So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 108
by Little PandaI’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight
The Beginning of the Beginning
Jealousy
A gust of wind blew through the quiet night, making the tree branches outside the window sway.
Chi Qian felt the hand resting on her shoulder. In the silence, the sound of her own heart thumped in her ears.
Is this what it feels like to have a secret crush on someone?
Her heart beat uncontrollably. Even the smallest movement from the other person could stir up a storm in her world.
This was the first time Chi Qian had ever felt this kind of love. It was so intense, so foreign, and yet so familiar.
That was right. These were her memories, after all.
She was always meant to fall in love with Shi Jinlan at first sight.
That was why, after rescuing Shi Jinlan, she had agreed to Thirteen’s request. It was framed as lust at first sight, but it was really the love for Shi Jinlan buried deep in her heart, impossible to forget. The System had suppressed her love-at-first-sight feelings beneath the mission, burying them under the guise of carnal desire so that she would never notice.
Chi Qian gently pressed a hand to her chest. As she was thinking this, she turned back around.
How could she possibly refuse Shi Jinlan’s request? “What would Miss Shi like to talk about?” she asked.
Shi Jinlan rarely chatted with people. She could see through them with a single glance and seldom felt curious. But this time, for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to spend a little more time with Chi Qianβand not while Chi Qian was asleep.
Shi Jinlan didn’t understand what was happening to her. After a moment’s thought, she found a topic. “Tell me about your bracelet. It seems very important to you.”
“My mother left it to me.” Chi Qian touched her now-empty wrist, her eyes filled with a sincere frankness as she spoke to Shi Jinlan. “I haven’t told you this before, have I? I was adopted by my grandfather.”
At these words, Shi Jinlan’s gaze froze for an instant.
She had never once doubted the kinship between Chi Qingyan and Chi Qian. She had seen how naturally they interacted and had even felt a twinge of envy at the contrast with her own family. She never imagined it was like thisβ¦
Why would Chi Qian’s parents abandon her?
How could anyone bear to abandon such a wonderful child?
Shi Jinlan’s brow furrowed slightly. She didn’t realize that she, who never got emotionally invested in stories, was now firmly on Chi Qian’s side.
“I was abandoned right after I was born because I have asthma,” Chi Qian said, seeing the confusion in Shi Jinlan’s eyes. She explained in a slow, unhurried tone, “Grandfather prescribed a lot of medicine for me, which is why I don’t have attacks that often. I can run and jump, just like a normal kid.”
Here, Chi Qian paused, her expression turning solemn.
Shi Jinlan thought she was about to say something heavy, but then she saw the girl’s brow knit in a look of anguish as she said, “So, you absolutely have to stay healthy. The medicine tastes so awful!”
What should have been a sad story was told with such remarkable ease.
Shi Jinlan watched Chi Qian, her gaze inscrutable.
This was, perhaps, the difference between a merchant and a doctor. One was dedicated to discarding those without value, while the other was dedicated to picking up what had been deemed worthless.
At this thought, a complex mix of feelings churned within Shi Jinlan. The values she had believed in for so many years seemed to be wavering. Tiny pebbles had broken loose and rolled to her feet.
Shi Jinlan stared blankly at the unremarkable little pebble, and then she heard Chi Qian say, “But it’s good enough just to be alive. A healthy life is everyone’s most precious treasure.”
The moonlight swayed. The little stone in Shi Jinlan’s vision slowly took on a human form, lying beside her. Its round, almond-shaped eyes were dark and bright, and it called out to her. “Miss Shi.”
That wasn’t Shi Jinlan’s little stone.
It was Chi Qian.
Shi Jinlan came back to her senses and asked in a low voice, “What is it?”
“Can I call you Ah Lan?” Chi Qian looked at Shi Jinlan tentatively. She appeared cautious, but in reality, she was bolder than anyone. “Calling you Miss Shi all the time feels so distant. It’s a bit stressful.”
Hearing this, Shi Jinlan understood that Chi Qian must have figured out her identity.
Neither the Shi Jinlan of this moment nor the Shi Jinlan of a future loop was fond of such familiar forms of address.
