Song Shiyue quickly realized that her own nickname, up in the top left corner, was a small yellow crescent moon.
Was it just a coincidence… or did he like the naming idea she had come up with?
She instinctively fell into thought. After a moment, she still opened the chat window as usual and shared the latest update about Laifu with him.
「Moon」: [Today I took Laifu to get vaccinated. The doctor said the recovery is going very well, and the fur on its skin will grow back slowly soon.]
After sending it, she stared at the screen for a while. Once she was sure he wouldn’t reply immediately, she turned off her phone.
Laifu’s condition improved day by day. Song Shiyue applied medicine and fed it every day, taking meticulous care of it—even scooping the litter box herself without letting anyone else do it.
Finally, Zhao Siqian couldn’t stand watching anymore and shooed her away: “Let me do it. You’ve been revolving around the cat every single day. You’re in your senior year, my dear ancestor.”
“I’ve already finished all my homework,” Song Shiyue couldn’t help defending herself.
“Then go review some more.” Without another word, Zhao Siqian snatched the litter scoop from her hand and took over the litter-cleaning duty.
Laifu had no idea what was happening. It sat on the floor licking its fur. By now its coat had recovered quite a bit, revealing the black, white, and orange patches. In the daylight, it looked adorably silly and endearing.
Song Shiyue was just like an old mother watching her child grow strong and healthy—her eyes were full of joy. She squatted down, pulled out her phone to take photos, wishing she could capture a dozen pictures a day.
From the latest batch of photos, she picked the prettiest one and sent it to Zhu Xingyan.
If you scrolled up through their chat history over this period, almost every message was related to Laifu.
At first, it was her informing him about the vaccine. Then, after just a few days, Zhu Xingyan took the initiative to ask.
「Star」: [How has Laifu been lately?]
Even after two days, when Song Shiyue saw his star name pop up, she still felt a slight flutter of strangeness. She adjusted her emotions for a moment, waited until she felt normal again, and only then replied to him.
「Moon」: [It’s recovering very well.]
She sent him a recent close-up photo of Laifu that she had taken not long ago.
In the photo, you could faintly see that some fur had started growing in the patchy bald spots on the little cat. The new fur was uneven, but it was visibly recovering bit by bit.
「Star」: [It looks very healthy]
「Star」: [You’re taking really good care of it]
「Moon」: [Laifu is naturally very well-behaved. It eats and sleeps properly every day]
「Star」: [It’s a little kitten that’s working hard to live]
In that instant, Song Shiyue’s mind flashed back to the rainy day when they had picked up Laifu. She deeply agreed with and felt the same emotion as his words.
She sniffled, her eyes growing warm.
「Moon」: [Yes, so I want to love it properly]
After sending it, she was still quietly settling her emotions when her phone vibrated. She saw two words from the other side.
「Star」: [We]
Song Shiyue interpreted this as meaning that the little cat was something they had encountered together on the same day. Since Zhu Xingyan had been involved in the process afterward, he naturally felt a sense of responsibility toward it.
After a brief moment of stunned pause, she sent him a handshake thank-you emoji pack.
On the other end, Zhu Xingyan stared at it fixedly for a few seconds, a mix of amusement and exasperation rising. He pressed his forehead with his hand.
Their chats had gradually shifted from strictly business-like exchanges about schoolwork to updates and records about the cat.
Sometimes Song Shiyue would take the initiative to share news about Laifu; other times Zhu Xingyan would ask after an interval. At some point, without either of them noticing, an unspoken understanding had formed—they seemed to be jointly watching over this little kitten as it grew up.
The frequency of their chats was much higher than it had been over the previous year. Still, both of them were very busy: Song Shiyue with classes, studying, and now also taking care of Laifu; Zhu Xingyan with an even heavier workload. They would squeeze in a few messages during the gaps in their lives, then quickly end the conversation.
When autumn was nearing its end, she even received cat food and toys that Zhu Xingyan had mailed specially for Laifu.
Around the same time, he returned to attend classes.
On the very first day of its premiere, it claimed the top spot at the box office.
Even though this was his initial attempt at transitioning, his traffic and influence remained astonishing. Fans spontaneously organized group ticket purchases, converting his massive popularity into box-office success with remarkable efficiency.
