Starlight Descends - 63
Gentle
The sky was brilliantly clear on the day of the school anniversary celebration.
Soft white clouds lay stretched across the horizon, fluffy and weightless. Overhead, the sky was a flawless blue, warm sunlight spilled gently over everything.
No. 1 High School had always been uncannily good at picking dates. Every sports meet, every arts festival, every major event, without fail, landed on one of those rare, flawless sunny days.
Qi Yao had work that day.
It was Christmas Eve. Special days carried special meaning, and the brand had insisted on holding the event that day. There wasn't much she could do about it.
The moment it ended, she rushed toward the school.
While changing clothes in the car, she sent a message. "Has it started yet?"
"How far along is it?"
Several minutes later, a reply arrived.
"Old Deng just finished his speech. You wouldn't have wanted to hear it anyway."
Even the message radiated that careless, nonchalant energy of his, the wordless exasperation practically seeped through the screen. Qi Yao couldn't help laughing.
He had never liked those speeches.
Back in school, during the Monday flag-raising assemblies, when Old Deng stood on the platform giving updates about the previous week's conduct, Yu Jiashu would always stand in the very last row with his phone hidden in his sleeve, head lowered, secretly playing games.
Some things really never changed.
Thinking about it, Qi Yao's eyes curved into a smile. She lifted her gaze toward the window.
It was around four or five in the afternoon, right in the middle of rush hour. Traffic packed the streets. Signal lights blinked beneath the sunlight.
Outside, the scenery crawled past at a frustrating pace. Her slender brows drew together slightly.
[1]: There's a bit of traffic.
[1]: What should I do?
[1]: Am I going to miss your speech?
[1]: Crying Kitty.jpg
The man openly playing on his phone in the front row of the auditorium paused for two seconds before lowering his eyes and typing two words: "You won't."
Then he nudged the person beside him. "Switch order with me later."
Jiang Jinghan didn't even bother turning his head, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. “Why should I? I'm second-to-last. That's one rank more distinguished than you."
"You don't have a wife waiting to watch you," Yu Jiashu said lightly.
"What do you mean I don't?”
Jiang Jinghan immediately objected. He finally turned his head, only to see Yan Jiu buried in a stack of documents. A thick case file rested on her lap, tucked under the little fold-out desk, much like the novels she used to hide during class.
Noticing him glance over, Yan Jiu raised a finger and said coldly, "Argue with each other if you want. Leave me out of it."
Jiang Jinghan: "..."
"Fine." He turned back and deigned to agree.
This was just how old married couples were.
Didn't matter. He was a little tired anyway.
"I helped set everything up for you and now I'm giving you my slot too. You owe me one, you know." Jiang Jinghan lowered his eyes to send a message to inform the backstage staff, his voice trailing in careless drawl.
"Owe you what?" Yu Jiashu smirked. "Have I not helped you enough before?"
"Have you?" Jiang Jinghan thought about it. "I only remember you making my life harder."
Yu Jiashu: "...Get lost."
"Alright then. Let's call it even. I don't owe you anything anymore." Jiang Jinghan finally said.
After another pause, Jiang Jinghan stared toward the stage and said quietly, "Congratulations, by the way. The aging bachelor finally found a good partner."
This time, Yu Jiashu didn't shot back.
Watching Old Deng passionately list the school's achievements over the years, he simply responded in a calm, emotionless voice. "Thanks."
Qi Yao slipped in through the back entrance wearing a mask just as the host was announcing the next speaker.
Rumor had it that the school had spent an enormous amount of money building the auditorium.
This massive hall could seat over a thousand people. Rows of deep wine-red seats spread outward in gentle tiers like rolling waves, curving around the stage in a wide arc.
Crimson velvet drapes adorned the ceiling. Dozens of lights shone down from above, illuminating the stage below.
And illuminating the person standing before the podium.
Qi Yao watched him slowly walk onto the stage.
His black suit was immaculate. The burgundy tie at his throat was perfectly knotted. Tall, composed, effortlessly magnetic. The moment he took his place, a wave of suppressed cheering rippled through the crowd.
The hall was packed.
Applause thundered through the room.
Yu Jiashu settled himself and lifted his eyes.
His gaze swept over the sea of people before landing on the figure standing by the rear entrance.
Their eyes met across the distance.
It seemed like a very long time, or perhaps no time at all. Time stretched endlessly between them.
