I was already lost at the time.
It's late at night.
Panqiu shut down the computer, leaving only one light on. The entire apartment was as quiet as a blank sheet of paper.
She leaned back on the sofa, but the words she'd uttered backstage that afternoon kept replaying in her mind—
"You are the white moonlight in the eyes of the domineering CEO."
Lin Yue spoke lightly, but hidden beneath was a layer of unspoken old feelings.
That sentence was like a thin thread, gently pulling back the time when their paths crossed.
If their fates had been slightly different, perhaps they really would have ended up together in some parallel universe.
The white moonlight is—
A tender memory,
A slightly regrettable missed opportunity.
It's a name that, when recalled years later, will bring a slight smile to your face.
Not intense, not entangled.
It simply falls gently into a certain place in my heart, polished clean and clear by time.
Panqiu sighed softly.
In the real world, she and Lin Yue also got close, but they always stayed at just the right distance.
So, Lin Yue was probably her ideal man too.
Panqiu reached out and pulled the computer closer.
After hesitating for a few seconds, she still opened the webpage.
Lately… this habit seems to be getting worse, and she knows it sounds ridiculous, even a bit like a quirk she can't tell anyone. But to her, this webpage is like a quiet oxygen tank.
Just one glance from her makes her feel that her breathing becomes a little more steady.
Just as she was about to get up and wash up—
The computer suddenly vibrated.
New email.
She clicked on it casually, initially thinking it was a college notice.
But when the title appeared in the dim light, she was stunned.
【Congratulations — Your submission to ICCPM 2026 has been adopted!】
Pan Qiu was stunned for a full three seconds.
In that instant, it was as if a small cluster of light had been lit in her chest, both suddenly and quietly sinking into the depths.
She reached out and held onto the edge of the table, taking a soft breath—
The German conference... was recorded.
This is her first independent paper after returning to China, and the first time she has used her status as a "formal scholar" to share her research with the world.
Pan Qiu stared at those few lines of text, a silent surge of excitement welling up inside her—
Unlike the hidden pain brought about by Lin Yue's phrase "white moonlight,"
It also doesn't evoke the lasting warmth of Ethan's webpage.
This is a quiet and unwavering strength that belongs entirely to her.
She lowered her head, and wisps of hair fell across her forehead, her lips slowly curving into a slight smile.
I'm going to Germany in November.
The Rhine River in late autumn, and a new academic journey—
A new path awaits her.
The next day, the bright sunlight fell on the newly green ginkgo leaves outside the office building. The leaves swayed gently in the wind, carrying the freshness and coolness of early summer.
Pan Qiu had just put down her schoolbag and her computer was not yet fully turned on when there was a light knock on the door.
"Teacher, I'm here!"
Su Miao peeked in, her eyes as bright as ever. She was holding a stack of documents, her eyes shining as if she had just brought a burst of spring sunshine from early summer.
Panqiu pointed to the chair opposite her: "Sit down."
She had barely sat down for two seconds when Su Miao asked, as if she couldn't hold back any longer:
"Teacher, I saw the email yesterday! Our paper has been accepted by that conference in Germany, right?"
Pan Qiu nodded, her tone calm: "Yes, November, in Koblenz, Germany."
Su Miao sat up straight immediately: "That's amazing! I... can I go with you? Can the academy apply for a travel allowance for students? I can pay for part of it myself, no problem!"
Her tone was one of genuine excitement.
That expectation is so vivid in young people, like a newly sprouted bud, carrying an undisguised power.
Pan Qiu was touched by her enthusiasm, and her eyebrows curved slightly: "Okay, I will apply for funding from the academy for you. We'll go together then."
Su Miao practically jumped up: "Really?! That's amazing! It's my first time going to Europe..."
The sound was so bright that it warmed the entire office.
Panqiu looked at her and suddenly felt a moment of disorientation.
She had once sat in front of a mentor in the same way, with the same feelings.
My first submission was accepted at a conference in Bergamo.
She remembers the night she received the email; her fingers were trembling, and her heart was pounding as if it would burst out of her chest.
The next day, Ethan whispered to him, "Congratulations."
That was the first time she truly felt that she had received an invitation from the world through academia.
Now, the one who invited her is herself—the student sitting in front of her.
Su Miao was carefully reviewing the documents, a smile she couldn't suppress playing on her lips.
As Panqiu looked at her, a gentle, tender feeling suddenly touched her heart.
Su Miao was still enthusiastically talking about her plans to go to Germany, speaking so fast it was like an unstoppable gust of wind.