But if it was Chi Qianβ¦
“You may.”
Shi Jinlan barely hesitated before nodding in agreement.
She was used to all the formal titles. Hearing someone call her by such a nameβ¦ wasn’t so bad.
Seeing Shi Jinlan nod, Chi Qian’s joy was plain to see. She continued, “Then you can just call me Ah Qian from now on. Don’t be such a stranger and call me Miss Chi.”
It sounded like a perfectly parallel and equal form of address.
In reality, she was getting an inch and advancing a foot.1
Shi Jinlan felt that her relationship with Chi Qian wasn’t yet close enough for such intimacy, but compared to the three syllables of “Miss Chi,” “Ah Qian” rolled off the tongue more easily.
And so, Shi Jinlan watched Chi Qian push her luck and still nodded at her. “Alright.”
No one knew what thoughts had passed through Shi Jinlan’s mind in those few short seconds.
She shifted slightly on the pillow, her gaze penetrating deeper into Chi Qian’s eyes. Her cool voice was soft with breath. “Ah Qian, you’ve saved me twice. Is there anything you want?”
Shi Jinlan felt that Chi Qian truly had a magical aura. She had kept her here, chatting for a while, and for once, her mind was at peace. The pain from when she had just woken up didn’t seem so sharp anymore. Her thoughts were unusually clear. With her grandmother’s support, she wasn’t a worthless person after all.
She could give something back to Chi Qian.
She very much wanted to give something to Chi Qian.
Perhaps for that reason, as Chi Qian looked into Shi Jinlan’s eyes, she felt that Shi Jinlan would give her anything she asked for right now.
The midnight was still. The wall clock ticked away, tick-tock, tick-tock, like the sound of a countdown.
As if moved by some unseen force, Chi Qian let a single word escape her throat. “You⦔
“Me?” Shi Jinlan looked at Chi Qian. Her voice, muffled by the pillow, was cool and low, yet warm with breath.
How big could a double bed be? The moonlight traced their two silhouettes, filling the entire space.
They were so close now. Chi Qian’s heart, swollen with greed, pressed tightly against her ribs.
That was it.
She wanted Shi Jinlan.
The her who had fallen in love at first sight wanted her.
The Chi Qian lost in this memory wanted her even more.
Those thin, crimson lips were just inches away. Having tasted the marrow, she knew its flavor,2 and the memory struck a chord deep in her heart, like a feather drifting down on the wind. It brushed against the softest part of her soul, a tormenting caress that made her itch with an unbearable longing.
But this Shi Jinlan was not her Shi Jinlan.
Chi Qian then heard her own voice say, “Set off some fireworks for me.”
The Chi Qian of that time had quickly come to her senses. She wouldn’t let herself scare away the person she liked. She carefully cherished this opportunity that had not come by easily, extending their time together from autumn into winter. “By the time you’re almost better, it’ll be the New Year. The island gets really lively then. Everyone sets off fireworks. Last year, Auntie Zhou’s family set off so manyβsome looked like flowers, some like animals. They were so beautiful.”
Those sparkling eyes met Shi Jinlan’s, making her own deliberate seduction seem cheap by comparison.
She subtly moved back to a normal distance from Chi Qian and promised, “Alright. I will definitely set off fireworks for you.”
“Then it’s a dealβ” Chi Qian was agreeing excitedly with Shi Jinlan when her body betrayed her with a yawn.
She was truly no good at staying up late to chat. Just half an hour past her bedtime and she could barely hold on.
After she finished speaking, she subconsciously murmured, “So sleepy, Ah Lan.”
Because it wasn’t “Miss Shi,” Chi Qian’s drowsy voice sounded like an intimate, coquettish complaint. It was like the plump cat in the courtyard, padding softly, step by step, on Shi Jinlan’s heart.
Her curled fingers paused for a moment. Shi Jinlan watched Chi Qian with calm restraint, her gaze falling on the girl’s soft-looking cheek. “Then go to sleep.”
“Mmm⦔ With a soft hum, Chi Qian lay flat and closed her eyes.
