So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 111
by Little PandaI’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight
The Beginning of the Beginning
Because this was the last thing she left for Shi Jinlan.
There wasn’t much scenery on the mountain in winter; only the holly still grew with some reluctance.
The snow from a few days prior had been quite heavy. A white blanket covered the green leaves and withered branches, adorning the mountain forest.
New snow would nourish the earth, nurturing new life in the cold of winter.
In the past, Yuan Ming and Chi Qian had often gone up the mountain to dig for treasures after it snowed. They were old hands at this route, but since Shi Jinlan had only just started walking again, Chi Qian devoted half her attention to her. The two of them gradually fell behind Yuan Ming.
“Here.” They reached another slope that required a large step up. Chi Qian went up first, then turned and offered Shi Jinlan her hand.
Shi Jinlan accepted it as a matter of course. The moment Chi Qian extended her hand, Shi Jinlan placed her own in it.
Their slender fingers touched, and the winter chill was driven away by their clasped palms.
The Chi Qian of that time didn’t yet know what was to come. She only focused on holding Shi Jinlan’s hand tightly, pulling her up steadily so she wouldn’t get hurt.
A dusting of snow suddenly fell from a treetop, landing on Chi Qian’s head.
The chill was quickly melted by her body heat, seeping into her skin. Chi Qian gazed at Shi Jinlan’s calm, cool face, and a wave of sorrow washed over her, impossible to relieve.
She wondered, Did they know this was the last time they would see each other?
Yuan Ming knew.
As the future Main System, she had asked Chi Qian to come up the mountain today precisely to help her avoid this fatal trap.
It turned out that fate had never been kind to them.
Yuan Ming, as the Main System, had to sever all ties of love and emotion. Shi Jinlan, as the future villain, was destined to lose her beloved forever.
Death itself wasn’t frightening.
What was frightening was the sorrow it left behindβboundless, lingering, and impossible to overcome.
“Meow~”
A cat’s cry, tinged with the jostle of leaping up the slope, sounded beside Chi Qian. She had just pulled Shi Jinlan up when Thirteen appeared out of nowhere.
The courtyard walls at home couldn’t contain its wild, freedom-loving nature. It was used to running wild all over the mountains.
But Shi Jinlan’s allure was far greater than the call of the wild. The little cat trotted over and rubbed its head against the hem of Shi Jinlan’s skirt, acting cute.
“Thirteen, can’t you be less clingy?” Chi Qian teased, watching it fawn all over Shi Jinlan. Contradicting her own words, she crouched down to scratch its head.
“Meow~” Thirteen clearly enjoyed this treatment, its eyes narrowing in comfort.
“Sure enough, it’s sprouted.”
While Chi Qian was having a rare moment with Thirteen, Yuan Ming unearthed a medicinal herb.
Her eyes shone with delight. She carefully brushed away the surrounding snow, looked at the new shoots emerging from the soil, and said, “Ah Qian, let’s not go any higher.”
“Okay.” Chi Qian nodded and poked Thirteen’s head. “I have to work now. You be good and stay here, you hear me?”
“Meow~” Perhaps because Chi Qian’s scratching had put it in a good mood, Thirteen gave an exceptionally cooperative cry.
It languidly kneaded the snow on the ground before curling its paws and lying down.
The wind stirred its long whiskers. It wasn’t clear what the cat sensed, but it suddenly looked toward the opposite direction and started walking toward a snowdrift.
Chi Qian was focused on digging herbs from the snow-moistened soil, exchanging a few words with Yuan Ming and Shi Jinlan from time to time. She paid no mind to the disobedient Thirteen.
But then, she heard its voice, a pitch higher than before. “Meow!”
The sound wasn’t shrill, but it was strained, as if its mouth were full of something.
Chi Qian saw a black shadow being dragged through the snow. Thirteen walked over with an awkward gait, carrying something with two long, limp ears dangling motionlessly from its mouth.
It was a rabbit!
And it wasβ¦
Chubei Liang.
Chi Qian couldn’t believe her eyes, but she recognized the rabbit Thirteen was struggling to carry in a single glance.
And so, it wasn’t until the story was nearly at its end that their family of four was finally reunited.
“A rabbit?”
But the Chi Qian of that time didn’t yet understand Chubei Liang’s significance. She let out a surprised cry and looked at the jet-black rabbit in Thirteen’s mouth.
She simply saw this encounter as another one of the times she had rescued a small animal. She walked over and gently took Chubei Liang from Thirteen’s jaws.
The rabbit was so small.
It was only the size of her palm, thin and weak. A little more snow would have buried it completely.
Its dark fur was a disadvantage for ambushing prey, but if not for that black coat, Thirteen would never have found it.
Truly, everything had its pros and cons.
Chi Qian weighed the seemingly weightless body, sighed softly, and found a few leaves to lay it on before carefully checking it for injuries.
Shi Jinlan heard her and walked over. Looking at the unconscious rabbit, she surmised, “It doesn’t look injured. It seems to have fainted from hunger.”
“I think so too.” Chi Qian nodded and deftly pulled a ham sausage1 from her pocket.
This was a habit of hers. She was always running into small animals, and this was the best way to bridge the gap between them.
Sure enough, as Chi Qian unwrapped the sausage and broke it into little pieces in front of Chubei Liang, its still nose began to twitch.
The instinct for survival is strong. Chubei Liang propped itself up on its weak, skinny body and began to rapidly devour the sausage pieces. Chi Qian couldn’t even break them off fast enough before the rabbit started sniffing for the rest of the sausage in her hand.
“Not bad. It still has some strength.” Watching the rabbit inhale the food like a storm, Chi Qian lowered the sausage in her hand, feeling a little relieved.