But Panqiu's attention drifted away quietly at some point.
It felt as if someone had gently touched her heart.
This late autumn, November in Koblenz—
Two years ago, in Bergamo in April—
The two names briefly overlapped in her mind, as if pulling her back to that steep mountain town.
The wind was cool that night, and the bell had just struck its eleventh chime.
Standing in the upper town and looking down, the entire sea of lights resembled a quiet, golden river.
Then—the clouds parted, and the moon slowly rose, as clear and bright as if it had been washed.
She remembered it so clearly, almost as if it had just happened:
Ethan stood beside her, so quiet you could hear his breathing.
He looked up and gazed at the moon for a very long time.
Then he said softly:
"The moon is beautiful tonight."
It was just a light sentence, but it was like a soft pebble falling into her heart, shaking the entire lake.
And she—at that time, couldn't even utter a decent response.
She remembers her voice trembling so much it was almost inaudible: "Yes... the moonlight is beautiful."
All she could do was repeat it.
She recalled Ethan's expression for a fleeting moment after hearing her answer. That extremely slight silence.
He lowered his head slightly, as if facing the wind... and gave a bittersweet smile.
After that, Ethan seemed to slowly fade out of her world.
Looking back now, perhaps that was his farewell.
Just as she was about to be overwhelmed by emotions, a gentle voice pulled her out of her memories.
"teacher?"
Panqiu blinked and returned to her office—back to the world of real light.
Su Miao was standing in front of the bookshelf, pointing to a book with a beige cover, her eyes filled with curiosity:
"Is this...your book, Natsume Soseki?"
Pan Qiu paused for a moment: "No, it was left by the previous office worker."
"Oh—no wonder!"
Su Miao seemed to remember something, "Teacher Ikemizu especially likes Natsume Soseki."
Pan Qiu's heart trembled slightly.
Su Miao continued, her tone as serious as if she were giving a lecture:
“When he was lecturing on ‘cultural differences in the expression of emotions’ last semester, he specifically cited the example of Soseki. He said that during the Meiji period in Japan, students translated English novels and directly translated ‘I love you’ as ‘我爱你’ (I love you).
She paused, then gave a look that was both amusing and admiring:
"Sōseki shook his head on the spot and said:"
This is not how it is said in Eastern cultures.
It should be translated as, "The moonlight is beautiful tonight."
Panqiu's breathing paused slightly.
Su Miao continued her explanation, using very typical psychological language:
"Teacher Chi Shui said that this is a classic example—"
In certain cultures and contexts, emotions are not expressed directly, but rather conveyed through imagery, atmosphere, and implicit emotional projection.
She paused, then added a soft summary:
He said that phrases like "The moonlight is beautiful" are about hiding love in the scenery. Perhaps only the person who says it understands, and only those who understand can hear it.
Panqiu's fingertips slowly tightened.
Scenery, moonlight, confession—
She suddenly felt the world sway slightly.
Su Miao was still immersed in her academic passion:
"So, teacher, if you meet Professor Ike in Germany, you might be able to talk about this—he really loves using Soseki to talk about emotions and culture."
Pan Qiu tried to remain calm: "...Germany?"
“Yes!” Su Miao nodded. “I heard he spent half a year studying in Europe before coming to our school to stay for half a year.”
Su Miao didn't know that what she had just said wasn't an interesting anecdote, but rather—
Unintentionally, he uncovered a mystery for Panqiu that she had been searching for but dared not touch.
Pan Qiu's steady breathing suddenly stopped. The next second, it felt as if something had violently struck her chest—
It wasn't sadness, nor nostalgia, but a sudden, intense, and uncontrollable shock.
That line, "The moonlight is so beautiful tonight," came without any prior warning—
It slammed its full weight back into her heart.
She seemed to be standing in the wind of Bergamo again.
The bells tolled, and the streetlights stretched out like a river beneath our feet.
Ethan was beside her and whispered:
"The moon is so beautiful tonight."
She initially thought it was just a casual remark, or even a gentle closing remark.
But now—
She finally realized the tone of voice, the pause, the bitter smile that was as light as a sigh...
Perhaps it's not just a farewell, but also a confession.
Two years late, a confession that was separated by culture, by silence, and by all his restraint and self-discipline.
My heart pounded in my chest, one beat after another, like the sound of something finally breaking through the soil.
Panqiu's fingers tightened around the water glass, and the world suddenly felt like it was being pulled into water—a buzzing sound, then a blankness.
