So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 102
by Little PandaI’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight
The Beginning of the Beginning
Love at First Sight
Once the dog days of summer1 passed, the oppressive stuffiness of high summer vanished.
Autumn cicadas hid in the roadside trees, their low, mournful cries weaving through the busy morning at the Industrial Park, seemingly splitting the world into two layers.
The thought that had suddenly popped into Chi Qian’s head even prompted her to search for it on Baidu, but after a long search, she came up with nothing.
However, she did see a few similar job positions. Generally, those with a demand for such a profession were wealthy people—either they were looking for a genuine private life assistant, or it was just another term for a “mistress.”
A private life assistant.
Chi Qian felt she couldn’t even take care of herself, so how could she possibly take care of a rich person?
A mistress…
Chi Qian looked up, catching a glimpse of her own face in the gaps between people.
Disheveled and utterly pale, her drooping eyes were filled with a fatigue that no amount of rest could fix. Her whole body reeked of the office, a smell that had pickled her to the core.
What rich person would like a face like this?
As her time at the company grew, Chi Qian understood more and more why being a programmer was the job with the highest risk of sudden death from overwork.
Right now, she truly wished for a windfall to descend from the heavens so she could go out and have some real fun.
Otherwise, if she really did drop dead at her desk one day and became a ghost reflecting on her life, she’d realize she’d never been anywhere and feel like she’d lived a life full of regret.
The fantasy swirled in Chi Qian’s mind. The subway arrived at her station, and she still got up, followed the army of commuters into the company, and began her day as a corporate slave.
But Chi Qian’s new day started off with a bit of luck. The elevator showed it was full right after she got on.
She secretly rejoiced at her morning fortune. But as soon as she reached her project team’s work area, she saw everyone looking grim.
The low-pressure atmosphere instantly wiped the smile from Chi Qian’s face.
She tiptoed to her workstation and tapped on the desk of her slacking buddy2—the only other woman on the project team. “What’s wrong?”
Her slacking buddy was also full of sorrow. She delivered the terrible news: “The company is laying people off.”
“So suddenly?” Chi Qian was shocked. She hadn’t heard the slightest rumor before this.
“Who knows? They said the follow-up funding suddenly fell through, so they have to cut several projects that are in development.” Her buddy propped up her chin, no longer tapping at her code or slacking off.
Seeing her buddy’s expression, Chi Qian immediately thought of their project team’s new project, which was still in the development phase. “These several project teams you’re talking about… that wouldn’t include us, would it?”
“Probably.” Her buddy nodded and gestured with her eyes. “The boss was just called in. I heard not everyone is being laid off. They’ll probably merge some and lay off others. We just don’t know what the ratio is.”
At the mention of layoffs, her buddy paused.
She glanced around, then lowered her voice and leaned in close to Chi Qian’s ear to share a piece of news that might or might not be good. “But I heard the severance for this layoff will be 3N.”3
“3N!” Chi Qian was astonished and almost cried out.
Her monthly salary was 17,000 after taxes. If they really gave her 3N, wouldn’t she get over 50,000?
It wasn’t 500,000, but 50,000 was still a windfall.
Why do I suddenly kind of want to be laid off?
Just then, Chi Qian heard a rustle of movement from the entrance.
The boss, who had just been called in for a talk, was back. Seeing everyone looking at her, she took a light breath and tried to relax her solemn expression. “Everyone, just focus on the work at hand for now. HR will be coming to talk to each of you individually soon. I’ll never forget the days we worked together on this team. If fate allows, we’ll meet again.”
With that, the boss forced a seemingly relieved smile onto her face and bowed to the few people under her.
Everyone instantly realized something was very wrong. “Boss, were you…?”
“I offered it myself,” the boss said with a slight, vague smile, then returned to her office.
Chi Qian wasn’t a decision-maker at the company; she didn’t understand why the company would make such a choice.
Their project team’s development was proceeding smoothly. Could the cost of laying them off really be less than the cost of developing the project?
Chi Qian gazed at the office not far away, the one with the plaque that read “Project Team Manager.” A silhouette was visible through the frosted glass.
Slender and tall. The halo of light swallowed many details, giving Chi Qian a sudden feeling of both strangeness and familiarity.
Not towards her boss.
But towards someone else…
But this person… Chi Qian frowned, unable to recall who it was, no matter how hard she tried.
“Ah Wu.” HR had arrived. They called out a name from the project team, signaling for him to follow.
The man’s expression immediately tensed.
Being called out for a private chat like this was like being summoned by the King of Hell. Every face was etched with anxiety.
Except for Chi Qian’s.
Somehow, she was actually looking forward to the 3N severance pay.
It was as if, subconsciously, she didn’t like this job at all.
Rather than quitting herself when she could no longer stand the workload, being laid off now was perfect timing for her.
“Chi Qian.”
After speaking with a few people, HR finally called Chi Qian’s name.
Chi Qian immediately picked up the phone on her desk, not a trace of worry on her face. “Got it.”
Of the people who had been called in, some were laid off, while others were kept on to await assignment to other teams.
The cold air from the air conditioner rushed towards Chi Qian the moment she pushed the door open, as if trying to completely extinguish a person’s spirit.