A student nearby must have recognized her. Excited whispers spread in hushed voices, and suddenly Qi Yao remembered.
The first time they met had also been here.
The sweltering days of July and August, a summer afternoon when the power unexpectedly went out, the very last row at the back of the auditorium, a math problem she couldn't solve, the mole at the base of his finger, and a forgotten bottle of orange soda.
Across a crowd, they held each other gazes.
In that instant, Qi Yao remembered countless other things as well.
All the moments she had chosen courage. All the choices she had made while standing at life's crossroads.
She once read an idea that a person's life is nothing more than a collection of choices.
Which elementary school to attend, which high school, which university. Whether to study abroad, continue her education, or start working. Company A or Company B.
Every choice leads to a tightly connected, yet completely different path.
On the day a choice was made, it might have been beneath a bright summer sky or during a rainy autumn afternoon. The decision itself often felt insignificant, casually made and quickly forgotten. No matter what outcome it eventually leads to, the person making it usually believed it was merely an ordinary day.
Fortunately, no matter which choices she had made...
They still both ended up here.
People always say that all roads lead to Rome.
For her, every road she chose under his influence somehow led back to him.
When she finally snapped out of her thoughts, the speech onstage was already nearing its conclusion. A junior student from the student council, responsible for coordinating the anniversary guests, approached her nervously with an ID badge hung around her neck.
"Hello, Senior. Are you ready?" the girl asked shyly. "You're the last speaker."
Qi Yao glanced at her.
The girl pressed her lips together, fingers gripping the hem of her uniform. Her eyes darted away, then quickly back. Clearly nervous.
After two seconds, Qi Yao smiled softly. "I'm ready."
Whether it was her status, her profession, or something else entirely, the cheers that erupted the moment she stepped onto the stage were louder than any before.
Teenagers of sixteen and seventeen possessed endless curiosity and impossible amounts of enthusiasm. The applause didn't quiet down until Qi Yao had stood there for a good, long while.
Standing onstage, she calmly looked around.
So many people.
Blue-and-white school uniforms filled the auditorium, wrapping countless unique and vibrant souls.
Bangs couldn't go past the eyebrows. Girls with long hair had it pulled up high, their ponytails swaying softly against the thick winter uniform at their necks. Girls with short hair tucked stray strands behind their ears and gazed up at her quietly.
Their faces were young, bare, still carrying innocence.
Their eyes were full of pure, shining hope, so bright they nearly glowed.
Qi Yao looked at them for a long time. Then lowered her gaze and glanced at the script in her hand.
Black words on white paper. Clear paragraphs. Well-crafted sentences. An exemplary model of a speech.
After a long pause, she looked up, pressed a hand lightly against the microphone, and began speaking.
"Hello, everyone. I'm actress Qi Yao."
Another wave of cheers immediately erupted, so loud she had to stop just as she'd started.
Sitting in the front row, Yu Jiashu leaned lazily against his chair and watched her smile softly, press her lips together, and patiently wait for the cheers to fade before she continued.
"I'm very happy to be here with all of you today."
The voice, gentle yet touched with a cool clarity, resonated through the speakers, echoing inside the auditorium.
"But, to be honest," She paused briefly. "I never once imagined that one day, I would receive an email from this school inviting me back here."
The smooth, flowing speech drifted across the hall. Yu Jiashu raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised.
This wasn't what was on the script.
Qi Yao herself wasn't entirely sure what had prompted the decision.
She had spent two full days writing that speech.
As a public figure, every public statement required careful consideration. More importantly, this event mattered to her deeply. Terrified of doing a poor job, she had revised the thousand-some-word speech three times over, weighing every sentence carefully.
Every night she would sit at her desk making changes, the process of which had even earned complaints from a certain someone.
Yet he still helped her polish it line by line, watching her scrutinize every single line to make sure there were no potential problems.
Logical structure, emotional progression, a gradual elevation of the central message.
Even Yu Jiashu, who had seen more than enough of these occasions, had to admit it was a very good speech.
But she didn't use it.
The moment she stood on that stage, looking down at those young, unformed faces below, she suddenly felt that all those carefully crafted words floated too far above reality.
Grand lessons sounded beautiful, but they hung weightlessly in the air.
Sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds were honest and sincere. What they needed might not be another collection of lofty clichés.
Standing beneath the lights, slender and composed, she spoke quietly, without pride or impatience.
