As a child, time always felt endless-endless classes, endless afternoons, endless summer vacations, endless childhood.

At some point, time seemed to start playing tricks on people.

Before you knew it, it would shortchange you.

Chen Xi rode her motorcycle out of the courtyard and looked up to see that the old willow tree at the mouth of the alley had quietly sprouted, showing a distant patch of green ready to burst forth.

Only then did she realize that spring had arrived.

Chen Xi pressed the accelerator, and just as her motorcycle reached the alley entrance, she saw Fan Mingsu slowly turning in on her old tricycle.

Chen Xi stopped her motorcycle and called out: “Grandma.”

These past few days, Fan Mingsu was overjoyed whether she saw Chen Xi or not.

She cheerfully applied the brakes and asked Chen Xi, “Did you eat the fried cakes on the table?”

Chen Xi nodded: “I ate two.”

Fan Mingsu: “There’s egg and fermented rice wine in the pot.”

Chen Xi: “I saw it. I drank a big bowl.”

She glanced at the plastic bottles Fan Mingsu had collected early that morning in the tricycle basket.

She couldn’t help nagging her again: “How much money can you make collecting these things?”

Fan Mingsu shook her head with a grin, even showing her gums: “Can’t make much money.”

Chen Xi was speechless: “Then why do you bother?”

Fan Mingsu turned and grabbed a plastic bottle from the basket, waving it at Chen Xi with satisfaction: “I’m showing off. The little figure on this bottle was drawn by my granddaughter.”

“You have no idea – I’m now the celebrity granny of this area. People wanting to cozy up to me stretch from the Dang River to the Shazhou Night Market. It’s driving me crazy.”

Chen Xi couldn’t help but laugh – she couldn’t see any sign that Grandma was bothered at all.

“I’m going to the shop. Don’t skip lunch.”

Chen Xi reminded Fan Mingsu and was about to step on the accelerator when she saw the fruit shop owner’s wife at the alley entrance riding her electric bike in.

Seeing Chen Xi, she quickly stopped.

“Chen Xi, did you draw that Crescent Moon Town?”

Before Chen Xi could answer, she heard Fan Mingsu say smugly: “Of course it’s real. Dunhuang people making Dunhuang animation – who else but her?”

The shop owner’s wife said to Chen Xi with a beaming smile, “We have a celebrity on our street now. My daughter’s classmates want to come see you in a group.”

Fan Mingsu waved her hand grandly: “Let them come. I’ll make donkey meat noodles for them.”

In the gentle spring breeze, Chen Xi rode through the familiar streets and alleys of the small city.

A small electric scooter playing the ending theme of Crescent Moon Town brushed past her.

A fast food restaurant by the roadside had a poster of the little rabbit girl holding a lantern while climbing over a wall pasted on its window.

Chen Xi’s key chain had been replaced with the little rabbit girl in a red dress, with a string of golden bells tied around her chubby ankles, jingling in the wind.

Chen Xi had bought this key chain at Shazhou Night Market – it was very cute.

The animation Crescent Moon Town had become popular, bringing this small desert city back into public view.

Short video platforms were also swept by a wave of fan creations, with all kinds of merchandise appearing everywhere in street shops and online platforms. Even tourists were much more numerous than in previous years.

Fan Mingsu had recently become obsessed with collecting the packaging paper printed with Crescent Moon Town animation patterns from plastic bottles, having accumulated a thick stack that looked exactly like how Chen Xi used to collect candy wrappers as a child.

In the first few days after the animation aired, Chen Xi was also a bit obsessed, spending every day online browsing posts about Crescent Moon Town.

Seeing the increasingly positive response and growing popularity of the animation, Chen Xi was so excited for a while that her biological clock changed.

No matter how late she went to bed, she would wake up punctually at five in the morning, hugging her phone to read online comments.

Soon after, Chen Xi’s excitement finally passed, and she went back to riding her motorcycle to the shop to repair cars as usual.

Seeing more and more Crescent Moon Town merchandise around the small city, she would just smile happily and continue with whatever she was doing.

But the people around her hadn’t had enough excitement yet.

Fan Mingsu had gone back to setting up a stall at Shazhou Night Market, selling not only raisins but also Crescent Moon Town merchandise, chatting enthusiastically with tourists.

