So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 113
by Little PandaI’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight
“This time, I won’t let you leave me.”
【Daily check-in, how are things on your end?】
【How else could they be? The bug I stayed up all night to fix just got obliterated by that venerable adult the moment the update went live.】
【Kao bei,1 me too! I thought I’d escaped this time, but it turns out she just dealt with you first!】
【How many stories have collapsed already! My poor Small Worlds that I worked so hard to maintain QAQ】
【I really can’t take it anymore if this continues. Where on earth did the Lord Main System go!】
【Flash report! A new day has begun, and the scrap rate for newly gestated Small Worlds has returned to 75%!】
…
The System’s internal line flashed with crystalline blue light as messages from all corners flew back and forth.
Systems from different domains that normally had no interaction were now gathered together, wailing about their bitter hardships. For a moment, it seemed there was no difference between a System and a human.
And just as some people would choose to let it rot,2 some Systems chose to do the same.
Even though the program it was responsible for had already crashed, one System still had the leisure to create a small mosquito and fly it secretly to the highest level of the System, adding to the chaos by broadcasting to the group chat about the “venerable adult” they were all discussing: 【Please enjoy today’s serving of the great beauty, Shi!】
A ring of uniform light surrounded the floor-to-ceiling window, thoroughly filtering the light from the artificial sun just beyond.
The space that originally belonged to the Main System was now occupied by a human. A chair that had appeared from thin air seemed to be her throne, drawing all light to fall upon her.
The camera lens dared to probe into the room until it captured a clear image of Shi Jinlan’s face.
She seemed to have just been asleep, her head propped on one hand, leaving only a calm, unguarded face to be spied upon by the cleverly positioned lens.
Her features, half-sunk in shadow, appeared even more defined, like a masterpiece meticulously carved by the Creator, impossible to capture badly from any angle.
The Systems, who had been frantic and overwhelmed just moments before, were all stunned into silence. They unanimously demanded the camera move a little closer.
But how could the camera dare?
Just filming from a distance through the glass, it could feel the oppressive aura emanating from Shi Jinlan.
The sunlight enveloped her in a hazy white film, giving her a natural nobility that made one hesitate to approach.
She was supposed to be the puppet manipulated by the System, yet she was the one playing the Systems in the palm of her hand.
Without even lifting her eyes, she simply waved a hand, and the mosquito hovering before the glass, spying on her, was crushed.
Shi Jinlan woke up a little later today than yesterday, indulging the live broadcast for a while.
Possessed by some uncharacteristic whim, she didn’t deliver a killing blow to the insolent yet timid System, merely shooing it off to another place.
Her long, thick eyelashes fluttered twice, and Shi Jinlan finally opened her eyes.
She sat languidly in the high-backed chair she had placed here, her slender, pale fingers flicking through the air as if she were examining something.
Just then, Thirteen leaped onto Shi Jinlan’s chair, wagging its tail. It settled obediently on the armrest where her hand wasn’t resting and asked, 【Master, are you going to continue today?】
Thirteen didn’t actually know why it called Shi Jinlan “Master” instead of “Host.”
Moreover, the day Shi Jinlan had picked it up and reverse-entered the System, its cat form had been preserved, as if this were its true appearance all along.
“I haven’t found Yuan Ming yet,” Shi Jinlan answered coolly.
Her face was nearly devoid of expression. With a casual lift of her hand, another world line fell into chaos.
Thirteen knew that Shi Jinlan was using a brute-force search to find Yuan Ming.
Shi Jinlan had opened a channel into the System by her own methods, and since then, the System had been plunged into endless turmoil.
At first, it wasn’t Yuan Ming she was looking for.
Her objective had always been singular: to get Chi Qian back.
The System’s internal database stored countless pieces of data, as vast as a sea of stars.
But Shi Jinlan was unfazed by the sheer volume. She raised an arm, and the data, like reels of film, arranged themselves and flowed toward her in an orderly, continuous stream.
This action would obviously cause the database to overload. Arcs of electricity constantly erupted around Shi Jinlan, sending sparks flying.
But Shi Jinlan didn’t care. She paid it no mind at all.
She stared intently at the massive amounts of data, sparks landing on the back of her hand, searing red marks onto her fair skin.
