So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight

So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 88

by Little Panda

I’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight

How many things had she forgotten?

Sunlight pierced through the dense leaves of the roadside trees, dappling the car window with mottled light and shadow.

The car emerged from the tunnel and stopped at a red light at the next intersection.

The chirping of cicadas effortlessly pierced through the glass. Their long drones stretched into a single needle, pressing sharply against one’s temples.

A flash of herself shouting at the top of her lungs flickered through her mind, a chaotic memory with no place to land.

Chi Qian dazedly withdrew her kiss from Shi Jinlan’s forehead. Her gaze shifted. Her hand was currently being held tightly by Shi Jinlan, who had not let go.

Nor would she be the one to let go.

When had Shi Jinlan ever let go of her hand?

Why did she have such a memory in her head?

Chi Qian was utterly bewildered. The real world seemed to be receding from her.

She subconsciously squeezed Shi Jinlan’s hand back. It was a memory completely foreign to her, yet the lingering fear¹ made her fingers clench reflexively.

A wave of irrepressible heartache threatened to pierce right through her.

This sense of terror was more real than watching several horror movies in a row. Even though she couldn’t see the images in her mind clearly, Chi Qian already felt as if she were there.²

It was as if it had truly been her own past experience.

But even if it was, when did this memory take place?

The island?

What happened between her and Shi Jinlan on the island? Why would she be screaming Shi Jinlan’s name hoarsely?

It was as if she had lost her just when she was within reach.³

The moving sun chased the black car, continuously sending scorching heat into the cabin.

But the car’s air conditioning slowly seeped through Chi Qian’s palm, overpowering the heat. She lightly squeezed the hand that was holding Shi Jinlan’s and suddenly felt that her own was empty.

Long shadows clung faintly to people’s backs, trembling with the subtle movements of the stationary figures.

Even Chi Qian herself hadn’t realized that her arm was shaking uncontrollably.

Chi Qian looked at Shi Jinlan. The person in her sight was sleeping peacefully, the tranquil scenery outside blanketing her body. Sunlight dotted her with gold, suffusing the air with a clean fragrance. There was no way to reconcile this with the memory that had suddenly surfaced in her mind.

Just how terrible was the System that wrote the story of this world? How could it make her and Shi Jinlan go through something like this?

They had only known each other for a few short months on the island. How could there be such a painful parting of life and death,⁴ so lingering and mournful?⁵

This shouldn’t be the final cliff jump, right?

According to the Script Setting, her role and Shi Jinlan’s should have been reversed.

Chi Qian’s gaze was somber. The silver bracelet clasped on Shi Jinlan’s waist chain made a soft, soundless knock.

How many things, exactly, had she forgotten?

Lush greenery thrived, pushing the sweltering summer heat beyond the manor’s gates.

Following the wide, flat road forward, Chi Qian once again saw the Western-style building that appeared and disappeared amidst the verdure.

Compared to the unfamiliarity and nervousness of her last visit, this time Chi Qian felt an unprecedented sense of anticipation about returning. Familiar scenery flashed past the window; the sense of security humans feel upon returning home seems to be etched into our very bones.

Just like the last time Shi Jinlan came home, the Madam Housekeeper⁶ was waiting at the door after receiving the news.

The car stopped smoothly in front of the building. A servant immediately came forward, opened the car door, and prepared to help Shi Jinlan home.

But during this routine, accustomed⁷ process, the moment Shi Jinlan sensed someone trying to take her from Chi Qian’s arms, she tightened her grip on Chi Qian’s hand.

She was rejecting all possible external contact, curling her entire body into Chi Qian’s embrace.

Her slender fingers interlaced with Chi Qian’s, squeezing tightly enough to cause a pang of pain.

Chi Qian couldn’t help but frown slightly, but she suppressed the conditioned reflex⁸ to pull away from the pain.

She knew Shi Jinlan’s subconscious was just seeking reassurance from her. Chi Qian was extra careful about even the slightest frown.

She still had the strength to carry Shi Jinlan out of the car, so how could she entrust her to someone else?