Even Ma Lao Liu had placed a row of Crescent Moon Town figurines on his counter, showing off to anyone he met that these little figures were all drawn by his grand-niece.

Qin Zhan had simply installed a second-hand TV in his shop that played only the Crescent Moon Town animation all day.

When he met chatty customers, he would show off to them.

Han Susu’s recent social media posts had been exclusively about Crescent Moon Town.

As for Yang Shan, she was even crazier.

She named her second baby Kuankuan, which was the little rabbit girl’s name in Crescent Moon Town.

She didn’t consider how the baby would feel when she grew into a graceful young lady and heard people calling her name.

Chen Xi’s bank account had gained a considerable sum, probably more than she could earn from two years of car repair.

Ms. Leng asked her one day if she wanted to work on another animation. Chen Xi thought about the suddenly multiplied zeros in her bank balance and was genuinely tempted for a moment.

But thinking about those months of dark, endless overtime in Beijing, she still smiled and declined.

Money could never be earned completely, but happy days were numbered. Thinking this way, Chen Xi stopped being greedy.

What she had now was already the best.

After work that evening, Chen Xi didn’t go home immediately.

She walked through the small door to the adjacent VR arcade and stood under the large partition wall, looking up at her work from the past two months.

On this side of the wall, she had painted a Crescent Moon Town. Under the shade of poplars and weeping willows, the small desert town had crisscrossing streets and alleys, with flying eaves and tiles, every household filled with the sounds of chickens and dogs, peaceful and content.

Chen Xi moved the ladder to the last blank space on the wall and continued applying color.

After Bai Yuning went to Beijing, she spent three months painting the entire partition wall.

When she finished, she had already let go of that relationship.

Back then, she could pick things up and put them down easily.

After returning from Beijing, she began painting the mural on the VR arcade side.

Now she understood how to cherish and had learned to persevere.

She had decided on one person, decided to spend her whole life with him.

While she was painting, Qin Lie called. Chen Xi put down her brush and answered.

“Hello, not busy?”

Chen Xi asked with a smile.

Qin Lie’s low voice came through the phone: “Nebula 9 was released today.”

Chen Xi was somewhat surprised and pleased. She knew how much Qin Lie had invested in Nebula 9 during this time.

“How did it go? Smoothly?”

Qin Lie’s voice carried a hint of laughter and faint fatigue: “Yeah, super cool.”

Chen Xi smiled: “Congratulations.”

After chatting for a few sentences, Qin Lie’s side gradually became quiet, but the call hadn’t been hung up.

Chen Xi called out a few times, then suddenly heard steady breathing from the other end.

Chen Xi called softly: “Qin Lie.”

No one responded from the other end, only increasingly long, steady breathing.

Qin Lie had fallen asleep while talking on the phone. Who knew what kind of exhaustion he’d been enduring?

Chen Xi sat on the ladder, head lowered, listening to Qin Lie’s steady breathing, reluctant to hang up for a long time.

In this world, some people come and go, destined to be passersby. Some people come and go, yet remain omnipresent.

After a long while, Chen Xi smiled somewhat helplessly and quietly hung up.

Yang Shan’s second baby’s full-month celebration was booked at Tianhe Hotel, the same place where Yang Shan and Han Chao had held their wedding banquet.

Yang Shan had been cooped up at home for a month and could finally get some fresh air.

But it happened to be a windy day, she dressed a bit lightly, and ate something that didn’t agree with her.

After returning home, she had fever, vomiting, and diarrhea, so she had to go to the community hospital for an IV.

That evening, as soon as the baby saw Yang Shan, he cried for milk. Yang Shan had to hide at Chen Xi’s house, leaving Han Chao and the grandparents at home to care for the two children.

When Han Susu heard about this, she also happily ran over to Chen Xi’s place.

Three women in pajamas squeezed onto Chen Xi’s bed, just like when they were children.

Being able to escape the demanding kids for one night, Yang Shan was extremely excited and wanted to have a drink.

Unfortunately, she had to nurse tomorrow, so she could only watch Chen Xi and Han Susu drink beer with longing eyes.

A small lantern at the bedside bathed the three of them in soft, warm light.

Yang Shan braided and unbraided Han Susu’s smooth, long hair.

