A weasel worshipping the moon?
Spring break has passed in the blink of an eye.
On the last day of the holiday, Chongchong packed her bags and returned to school with a touch of reluctance. The little red house was once again filled with the daily routines of just the two girls. The sneakers and jacket that the boy had carelessly left behind were gone from the living room, restoring its initial quiet and tidiness.
As evening fell, the rain still hadn't stopped. Pan Qiu sat at her desk, spreading out a stack of students' quizzes, her red pen slowly tracing lines on the paper. She was grading somewhat absentmindedly, her eyes fixed on the words, but her attention kept drifting away. Outside, the raindrops tapped on the glass, their rhythm monotonous, as if trying to dissipate the knots in her heart little by little, yet the more they scattered, the more chaotic they became.
Just as she was wondering whether to stop, there was a gentle knock on the door. Zhiwei peeked in and immediately saw the empty hook on the wall, then laughed: "Hey, where's your moon?"
Pan Qiu was taken aback: "What moon?"
“It’s that painting.” Zhiwei walked in, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “The way you stare at it so intently every time reminds me of a folk tale—the weasel worshipping the moon.”
Pan Qiu choked, almost choking. Her mind automatically conjured up an image: she was like a weasel, silently and solemnly worshipping the painting, which ceased to be a painting and became the high-hanging moon. The next second, she felt as if she were about to dance to some eerie drumbeat.
Absurd, utterly absurd. Yet, strangely, within this self-deprecating absurdity, she felt a strange sense of aptness—that lonely, somewhat comical obsession was remarkably similar to her state of mind these past few days. This thought flashed through her mind, and she felt a sudden pang of pain and frustration in her heart.
For a moment, Panqiu felt an urge to pour out all her frustrations to Zhiwei. That desire rose like bubbles, swelling in her throat: to tell her that she had seen Ethan's "family" in the crowd of protesters, to say that the scene made her feel as if something had been exposed, to say that Rowan's painting, which had originally comforted her, now seemed to mock her naivety.
But how could one say such a thing? If it were to fall into someone else's ears, even Zhiwei would have all the layers flattened, leaving only ambiguity and neuroticism.
It's perfectly normal for a supervisor to have a family, so why should she be so devastated? As for the sense of fate behind that painting, if you were to say it, Zhiwei would probably just raise an eyebrow and half-jokingly say that she's been driven crazy by her thesis.
She was already having second thoughts when Zhiwei suddenly stopped laughing and became serious: "Qiu, I'm not teasing you anymore. I have something important to tell you."
Zhiwei is usually always laughing and joking, but when she puts on such a serious face, her intuition tells her that this is probably not an ordinary matter.
Panqiu immediately cleared a space in her mind, ready to listen attentively.
Zhiwei took a deep breath and said as if she had finally made up her mind, "I plan to transfer to a school in the Chongchong area. The application process is almost complete, and I received a verbal acceptance from the professor there before spring break. In theory, if nothing unexpected happens after spring break, I should receive the official notification."
Her eyes were bright when she said this, filled with barely suppressed anticipation, and because she was so serious, even her voice became a little subdued.
Pan Qiu was taken aback. Although her first reaction was surprise, a corner of her heart felt as if this matter had been foreshadowed, just waiting to be spoken.
Zhiwei had clearly stated that she was going to see her boyfriend, but the timing of her departure was somewhat ambiguous—she flew away before the winter break officially began and didn't return until a week after the spring semester started. That period was long enough to not only see Zhongchong, but also potentially visit her advisor, discuss research directions, or even attend interviews or open days for doctoral programs. Unfortunately, that timeframe coincided with the application deadlines for many university doctoral programs.
Moreover, this matter had always puzzled Pan Qiu: why didn't Chong Chong fly to see Zhi Wei first, but instead Zhi Wei went to his city first? Now, everything makes perfect sense.
Even so, a host of questions flooded Pan Qiu's mind in an instant:
—Does her advisor know?
—Wouldn't all the research and achievements accumulated over the past two years have to be overturned and started from scratch?
Is it really worth it? Is it really worth making such a big change just for the sake of being burdened?
But what if one day he lets her down?
These questions exploded in her mind like a machine gun, her throat tightened, and she almost blurted them out.
Panqiu paused for a moment, but couldn't help asking the question she cared about most: "So...you really did it for Chongcheng?"
Zhi smiled, her eyes frank: "Yes, the most direct reason is him. I only recently found out that he had been plotting against me for a long time." Even the usually cheerful Zhiwei showed a hint of girlishness at this point. She paused, then continued, "Even I was fooled. When I finally understood, the shock I felt... indescribable. Over the four years of university, he had slowly taken ninety-nine steps towards me. Now it's my turn. Why must you wait when you like someone? Even if this step is big, I don't want to waste any more time."