Shi Jinlan thought the same thing as Chi Qian: a Mission-Taker’s death was just a return to the System. Since the System hadn’t passed judgment, her data-form wouldn’t disappear so quickly.
So she would definitely find Chi Qian.
She didn’t even consider the possibility that she wouldn’t.
But when the linked data films finally reached their end, Thirteen had stood guard outside for days.
Shi Jinlan truly had not found Chi Qian.
Chi Qian was no longer here.
Shi Jinlan felt a BOOM go off in her head.
For the first time, she felt the urge to run from the result of something. The silver bracelet on her wrist rippled with a cold, astringent light.
I can’t have failed to find her.
Chi Qian must still be here.
Shi Jinlan refused to believe Chi Qian was truly gone, nor would she permit such a thing to happen.
She quickly shifted her attention to Yuan Ming.
The moment she had arrived in the System, that woman had vanished.
With the Main System having absconded, a huge vulnerability had appeared within the System. Shi Jinlan had no sense of public duty; she wouldn’t help Yuan Ming patch this hole. She would only make the situation worse.
Sabotage missions.
Destroy the balance of Small Worlds.
She would turn this place upside down if she had to, but she would find Yuan Ming.
【Master, I’ll help you.】 Thirteen was also unwilling to believe Chi Qian was gone for good, and it began to help Shi Jinlan.
It was bound to Shi Jinlan, so it could also see her health status.
And Shi Jinlan’s current condition could only be described with one word: terrible.
In her search for Chi Qian, she had forced her human body to bear far too much of the System’s data.
The breaking point was set, unchangeable by any external factor. If Shi Jinlan continued like this, something would definitely happen to her.
Thirteen was extremely worried, but how could Shi Jinlan possibly listen?
She was exactly like Chi Qian. They were both stubborn mules.
Thirteen had no choice but to help Shi Jinlan sift through the data more carefully.
Suddenly, its golden eyes lit up. It pushed the world before it toward Shi Jinlan. 【Master, look at this! I detected several layers of encryption on it. It was missed in the last two screenings.】
Hearing this, Shi Jinlan glanced in Thirteen’s direction and raised a hand to pull the world it mentioned over from its side.
It was a new world, just recently born.
No story had yet formed, no protagonist had yet moved in. A boundless expanse of green covered this world, where flowers bloomed in an eternal spring.
The moment Shi Jinlan’s hand touched this world, her gaze froze.
She stared fixedly at this land, so clean it was unreal. The instant her consciousness probed inside, she heard a familiar voice. “Ah Qian, time to eat.”
The voice was gentle and peaceful, mixing with the curling smoke of a cooking fire in the distance, painting a heartwarming scene.
There was no way Shi Jinlan could ever forget who that voice belonged to. The moment she heard “Ah Qian,” a fierce, blade-like excitement flashed in her eyes.
But the person she expected to see never appeared.
As the call for “Ah Qian” faded, she saw Song Tang walking over from the distance.
She held a large bouquet of flowers, the vibrant blossoms burning like flames, interspersed with small blue flowers.
That shade of blue, so similar to the System’s color, radiated a slow, creeping sense of unreality.
Shi Jinlan was stunned for a moment, and then it was as if she understood everything.
On her first day in the System, she had obtained the data for the world she was in.
It was true that this wasn’t her first life meeting Yuan Ming. It wasn’t her first with Chi Qian, nor with Song Tang.
The unsealed memories expanded exponentially in her mind, as if trying to push her, the master of this body, right out of her own shell.
Icy seawater submerged her limbs. In her first life, after being separated from Chi Qian, she, as a key character, had failed to follow the world’s script. The System had judged the story to be an error, and the world had been restarted.
And Chi Qian, the key character who influenced Shi Jinlan, had been replaced by a Mission-Taker sent to win Shi Jinlan’s heart.
The System’s folly lay in its arrogant belief that any story would inevitably run according to its script.
But this Chi Qian was not her Chi Qian. By the time Shi Jinlan was supposed to depart, the Mission-Taker had failed to make her fall in love.
The mission failed, again and again.
Because of these failures, Yuan Ming, who should have departed smoothly, was also trapped.
Of course Shi Jinlan knew that these people who saved her and selflessly offered her their love were not Chi Qian.
Her best friend, her childhood sweetheart,3 her first love, had vanished from this world.
