Delicate Beauty in the Palm : Chapter 70 - The Moon Comes Rushing Forth, Its Momentum Unstoppable

August 28, 2025 Oyen 0 Comments

Happy Reading~

Chapter 70: The Moon Comes Rushing Forth, Its Momentum Unstoppable

 

After Wen Liang finished speaking, the room was silent for a few seconds before erupting into deafening applause and ecstatic screams.

 

Meanwhile, fans in the livestream chat went completely wild—

 

[Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!]

 

[I used to think calling someone ‘princess’ was so cheesy, but why does it sound so incredibly sweet coming from Mr. Wen??? Aaaaahhh!!]

 

[I'm literally fainting, what kind of god-tier romance is this!!!]

 

[Ahhh our Sister Die really is a princess!! 😭😭 This is a real-life princess-and-knight(??) kind of love!]

 

[Damn, this guy is unreal. How can anyone be this good?! Who wouldn't fall for him, ahhh!!]

 

[I’ll love WenDie forever!!!!]

 

……

The live camera then panned over the audience, finally zooming in on the face of Chen Shao, the Chairman of Yiming Entertainment.

 

His brows were slightly furrowed—clearly not too pleased with how things were playing out.

 

[Hahahahahaha Mr. Chen’s inner thoughts: ‘Is my damn sister getting snatched away right in front of me??’]

 

[Waaah even their sibling bond is so touching!!]

 

[Our Sister Die really is a princess—who could be more like a princess than her? No one!!]

 

[Hahahahaha I thought Mr. Chen was about to storm the stage and object.]

 

Chen Die stood at the front of the stage, her eyes brimming with tears.

 

She had loved Wen Liang for so long—throughout her youth, and now into the future.

 

Her youth was vivid and colorful, yet filled with moments of struggle and embarrassment. She secretly dreamed unrealistic dreams about Wen Liang, treading lightly through life with an appearance of nonchalance, finally arriving at the destination she'd long hoped for.

 

Her dream, her salvation, her god—her distant moon that she had chased for years—was now standing before her, holding a ring and proposing.

 

He said: “Princess, will you marry me?”

 

“I will.” Chen Die heard herself say.

 

Wen Liang smiled. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and slipped the ring onto her finger.

 

Last time, when he was wracked with guilt after the kidnapping incident, Wen Liang hadn’t even dared to put the ring on her—Chen Die had taken it and slipped it onto her own finger without hesitation.

 

But this time, he placed it on her finger himself.

 

Wen Liang returned the mic to the host and led Chen Die off the stage by the hand.

 

The host went on to announce the final Best Actor award, but Chen Die could no longer focus—her head was buzzing, her face was burning, and she was being pulled by Wen Liang into a fire escape stairwell.

 

It was a familiar place, the little green exit sign glowing in the darkness.

 

The same place where Chen Shao and Ye Chuqing had entered earlier.

 

When Chen Die finally spoke, her voice still carried a heavy sob: “Why here?”

 

“Too many cameras outside,” Wen Liang said, tugging her wrist and gently pressing her against the wall. He cupped her face and leaned in.

 

Their lips met, and as he spoke, their lips brushed—his voice laced with a smile: “What are you crying for?”

 

Chen Die was pressed between the cold wall and Wen Liang’s warmth. Tilting her chin up, she kissed him back.

 

The Best Actor award was probably being announced outside now, but Chen Die couldn’t hear the host’s voice—only the thunder of applause. The secrecy of the moment, the chance of being discovered at any second, made her clutch Wen Liang’s clothes tightly.

 

After a long moment, Wen Liang finally pulled back slightly: “Not pushing me away this time.”

 

Chen Die sniffled and looked up at him.

 

Her eyes were still red, but she had a bright smile as she softly asked: “When did you buy the ring?”

 

“Had it custom-made a while ago. Picked it up yesterday,” Wen Liang said, leaning into her, half lounging against her. “Do you like it?”

 

Chen Die nodded and clung to his neck, curling into his chest, whining: “I feel like I said yes too easily just now.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You barely said anything, and I already agreed. I’ve seen people write whole love essays during confessions!” Chen Die grumbled.

 

Wen Liang chuckled: “I was afraid if I said too much, you’d run up and cover my mouth.”

 

“......”

 

Chen Die thought about it—it was kind of true. She wasn’t used to saying or hearing such heartfelt things in front of a crowd.

 

“Were you nervous?” she asked again.