“You’ve been with the company for two years. In that time, you’ve worked on several projects, and the company recognizes your contributions.” The HR representative sat across from Chi Qian, their wording precise yet not without a touch of human concern.
Chi Qian knew her seniority at the company wasn’t high, nor was she an irreplaceable talent. Hearing those words, she understood instantly.
Seeing the HR rep’s serious and weary expression, she knew how difficult it must be to have these conversations with laid-off employees. She decided to do a good deed for the day and let the rep relax a bit with her. “Mm, I understand. So when do I get my 3N?”
HR was very surprised by Chi Qian’s reaction, but after thinking about her personal situation, they understood.
No family, no kids, and no mortgage or car loan meant she didn’t have that much pressure.
Who wouldn’t want an easy task? HR opened the termination contract belonging to Chi Qian and said, “Within three working days after the contract is terminated.”
Today was Tuesday. At the earliest, she could get the money on Friday.
Chi Qian did a quick calculation in her head, pointed to the line on the bottom right of the termination contract, and asked, “Sign here, right?”
“Correct,” HR nodded.
Hearing this, Chi Qian briskly took the pen and signed her name.
She found her own reaction very strange. After working for so long, she felt not a shred of attachment to this place—not to the company, but to the time she had spent here.
It seemed the code really had tortured her quite a bit.
Chi Qian’s mind was currently so active she could have filled an entire A4 sheet of paper. She handed one of the two copies of the contract back to HR and stood up breezily. “I’ll be going then.”
“Take care on your way out. I wish you a future as bright as brocade,”4 HR said, offering a blessing.
“Thank you,” Chi Qian nodded.
She would have one.
A future as bright as brocade.
Chi Qian had always thought that her workstation, which she had occupied since graduation, must be full of her things.
But the standard-issue cardboard box from the company held all of it with half its space to spare.
She left her cactus for her slacking buddy who was still at the company and, at high noon, walked out of the building with her things.
The gentle breeze and pleasant sunshine seemed to be seeing her off.
The ID badge hanging around her neck swayed in the wind. She found a spot by a roadside flowerbed, put down the box, and raised her hands to take the thing off.
The blue lanyard caught a few strands of her loose hair, tangling them in a messy knot.
Chi Qian struggled for a while before freeing her hair. She casually tossed the work badge into the box. On the card, printed with her photo, were two words she found extremely unfamiliar.
Song Tang.
Chi Qian froze for a second when she saw those two words.
She suddenly heard a buzzing in her head and looked again in disbelief.
But the card before her seemed to have refreshed itself. “Song Tang” then changed to her own name, “Chi Qian.”
Chi Qian couldn’t define what had just happened as a mistake.
The words “Song Tang” felt incredibly familiar, as if that was the name that should have been on the work badge.
Then what about her?
Chi Qian abruptly looked up at her surroundings. The traffic on the road flowed past in an endless stream, like time passing through her body.
The cicadas’ calls were sharp and piercing, drilling straight into her temples.
“Miss, you need a ride?”
A taxi driver spotted her, a forlorn customer sitting by the roadside, and pulled over to ask.
Chi Qian nodded, almost subconsciously.
She suddenly felt that everything around her was unfamiliar. Her previously calm heart was now panicking. She just wanted to get home as quickly as possible.
But her home… was it really her home?
Chi Qian practically scrambled home, her footsteps frantic. The dozens of seconds in the elevator made her exceptionally anxious.
She was desperate to use the familiarity of her home to reassure herself.
But the moment Chi Qian pushed the door open, the scene before her did not overlap with her memory.
The chandelier was wrong, the bar stools were wrong, the living room furnishings were wrong…
This was not her home.
Her home should be a place you could see all at once, without so many exquisite and fashionable things.
A simple double bed, a large window with a clear view of the outside, and an old dining table cluttered with items, converted into a large desk.
How could it be like this?
This was not her memory.
This was not her life.
Chi Qian felt a wave of panic in her chest, as if something was slipping through her grasp.
She looked at her empty wrist. A ring of light from the sun encircled it, like a bracelet.
The sound of ocean waves surged in Chi Qian’s mind. The window in her memory should have a view of the distant sea.
But as she walked step by step to the floor-to-ceiling windows on the balcony, no matter how far she looked, there were only endless high-rise buildings. Even the greenery was sparse.
Song Tang…
Yuan Ming.
The name came to Chi Qian almost as a reflex. A gentle voice sounded by her ear, as warm as the spring sun. “Ah Qian, it’s been hard on you all these years. I will give you a good ending.”
The System couldn’t erase it. Chi Qian’s memories scrambled to squeeze into her brain, tearing at her temples.
Her head throbbed. It felt unbelievable, but thinking back on her lucky day, it seemed to be a perfect confirmation of Yuan Ming’s earlier promise.
Why, after giving the bracelet away, was she still recalling the false memories the System had given her?
Ding!
As if that wasn’t enough, more tempting evidence vibrated in Chi Qian’s palm.
A message on her phone showed that 51,000 yuan had just been deposited into her bank account.
Her 3N had arrived.
