So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 126
by Little PandaI’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight
Time No Longer Stagnates in a Loop. Chi Qian Finally Welcomes Her Twenty-Sixth Birthday.
In the enclosed space, a warm breath fell.
Chi Qian answered and accepted Shi Jinlan’s kiss, having never thought one person’s presence could be so intoxicating.
The partition separated the front and back of the car into two different worlds. No third person could see what was happening here.
So Chi Qian boldly wrapped her arms around Shi Jinlan’s neck, peppering her with small kisses before climbing onto her lap.
The car entered a tunnel, and the previously bright light was suddenly halved.
The tunnel was decorated with lights of different colours, a bizarre and motley phantom1. The wind that pressed against the walls suddenly changed its tune, becoming sharp and strange. Combined with the shifting light and shadows, it was as if they were reliving their endless loops, again and again.
Chi Qian’s deft maneuvering took Shi Jinlan by surprise.
But she was stunned for only a moment before wrapping her arms more tightly around Chi Qian’s waist, kissing her and holding her steady so she wouldn’t fall.
The series of small kisses was more lethal than a single, ferocious conquest. Sporadic, gentle warmth brushed against her teeth, teasing her appetite bit by bit, leaving her perpetually unsatisfied.
Chi Qian slowly and deliberately returned Shi Jinlan’s long kiss, thinking that from now on, she had to make one promise after another with her.
That way, even if they got lost, they would still be able to find each other.
“Aiyo!”
The last day of the week began with Chi Qian’s cry of pain.
Despite her cramming session last night, she had still answered incorrectly. The discipline ruler struck her palm, leaving a searing, hot pain.
Standing at the entrance to the medicine room, Auntie Zhou couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath at the sound coming from the study.
She looked at Shi Jinlan, who was bagging up medicine for her at the opposite counter, and couldn’t help but try to persuade her. “It’s been a long time since Qianqian’s had a pop quiz, hasn’t it? Why start again all of a sudden? It must hurt a lot. Why don’t you go have a word with Elder Chi?”
“I have,” Shi Jinlan replied coolly, deftly bagging Auntie Zhou’s medicine. “Once a day, take it in the morning on time.”
“Ah.” Auntie Zhou hurriedly took the medicine. Hearing Shi Jinlan’s reply, she understood.
—Given how impartial Chi Qingyan was, the more she pleaded, the harder he would probably hit.
After a moment’s thought, Auntie Zhou patted Shi Jinlan’s shoulder comfortingly. “Elder Chi is also doing this for Qianqian’s own good. He truly puts his heart into caring for this child. Don’t you resent him either.”
“I won’t,” Shi Jinlan said quietly.
Auntie Zhou knew Shi Jinlan’s temperament and didn’t say any more. Taking her medicine, she prepared to leave. “Alright, I’m heading off then.”
“Take care.” Shi Jinlan gave a slight nod, watching Auntie Zhou leave.
But the moment the woman was gone from the house, she walked out the door, a worried expression on her face as she looked up toward Chi Qingyan’s second-floor study.
Just yesterday, they had been in that very study, planning Chi Qian’s birthday.
Their goals were aligned, and they quickly reached an agreement: they had to make Chi Qian happy…
“Your design is already excellent. I wasn’t as thorough as you,” Chi Qingyan said, nodding in approval as he looked at the plan Shi Jinlan had written out by hand.
“You are even more thorough than I am when it comes to Ah Qian,” Shi Jinlan replied with quiet modesty, beginning to put away her proposal.
“Leave this one for me.”
But before she could retract it, Chi Qingyan had taken the cover sheet, on which only a few words were written.
Truth be told, Chi Qingyan really liked Shi Jinlan’s calligraphy.
This child’s handwriting was quite good, elegant without losing its free-spiritedness. It was much more pleasing to the eye than the chicken scratch their family’s Chi Qian produced.
In truth, if not for this child’s family background, he wouldn’t have been so opposed…
But then again, without that background, how could she have become the person she was today?
Her family was truly both her making and her undoing.