 

Wen Liang looked down at her, his gaze deep. He kissed her once more before replying: “Why, are you conducting a proposal survey now?”

 

Chen Die pinched him: “I’m asking you.”

 

Everything had happened so fast and so suddenly that now, looking back, she felt her reaction might’ve been a bit embarrassing. She was desperately grasping for any sign that Wen Liang had been just as nervous—that it would prove just how much he truly loved her.

 

Wen Liang smiled and admitted. “Most nervous I’ve been in decades.”

 

The man was standing right in front of her, tall enough that his shadow fell directly over Chen Die’s head.

 

Earlier, when he proposed on stage, he already seemed pretty relaxed, but now he had truly let down his guard. His brows were smooth, and there was a lazy charm to his demeanor.

 

Chen Die looked at him for a while, then smiled. “What if I had said no?”

 

Wen Liang flicked her forehead. “Then I’d have forced you to marry me.”

 

The two of them lingered in the emergency stairwell for a while before heading out. Chen Die kept her head down the entire time, lifting her dress as she ran back to her seat. The people nearby all offered their congratulations.

 

She had left her purse in her seat when she went up on stage earlier. Now, taking out her phone, she immediately saw a missed call from Chen Shao.

 

“......”

 

He was sitting in the front row during the awards and still tried to call her? Was he nuts?

 

There was also a message:

 

[Chen Shao: Are you crazy? What were you and Wen Liang sneaking off to do there?]

 

Chen Die rolled her eyes and replied:

 

[Chen Die: What dirty thoughts are you having? You were just dragging Chuqing in there too—what were you up to?]

 

Chen Shao probably wasn’t checking his phone anymore and didn’t respond right away.

 

Meanwhile, the broadcast cameraman had been very competent—he captured Chen Shao’s subtle expression perfectly, as well as Wen Liang and Chen Die slipping off to the emergency stairwell.

 

Online, netizens were already spinning their own dramatic stories, jokingly fantasizing a full-on avi.

 

That night, Chen Die took up multiple trending topics related to the Baihua International Film Festival:

 

#ChenDieBestActress#

 

#WenLiangProposal#

 

#WenDieEpicLoveStory#

 

#MyPrincess#

 

It became one of the most talked-about and admired events during the bitter winter season.  

 

The next day was Christmas, and they had planned to register their marriage. But, just her luck—Chen Die suddenly developed a pimple.

 

She rarely broke out, and even when she did, it was usually a small red dot easily covered with concealer. But this one was stubborn, big, and swollen, right on her right cheek.

 

It was ugly.

 

After coming home late from the awards ceremony—thanks to Wen Liang keeping her up—she woke up the next morning to see him already out of bed, standing in front of the mirror buttoning his shirt.

 

His back was broad, waist slim, and he somehow made even the plainest shirt look incredibly good.

 

Chen Die stared at his back for a moment, the corners of her lips lifting slightly before she slowly got up, slipped on her slippers, and went into the bathroom.

 

One second, two seconds, three—

 

A scream exploded from inside the bathroom.

 

Wen Liang asked from outside, “What’s wrong?”

 

Chen Die stared at the zit in the mirror in horror, pinched herself to confirm she wasn’t dreaming, then walked to the bathroom door, looking at him in despair.

 

“We can’t go register today.”

 

Wen Liang frowned. “Why not?”

 

Chen Die pointed hard at the pimple on her face. “Look at this! It’s huge! How am I supposed to take an ID photo like this?!”

 

“They really don’t allow acne in the photo or something?”

 

“......”

 

Typical straight-man response. No understanding of how a single zit could destroy a whole look.

 

“And besides, the Civil Affairs Bureau will probably have tons of people taking pictures of us. If this photo ends up online, it’ll be a permanent stain on my image.”

 

Wen Liang couldn’t wrap his head around her refusing to register because of one pimple.

 

Doesn’t she know how to prioritize?

 

Patiently, he walked over, lifted her chin, and examined the pimple carefully. “It’s fine. Kinda cute, actually.”

 

“…I don’t want that kind of ‘cute,’” Chen Die rejected flatly.

 

Wen Liang tried reasoning: “They can retouch the photo afterward.”

 

Chen Die blinked. “They can edit it out?”

 

“They can.”

 

She didn’t trust him and started Googling on her phone, but there wasn’t a clear answer.

 

Chen Die shook her head. “Nope. Better safe than sorry. What if they don’t let me retouch it?”

 

Wen Liang lowered his voice. “Chen Die.”