For a young person who had just entered the workforce not long ago, with a net worth of almost zero, over 50,000 yuan was a very tempting offer.
This was truly Yuan Ming’s promise, not some empty check from the System.
Chi Qian stared at the compensation, which was a huge sum for her. An idea suddenly drilled into her head, like Satan whispering in her ear, tempting her, pushing her to make a decision.
—If she chose to stay in this world, she would have a wonderful future, wrapped in luck, and a life without worries.
Isn’t that the ending so many people strive for their entire lives?
And it was exactly what Chi Qian had once wanted.
But that was in the past.
A person’s thoughts are like flowing water. At the center of Chi Qian’s world always stood that figure, as straight and slender as green bamboo.
Shi Jinlan.
This was not her happiness.
Without Shi Jinlan, she would never be happy in this life.
Chi Qian’s grip on her phone tightened, her gaze resolute. “Yuan Ming! I don’t care if you can hear me or not, this is not my future! You can’t fabricate someone else’s memories into mine.”
“What’s gained through falsehood is only falsehood. Even if real life is full of cruelty and unknowns, I have to go back!”
Amid her shouting, Chi Qian suddenly noticed a painting on the wall that she didn’t know when had been hung.
It was a realistic oil painting. The azure sea crashed against a cliff, as if wanting to swallow everything, yet it could swallow nothing.
The sound of cicadas pierced through the old window, rolling into the room like a tidal wave.
Chi Qian’s eyes were fixed on the painting, and she seemed to hear the sound of the waves.
…
“Hey, wake up. Wake up.”
A young girl’s voice threaded through the cold wind. Chi Qian heard someone calling, and her palm rested against a cool surface.
She opened her eyes blankly and looked at her surroundings. Under the dim night sky, everything was shrouded in a thin layer of mist.
She felt a tremor in her throat and suddenly realized that the slightly anxious call was coming from herself.
It wasn’t someone else asking her, but her asking someone else.
The waves crashed onto the shore with violence, soaking the sand.
Autumn was deepening, and the seawater was bone-chillingly cold. Chi Qian felt the pain of sand scraping against her knees. Directly below her line of sight was a pale and incredibly familiar face.
Shi Jinlan.
She was soaked to the bone, her slender body covered in bleeding scrapes. She was weak and helpless, just like the first time Chi Qian had found her.
Wave after wave washed over her body, as if they had pushed her here, yet they seemed unwilling, trying to drag her back into the water.
Chi Qian’s breath caught. Her heart pounded as she looked at Shi Jinlan.
She vaguely felt that this scene was familiar, yet in some minor details, it was completely different from the image in her memory.
What was going on?
Had the world really restarted?
How could it be…
“Meow~”
Amid the sound of the waves, Chi Qian heard the faint meow of a cat.
The familiar calico cat stood with its tail held high, watching her silently.
It was Thirteen.
Seeing the familiar figure, Chi Qian’s tightly furrowed brow relaxed.
She hadn’t expected to be reunited with everyone so soon. She excitedly moved to hug Thirteen. “Thirteen! You’re here! Are you okay?”
But just as Chi Qian went to check on Thirteen’s condition, it easily dodged her affection, refusing any physical contact just as it had at the beginning of her mission.
“Thir… teen?”
Chi Qian was stunned.
The night was hazy, and the cat’s meow was tinged with laziness.
Thirteen seemed to be just a cat, completely oblivious to Chi Qian’s words. It paid her no mind, simply squatting to the side and licking its paws.
The night wind was piercingly cold. Another consciousness urged Chi Qian to get up.
There isn’t enough time.
Chi Qian pushed herself up on her scraped knees and hoisted the barely breathing Shi Jinlan onto her back.
A full moon hung high above the sea, reflecting on the footprints she left one by one on the sand.
Thirteen followed beside Chi Qian, silently and warily watching its master, who had once again picked up something half-dead to bring home.
Chi Qian still remembered the process of saving Shi Jinlan back then. The unconscious person leaned completely against her. Though she was an adult of about the same age, she felt as light as a floating duckweed.
She subconsciously worried for this person’s safety, her steps steady and slow.
Her heart was pressed against the damp fabric, beating with a thump, thump.
Before this, Chi Qian had experienced this feeling countless times.
The moonlit night was silent. At this moment, this version of her was falling for Shi Jinlan.
So this was the feeling of love at first sight.
The author has something to say:
Qianqian: Today it’s a soggy, pitiful wife qaq
Lanlan: Want kisses qaq
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Happy Dragon Boat Festival! Red envelopes for comments!
Footnotes
- Original term: 三伏天 (sānfútiān). The hottest period of the year, typically from mid-July to mid-August.
- Original term: 摸鱼搭子 (mōyú dāzi). ‘Moyu’ literally means ‘to grope for fish’ and is popular slang for slacking off at work. A ‘dazi’ is a partner or buddy.
- 3N is a term for a severance package. ‘N’ represents the number of years of service. A 3N package could mean three months’ salary, or three months’ salary for each year worked. In either case, it is a generous compensation.
- Original term: 前程似锦 (qiánchéngsìjǐn). A common four-character idiom used to wish someone a prosperous and successful future.
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