Chapter Text
There hangs a moon in the sky, there lies a moon in the sea…
From the back of the small hole-in-the-wall restaurant, a set of old speakers was croaking out a tune that could scarce be heard over the constant bustle in the kitchen and the inconstant chatter of nocturnal regulars. Su Muqiu prodded with his chopsticks at the bottom of his tinny bowl, now bare save for a few chopped scallions and the residual slick of chili oil; flipped the chopsticks back up to eye them a moment longer; and at last, out of habit, sucked the remaining sauce off the ends. Then he put them aside and fished out his phone.
December 21, 2025, 23:45, it told him, along with a flurry of notifications:
Xiao Bobo: Senior, wishing you peace and good health this Dongzhi festival!
Xiao Bobo: I’ll bring back some of my mom’s jiuniang for you
Little Captain 🍁: I already talked with him about the updates to One Autumn Leaf, but can you make sure Senior Guan doesn’t go too overboard
Little Captain 🍁: Captain, you know he’ll actually listen to you
Lao Tao: The paperwork looks fine, we just have to get Chairman Feng to OK it after winter break
Lao Tao: Why’s the league so fussed about us having Dancing Rain’s ownership under your name, you already own half the club anyway
Enemy Fang: what if i ban you from my training camp, you poacher!!!
Su Muqiu chuckled at the last one. Xiao Zhou will let me in anyway, he’s a good kid like that, he replied. Then he went back to the earlier messages.
Autumn Tree: I just had noodles, so my dear VC don’t you worry
Autumn Tree: say hello to your mom for me
Autumn Tree: tsk tsk who’s the captain now, let your senior enjoy his retirement
Autumn Tree: look now, just practice your Lao Han impression on him
Autumn Tree: also aren’t you with the relatives? stay sharp, don’t get distracted! that’s a minefield in itself
He paused on his chat with Tao Xuan, typing and deleting back and forth for a moment; finally, he gave up and fell back on cliches, though they weren’t any less true.
Autumn Tree: thanks
Autumn Tree: it means a lot to me
He got up to pay for his meal, then shrugged on his coat and headed for the exit. The plaintive cry of the old speakers’ song trailed after him. The sea’s moon hangs up in the sky, the sky’s moon lies down in the sea—
It cut off when the door banged shut, plunging his world into a deeper quiet.
Outside, the snow was no longer falling. Winter so far had been gentle to Hangzhou; only a thin blanket of icy fluff decorated the ground, like a layer shaved off a mille crepe cake. The side street into which Su Muqiu had emerged was deserted, which was unusual—but not so surprising on this night. For it was the winter solstice: Dongzhi, a time of reunion. The grubby food spots here weren’t the sort of places where families would gather around large round tables, shamelessly gabbing away before returning home together.
The temperature differential from the warmth indoors to the cold outdoors had fogged up his glasses. He wiped them squeaky clean and then noticed another person in his field of vision, an old woman sitting on the narrow curb and holding an insulated lunch bag in her lap.
Su Muqiu came closer as he walked toward the main street, and slowed his steps. It was hard to tell if she was waiting for anyone; he was just wondering if he ought to ask, for her safety’s sake, when she turned her face up to glance at him and took care of the matter altogether.
“Young man,” the old woman said, “are you waiting for someone too?”
She was sitting on a part of the curb that was swallowed by shadow, hidden even from moonlight and starlight and streetlight. In the darkness, her eyes seemed curiously round and curiously big, like two black sesame balls that had been stuffed into her eye sockets instead of into tangyuan dough.
“Um...” Rarely at a loss for words, Su Muqiu found them withering on his tongue with unease. Those eyes… he looked away from her gaze. “No, not really. Granny, do you want to wait inside and get away from the cold? I know the noodle boss won’t mind.”
The old woman was unmoved. “My husband will be here soon,” she replied in a raspy voice, and clutched her bag closer to her chest. “Thank you for your care, but he’ll miss me if I go elsewhere.”
Then she fixed her protruding eyes on him. With casual sangfroid and a humorless smile, she reached out a wrinkled hand to pat his shoe. “What about your sister, young man? You’ll miss her too, if you don’t hurry. Hasn’t Dongzhi started already? And to think that now’s the longest night of the year...”
The longest night, what a weird thing to care about, was his first reaction, and then—what the hell kind of guess is that? The smile that did its duty as Su Muqiu’s default expression froze on his face. Of course Su Mucheng wasn’t a secret; any Glory fan who had watched his early interviews would know about his little sister, immortalized as Dancing Rain after she died. Back then, his need to let the world know that she’d even existed in the first place had battled and won out over his numb instinct to curl in on himself and become nothing at all.
(In that way, Mucheng would never be forgotten.)
But this old woman hardly seemed the Glory fan type. Maybe, Su Muqiu thought a little bitterly, I just look like the big brother type?
“Thanks, granny. I wouldn’t want to miss her,” he said, his voice low and stiff; he knew the rude sarcasm would really break through if he spoke any louder, and he wasn’t so careless as to let it show. “Stay warm.”
Good riddance, he added in his thoughts, and turned his feet away from the old woman. He’d walk back to Excellent Era; the club building wasn’t too far by foot, and the wintry air would help clear his head of a surging bad mood.
Su Muqiu felt a sudden chill pass through his body, and couldn’t help but shiver. His steps flattened the snow beneath him as he walked into the night.
Eventually, in each footprint left behind, the crushed snow revives to fill its former space. As if he’s left no mark upon the world; as if the world no longer holds his very existence.