Chi Qingyan sighed internally. His gaze fell on the date on the cover, and he said thoughtfully, “Actually, this date isn’t Xiao Qian’s real birthday. It’s the day I found her.”
Hearing this, Shi Jinlan’s eyes filled with surprise.
She had never imagined that Chi Qian didn’t even know her own exact birthday.
Her steely heart felt as if it had been wrung out, leaving it sore and swollen.
She decided she had to give Chi Qian an unforgettable birthday, to welcome her twenty-sixth year—the first twenty-sixth year she had ever experienced in her life.
“When I found her, the baby must have been about a month old. But it’s hard to say if she was full-term.” Chi Qingyan used his hands to show Shi Jinlan how big Chi Qian had been when he first found her. “Just this tiny. A little bigger than my forearm. A cat could have easily carried her off.”
“She was lucky to have met you,” Shi Jinlan said quietly, genuinely grateful that Chi Qian had found Chi Qingyan.
Chi Qingyan heaved a long sigh. “It was both lucky and unlucky.”
He put his hands behind his back and looked at Shi Jinlan, his words carrying a deeper meaning. “If she hadn’t been subtly influenced by watching me save people2 since she was a child, she wouldn’t have developed the habit of picking things up and bringing them home.”
But after voicing his complaint, Chi Qingyan still nodded at Shi Jinlan. “From now on, though, the ending looks pretty good.”
Shi Jinlan understood the implication and replied, “You can rest assured. I will treat her well.”
Chi Qingyan nodded, showing Shi Jinlan a rare gentleness. “If Xiao Qian doesn’t treat you well, you can come and tell me too.”
This warmth made Shi Jinlan feel Chi Qingyan’s acceptance.
She nodded and said with a smile, “I understand, Grandfather.”
The sea breeze swept across the island, and in the afterglow of the setting sun, it blew the last leaf from a withered branch to the ground.
Waves crashed against the shore, the white foam pushing against the docked boat and making it sway. Not everything was as calm as it seemed.
The wheels of a suitcase clattered onto the deck, making a rumbling sound.
On the day of Chi Qian’s birthday, Yuan Ming was setting off to participate in her “research project.”
“You’ll be gone for two or three years. What kind of research project is it that you all have to be in isolation? As the Main System, surely you can be an exception,” Chi Qian said, standing on the shore, her eyes filled with worry.
Hearing Chi Qian’s last sentence, Yuan Ming paused.
Song Tang was quicker to react and explained for her, “It would be much scarier if Ah Yuan suddenly appeared on the island out of nowhere.”
“That’s right.” Yuan Ming nodded in agreement. “It’s better to think of myself as an ordinary person. If I don’t think about those special privileges, I can focus more on my research.”
Although what they said made sense, the frown on Chi Qian’s brow didn’t ease.
Everything was finally over, yet now, two of her best friends were leaving at once.
Ever since she learned that Yuan Ming and Song Tang were leaving, she had been intermittently unhappy.
Seeing Chi Qian’s listless state, Song Tang reached out, slung an arm around her, and unceremoniously ruffled her hair. “Aiya, can you not make that face? It’s like you think we’re not coming back. Relax, Ah Yuan has me with her. Nothing will happen.”
“Why did it have to be today?” Chi Qian was still downcast. Couldn’t they have waited until after her birthday was over?
“Because today is a good day,” Yuan Ming said gently.
The same warm smile was on her face as she looked at Chi Qian and added, “Ah Qian, I haven’t had the chance to say it. Happy birthday.”
“Right, happy birthday!” Song Tang chimed in. “Eat some extra cake for me, and make sure that guy Thirteen eats less. Otherwise, he’ll be fat as a pig by the time I get back.”
Thinking of Thirteen’s increasingly plump figure since the dust had settled, Chi Qian managed a small smile. “I will.”
In the distance, a wind blew in across the sea, bringing a shivering cold.
The gust tousled their long hair.
On the other side of the deck, passengers were continually boarding the ship.