She had loved combing dolls’ hair as a child, was the first to marry, and the first to have children.

She loved playing house as a child, and now loved her own home.

But she also loved free nights like this – idle, lazy, and leisurely, with equally idle friends beside her.

Such nights made her feel like she was still the carefree girl from before.

She suddenly sighed: “Actually, being single is quite nice too.”

Chen Xi hugged her knees, looking at the moon outside the window.

In life, people always seemed melancholy about being caught between loneliness and crowding.

Han Susu suddenly asked: “Chen Xi, what are your plans with Qin Lie?”

Chen Xi looked at the bright moonlight, smiled, and said nothing.

The same moonlight shone on Beijing’s sleepless streets.

Qin Lie and Wang Danyang stumbled out of the restaurant drunk, arms around each other’s shoulders.

They were surrounded by a group of people heading to KTV for the next round of celebration.

Nebula 9 was a huge success. Qin Lie had booked the celebration banquet at a high-end club restaurant in Sanlitun.

Besides people from FW, the attendees included the Digital National Treasures project team from Daybreak.

The next decade belonged to them.

At the KTV, Qin Lie lay on the sofa and fell asleep directly.

His ears were filled with deafening singing, and his closed eyelids couldn’t block out the dazzling lights overhead.

Amid everyone’s hysterical celebration, Qin Lie suddenly felt an inexplicably intense loneliness.

Qin Lie suddenly sat up, pressed the call button, summoned the KTV staff, and ordered a pile of the venue’s most expensive drinks as if money meant nothing.

Everyone cheered that the boss was generous. Qin Lie lay back down, still feeling lonely.

A loneliness that even spending a fortune couldn’t dispel.

At this moment, he just wanted to hold Chen Xi, smell her soft body, snuggle in the blankets, and sleep soundly together.

Her breathing, occasional teeth grinding, and sleep talk, her movements of turning over and kicking off blankets – all became his current vascular craving.

Noisy singing and laughter filled his ears. Qin Lie felt annoyed but hoped this noise would continue from midnight until dawn, never stopping.

Because he didn’t want to go home.

That luxury apartment in a prime location, kept spotless by hourly workers, looked exactly like a showroom in a real estate development.

The air contained only coldness and boredom. Chen Xi had come and gone, taking away even the living breath from this home, leaving only him as a walking corpse.

He suddenly didn’t understand why he was living this kind of life.

Thousands of miles away, in the bustling world, those intense warmth and joy had nothing to do with him.

The only person he wanted to hold was unreachably far away, enduring loneliness and longing together with him.

Why was he living this kind of life?

At 3 AM, Qin Lie and Wang Danyang stumbled through the brilliantly lit streets of Sanlitun.

Zhou Ning was also drunk, swaying as he walked ahead of them.

“You two, hurry up.”

Zhou Ning called back to them.

Wang Danyang asked with bleary eyes: “Honey, where are we going?”

Zhou Ning: “Taking you two to see something good.”

The three walked through the still-bustling streets at dawn, arriving at a small plaza.

Surrounded by towering buildings, the glass walls full of technology and design were outlined and rendered by soaring lights.

This was the capital’s sleepless sky, the dream they had once yearned for, once been passionate about, willing to go through fire and water for.

Zhou Ning stopped in the center of the plaza and pointed toward a huge LED billboard on a shopping mall building directly ahead.

“Ten seconds left.”

She turned back to Qin Lie and Wang Danyang with a bright smile, loudly counting down.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.”

The billboard suddenly darkened for a moment, then brilliant lights exploded.

Intense colors and sudden light and shadow instantly transformed the small plaza into a fantastical island.

On the huge billboard occupying nearly one-third of the building’s glass wall, the intense colors of Mogao Cave murals appeared in red and green collision.

Exotic music began, ethereal and mysterious.

3D flying celestials and musicians playing reversed pipa danced gracefully.

Graceful dancing postures, flowing ribbons, realistic effects – as if walking directly from the mysterious and brilliant murals of Mogao Caves into the brilliant night sky of the capital.

Qin Lie looked up, staring in shock at the incredibly stunning scene before him, his mind instantly blank, forgetting everything.

Zhou Ning’s excited voice reached his ears: “How’s that? Pretty good naked-eye 3D effect, right?”