She remembered her deskmate in high school telling her that you should watch fireworks with the person you like. But Chi Qian felt that it wasn’t just fireworks; many meaningful things should be done with the person you like.
The leaves on the trees in the courtyard were a lush green, bathed in moonlight. On this day, winter was still far away.
Chi Qian’s heart was filled to the brim with anticipation as she drifted off to sleep in Shi Jinlan’s light, fresh scent.
Shi Jinlan’s injuries didn’t heal quickly. The trip to Can City was only put on the agenda three days later. The hospital there was already prepared, just waiting for Shi Jinlan to complete the admission procedures and schedule the surgery.
Moreover, the Chi Qingyan of this lifetime didn’t seem as displeased with Shi Jinlan. He could see Chi Qian’s feelings and was willing to help them along. While handling the hospital admission, he used the excuse that Shi Jinlan wouldn’t have as much freedom after her surgery and took the initiative to let Chi Qian take her out for a walk.
However, he didn’t seem to have noticed Yuan Ming’s feelings, and, still worried, he had Yuan Ming accompany them.
Before coming here, Chi Qian had already looked up things to do in Can City. She knew it had the largest Flower Market and had even told Shi Jinlan about it. So, the destination for their outing was set.
Shi Jinlan even had Ah Ning book out the entire venue. For one whole day, the enormous market would serve only three customers.
It was the first time Chi Qian had witnessed the power of money. Gazing at the dazzling array of flowers, she was utterly overwhelmed.
Curious and excited, she picked up a large bouquet, took a deep breath of its fragrance, and looked at Shi Jinlan in disbelief. “All of theseβ¦ I can have whichever one I want?”
Shi Jinlan sat in her wheelchair, her posture straight yet languid as she leaned against the backrest. Her gaze was on Chi Qian, but her expression was lofty, almost condescending. She gave a slight nod, indicating yes.
“Ah Lan, you’re such a good thigh!”3 Chi Qian exclaimed happily, diving into the sea of flowers like a frolicking colt.
To see such a rich variety of vibrant flowers in autumn was a rare treat.
Chi Qian carefully selected different flowers, her nimble fingers flying as she pressed them by the stem. Her attention was completely focused on weaving and arranging the flower crown in her hands, and she didn’t notice a slender shadow fall beside her.
The shadow lingered by her shoulder for a long while. Only when she saw that the crown was finished did a voice speak. “Is that for me?”
Chi Qian hadn’t noticed anyone approach and jumped at the sound. But then she looked at the person beside her with familiarity. Seeing Yuan Ming’s gentle features, she nodded and held up the flower crown for her to see. “Yes, this one is for you.”
Hearing this, the corners of Yuan Ming’s mouth lifted slightly. She lowered her head toward Chi Qian, signaling for her to put it on.
Chi Qian paused for a second, then deftly placed the flower crown on Yuan Ming’s head. It was something they had often done in the past, an act of natural, shared understanding.
But as Chi Qian drew near, another flower crown entered Yuan Ming’s line of sight. It was more exquisite than hers, more complex, its colors even brighter and richer.
Yuan Ming’s brow started to furrow, but then it immediately smoothed out. She straightened up naturally, touched the crown on her head, and asked about the other one in Chi Qian’s hands, “Is that oneβ¦ for Miss Shi?”
“Mhm!” Chi Qian nodded, her frankness melting into a shy coyness. “What do you think? Does it suit her?”
The flower crown swayed in Yuan Ming’s vision. She had never found this well-matched combination of warm colors so jarring. Her emotions seemed to be in turmoil, but it was as if another program was controlling her, forcing her through the conflict and pain to nod. “She’ll probably like it.”
“Then I’ll go give it to her!” Encouraged by her friend, Chi Qian was suddenly eager and excited, ready to run over to Shi Jinlan at once.
But because she cared so much, it never felt perfect enough.
She adjusted it as she walked, not watching where she was going, and bumped headfirst into someone’s arms.
“Careful.”
A cool touch brushed against Chi Qian’s wrist. Her off-balance body spun half a circle, and then, guided by the grip on her arm, she landed sitting on Shi Jinlan’s lap.
