Chapter 39: A Star at Last

Their time had been meticulously divided long in advance. On Lunar New Year’s first day, Jingjing would go to the mountains with Yutu to visit her grandparents, then meet up at her grandparents’ house. The second day, Jingjing’s family headed to her grandmother’s place—Yutu couldn’t come along, and it just so happened to be the day teachers expected homework submissions. Even after graduation, that habit stuck.

But Dad Jing said, “As long as you’re not too late, come on over. We’ve already agreed to stay up all night.”

Then on the third day, it was a family reunion at Yutu’s relatives’ home. Little cousin Xiao Liu nearly lost his mind when he heard that his white moonlight fantasy—beautiful, elusive Qiao Jingjing—had become part of their family.

“Yutu, this Lunar New Year is exhausting,” he groaned.

“I can handle exhaustion. But I can’t stand sleeping like crap every single night.”

“Miss Qiao,” said Jingjing, “I’m honestly not okay with that.”

As the most active organizer in their high school class group chat, Li Ming felt compelled to check in on Yutu—luckily, no need to leave the neighborhood. Just a few buildings away.

He could already hear laughter spilling from inside the apartment. He knocked. The door opened to Yutu’s mom.

“Happy Lunar New Year, Auntie! I’m here to pay my respects!”

Yutu’s dad and Li Ming’s dad were coworkers, and the families had always been close. “Li Ming, come in! You’re looking for Yutu?”

“You two took off on that road trip for months again. This time, are you staying put?”

Li Ming didn’t answer right away. His eyes locked onto Yutu walking toward him—and behind him, a girl in an oversized sweater, ponytail swinging casually. It was… Qiao Jingjing.

Was it really her? Not the glossy-faced star on billboards, but the real one—no makeup, same quiet charm as in high school. Their classmate. Qiao Jingjing.

Both of them tilted their heads in unison: “Long time no see, Li Ming.”

As the king of gossip, Li Ming knew exactly what that meant. His stunned silence wasn’t because he didn’t understand—it was because he simply couldn’t believe it.

“So that’s why you booked the whole living room for a movie night, claiming it was your treat.”

“Do I even have that kind of clout? Bringing the lead actress into our home?”

“Qiao Jingjing, we haven’t seen each other in six or seven years!”

“Since you became a star, you vanished completely. Was Pei Pei the only one still in touch?”

“Oh wait—there’s another one.”

“So when did this happen?”

“How come we didn’t hear a whisper? Yutu, you’re seriously terrible at keeping secrets.”

“You broke every boy’s dream at No. 1 High School single-handedly.”

Li Ming froze. He wanted to say, *Actually, half of us dreamed of her—Shi Qing was the other half. Together, they made a full set.*
But if he said that out loud, he’d probably die a slow, painful death.

“Oh, Qiao Jingjing—you’re worse. Seven years silent. Then boom—you snagged our university god.”

Li Ming rambled through his thoughts in one breathless sentence before finally calming down enough to take the water Jingjing handed him. He needed a moment to process the news—like a nuclear explosion in slow motion.

“So you came straight here to confront me instead of telling everyone tomorrow afternoon, the 8th screening room at Wanda Cinema will show back-to-back screenings of your movies?”

“Li Ming, you’re actually pretty sharp.”

@Everyone: Tomorrow afternoon, Wanda Cinema, Screening Room 8—we’re booking the entire hall for our class. Showing our superstar Qiao Jingjing’s *Dragon Beneath the Surface* and *Black Eyes*. Come watch—bring your families!

The films were great. The star was even better. The 120-seat theater was packed. They had to open a second screen on the spot.

When the cinema manager heard a private screening included a real-life celebrity, he rushed staff over, practically begging to launch a delayed premiere campaign. Li Ming spent ten minutes convincing him otherwise.

In the end, the manager settled for snapping photos, getting autographs, and promising his team they could brag about their fandom—just one day later.

Pei Pei showed up with her whole crew—husband, parents, and her unborn baby. The two girls linked arms, giggling. Jingjing couldn’t resist reaching out to touch Pei Pei’s belly.

“Does it feel weird? And promise me—you’ll let me be your godmother!”

Pei Pei ignored her, scanning the darkened theater. “Where’s the Academic God?”

“Where’s the Academic God?”

“Calm down! He went with Li Ming to negotiate with the cinema. We don’t want them turning this into some big spectacle. Our little get-together would lose its soul.”

“True. But with how famous you are now, maybe there’s no stopping it.”

“They’re all classmates. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

The lively movie night added a tiny bump to box office numbers—just a tiny one. In Cat Eye’s nationwide rankings, Jingjing’s two films landed at #2 and #5 respectively. Combined? Definitely #1.

But more important than the numbers was the emotional impact. Parents—mostly moms and dads—lined up to hug the real, live Jingjing. They’d watched her grow up. Now she stood before them radiant, glowing, yet still sweetly calling them Uncle and Auntie, listening patiently as they recalled childhood memories.

“She’s always been beautiful. Whether hosting events or singing solo, I knew she’d make it big.”

“In parent-teacher meetings, she used to bring extra chairs for everyone. Now look at her—huge star. Her parents must be bursting with pride.”

“Her acting is incredible. I’ll definitely recommend her movies to friends and family.”

“And she remembers so many parents—not by name, but by nickname: ‘Zhang Chi’s mom,’ ‘Shao Yang’s dad.’ A few of them were even the ones who drove kids during those late-night stargazing sessions. That earned gasps: ‘You remember me? You’re such a good kid!’”

Amid the whirlwind of greetings, Jingjing looked up—she didn’t have to search. There he was, standing just ahead of her gaze, watching her from afar, quietly glowing with warmth and joy.

After the last parent left, murmuring about how fast time flies, classmates discreetly escorted Jingjing downstairs. A normally quiet guy stepped forward.

“Qiao Jingjing… thank you. I haven’t watched a movie with my parents in years.”

A hush fell over the group. For so many of them, life away from home meant rare family moments. But today, their parents had smiled. Really smiled.

Yeah. Thank you, Jingjing.

Jingjing waved both hands frantically. “No, thank Li Ming! I never thought of all this. He arranged everything—the screening, even inviting people to bring their parents.”

“So thank Li Ming! Come on, let’s clink glasses!”

Li Ming, be a hero for once!

Wait—heroes don’t have to drink for others, do they?

By late afternoon, those who missed the movie started trickling in, grumbling at Li Ming: “You told us too late. My original plans were set. I missed seeing the real star in person.”