wore a Chanel early autumn suit, a light apricot tweed, paired with a pearl necklace and matching heels. Her hair was newly styled, a deep brown, wavy style, with one side tucked behind her ear, revealing her carefully groomed profile. Her makeup was the currently trending "no-makeup" look, seemingly light, but every detail was meticulously calculated—the foundation should reveal the skin's natural glow, the eyeliner should be so thin as to be almost invisible, and the lipstick should be a soft mauve, like the natural rosy glow of someone who has just eaten cherries.

She stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and checked her appearance one last time in the reflection. Good; she looked like she'd just returned from Paris Fashion Week, not like she'd spent five years struggling in that tiny New York apartment.

She opened her phone; her WeChat messages had piled up to 99+. She swiped through the irrelevant greetings and went straight to her chat with Huo Yanli—the last message was from five years ago, a "Sorry, take care" she sent before boarding her plane, which he had never replied to.

She hovered her fingertip over the profile picture for a moment, then exited the chat and opened Moments.

Location: Beijing Capital International Airport.

The accompanying photo is a carefully chosen selfie—a profile shot, eyes gazing out the window at planes taking off and landing, eyelashes casting melancholic shadows in the sunlight. The filter is a nostalgic warm yellow, like a scene from an old movie.

Copywriting: "You're back. Is everything the same as before?"

Click send.

In less than a minute, likes and comments began to flood in.

"Weiwei is back in China? Welcome home!"

When are we getting together? I miss you so much!

Wow, this outfit is gorgeous! Is it a new Chanel design?

"Everything will be as it was before, I'll wait for you."

Lin Wei scrolled through the comments, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She knew which mutual friends would see it, who would take screenshots, and who would forward the message to the right people.

Sure enough, five minutes later, my phone vibrated. It was my college roommate, Wang Ting, sending me a screenshot—it was her post on WeChat Moments.

"Weiwei, you're really back? Does Huo Yanli know?"

"I just got off the plane, I haven't told him yet," Lin Wei replied casually.

"Then you should contact him right away! It's such a pity you two were like that back then..."

"Let's see, it's been so long."

She put away her phone and pushed her suitcase toward the exit. The crisp, rhythmic sound of her high heels clicking on the ground attracted some glances—she enjoyed being watched, just like back in college when she was the most dazzling flower on campus, and Huo Yanli was the moon everyone wanted to pluck.

She walked to the taxi pick-up area and waited in line. Beijing's autumn air was dry, carrying the crisp chill characteristic of the north. She took a deep breath, smelling the scent of freedom and opportunity.

Five years have passed, and she's not doing well in New York. The money seemed like a lot, but it quickly dwindled in the face of Manhattan's cost of living. She tried to find work, but language and culture remained obstacles; she tried to find new support, but the wealthy Chinese-Americans she encountered were either married or just looking for a fling. In the end, she moved into a small apartment in Brooklyn, calculating how to survive on the bare minimum.

Then she saw the news—the Huo Group's overseas expansion, and Huo Yanli's photo on the cover of a financial magazine. He was still as handsome as ever, with a touch more maturity and aloofness in his eyes, but that was exactly what she liked.

And then there's Mrs. Huo, who has never appeared in public. No photos of her can be found online, only scattered rumors that she's a translator at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs from an ordinary family.

Lin Wei smiled at her reflection in the mirror. So what if she was a diplomat? In a family like the Huo family, having no connections was a cardinal sin.

The taxi arrived. She put her suitcase down and got into the back seat.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

Lin Wei provided the address of a high-end apartment—one she had rented in advance with her last savings. The location was excellent, near the embassy district, only a twenty-minute drive from the Huo Group headquarters.

The car entered the city, and familiar street scenes flashed by. Beijing had changed, yet it seemed unchanged. Just like her, her appearance had become more refined, but somewhere in her heart, she was still the girl who cried while going through airport security five years ago.

The girl thought she was going to conquer the world, but now this woman knows she might not even be able to find her way back.

---

At the same time, in the president's office of the Huo Group.

Huo Yanli had just finished a multinational video conference and rubbed his temples. Outside the window, the sky was gradually darkening, and the city lights were gradually coming on, like an inverted starry sky.

His phone vibrated on the table. He picked it up and saw a message from his college classmate Chen Mo. There was no text, only a screenshot.

A screenshot of Lin Wei's WeChat Moments, her profile picture, her airport location, and the caption, "You're back. Is everything as it was before?"

Huo Yanli stared at the picture, his finger hovering over the top of the screen for a few seconds.

Then he locked the screen and placed the phone face down on the table.