Yuan Ming, on one hand, searched for Chi Qian in the vast sea of System data, and on the other, despicably wanted Shi Jinlan to fall for the Mission-Taker sent to romance her. She wanted to prove that her own feelings for Chi Qian were true—truer than Shi Jinlan’s.
But in the end, the one who developed feelings for the Mission-Taker was her.
After the mission failed for the umpteenth time, the System changed its strategy, deciding to have the Mission-Taker integrate into the world earlier.
And so, when Yuan Ming once again grew to be a twelve-year-old girl, Song Tang arrived.
She saved her and cared for her with exceptional tenderness.
Yuan Ming and Song Tang, following the script, experienced everything she had once experienced with Chi Qian, but they also created many stories that were theirs alone.
Song Tang’s personality was more flamboyant than Chi Qian’s, and she became a dazzling star in high school.
Yuan Ming’s possessiveness reached an unprecedented peak that year. She couldn’t understand why every “Chi Qian” had to belong to Shi Jinlan.
This Chi Qian, she refused to hand over.
And so, before Shi Jinlan had even arrived, they confessed their feelings for each other.
An unripe fruit tumbled from the apple tree. No one saw the snake hissing, hidden behind the leaves.
This story development severely violated the story logic. As Song Tang awkwardly tried to win over Shi Jinlan, Shi Jinlan completely awakened.
She had indeed developed feelings for “Chi Qian,” but not this Chi Qian.
The cycles of reincarnation had repeated too many times. A crack appeared in the database storing her memories. Shi Jinlan remembered her Chi Qian, but she couldn’t find her in this world.
Yuan Ming didn’t know how Shi Jinlan did it.
Not until the day she seized Song Tang by the throat and used her to enter the System.
The Main System of that time was caught completely unprepared.
Worlds were destroyed one after another. Shi Jinlan’s methods back then were far more violent than they were now. She had crushed countless Systems and destroyed innumerable story lines, all to force the Main System to hand over Chi Qian.
It was a true catastrophe. Nearly all Mission-Takers were drawn into the conflict, used by the System as a protective barrier.
Stories continuously collapsed, and the System continuously threw in new Mission-Takers to repair the plots. Song Tang was among them.
The entire incident lasted a month. The System was being overdrawn, and so was Shi Jinlan.
In the end, the Main System had no choice but to sacrifice itself to forcibly seal Shi Jinlan away.
And Yuan Ming, this incomplete Main System, was forced to take office, restarting the world Shi Jinlan was in.
Because she had to find Song Tang. She had to find Chi Qian.
Any Mission-Taker captured by the data who fit the mission parameters of this world could be Song Tang or Chi Qian.
Chi Qian was one thing; they were too familiar with each other.
But Song Tang…
Their connection was too tenuous. She didn’t even know her real name.
She only knew she liked high-backed chairs, liked to drink, and though she loved vibrant colors, she would always pick some cool-toned flowers to add to them, just for her.
This Lord Main System, whom the other Systems had come to obey, projected all her obsessions onto this world. She didn’t care about the world’s operational logic. If it wasn’t the person she was looking for, she would declare the mission a failure after the Mission-Taker completed it and restart again.
The karmic cycle was completely twisted out of shape by her, quietly nurturing a “monster” that even she couldn’t control.
But she didn’t care.
The System’s cold flame burned within the crimson bonfire, a combination that seemed like it shouldn’t exist in this world.
Over and over again, Yuan Ming finally found the person who would bring her a large bouquet of red and blue flowers.
The sun shone brilliantly, and the azure sky stretched along the vibrant green meadow to the ends of the world.
Yuan Ming looked at the person walking toward her from the distance and shielded Song Tang behind her. “This time, I won’t let you leave me.”
Footnotes
- Kào běi is a minced oath from Taiwanese Hokkien, similar in tone to ‘damn it’ or ‘crap’.
- A popular modern slang term, ‘bǎi làn’ (摆烂), literally means ‘to let it rot.’ It describes an attitude of giving up and letting things get worse, often out of frustration or helplessness.
- ‘Qīngméi’ (青梅), literally ‘green plum,’ is a term for a female childhood friend or sweetheart. It originates from the famous idiom ‘qīngméizhúmǎ’ (green plums and a bamboo horse), which describes a boy and girl growing up together.
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