"I'll admit this honestly. Like many people who love to dream, when I sat beneath the stages of countless award ceremonies, I've also fantasized about what it would be like to stand under those dazzling lights."
"I would imagine hearing a presenter call my name, bowing my way while walking up to the stage, then delivering the acceptance speech I'd prepared."
The auditorium was completely silent. Every gaze was fixed on her.
Speaking to a room full of teenagers felt completely different from navigating the performative world of fame and appearances.
After a pause, she continued. "But I never, not once, imagined I would stand on this stage."
"Not because this stage mattered less."
"If anything, it's because I loved this place too much."
Her gaze moved slowly across the audience.
Her expression was serious, sincere, almost reverent.
Her voice was soft and unhurried, drawing people down into stillness, making them want to listen.
"Just like all of you now, I also memorized texts in the corridors during evening study period. I walked around the track at sunset. On summer afternoons, when the broadcast came on to wake us from our naps, I would slowly surface from dreams and head to the school store under the blazing sun to buy a popsicle."
"These memories are all so vivid that though I haven't deliberately recalled them in many years, the images still replayed in my mind the moment I step back onto this school."
"No. 1 High School is a wonderful school. The facilities are excellent. The teachers are patient. The classmates are kind. It has produced countless outstanding alumni, many of whom you've just seen today, people excelling in every profession imaginable."
"Most of them were already exceptional as students. They were the favorites of teachers and classmates. They were student council leaders, stars of school events, names everyone knew across their grade. Some were even academic gods whose names never left the honor boards."
Qi Yao smiled faintly, the corners of her eyes curving with gentleness. She said, softly: "Only, I wasn't one of them."
"My entire high school life, I was very quiet. Very ordinary."
"How ordinary you ask?"
Her eyes curved slightly as she reminisce. "Sometimes classmates who didn't know me well back then, when they see me now, they'll casually mention that they think there was a girl in their class with the same name as me."
"An average-looking girl with average grades. Someone who never raised hand in class. Never volunteered for sports day. Never joined student council, clubs, or arts festivals. Every place where friendships and popularity were built... I wasn't in any of them."
"The only thing I really liked doing was sitting at my desk reading or doing homework. I was reserved, sensitive, cautious, and almost completely invisible."
After a brief pause, her expression turned more serious.
"But I'm still standing here today."
"Even though my high school self was ordinary, quiet, socially awkward, and easy to forget. I'm still standing here today."
The auditorium was silent. Everyone was watching her. They heard her say, slowly:
"So what I want to tell all of you is this: The version of you that exists during one period of your life is not the entirety of who you are."
"If you're popular right now, surrounded by friends, someone everyone notices at school, then of course, that's wonderful."
"But if you're like I used to be, ordinary, quiet , sensitive, even a little timid and insecure about certain things, don't be afraid."
"Someone once told me that high sensitivity is a gift. It means you possess deep empathy and a greater capacity to understand the world around you. Those qualities are precisely what make you special. They are gifts life has given you."
"So never feel ashamed of your sensitivity. Because it is those very emotions that will keep you from ever becoming coarse or numb. They will keep you from compromising with the world. And only then will you grow into the person you want to be."
Qi Yao spoke with earnest gravity: "I don't really have any great wisdom to teach you. But I can say this to all girls who share the same worries I once had."
"Whether those worries come from family, grades, body image, the pressure you place on yourself. Or even anxiety about your appearance."
"None of that matters."
Qi Yao stood on the stage, her gaze sweeping evenly across the room, over each young, earnest face, and spoke each word carefully.
"Because you have to believe."
"One day..."
"You will shine. Your dreams will come true."
The final words landed cleanly through the speakers, lingering in the air, and echoed across the auditorium.
A long silence followed.
Then applause thundered, unending.
Behind her came countless murmured praises and awed whispers.
Amid the tidal sound, Yu Jiashu sat below the stage and watched her.
He watched the sharp, beautiful line of her profile under the bright lights. Her serene and beautiful peach-blossom eyes.
She belonged beneath the grandest spotlight in the world, she was someone born to be the center of all eyes
Gentle. Steadfast. And full of strength.
And in that moment, he finally understood what people meant by fate.
If, all those years ago, it had been her standing up there, and him below, watching.
He would have fallen for her just the same.
No escape. Nowhere to hide.
It would always end the same way.
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