Most industry reviews were largely positive. They first praised the director’s solid foundation and enduring skill (“the old master still has it”), highlighted several standout shots, then discussed the script and plot, and only toward the end mentioned Zhu Xingyan.
Some independent film critics—who usually loved to criticize traffic celebrities and were notoriously strict about acting skills—were unusually measured in their comments on his performance in this film: “Although there is still some greenness, the overall performance exceeded expectations and truly brought the character to life.”
For the fans, such a review was already more than enough to boast about for ten thousand years.
After the movie’s release, the trending topic tags had refreshed to #ActorZhuXingyanWithRealStrength#
On Weibo, there were endless giveaways, reposts, and celebrations. The excitement and joy were overflowing, and the热度 (heat/popularity) stayed sky-high.
In the classroom, Xiao Simin held her phone, reading the comments out loud at full volume while lavishing praise without holding back.
“The final confrontation scene in Night Kill was shot so well—the shift in his eyes was incredibly vivid. It was my first time watching Zhu Xingyan act, and I was originally worried he couldn’t carry the leading role. Who knew he would actually deliver a satisfying answer sheet.”
“Right, right? I told you that scene was insanely good!”
“Maybe the great director really knows how to guide actors. Even without a formal acting background, he still managed to withstand the camera’s test. Zhu Xingyan must have studied the role very seriously. Whether it’s hard work or natural talent, that kind of dedication is pretty rare among traffic celebrities.”
“Exactly! Zhu Xingyan can do anything well! Even if he doesn’t come to class, his exam scores would still rank near the top of the class!”
She wished she could jump in and personally reply to all these comments, but to protect privacy, she could only satisfy her urge behind the scenes.
A classmate teased her: “Alright, alright, I’m afraid if you keep watching, the next time you see Zhu Xingyan in person you’ll faint right in front of him.”
“I will definitely be the first one to rush up and ask for an autograph on the movie still,” Xiao Simin boasted shamelessly.
As soon as she finished speaking, a wave of agreement erupted around her.
“Me too!”
“I’m already completely captured by the young master.” In Night Kill, the character Zhu Xingyan played was a young boy from the Republican era. He grew up carefree in a wealthy family in the first half of his life, but later, amid the chaos of war and a broken nation, he joined the cause of national salvation and sacrificed himself.
On the very first day of the movie’s release, the class spontaneously organized a group outing to watch it. That day happened to be a Friday, and the cinema near the school was practically booked out by their entire class.
The scene of Zhu Xingyan’s final sacrifice made many people cry. Song Shiyue sat in the dark theater, hearing the girls beside her sniffling and pulling out tissues. She stared fixedly at the big screen.
It was an extremely oppressive shot.
The tones were old and dim, the sky pressed down low, old-fashioned fighter planes circling noisily overhead, the entire city fallen.
He lay collapsed in the ruins, his pitch-black eyes filled with sorrow, staring straight in a certain direction.
The camera slowly pulled back from a close-up until it encompassed the whole city. On the horizon, the sunrise gradually rose, revealing a faint orange halo.
It was the east.
Accompanying the sunrise came a bright red flag.
The direction he looked toward until his last breath.
Hope had finally arrived.
It was just a pity that the boy who had shed his hot blood remained forever frozen at his vivid, youthful eighteen years old.
When they walked out of the cinema, a large group of classmates were crying. Only when they reached a brightly lit area and could clearly see each other’s faces did they turn and realize everyone’s eyes were red.
That day, when Song Shiyue returned home, she sat at her desk for a long time trying to calm down.
In the end, she still couldn’t help opening the chat window. For the first time since they picked up Laifu, she sent him a message that had nothing to do with the little cat.
「Moon」: [The movie was really good. Everyone in class cried. Zhu Xingyan, we’re all proud of you]
「Star」: [You too?]
「Star」: [By the way, say hi to Laifu for me]
The initial moment of stunned surprise when Song Shiyue saw that message was quickly washed away by his playful joke, and she returned to her usual self.