She finally understood. What she missed wasn't just the meaning of those words. What she missed was perhaps the way someone quietly offered her their heart within the bounds of what was permissible.
In that instant of shock, her world had been redefined.
Panqiu had no idea what she and Su Miao talked about afterward.
Su Miao also seemed to have mentioned research design, interview outlines, ethical review...
She seemed to nod and respond with a few words...
But those words all seemed to come through water, blurry and distorted.
Only one sentence remained in her mind:
"The moon is so beautiful tonight."
And what Su Miao said unintentionally:
He said he had spent six months studying in Europe.
Half a year.
Bergamo.
moon.
Pool water.
Emotions and metaphors.
Soseki.
I love you.
Lines of thought crisscrossed wildly in her mind, and her heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.
She didn't even hear when Su Miao said goodbye or closed the door.
When she came to her senses, the office had returned to the quietness unique to an early summer afternoon—the shadows of the trees outside the window swayed gently on the wall, and the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves was delicate and soft.
It was as if the world had suddenly been muted.
Pan Qiu stood up almost as if she were weightless.
She walked to the bookshelf—she reached out her hand.
The book with the beige cover lay quietly on the middle shelf.
Those are books left behind by the pool water.
The book she always pretended not to care about and never touched.
Panqiu pulled it out, her fingers feeling a little tight.
She turned to the title page first.
That was the place she feared most, and also the place she looked forward to most.
--blank.
It has no name.
No signature.
There were no parting words or messages.
She continued flipping through the pages. Quickly, almost with a resolute speed, she was searching for—even the slightest trace.
Perhaps she could find annotations like the ones he wrote in that birthday gift book. His handwriting, those lines—she would recognize them instantly.
But as the pages rolled by—there was still nothing there.
Until—a soft "shh" sound.
Something slipped out of the pages and landed at her feet.
Pan Qiu was stunned.
She bent down and picked up the fallen document.
It's a photograph.
The edges of the photo are a bit worn, but the colors are still vibrant.
A vineyard after the rain.
The damp, earthy scent seemed to seep through the paper.
The green leaves looked especially vibrant after the rain, as if they had been gently touched by a layer of light.
The sky stretched out wide, and a complete, magnificent rainbow spanned between the hillside and the clouds.
rainbow.
She only glanced at it, and her heart skipped a beat.
—That one.
She doesn't need to compare or recall the angle.
That composition, that color, that light after the rain...
It's the photo she took a few years ago under the porch of the vineyard.
It was the photo she took that day, standing in the wind after the rain, pressing the shutter, and then sending it to Ethan without saying a word.
At that moment, everything she had placed in the "past" returned—
The slow pace of Amish town
The intoxication of travel
The sudden downpour,
The rainbow after the rain stopped.
And the message she couldn't help sending, without any words, in her drunken state and amidst the wind.
My chest suddenly tightened.
She tried to steady her breathing, but her fingertips still trembled uncontrollably.
There seems to be something written on the back of the photo.
Panqiu hesitated for half a second, but still turned it over.
On the back is a line of strong and clean English handwriting—
She recognized it immediately; it was Ethan's handwriting.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there.
—Rumi
Beyond the concepts of right and wrong, there lies a wilderness.
I will be waiting for you there. —Rumi
Her fingertips stopped on that line of text, and she felt as if she had been silently struck by something.
turn out to be--
He not only received the photo, but also printed it out, carefully tucked it into a book he liked, and took it with him from Europe to America and then to China.
She even brought it to her current office.
That wasn't a landscape photo that was casually saved to the cloud.
Rather, it was a feeling of being moved that he had once solemnly responded to with verses.
However, she didn't know that at the time.
All she knew was that she had emitted a rainbow.
But I never thought of it—
In some place she couldn't see, that rainbow was treasured for so long.
As Pan Qiu stood in front of the bookshelf, she felt a slight weightlessness beneath her feet for a moment.
She suddenly realized—
That night outside Bergamo, he said, "The moonlight is beautiful."
The rainbow she photographed under the vineyard
This book,
This line of Rumi's poetry,
And the story that Teacher Chi Shui told in class, "The moon is so beautiful, that's why I love you"—
All of them quietly connected into a line.
It's not a coincidence.
It's not an illusion.
It's not a one-woman show.
It turns out that he had been quietly reaching out to her in whatever way he could, outside the boundary of right and wrong.
But at that time, she couldn't understand it.
This feeling can only be cherished in retrospect, for at the time it was already a regret.
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