 

The air in the bedroom instantly grew heavy.

 

Chen Die looked up at him. “Are you trying to scold me now?”

 

“......”

 

Wen Liang lowered his gaze, looking at the ring on her ring finger, and let out a breath. “No.”

 

He hadn’t truly gotten her yet—how could he risk scaring her off at a time like this?

 

Chen Die snorted and poked his chest with her index finger, smugly accusing him, “See? We’re not even officially married yet, and you already want to scold me. What’re you going to do after we get the certificate?”

 

Wen Liang caught her mischievous finger, wrapped it in his palm, then sat down on the edge of the bed with his legs apart and pulled her into his arms, resting his head against her chest. “I want to brand you.”

 

“What kind of brand?”

 

“One with my name on it.”

 

“……”

 

Chen Die gently patted his hair. “Isn’t the photo on the marriage certificate something you only take once? I don’t want to have to see a photo with a big pimple on my face every time I open it.”

 

In the end, Wen Liang had no choice but to give in to her.

 

Who would’ve thought the thing preventing them from registering their marriage would be a sudden zit?

 

With their original appointment canceled, their schedule unexpectedly opened up—and right then, Old Master Chen called to invite them over for a meal.

 

The Chen family’s main house was pretty quiet these days. Chen Ke wasn’t around—only the old man remained.

 

Wen Liang and Old Master Chen weren’t exactly fond of each other, but for Chen Die’s sake, both had to pretend everything was cordial.

 

At the table, Old Master Chen took the main seat. Instead of sitting across from each other, Chen Die and Wen Liang sat side by side.

 

The topic over dinner naturally revolved around marriage. The old man had already seen the news of Wen Liang’s public proposal to Chen Die the night before.

 

Now that the world knew Chen Die was the true daughter of the Chen family, Old Master Chen hoped the Chen family could participate in the upcoming wedding.

 

Being traditional, he felt that if the bride’s family didn’t contribute at all to the wedding, people might gossip or think less of her.

 

Chen Die paused and glanced at Wen Liang.

 

She had only just accepted the proposal—they hadn’t even registered the marriage yet. How had things jumped straight to talking about the wedding?

 

“The wedding… preparations should take a while, right?” she asked.

 

“Yes. This was all so sudden. You’ll need to book a venue, design a dress, make a guest list, send invitations…”

 

As Old Master Chen listed everything, Chen Die already felt that the whole process sounded like way too much trouble.

 

Then he asked, “What about the date? Have you two decided?”

 

“No, we haven’t prepared anything yet.”

 

The more she spoke, the less confident Chen Die sounded. She and Wen Liang really didn’t know the first thing about wedding planning.

 

Wen Liang said, “Why don’t you pick it for us?”

 

There was a brief pause. Old Master Chen nodded. “Alright. I’ll have someone look into auspicious dates tomorrow.”

 

After the meal, while Chen Die went to the bathroom, Old Master Chen pulled Wen Liang aside.

 

“You rascal. If Xiao Die had grown up right under my nose, I would’ve properly tested you. You wouldn’t have gotten off so easily,” the old man said, pointing a finger at him—but his tone was playful.

 

He paused, then sighed. “She’s had it rough all these years. Our Chen family owes her far too much. I never investigated those rumors about you, but regardless, I hope from now on you treat her well.”

 

Wen Liang nodded. “You have my word.”

 

The old man added, “You told me before that Chen Die has always been labeled as part of the Wen family. But now, she has me and A-Shao backing her, too. You'd better feel a little pressure.”

 

Wen Liang just smiled, leaning casually against the wall, looking arrogantly at ease.

 

A sound came from behind them—Chen Die had come out of the bathroom and was chatting with a housemaid.

 

Old Master Chen glanced over, then lowered his voice, “One more thing—regardless of everything, I want to thank you. You’ve taken good care of Chen Die all these years. At least she’s never had to suffer a truly hard day.”

 

Just as he finished, Chen Die called out, “What are you two talking about?”

 

“Nothing,” Old Master Chen said, “just chatting with Wen Liang about the wedding.”

 

By the time they left the Chen residence, it was already evening.

 

The city was lively on Christmas night. Snow had begun to fall, and Yan City was full of festive cheer. Trees lining the streets sparkled with string lights, and the stores were adorned with decorated Christmas trees. The roads were filled with young couples.

 

Christmas really did feel like a holiday for the young.

 

But Chen Die had rarely celebrated it.

