And now, the replay began.
Back then, Shuying didn't cry. Instead, she quietly walked into her bedroom with a copy of Pre-Qin Poetry tucked beneath her arm. Spread across her desk were books titled Basic Science, Basic Physics, Basic Astronomy, and the worn volume of Pre-Qin Poetry.
She let out a soft sigh before picking up the reply letter from the Poetry House.
"It is recommended that you incorporate scientific concepts into modern poetry."
She nodded seriously. Then, as she absentmindedly flipped through the pages of Pre-Qin Poetry, her movements suddenly froze. If the ancient expressions of love could be translated into modern emotions... And those emotions could then be woven together with scientific theory... Could such poetry exist?
She wasn't sure, but Shuying still lowered her head and tried to write.
"You are the stars, and I am the moon. Across the Pre-Qin era, you will eventually find your way into my embrace."
After finishing the line, she carefully folded the paper and, a few days later, mailed another envelope to the Poetry House.
It was only a simple sentence. So ordinary that, in the present day, Hong frowned while watching the replay.
"I don't remember this one," she murmured. "It's beautiful... but I don't remember ever reading it."
Nor did anyone else. Because what everyone remembered was something entirely different.
"There is a definition in astronomy known as the Roche limit."
"Planets and their moons are drawn ever closer together by gravity, yet there exists a final safe distance between them."
"Once that Roche limit is crossed, tidal forces will tear the moon apart."
"Yet the shattered fragments do not disappear. They become countless particles of stardust, gathering around the planet until they form a magnificent ring, embracing it forever."
"To use a broken body in exchange for an eternal embrace."
That was the poem everyone remembered. It was the second submission Shuying mailed to the Poetry House. And the moment it was published, it exploded across the literary world. It allowed countless readers to experience both the grandeur of the cosmos and the heartbreaking romance hidden within the stars.
Yet now, inside the studio, Shuying herself stared blankly at the screen. She distinctly remembered this being her third submission.
The replay continued.
Inside the shabby little house, Ye lazily tossed another returned envelope onto the table.
"It's useless," he said casually. "Stop wasting your time writing."
Shuying said nothing. She simply picked up the envelope and quietly returned to her bedroom. Then another letter caught her eye. This one had been sent by a small publication called Poetry Station, signed under the pen name Shadow.
Inside was only a single sentence.
"We are stars searching for one another across the endless universe since prehistoric times, loving each other for one hundred thousand years."
Just one sentence, yet it carried a loneliness that seemed completely detached from the mortal world.
"...What? We never sent Little Shuying that letter." Hong looked utterly confused. The poem was excellent, but she had absolutely no memory of it ever being mailed.
The replay continued.
At that very moment, Shuying seemed to grasp hold of a sudden flash of inspiration. She opened Basic Astronomy and carefully read the section explaining the Roche limit. Afterward, she turned back to Pre-Qin Poetry, stopping on the familiar line:
"Holding the hand of the one you love, growing old together."
Her eyes gradually lit up, and ideas burst forth one after another like fireworks. Without hesitation, she grabbed her pen and wrote the very first draft.
"There is a definition in astronomy called the Roche limit. They are destined to shatter with the moon so they may embrace forever."
As soon as she finished writing, she suddenly sensed someone standing behind her. Turning around, she found Ye. Immediately, irritation filled her face.
"What are you looking at? You wouldn't understand. This is astronomy." She puffed out her cheeks and muttered unhappily.
Ye merely glanced at the page before speaking with complete indifference. "What kind of writing is this? Who even knows what the Roche limit is? It's incomprehensible. What kind of poetry is this? It isn't even sad. It's not nearly as good as a Qiong Yao drama."
(Note: Qiong Yao is a Taiwanese writer and producer who was often regarded as the most popular romance novelist in the Chinese-speaking world.)
Every word struck like a hammer. After saying that, he simply walked away to prepare dinner.
Shuying clenched her teeth in frustration. "No... It still isn't good enough."
She picked up her pen once again and began researching the Roche limit more carefully, trying to fully understand its scientific meaning. Then she thought again of the line: Holding the hand of the one you love, growing old together.
Science.
Ancient poetry.
The universe.
Love.
Slowly, she connected them together, and her pen began moving once more.
"Once the Roche limit is crossed, tidal forces will tear the moon apart."
"To use a broken body in exchange for an eternal embrace."
Thus, the true first masterpiece of Shuying's cosmic romance was born. The poem that would later astonish countless readers around the world had finally appeared in its original form.
The instant she finished writing it, the young literature enthusiasts watching the live broadcast erupted into cheers.
"This is the most romantic sentence I've ever read in my life!"
"Who could have imagined that Little Shuying wrote this over ten years ago?"
"From this poem onward, she kept creating breathtaking works filled with the romance of the universe."
"No wonder overseas readers eventually called her an elf."
Now, Hong stood on stage holding the microphone. Looking toward the audience, she spoke with heartfelt emotion. "I only understood after watching this replay. So this is where Shuying's beautiful language truly came from. Her father's constant obstruction couldn't extinguish her talent. A mysterious person using the pen name Shadow gave her a small push at exactly the right moment.
"Even while trapped inside such a suffocating life, she still shone with dazzling brilliance and wrote literature filled with incomparable romance."
Thunderous applause swept through the entire venue.
Not long afterward, Shuying mailed the completed poem. When it reached Poetry Station, every editor and writer fell silent in disbelief. The website surged overnight, and the poem dominated online discussions. It shot straight to the top of the trending rankings.
That year, Shuying received her very first manuscript payment, so she happily ran home with the payment clutched tightly in her hands.
Seeing Ye washing dishes in the kitchen, she proudly lifted the envelope high into the air. "My poem was published! People are actually reading what I wrote!"
Without even turning around, Ye calmly replied while continuing to wash the dishes. "Leave the money there. I'll keep it for you."
Shuying's eyes widened with anger. "My poem won an award! I'm better than you!"
She almost shouted those words.
Ye finished rinsing the final bowl before speaking in the same calm tone. "So? Are you planning to live off a single award-winning poem for the rest of your life?"
Shuying slammed the bedroom door shut, but the money remained quietly on the table. Just as Shuying had later recalled, she still handed every cent to him. At least, in her heart, she believed that by giving him the manuscript payment, she no longer owed that man anything.