Qin Lie’s Adam’s apple moved as he nodded lightly.

Wang Danyang was completely stunned, half-sobered from his drink, asking Zhou Ning in shock: “Honey, how much did this cost?”

Zhou Ning waved her hand and said spiritedly, “This is concept promotion for VR technology and momentum-building for the Digital National Treasures project. It’s worth any amount of money.”

The three stood in the plaza, looking up at the naked-eye 3D flying celestials with their flowing robes.

One flying celestial extended a slender white arm toward the screen, as if reaching to pluck stars from the sky.

On the winter street with its desolate cold wind, they felt their blood boiling.

Wang Danyang watched the changing lights and shadows on the screen and suddenly spoke.

“Old Qin, you were right.”

Qin Lie said nothing, his gaze seemingly fixed on the endlessly fantastical screen.

Wang Danyang grabbed Qin Lie’s shoulder and shook it, continuing: “Before, I thought making games was already the coolest profession in the world – wealth flowing in like water, players worldwide.”

“I couldn’t understand what investing tons of real money into the VR industry could bring us.”

His gaze took on a layer of brilliant color, like a sea of flowers blooming in his life.

“Now I understand that in the internet field, technology is life, technology is our future, and the future of all humanity.”

He looked at Qin Lie, his tone suddenly becoming earnest.

“Old Qin, thank you for bringing me to today. Our career has just begun.”

Zhou Ning said excitedly: “Yes, our career has just begun.”

Her eyes were bright, as if she could already see the ships of dawn sailing into the vast starry sea of the future.

“Naked-eye 3D games, Digital National Treasures, internet cloud living – we’re going to create a new world on the internet. We’ll be pioneers of the digital universe.”

Qin Lie silently listened to Wang Danyang and Zhou Ning’s passionate hopes for the future, but he was unusually quiet.

Seeing the naked-eye 3D flying celestials, his heart had been equally excited for a moment.

But after that moment, his heart became a stagnant pool again, even somewhat melancholy.

Because he couldn’t share such shocking scenes, such infinite hopes, with Chen Xi.

It turned out that the ultimate joy in this world needed to be shared with someone specific to be truly felt.

He stood before happiness but found that the person he wanted to share it with wasn’t beside him.

Happiness and dreams instantly lost their flavor.

“What about you, Old Qin?”

Zhou Ning patted Qin Lie’s shoulder, looking at him expectantly.

Qin Lie’s lips moved, but he didn’t know what to say.

He cupped his hands around a lighter’s weak flame in the wind and lit a cigarette.

“Let’s go have another drink.”

He spoke flatly, turning his back on the incredibly cool billboard and walking away.

Zhou Ning and Wang Danyang watched the dancing flying celestials for a bit longer before following.

As Qin Lie walked, he suddenly heard the faint sound of a guitar from under a streetlight ahead.

It was covered by the mysterious music of the flying celestial dance, with only fragments of melody audible.

But Qin Lie thought the melody sounded familiar.

When he passed the young man singing and playing guitar, he heard his melancholy, desolate voice singing Li Shutong’s “Autumn Willow.”

“Willows by the embankment, in autumn, leaves scatter.”

“Leaves all fallen, only thin branches remain.”

“Remember that day, green and shady, spring was beautiful.”

“Today, cold and clear, autumn grows old.”

“Wind so sad, rain so sad.”

“Don’t you see, the scene before us has completely changed.”

“One thought, one look back, brings unbearable grief.”

His voice carried the nasal quality characteristic of Northwest people, hoarse and rough.

Qin Lie slowed his steps slightly, listening to the song as he passed the singer.

Wang Danyang and Zhou Ning caught up from behind.

Wang Danyang hooked his arm around Qin Lie’s neck, asking with a smile: “Old Qin, where should we continue drinking?”

Qin Lie led the two toward a small lit bar on one side of the plaza.

The singing gradually faded behind him.

“Don’t you see, the scene before us has completely changed.”

“One thought, one look back, brings unbearable grief.”

Qin Lie suddenly stopped, turned around, and ran back toward the singer.

Wang Danyang and Zhou Ning were startled, staring at Qin Lie’s tall figure running somewhat unsteadily, as if urgently rushing toward something.

They stood stunned for a moment, then ran after him.

