So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 120
by Little PandaI’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight
Compensation
The clear night sky, dotted with twinkling stars, was visible through the bright glass.
The insects had fallen silent in the bleak autumn, making every word spoken in the bedroom where the two lay nestled together exceptionally clear.
Shi Jinlan’s knee brushed against the side of Chi Qian’s leg. Her slightly lower body temperature seemed to draw all the warmth in the space towards her.
Her breath was a warm, gentle puff against Chi Qian’s ear, scalding her and making her freeze.
For some reason, Chi Qian felt that Shi Jinlan’s words sounded terribly familiar.
【Are you really not going to compensate Master?!】
“Has Ah Qian figured out how to compensate me yet?”
Thirteen’s voice and Shi Jinlan’s voice overlapped, making Chi Qian’s heart leap into her throat.
She remembered now. Given how ridiculously powerful Shi Jinlan was, retrieving internal System communications would be a piece of cake for her.
Besides, after Thirteen’s reminder during the day, she had been so obviously flustered when she left that she had practically fled from Shi Jinlan.
It would be strange if Shi Jinlan hadn’t noticed something was up, to say nothing of that turncoat1 Thirteen.
Chi Qian gazed into Shi Jinlan’s eyes and understood in an instant that she knew everything.
But how could she not put up a fight? She decided to first seize the moral high ground. “Ah Lan, how could you secretly check my conversation with Thirteen!”
Looking at Chi Qian’s indignant expression, Shi Jinlan felt not a shred of guilt. “Don’t you think it’s because you’re terrible at hiding things, Ah Qian?”
She retorted candidly, refusing to let Chi Qian occupy the “moral high ground.”
As she spoke, she slowly raised a hand from under the covers. Her fingers, as slender and pale as spring onions, lazily and casually kneaded Chi Qian’s exposed earlobe. “With acting skills like yours, if you hadn’t met me, who would ever take the bait?”
Her smoothly trimmed nails gently scraped the skin of Chi Qian’s ear, and the fine hairs there felt like plucked zither strings.
Shi Jinlan’s touch sent Chi Qian’s heart into a frenzy, and her competitive streak flared up. “But a certain someone still took the bait, didn’t she?”
At that, the certain someone in question simply looked at Chi Qian with warm eyes.
The second hand on the wall clock ticked several times. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, Shi Jinlan grabbed Chi Qian’s wrist and pulled her into her arms.
Caught off guard, Chi Qian let out a soft gasp as she was pressed into the shadow beneath Shi Jinlan.
She didn’t even have time to catch her breath before Shi Jinlan’s lips descended.
Her lightly closed lips were pried open, and a restrained dampness flooded her mouth.
The tip of a tongue brushed over her teeth, carrying the taste of mint as it plundered the precious nectar within.
Her pressed-together knees were also parted, two bodies now squeezed into the narrow space.
Chi Qian was utterly defenseless.
She lay on her back, her arms held, as the dim moonlight streamed in from the window, outlining the tall, slender shadow that filled her vision.
“Do you remember how many times you owe me?” Shi Jinlan asked in a low voice. Her warm breath rustled down past the tip of Chi Qian’s nose. Those gem-like, pure black eyes were inches from hers, heavy with a lustful aura.
Shi Jinlan stared directly at Chi Qian, as if demanding she give her an answer with her own lips.
But how could you count something like that!
Panic flickered in Chi Qian’s eyes, but Shi Jinlan’s question hooked into her mind, and images of them together began to surface uncontrollably.
The island at night, sunk in silence. This very bed, this very season.
The night breeze carried a chill, and the un-renovated windows weren’t very good at keeping out the autumn cold. But they were pressed together, skin against skin, warmer than the height of summer.
“Let me see what you’re thinking.”
Realizing Chi Qian seemed to be reminiscing, Shi Jinlan cupped her face in both hands and pressed her forehead against hers.
The night wind slipped through the cracks in the window and into the bedroom, carrying faint sounds with it.
Their long, dark hair intertwined on the pillow. The cartoon-print comforter cast a mountain-like shadow on the wall. The wind blew, and the shadow rose and fell.
Suddenly, a hand with several taut blue veins gripped the corner of the quilt.
Shi Jinlan let out a breath, her nose brushing against the soft pillow. The air rumbled in her throat, not entirely calm.
“Ah Qian…”
“Don’t!”
The word, forced through gritted teeth, was fragmented. The wind squeezing through the window frame sounded like a whimper.