Watching Chi Qian’s gaze rest on the little black furball, Shi Jinlan asked in a soft voice, “Are you taking it back?”
“Yes. It won’t find enough to eat in the mountains.” Chi Qian tentatively stroked the fur on Chubei Liang’s back, then smiled at Shi Jinlan. “This way, you’ll have one more animal to keep you company.”
Hearing this, Shi Jinlan smiled too.
She wasn’t a huge animal lover, but Chi Qian was. And in the winter, it was indeed nice to have a warm-bodied animal to accompany her while she sunbathed.
“Little rabbit, you have a home now.” After Chubei Liang finished the sausage, Chi Qian picked it up, hugging it lovingly and stroking it for a long while.
The sunlight passed through the bare branches, falling unobstructed onto the snow-covered ground. The warm light made the surroundings feel less cold.
Chi Qian and Shi Jinlan squatted there together, with one cat and one rabbit, creating a scene like a heartwarming winter painting.
Chi Qian’s gaze suddenly drifted, and her thoughts followed.
She finally understood why her past self had been so insistent on saving this rabbit from Shi Jinlan.
Because this was the last thing she left for Shi Jinlan.
What do people do when they know they are about to die?
Chi Qian didn’t know. She only felt a layer of sourness spread across her chest. The feeling was unpleasant; her heart swelled as if from an allergic reaction, and the blockage in her throat left her speechless.
She could only watch this sceneβthis incredibly beautiful, yet final scene, a swan songβand weep silently in her heart.
At last, the sound of unfamiliar footsteps echoed through the forest of withered branches.
A woman dressed as a hiker walked over. She seemed to have genuinely stumbled upon them by accident. “Sorry to bother you,” she asked the three of them, “but are you from Mr. Chi’s house down the mountain?”
The flaw in her story was too easy to spot. Hearing this person ask about the house down the mountain while she was up here, Chi Qian spoke warily. “We’re not. You have the wrong people.”
“Little girl, lying is not a good habit.” The woman looked at Chi Qian gently, but her expression suddenly turned vicious.
She produced a knife from somewhere and stabbed straight at Shi Jinlan.
Fortunately, Chi Qian had been on guard the entire time. She reacted in a flash, pulling Shi Jinlan out of the way.
Yuan Ming, who was standing nearby, was even bolder. She grabbed the woman’s wrist directly and knocked the knife from her hand.
She knew the end of this story.
She knew Chi Qian would die today.
But she still wanted to try.
Even if Chi Qian was fated to never be hers, she still wanted her to live.
“Ah Qian! Run!” Yuan Ming tackled the woman, shouting at Chi Qian.
Two figures grappled in the snow. Chi Qian looked at Yuan Ming. The sunlight fell on her eyes, her gentle pupils now stubborn and fierce.
In that fleeting moment, it seemed a single, clear tear was about to fall, but never did.
Chi Qian’s heart felt like it had been struck. At that time, she didn’t know her own fate; she only felt that this glance was like a final farewell.
She tightened her grip on Shi Jinlan’s hand. When she heard Yuan Ming yell for her to run again, she pulled Shi Jinlan along and fled without looking back.
The path down the mountain was also winding and treacherous. Pressed by the urgency of the situation, Chi Qian fled in a panic, not paying attention to the path.
She scrambled over branches, leading Shi Jinlan in their escape, until an unfamiliar slope appeared before them.
“I’ll help you up first,” Chi Qian said immediately.
“Okay.” Shi Jinlan didn’t waste time arguing about who went first. At a time like this, every second was precious.
As Shi Jinlan climbed the slope, her black coat flew open, revealing the sparrow blue skirt underneath.
The white snow cloaked the entire world in an extreme purity. That vivid sparrow blue was like a drop of extracted poison, splattered across the canvas of this memory.
Chi Qian thought she would never forget it for the rest of her life.
The image of Shi Jinlan, wearing a dress of this color, reaching a hand down to her.
“Ah Qian, quickly.”
Once Shi Jinlan was steady, she extended her hand to Chi Qian.
They worked together in perfect sync, running down the steep slope. Skirts fluttered, and a string of footprints was imprinted on the white snow.
Fate had played a huge joke on them, letting them believe they could escape.
But they couldn’t.
Yuan Ming had failed to stop it from happening. The female assassin had caught up to them.
The woman’s steps were nimble. She cornered Chi Qian and Shi Jinlan at the edge of a broken slope.
She stared like a predator at Shi Jinlan, who was being shielded by Chi Qian. “Miss Shi, you should stop running. There’s a cliff below. Your leg just healed; you shouldn’t have to suffer like this again.”
The knife was gone, but she still had a gun.
As she spoke, she raised the gun holstered on her leg. The sound of the handgun being cocked was like ice cracking, exceptionally clear in the winter air. “It’s just one bullet. It’ll be quick.”
Yes, it would be quick.
The instant the woman aimed at Shi Jinlan, Chi Qian charged at her with all her might.
A gunshot rang out, shattering the silence of the snowy landscape. It grazed Shi Jinlan’s cheek, a hopeless caress. A scarlet bead of blood dripped onto the stark white snow. By the time Shi Jinlan reacted, Chi Qian was no longer beside her.
She had slammed into the woman, and they had both lost their balance.
The cliff edge was even more treacherous than the slope Shi Jinlan had tumbled down before. Withered branches swayed in the wind. Through Chi Qian’s disheveled hair, Shi Jinlan saw her eyes as she was about to fall.
That gaze never left Shi Jinlan, wanting only one more look.
But it was soon replaced by a world turning upside down.
Chi Qian would not put Shi Jinlan in danger. She clutched the woman’s collar in a death grip.
Even if she died, she was taking the woman with her.
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