 

When she was a child in Wuxi, people only knew about Christmas from English textbooks—maybe they’d exchange apples, but there wasn’t any real holiday atmosphere.

 

After moving to Yan City, she always spent Christmas in school during high school. In college, she went out once with friends, but that was more about joining the crowd than celebrating.

 

To Wen Liang, Christmas was just another commercialized excuse for businesses to make money. He had never been big on celebrating.

 

Still, there was one Christmas they had spent together.

 

They hadn’t really done anything special—just watched a movie at home, since it was one of the rare times they were both free.

 

Back when Chen Die had just started college, during the week before her freshman year finals, she returned to the western suburb villa. Coincidentally, Wen Liang was also there that day.

 

For her final acting class assignment, Chen Die had to write a performance critique based on a film. She had drawn Roman Holiday and had borrowed the DVD from the school's reading room in advance, planning to watch it that evening with Wen Liang.

 

The large living room of the western suburb villa was completely dark, with only the dim light of the black-and-white movie being projected on the screen.

 

Chen Die was sitting cross-legged on the sofa barefoot, watching intently while occasionally taking notes in preparation for her paper.

 

Wen Liang sat next to her, one hand resting on the back of the sofa behind her, the other holding a cigarette. He looked lazily at the movie, clearly not very focused.

 

“Are you even watching properly?” Chen Die asked, tilting her head after finishing a note.

 

He replied languidly, “Yeah, I’m watching.”

 

Then he placed his hand on her shoulder, his fingers cool, slowly sliding down her collar.

 

Chen Die immediately covered her chest, twisting away from him, stammering, “Stop—stop, I still need to write my paper.”

 

“Can’t you write it tomorrow?” Wen Liang’s voice turned husky.

 

Softly, she said, “No, it’s due tomorrow. I’ve been busy with rehearsals and haven’t written anything yet.”

 

Wen Liang clicked his tongue in annoyance but didn’t push further. Not until her face was flushed red did he finally stop. The movie on the projector had already ended. He helped her fix her clothes and asked, “Going to pull an all-nighter again?”

 

“Yeah.” Chen Die lowered her head, feeling her skin from her collarbone downward was burning hot.

 

“Then go write,” Wen Liang patted her cheek. “Don’t stay up too late.” 

 

Since she had moved into Wen Liang’s bedroom, her original room had been turned into her study.

 

Whenever she had to stay up late for schoolwork, Chen Die would go there to work until the middle of the night, then quietly sneak back to the master bedroom to sleep.

 

After telling her to write, Wen Liang urged her to take a shower first.

 

Chen Die showered, then returned to her room with her laptop and notes in hand.

 

She worked diligently on the assignment. Since she had to critique the performance, she first researched the actors’ background information, made an outline, and built the framework — an hour passed just like that.

 

Finally, she finished writing.

 

Stretching with a yawn, Chen Die slumped in her chair like she had no bones. After a while, she straightened up and glanced at the time.

 

It was 2:00 AM.

 

Tears welled in her eyes from the yawn. She looked at the open notebook beside her, the outline she had written, the desk lamp casting a glowing circle of light, and a bright moon hanging outside the window.

 

She stared in a daze for a couple of seconds, then suddenly picked up her pen and wrote a sentence:

 

——“Of course I won't try to catch the moon. I want the moon to come to me.”

 

Then, as if feeling embarrassed, she scribbled over the line with a black pen, covering it with messy ink. Against the otherwise clean outline, the mark stood out awkwardly.

 

But that sentence was like a seed, planted quietly in Chen Die’s heart that night.

 

Wen Liang parked the car outside the stadium. Across the street was a river.

 

The stadium was noisy and bustling inside. Chen Die looked over and asked, “Is there an event going on?”

 

She put on her hat and walked over for a better look. “Looks like it's Music Festival G.”

 

As they approached, the music thumped loudly, shaking her chest. Inside were stylish young men and women, and a youthful rock band on stage setting up equipment like drum kits.

 

Just as Chen Die approached the entrance, someone called from behind: “Chen Die?”

 

She turned — it was Li Cong.

 

Li Cong glanced at Wen Liang beside her and smiled, “What, you two came to the music festival too?”

 

“No, we were just passing by. We don’t even have tickets.”

 

“No need for tickets, I’ll bring you in.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Li Cong chuckled. “This festival is just something Lin Qingye and I put together for fun. We’re not making money off it — it’s casual.”