When the lustful aura from her memories seeped out, it painted the cool, quiet room with an invisible, tender mist.
Hearing her own voice from the memory, Shi Jinlan looked up at Chi Qian.
She bit down lightly on her lips, asking in a punishing tone, “So this is what Ah Qian was thinking about?”
“No, wasn’t it you who asked? I… I have to count, don’t I?” Chi Qian remembered Shi Jinlan’s initial question and, to justify her trip down memory lane, looked at her with conviction.
“Then has Ah Qian finished counting?” Shi Jinlan asked softly.
“No.” Chi Qian lowered her lashes.
There were too many belated images, weaving through what she had thought was a complete memory.
As love and desire intertwined, Chi Qian suddenly felt that her story with Shi Jinlan had become so much richer.
This was their complete story.
It existed only between them. When she was facing her, she wasn’t so shy about expressing it.
With that thought, Chi Qian deftly twisted her hand and clamped it around Shi Jinlan’s wrist.
Just as Shi Jinlan had done moments ago, she pulled her arm, making her lose her balance and tumble on top of her.
“We have a long time ahead of us. I’ll make it up to you, slowly.”
Chi Qian’s voice was muffled by her kiss, which landed on Shi Jinlan’s ear.
Shi Jinlan had just felt her palm go empty when Chi Qian’s fingers slipped into it.
Thick clouds suddenly pressed over the clear night sky, and the stars struggled to pierce the heavy layer.
The sound of waves echoed from the distance. Encircled by Chi Qian, Shi Jinlan let her kiss her earlobe, her cheek, her lips. The artery in her neck brushed against Chi Qian’s lips, and a trail of moisture lingered on her collarbone.
The cotton-linen clothes were too loose and light. With a slight tug, they slipped from her shoulders. The moonlight enveloped their figures, as if dressing the person whose skirt had fallen in a new layer of bright, clean gauze.
The holy maiden sits upon the lotus throne.
The devout believer prostrates in worship.
“Mm…”
A soft warmth brushed past Shi Jinlan’s lips. Unable to bear such heat for too long, her body suddenly tensed.
Chi Qian lifted her eyes to look at Shi Jinlan, who was now lying on the pillow, and a scene from a past life flashed in her mind.
Her soft, long hair was messily splayed around her face, her dark pupils were ringed with the same crimson, her pearly teeth were biting her lip, and her face was a mask of restraint and endurance.
“Ah Lan, in my memories, you haven’t changed at all,” Chi Qian said, gazing at Shi Jinlan with deep affection, her warm breath inevitably falling upon her lips.
Those tightly bitten lips tensed again. The faint trembling was invisible to the naked eye, but it was transmitted unmistakably to Chi Qian’s palm.
Chi Qian’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she kissed Shi Jinlan with even more reverence. “The way you’re looking at me now is exactly the same as back then.”
But what memory could be as real as the present? With that, Chi Qian bent her head and kissed her again.
Shi Jinlan gazed at Chi Qian’s lowered eyes and felt as if she had fallen onto a cloud.
The room wasn’t soundproof.
Lost in the sea of clouds that was Chi Qian, this was the only clear thought that remained in Shi Jinlan’s mind.
The clouds gathered and dispersed, as if the changes of a long night were fast-forwarding in this room.
The heavy clouds finally gathered enough moisture and, without warning, began to rain down into the night.
Shi Jinlan’s body went limp, and she exhaled a hot breath toward Chi Qian.
“You too.”
The voice, thick with heat, suddenly brushed past Chi Qian’s ear, erupting with a force that made her blood boil.
Chi Qian’s arm abruptly stopped moving, as if something had happened that caught her completely unprepared.
A skirt was pressed against the wedding quilt2, then pulled from someone’s hand and dropped onto the carpet.
Shi Jinlan’s hand caressed Chi Qian’s lips, and she mimicked her, kissing her in the same way.
The moonlight shone on the bright red Double Happiness character3 on the window, blending its festive color into the night.
The autumn rain fell steadily, moisturizing the depths of the soil, melting them until they were inseparably fused into each other’s bodies.
The fine rain pattered against the windowsill, and the island was shrouded in a hazy mist.
No one would intrude upon this silent, deserted night. This night belonged to those in love.
A light rain had fallen last night, and the sky above the island was now a clear, washed blue.
Sunlight pierced through the branches and the curtains, filling the room with gentle warmth.