「Moon」: [I asked Laifu. It says: it’s also very proud of you]
That was probably the closest their relationship ever felt. They could occasionally make small jokes with each other. At that time, Song Shiyue thought they could already be considered half-familiar friends.
Zhu Xingyan returned to school after the movie’s release.
Night Kill had already earned over three billion at the box office. On the very day the celebration banquet ended, his IP address changed to Fan City.
The next day, the whole class was quietly anticipating it. The atmosphere felt restless, and everyone’s eyes kept drifting toward the door.
Even though Song Shiyue had known in advance that he would come to class, she still couldn’t suppress her nervousness. While solving problems, she caught herself zoning out for the third time. She gripped her pen tighter, took a deep breath, and forced herself to focus.
Unlike what everyone had imagined, he appeared as quietly as ever—low-key, wearing a cap, slipping into the back of the classroom during class time. It wasn’t until the end of the period that anyone noticed.
“Zhu Xingyan!!!” By then, the students in Class 1 had completely dropped their initial restraint. They greeted him excitedly, as if seeing a special old friend.
“You’re back!!!”
The bold ones had already rushed to his desk, expressing their admiration with unrestrained enthusiasm: “I absolutely loved Night Kill! You have to give me a signed movie photo, big star!”
“Shh.” The big star, now surrounded by a crowd, raised a single finger to his lips. His voice was low, gentle, and pure: “Keep it down. Don’t let the other classes find out.”
“I’ve already prepared the signed stills. No need to rush—there’s one for everyone.”
The screams that were about to burst out were forcibly suppressed. The entire Class 1 felt like they were celebrating Chinese New Year that day. Every face glowed with happiness as they happily received their signed photos, took joyful pictures for their Moments, and manually blocked classmates from other classes.
There were too many people crowding around Zhu Xingyan’s desk, and Song Shiyue couldn’t squeeze in for a while. She sat properly at her own seat and continued working on her problems, listening to the laughter and chatter around her, unable to stop the smile that tugged at her lips.
The lively excitement lasted the entire break. When the bell rang and everyone had received their signed photo, the crowd finally dispersed from in front of Zhu Xingyan, leaving his desk quiet again.
He looked up. Not far away, the girl sat at her desk, seriously pulling out her review materials, preparing for the next class.
He covered the two signed photos on his desk with a book, then turned his gaze to the blackboard, focusing and waiting for the lesson to begin.
Because of that brief hesitation, Song Shiyue never found another suitable opportunity.
Every time class ended, either a crowd surrounded Zhu Xingyan’s desk or three or five classmates stood there. If she hesitated even slightly, the moment passed.
By the time she finally gathered the courage and prepared to speak, she turned her head—only to find the seat behind her empty.
Zhu Xingyan was no longer at his desk.
The nervous anticipation she had built up came crashing down. Song Shiyue took out her phone, wanting to message him, but felt it would be making a big deal out of nothing. After all, they were in the same classroom—why go through so much trouble?
The disappointment and low mood followed her all the way until evening dismissal. One by one, her classmates left the classroom until only the students on duty remained.
She lowered her head and slowly packed her things, still thinking in her mind about how she could directly ask him for a signed movie photo tomorrow—
The setting sun slanted across her desk. Suddenly, her shoulder was gently touched. Song Shiyue turned in surprise and saw Zhu Xingyan.
He stood behind her with a smile on his face, and handed her the signed photo he was holding.
Whether it was because his footsteps were too light or because she was too deeply lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t heard the slightest sound.
In the empty, quiet classroom, only his voice echoed, carrying a light, upward lilt.
“I kept waiting but didn’t see you come over, so I had to bring it to you myself.”
“—Last time I think I heard you say your friend really wanted a signed movie photo.”
Actually, it wasn’t just Da Li.
Song Shiyue’s mind went briefly blank. She took the photo from his hand. The top few were stills from the movie with his signature. When she flipped to the very bottom, it turned out to be a group photo of the entire main creative team from the production, with everyone’s signatures on it.
She froze for a long moment. “This is…”
“This one is for you.”
“A little easter egg.”
“As repayment, let me have a chance to see Laifu sometime, okay?” He stood there smiling at her, gently calling her name. “Song Shiyue.”