The office was quiet, with only the slight hum of the air conditioner vents. He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the traffic flowing along Chang'an Avenue. The red taillights formed a flowing river, rushing towards the unseen distance.

Everything is as it was before?

How could things possibly return to normal?

Five years. More than 1,800 days and nights. He got married, though it was only a marriage of convenience; he took over more of Huo's business, and the burden on his shoulders grew heavier and heavier; he met Song Zhiyi... no, not exactly met, just started to see her.

Lin Wei, the woman he once thought he would spend his life with, took the money his mother gave him and boarded the plane without looking back.

He remembered that day at the airport, waiting for the flight to take off, watching it become a black dot in the sky, and then disappear. The last message on his phone was from her: "I'm sorry, take care."

Take care of yourself.

Two such light words, like saying goodbye to an ordinary friend.

Huo Yanli closed his eyes. A familiar dull pain came from somewhere in his heart, not intense, but lingering, like an old wound flaring up on a rainy day.

He thought he had let go long ago. In the past five years, he rarely thought of her, only occasionally when he was drunk late at night would the memories surge uncontrollably. But when he woke up the next day, he would become the calm and composed Huo Yanli again.

But now, she's back.

The phone vibrated again. This time it was Ji Yun: "Lin Wei contacted me. You... know she's back, right?"

Huo Yanli did not reply immediately. He turned and walked back to his desk, picked up his phone, and hovered his fingers over the keyboard.

In the end, he only replied with one word: "Hmm".

Ji Yun quickly sent another message: "She asked me to get together, and I said it depends on your schedule. Do you want to meet up?"

"We'll see."

Huo Yanli put down his phone and looked out the window again. Night had completely fallen, and the city lights shone like a never-ending feast.

He recalled that night at the Ji family home, when Song Zhiyi knelt on the carpet performing acupuncture on Ji's mother. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks, and her gaze was as focused as if she were performing a precise surgical operation. After saving the person, she quietly retreated into the shadows, as if nothing had happened.

I also remembered that this morning, my grandfather called, his voice filled with rare excitement: "Zhiyi cured your mother's migraine! Three needles! Just three needles!"

His wife, whom he thought was taciturn and useless except for her work at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, turned out to be hiding so many things about her that he didn't know about.

Lin Wei... Lin Wei excels at smiling under the spotlight, becoming the center of attention in a crowd, and winning everyone's favor with her exquisite makeup and proper speech.

They are from two different worlds.

The phone screen lit up again, this time with a message from Lin Wei: "Yanli, I'm back. Do you have time to meet?"

Huo Yanli looked at that familiar nickname—she had always called him that, ever since college.

What should he reply?

Is it inconvenient to say he's married?

Should we just let bygones be bygones?

Or... is that okay?

My finger hovered over the screen for so long that the screen automatically dimmed.

Then he turned on the light, typed, and sent.

"I'm busy lately, we'll talk about it later."

Five words: polite yet distant.

After successfully sending the message, he threw the phone into a drawer and locked it.

It's time to leave work.

He picked up his suit jacket and walked out of the office. The corridor was brightly lit, and the employees working overtime saw him and stood up to greet him: "President Huo."

He nodded in response, without stopping.

As the elevator descended, his face was reflected in the metal wall. He was a thirty-year-old man with fine lines around his eyes, and his gaze was so deep it was unfathomable.

He suddenly remembered Song Zhiyi's eyes. They were always calm, like a lake in late autumn, without a ripple. But occasionally, when translating or saving lives, a light would flash in them—a focused, resolute light, the light of an idealist.

The elevator reached the underground parking garage. The door opened, and a blast of cold air hit us.

Huo Yanli got into the car but didn't start it immediately. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Many images flashed through my mind: Lin Wei twirling in a white dress at the graduation ball; her crying to him about how Huo's mother made her take money and leave; Song Zhiyi's profile as she signed the marriage certificate at the Civil Affairs Bureau; her slightly damp hair during acupuncture...

Chaotic, intertwined, and incomprehensible.

He took a deep breath and started the car.

The roar of the engine echoed in the garage, like a suppressed growl.

The car drove out of the underground parking garage and merged into the traffic flow in the night.

Meanwhile, in another corner of the city, Lin Wei had just finished tidying up her new apartment and was standing on the balcony, looking at the lights outside the window.

The phone lay quietly on the coffee table, its screen dark.

She is waiting.

Waiting for a reply, waiting for a beginning, waiting for everything to return to normal.

Even though she knew in her heart that time had already moved forward.

They went very far, very far.