Clothes lay scattered on the floor in disarray, but on the bed, two people slept peacefully in each other’s arms.
The sun peeked in from outside the window, watching this beautiful scene until one person’s eyes twitched.
Chi Qian’s biological clock on the island was frighteningly accurate. Even after a long and restless night, she still woke up on time.
But Shi Jinlan did not.
She was always the one whose stamina gave out first. Perhaps for that reason, she always slept very soundly.
Chi Qian carefully pulled the quilt over Shi Jinlan’s exposed arm. Her gaze swept over her collarbone, where a few red marks were scattered across her fair, translucent skin.
A few were from the day before yesterday; most were her handiwork from last night.
At the thought, Chi Qian’s face grew hot.
She had been the bold and unreasonable one yesterday, and now she was the one practicing see no evil4.
After covering Shi Jinlan, her flickering gaze finally returned to her profile.
Tirelessly, Chi Qian used the light from the window to trace Shi Jinlan’s features.
She followed the line of her long, thick eyelashes, slid down her high-bridged nose, and a final beam of golden light landed on her lightly pressed lips.
They were thin and tinged with the color of blood, like a butterfly’s wings, fluttering gently with each breath.
Watching from the side, Chi Qian pursed her own lips, her heart stirring.
Knock knock knock.
Before Chi Qian could do anything, a knock came from the door.
Chi Qingyan was standing outside Chi Qian’s bedroom. “Are you awake?”
“Awake, we’re awake!” Chi Qian quickly snapped back to reality, tucking away her greedy gaze.
Chi Qingyan was very satisfied with her prompt response. His tone was gentle. “If you’re awake, get up and come eat. It’s ready.”
“Okay!” Chi Qian, with her guilty conscience, immediately sat up to get dressed.
But Shi Jinlan was still half-asleep, just waking up.
She looked at Chi Qian in a daze and caught the hand that was about to get out of bed.
“Grandfather’s calling. It’s time to get up,” Chi Qian said quickly, thinking Shi Jinlan was trying to keep her for a tender moment.
But that wasn’t Shi Jinlan’s intention at all. She gave Chi Qian a meaningful look and asked, “You’re going out like that?”
Chi Qian didn’t understand. “Yes, why…”
But before she could finish, she saw herself in the vanity mirror.
Her camisole did nothing to hide her wide neckline, leaving the red marks on her neck in plain view.
What would Grandfather think if he saw this!
Just imagining that near-reality made Chi Qian shiver uncontrollably.
“Wear a base layer underneath. The weather’s gotten cold, so it won’t look strange,” Shi Jinlan said, half-leaning against the pillow, her eyes tracing Chi Qian’s back as she stood before the mirror.
“You’re right, Ah Lan.” Chi Qian nodded and walked over to her unpacked suitcase, which was lying in a heap on the floor.
Shi Jinlan watched her crouch down and rummage through it. “Get one for me too,” she said.
Bright sunlight filled the bedroom.
Shi Jinlan wasn’t in the habit of lazing in bed, especially not in front of Chi Qingyan.
As she spoke, she also got out of bed, closing her eyes wearily and leaning against Chi Qian from behind. “You know, if I hadn’t reminded you, who knows what Grandfather would have said. What would you do without me?”
Chi Qian was unconcerned. She tilted her head back to nuzzle Shi Jinlan’s cheek. “Then you just have to stay with me forever, right?”
Those words went straight to Shi Jinlan’s heart.
The corners of her mouth lifted uncontrollably. She subtly shifted her face, which was pressed against Chi Qian’s, until her lips were against hers. “Open your mouth.”
The author has something to say:
Pigeon’s question time: The lips that appear in the article are different in several places!
Footnotes
- The idiom 'qiángtóucǎo' (墙头草) literally means 'grass on a wall.' It refers to a fence-sitter or turncoat who sways with the prevailing wind, lacking their own firm stance.
- A 'xǐbèi' (喜被) is a traditional wedding quilt, typically red and adorned with auspicious symbols for happiness, longevity, and fertility, used by a newlywed couple.
- The 'shuāngxǐ zì' (双喜字) is a common Chinese symbol for marriage, created by combining two characters for 'happiness' (喜 xǐ). It is often used in red paper-cuts for wedding decorations.
- The phrase 'fēilǐ wù shì' (非礼勿视) means 'see no evil.' It originates from the Analects of Confucius as part of the maxim 'see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil,' and is used here to describe her sudden modesty.
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