She changed the subject, her tone softening: "But it's not just because of him. You know, my current research is too theoretical, not what I really like. There's also the issue of funding. Plus, life in this university town is too quiet. He's in a big city, so a change of environment, a change of research topic, and a chance to see another side of America."
She paused, as if specifically responding to Pan Qiu's unspoken worries, and smiled gently: "As for the efforts of the past two years—they won't be in vain. No effort in life is wasted."
As she finished speaking, she exhaled, a hint of excitement in her eyes: "So I decided to transfer schools. It's for him, but also for myself. Love, studies, life—I want it all."
As Pan Qiu listened to Zhiwei finish speaking in one breath, she felt as if something had struck her heart. Zhiwei was as free as the wind, running unrestrainedly into the distance.
Pan Qiu always held herself in high esteem, was habitually reserved, and cherished her reputation. But precisely because of this, she rarely truly let herself go. She knew that she was actually more lonely and more cowardly than anyone else.
She suddenly felt that perhaps she should learn to be brave just this once, and stop going around in circles. After a long silence, she finally raised her eyes and whispered, as if she were making a desperate decision:
"Zhiwei... I might have fallen for Ethan."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she found it unbelievable and felt a wave of unease. But it was precisely this one sentence that shattered the beautiful bubble she had woven for herself over the past few months, even half a year—the attachment, the misalignment, the coded messages of fate.
Zhiwei froze, taking a long time to react. Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth, her voice rising a half-octave: "You—you finally admitted it! My God!" She couldn't help but burst out laughing, "Lin Yue saw right through you! How did he see through your little schemes?!"
Pan Qiu's cheeks flushed, and she asked in confusion, "Lin Yue?" Just as she was about to ask, Zhi Wei teased her, "Oh dear, then I must wish you success in winning over that unattainable beauty on your pedestal soon!"
Pan Qiu, however, deflated like a punctured balloon, her voice dropping eight octaves: "But...but on St. Patrick's Day, I saw him with his wife and children. It was a very natural scene, very tender, very complete...No matter how much I am inspired by your wind-like courage, I could never be a third party."
Zhiwei suddenly realized and frowned, saying, "Oh—no wonder you were so flustered that day, dragging me out! So that's why."
She paused for a moment, then suddenly added with a wicked grin, "So, you thought he was your moon all to yourself, but it turns out he actually has his own galaxy! A weasel worshipping the moon is weird enough, but the galaxy is just too much!"
Pan Qiu was taken aback by what she was said, feeling as if she had been gently pricked in the chest with a needle.
Seeing this, Zhiwei's smile faded, and she sighed, "Qiu, I'm not trying to discourage you. But not all relationships are worth risking your life for. That's not just courage, that's madness. You at least need to make sure you get your degree, right? Don't forget that girl that Senior Sister Xu Qian gossiped about last time—she didn't even finish her studies and slunk back home. If you do that, it won't be like you at all."
After Zhiwei finished speaking, Panqiu felt even heavier in her heart. She suddenly felt a little lost, unsure of what to do next... But when the two looked at each other, they both suddenly laughed. There was guilt, helplessness, and an inexplicable understanding in their laughter.
Night deepened, and the rain continued to patter outside the window. They decided to lie down together on Panqiu's bed. The blankets enveloped them, providing a small sense of security.
They chatted casually, from heavy topics to the moon and its galaxy, and even about their neighbor singing off-key in the middle of the night.
Halfway through the conversation, Zhiwei suddenly raised an eyebrow, half-jokingly and half-seriously: "Qiu, do you think—according to Xu Qian's gossip, could Ethan be a high-level wolf in sheep's clothing? Someone who specializes in deceiving innocent little rabbits like you? You don't want to fall into his trap one day and end up like that girl, so deceived that you can't even continue your studies."
Pan Qiu paused for a moment, then grinned, "Hey, isn't this going too far? To be fair, he really can't find any fault with him." Although she said that, a strange little unease rose in her heart—it's like knowing that the other person is impeccable, but the more flawless they are, the more awkward she feels.
All the worries, the unspoken confusion, the strange tales of the big bad wolf and the little white rabbit—all were stuffed under the bed. Problems will always come, but we'll deal with them when they do.
On the last night of spring break, the two chatted until late into the night, their conversation becoming increasingly disorganized. Waves of sleepiness washed over them, and they finally drifted off to sleep amidst whispers.
—The first and perhaps the last time, we fell asleep side by side so intimately.
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