That moment seemed to play in slow motion. The sunlight was like the master tape of an old film, projecting onto a screen, changing the picture frame by frame. The distance that had been so carefully maintained on their way here was suddenly, accidentally erased. As they drew closer, Shi Jinlan’s face filled Chi Qian’s vision, right before her eyes.
Even magnified, her features withstood the “camera’s” scrutiny. Her long, thick eyelashes seemed to brush against Chi Qian’s heart, scraping lightly, again and again, making it beat even faster.
“What were you doing? Why weren’t you looking where you were going?” Shi Jinlan’s voice was tense, her cool tone carrying a layer of chiding born from lingering fear.
Chi Qian seemed stunned. She numbly raised the flower crown in her hands and said to Shi Jinlan, “Forβ¦ for you.”
Shi Jinlan looked at the person sitting in her lap, presenting a treasure, and the corners of her lips curled up inexplicably.
Just as Ah Ning worried that Shi Jinlan was about to reject Chi Qian, she calmly lowered her head toward her. “Aren’t you going to help me put it on?”
Standing behind them, Ah Ning froze. Chi Qian blinked, gazing at Shi Jinlan’s inclined head. Suppressing her wildly beating heart, she forced herself to remain calm and placed the crown on Shi Jinlan’s head.
The fragrance of fresh flowers flowed down with her hair. Shi Jinlan raised a hand to gently touch the crown and deliberately asked Chi Qian, “Is it pretty?”
“It’s pretty,” Chi Qian nodded, her flickering gaze shifting between the crown on Shi Jinlan’s head and her face.
A secret crush is a silent thing. Chi Qian was forever falling for Shi Jinlan.
But she didn’t see the look in Yuan Ming’s eyes as she approached from a short distance away.
Beneath the gentleness was a faint jealousy, and perhaps something more akin to unwillingness to resign.
She walked over, masking all these emotions with a smile, and interrupted Chi Qian and Shi Jinlan’s intimacy. “Ah Qian, this isn’t good for Miss Shi’s legs.”
As she spoke, right in front of Shi Jinlan, Yuan Ming took Chi Qian’s wrist and pulled her out of Shi Jinlan’s lap.
The warm palm pressed against Chi Qian’s wrist, and she could faintly feel the strength Yuan Ming was struggling to control. She followed Yuan Ming’s arm up with her eyes and saw a trace of a dark, unreadable emotion in her gentle pupils.
If the story’s setting had always been like this, then at the very least, the Yuan Ming of this time was still in love with her.
Chi Qian felt her heart swell with a pang. The sour ache of sadness was even stronger than when she had first met Yuan Ming this time around. Because they had spent so many years together, they had grown accustomed to each other. Love was treated as ordinary, its signs not so obvious.
And the her of that time had not known.
But she should have understood sooner.
The sun shone through the arched roof of the Flower Market, leaving any tiny change with nowhere to hide its form.
Three people, three sets of emotions.
Shi Jinlan’s gaze fell on the wrist Yuan Ming was holding, and her expression grew heavy with suppression.
She felt jealousy.
Seeing Chi Qian in intimate contact with someone else.
Shi Jinlan calmly controlled her emotions, but her hands tightened on the armrests of her wheelchair.
In all the days she had lost her ability to move, she had never wanted to stand up as much as she did today.
The author has something to say:
Lanlan: AAA-grade, richly brewed jealousy from the Vinegar Factory.
Footnotes
- Original: dΓ©cΓΉnjΓ¬nchΗ. An idiom used to describe someone who becomes increasingly greedy after gaining a small advantage.
- Original: shΓsuΗzhΔ«wΓ¨i. An idiom literally meaning βto eat the marrow and know its taste.β It describes having had a wonderful experience and being unable to forget it, eagerly anticipating a repeat.
- Original: hΗo dΓ tuΗ. Internet slang derived from βbΓ o dΓ tuΗβ (to hug a thigh), which means to curry favor with or depend on a powerful person for benefits. Itβs a playful way of calling someone a powerful backer or patron.
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