Qin Lie ran to near the singer and stood under a streetlight at the edge of the small plaza, cigarette in hand, quietly listening to the song.

Something was churning in his chest. His eyes were dark, like a night he couldn’t escape.

Wang Danyang ran to Qin Lie’s side and was about to tease him when he suddenly discovered two streams of tears on Qin Lie’s hard face.

Wang Danyang was completely shocked, the impact comparable to a comet hitting Earth.

Because they had never seen Qin Lie like this.

In their memory, this tough guy Qin Lie had never shed tears no matter what he experienced, what difficulties he encountered, what setbacks he faced.

Not even three years ago, at the lowest point of his life.

When he was kicked out by former comrades, dumped by his girlfriend, betrayed by everyone, falling overnight from glorious heights to life’s depths, he hadn’t cried.

Qin Lie later returned to Dunhuang, living each day aimlessly.

Though alive, he was like the dead.

When he climbed back from the depths to life’s proper track, no matter how difficult or agonizing the journey, Wang Danyang had never seen him show even the slightest vulnerability.

Wang Danyang’s mind suddenly conjured Chen Xi’s face.

Perhaps her appearance had truly changed the man before him, finally giving his cold, hard heart a soft place while also losing its invincible strength.

Wang Danyang was about to speak to Qin Lie when Zhou Ning grabbed him.

Time was silent, the song drifted past their ears, and the three sat on the curb, enduring the bitter cold wind of the winter night.

Behind them came the desolate singing: “One thought, one look back, brings unbearable grief.”

Qin Lie smoked, his tears dried by the wind.

“I miss home.”

He suddenly spoke.

Wang Danyang hummed quietly.

“I miss her too.”

Qin Lie said again.

Wang Danyang: “I know.”

Qin Lie lit another cigarette and smoked in silence for a long time, until all three of their feet were numb with cold, before saying quietly: “Danyang, Zhou Ning, we’re no longer walking the same path.”

Wang Danyang sadly lowered his head without speaking.

Zhou Ning’s nose stung.

“Old Qin, when Danyang betrayed you back then, watching you return to Dunhuang alone to live aimlessly and heal yourself, he felt terrible too.”

“He sentenced himself to death.”

Qin Lie spoke flatly: “That’s long past. I just can’t continue walking with you anymore.”

Wang Danyang suddenly realized something even more frightening. His heart grew cold, but he knew this time there was truly nothing he could do.

He and Zhou Ning quietly watched Qin Lie, waiting for him to speak.

Qin Lie: “The dreams and ambitions you just talked about – if this were before, I would have been the same as you.”

“Thinking about changing the world, thinking that living once, you should make waves and achieve something great.”

“But not anymore. For me, no matter how much money I earn, how high I climb, I don’t feel joy anymore, only emptiness.”

He looked at the night sky, where stars and lights were indistinguishable, and gently exhaled smoke.

“I used to think this is probably how life would be.”

“But now I have a home. That home is in Dunhuang, and there, my heart feels solid.”

“I’ve known her for less than a year, yet I feel every day I lived there was memorable.”

“Life was ordinary, yet flavorful.”

He stopped talking, and Wang Danyang and Zhou Ning also fell silent.

The singing behind them had stopped at some point, leaving only the ethereal music of the flying celestial dance in the plaza.

After an unknown amount of time, Qin Lie suddenly said quietly, “I’m just an ordinary person. My dream is a wife, children, and a warm bed.”

For some reason, saying this reminded him of the desert music festival.

He had held Sensen in his arms, his peripheral vision gently tracing Chen Xi’s outline.

Times seemed to have changed. People only cared about rushing forward, and human warmth had grown thin. Everyone was busy living in reality, harried and embarrassed.

But his friends who remained in Dunhuang, and her lover, maintained that deep friendship despite life’s embarrassments.

Yang Guan was like this, Qin Zhan was like this, Liu Boyang was like this, and Chen Xi even more so.

In life’s helplessness and uncertainty, they lived embarrassingly, but they had life’s most authentic foundation.

Though embarrassed, they weren’t lacking in happiness.

When there were problems, they gathered to solve them together.

When there weren’t problems, they still gathered together, eating barbecue, watching children chase around the courtyard.

It was quite good.