The sound of rolling suitcases came and went, and a nearby broadcast speaker reminded people of the time.
Yuan Ming glanced down at her watch, understanding that even the longest farewell must come to an end3.
She paused, looking at the “OK” message Shi Jinlan had just sent her. She squeezed the hand of Song Tang, who was still bantering with Chi Qian, and ended their conversation. “The wind is picking up. Ah Qian, you should head back. We need to get on board.”
“Goodbye,” Chi Qian said, a little reluctant. She looked at Yuan Ming and Song Tang, then walked back onto the shore.
“Goodbye!” Song Tang’s loud voice mixed with Yuan Ming’s soft one as they waved, like a parting evening song.
The cruise ship pushed through the calm sea, creating a trail of ripples under the setting sun.
Evening always seemed to bring a sense of desolation. Walking home along the path she had taken countless times, Chi Qian felt that this particular farewell made her deeply sad.
But why was she so sad?
It wasn’t as if Tangtang and Ah Yuan were never coming back. Besides, she wasn’t all alone anymore.
At that thought, Chi Qian clenched her fists.
And that Shi Jinlan—she’d actually used the excuse of handling company business and refused to come with her.
She and Yuan Ming were like fire and water, yet even with Yuan Ming about to leave, she wouldn’t even come to see her off.
Besides, at times like this, when she was feeling down, it would be nice to have someone by her side to talk to immediately. It would surely make her feel better.
“Stupid Ah Lan,” Chi Qian grumbled under her breath.
Puffing her cheeks, she walked faster, and before she knew it, she had arrived home.
The sunset filled the courtyard, its orange-red light hanging in the trees like lush blossoms.
The doors to the medicine room and the clinic were both closed. For once, there were no patients coming and going. Everything was quiet.
So quiet it was almost abnormal.
Chi Qian scanned the courtyard and realized that not only was Chi Qingyan not there, but Thirteen wasn’t sleeping in the yard either.
Such an overly peaceful scene wasn’t relaxing; instead, it felt strange, putting her on alert.
“Ah Lan?”
“Grandfather?”
“Thirteen?”
Chi Qian called out doubtfully as she climbed the few steps to the porch.
She couldn’t see inside through the frosted glass, but there were several colours jumbled together within, like a giant, bizarre kaleidoscope.
Suspicious, Chi Qian abruptly pushed the door open.
To her surprise, the room was filled with balloons, which rushed toward her in a flurry.
In the dim light of the sunset, a bright flame flickered to life, small and full, like a floating jewel.
A cake, adorned with fresh cream and roses, was lifted up. Chi Qian immediately saw Shi Jinlan. The candlelight softened her features, leaving only her deep eyes focused on her.
Suddenly, Chi Qian felt a thick, warm layer of fur wrap around her bare ankle.
Thirteen was rubbing its head against her leg, its meow sweet and coddling.
Its tail, held high, was fluffy and soft.
Grandfather was there, too.
He followed Shi Jinlan, who was holding the cake, and walked up to her.
“Happy birthday, Ah Qian.”
“Happy birthday, Xiao Qian.”
“Meow~ (Happy birthday, Host.)”
The three of them spoke at the same time, their voices light or heavy, clear or deep, but all filled with blessings for her.
Time no longer stagnated in a loop.
Chi Qian had finally welcomed her twenty-sixth birthday.
The author has something to say:
Tomorrow is the last chapter of the main story!
This little pigeon will write lots of extras, and the story of Tangtang and Xiao Ming will also be in the extras!
Footnotes
- A four-character idiom, lùlí guāngguài, describing a scene that is dazzlingly strange and kaleidoscopic.
- A Chinese idiom, ěrrúmùrǎn, which means to be imperceptibly influenced by what one constantly sees and hears.
- A classic Chinese saying, sòng jūn qiānlǐ zhōng yǒu yī bié, which means 'even if you escort a friend for a thousand lǐ (about 500 kilometres or 310 miles), you must eventually part.' It speaks to the inevitability of farewells, no matter how long they are drawn out.
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