 

He brought the two of them inside through an empty staff passage, leading them to a side area in the back where they wouldn’t be easily spotted.

 

“You two made such a scene yesterday, this is the best you’ll get. If people recognize you, the place might explode.” Li Cong laughed. “Luckily, we’ve got plenty of speakers — it’ll be plenty hyped.”

 

Soon, the rock festival officially began, proving Li Cong’s words true—

 

The sound system was powerful.

 

As the bassist slid out a note, the scene exploded. The crowd jumped with the beat.

 

Chen Die’s heart started to soar.

 

Her face was flushed, and she looked up at Wen Liang, eyes sparkling like they held an entire starry sky.

 

She grinned and shouted so he could hear over the noise, “You have to jump too!”

 

Wen Liang didn’t like these kinds of events and didn’t plan to join in.

 

Chen Die tiptoed to shout in his ear again: “Don’t be so stuck up! You need to learn from us young people!”

 

Wen Liang gave a low laugh, then gradually smiled, the corners of his mouth curling up. He watched as Chen Die stood at the back of the crowd, lifting her hands and jumping along with everyone else, confident that no one in front could see her.

 

The music was deafening. 

 

Her seaweed-like long hair bounced up and down with her movements, shimmering like waves.

 

The lead singer had one leg on the stage, bent over and screaming loudly, passionately and unrestrained.

 

As the song ended, he took off his hat and bowed. When he straightened up, he suddenly raised the hat high and threw it into the crowd.

 

With too much force, the hat flew over the densely packed audience and landed even further back. Everyone’s eyes followed the hat, heads turning, and a loud commotion erupted as they scrambled to grab it.

 

No one knows who noticed first, but someone shouted, “Chen Die!!”

 

Everyone looked up—no one went for the hat anymore—they all charged straight toward Chen Die.

 

It all happened so fast that Chen Die instinctively stepped back.

 

Someone stepped on the wire connected to the ceiling lights while running. With a few crackling sounds, the lights flickered twice and then went out.

 

Instant darkness.

 

Chen Die had poor night vision and could no longer see clearly.

 

People rushed over, calling out her and Wen Liang’s names, squeezing together into a crowd.

 

“Wen Liang!” she shouted.

 

At the same time, fireworks bloomed into the night sky from the street outside.

 

Chen Die finally saw Wen Liang also squeezed within the crowd. He pushed through the people and ran toward her.

 

Then her wrist was grabbed. Surrounded by the familiar scent of tobacco and the newly changed fragrance of her body wash, Wen Liang pulled her and began running out.

 

The cold winter wind swept across her face. Chen Die’s long hair flew back as she was dragged by Wen Liang, sprinting madly toward the exit.

 

“Is that really Chen Die?”

 

“It is! I saw her face! Wen Liang’s right beside her!”

 

……

The noise behind them was chaotic, mixed with attempts from the stage to restore order.

 

Chen Die ran through the winter night, but it felt like she had suddenly returned to the summer of her 16th year.

 

At the train station.

 

Just like now—she followed behind Wen Liang, but was suddenly spotted by her family. Wen Liang grabbed her hand and they ran wildly through the streets.

 

It was her first time in this city, her first time seeing streets full of cars and a winding overpass, neon lights illuminating the night—it was also the first time she saw Wen Liang.

 

She was 16 then, and Wen Liang was 22.

 

In that instant, her heart stirred—for a feeling that has lasted ever since.

 

Pulled along by Wen Liang, she ran, the number of people chasing them gradually dwindling, leaving only a few die-hard fans.

 

She was gasping for air, yet suddenly asked, “Will you love me forever?”

 

Whether Wen Liang heard or not, he suddenly pulled her closer, switched arms, and wrapped one around her to keep running.

 

Amid their gasping breaths, Chen Die heard Wen Liang’s reply.

 

“Till death and beyond,” he said.

 

His voice dissolved into the wind.

 

Once upon a time, Chen Die carefully cherished her hidden feelings, yet couldn’t help but use clumsy tricks—like showing Wen Liang the love letters she received, trying to prove her worth.

 

Once, full of blind courage and feigned strength, she stepped into Wen Liang’s bedroom, stubbornly and foolishly tying themselves together with undeniable bonds.

 

Once, she experienced joy followed by disappointment, gave up in despair, and finally walked away with the pride Wen Liang had helped forge within her.

 

And at this moment, all those experiences had become offerings that deepened their love.

 

Even if true love is never a smooth road, the moon still races across the sky—unstoppable.

----------