Chi Qian gave the stunned servant a friendly look, then draped Shi Jinlan’s arm over her own neck. “I’ll do it.”

“Ah Lan, we’re home,” Chi Qian said softly into Shi Jinlan’s ear, then lifted her and got out of the car.

A breeze had picked up. The stuffy afternoon heat couldn’t penetrate the interwoven greenery of the manor. Wisps of cool air brushed against her face, gentle and comfortable.

Chi Qian held Shi Jinlan securely as she leaned on her shoulder, and suddenly felt as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

She stepped onto the soft, damp lawn, one step at a time.

The sun followed right behind her, its warmth baking away the chill. A fresh fragrance floated in the air. This was the feeling of being home.

The servants in the manor were exceptionally quick and efficient. Chi Qian carried Shi Jinlan into the building and proceeded without obstruction.

By the time they reached the second-floor bedroom, Yuan Ming was already waiting there.

“Here, lay Miss Shi down flat,” Yuan Ming instructed Chi Qian.

But before Yuan Ming could finish, Chi Qian had already done as she said.

She lifted Shi Jinlan’s ankle, and the lambskin high-heeled shoe slipped off with a gentle shake.

The soft carpet was covered in fine fluff. Even when the high heel fell, it was completely silent, like a falling blossom.

The protruding bone was covered by a layer of transparent white skin, like a spring onion stalk. Chi Qian held it in her palm, a sourness welling up in her heart.

Too light.

Chi Qian had wanted to say it from the moment she first picked Shi Jinlan up. That pale face rested on her shoulder, as frail as a fallen flower, as if a gust of wind could scatter her into Chi Qian’s palm.

Chi Qian thought, once this is all over, she must take Shi Jinlan to the island.

It wasn’t that she was impatient for their wedding, but that she wanted to take her away from the battlefield, to let her recuperate properly.

“Miss Shi is probably just under too much work stress lately. She’ll be fine once she lets it out.”

As she was thinking this, Yuan Ming finished a simple check-up on Shi Jinlan. A purple IV needle pierced the back of her hand, slowly delivering medicine.

“The fever will probably go down after the drip is finished. Then she’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Chi Qian nodded, committing Yuan Ming’s words to memory.

“Make sure she doesn’t catch a cold these next few days. Her constitution is too weak right now,” Yuan Ming added.

“Is it because of the fever?” Chi Qian asked cryptically, assuming this was a side effect of Shi Jinlan destroying the Small World.

Yuan Ming, however, didn’t think so. “That’s just a trigger. She hasn’t let herself rest these past few years, spending even the New Year at the office. She’s reached her breaking point.”

As she spoke, Yuan Ming looked up at Chi Qian. Her gaze was gentle, yet it held a deepness under the sunlight. “You should know why.”

Yuan Ming had no intention of blaming Chi Qian. Her voice was very soft, as if afraid of making Chi Qian feel guilty.

But despite this, Chi Qian’s chest swelled rapidly, and a sour bitterness filled her world.

Of course, she knew why.

Because the moment Shi Jinlan stopped, she would think of her.

Think of their days on the island.

Remember the image of her letting go of her hand and falling from the cliff.

Chi Qian clenched her fists, feeling that Shi Jinlan’s terror over the past three years was no less painful than what she had just experienced when that memory suddenly appeared.

“Don’t dwell on the past. Instead of feeling guilty or apologetic, it’s better to cherish the limited time you have and get along well,” Yuan Ming comforted Chi Qian, placing a hand on her shoulder and patting it twice.

“Mm,” Chi Qian nodded.

She felt that Yuan Ming possessed a kind of magical ability. Her gentleness carried a familiar atmosphere that could always put her at ease.

The guilt was quietly suppressed. Chi Qian remembered something she needed to tell Yuan Ming. “Ah Yuan, I’m going to marry Ah Lan on the island.”

“You’re the first friend I’m inviting. You’ll come, right?”

There was an inexplicable anticipation in Chi Qian’s voice. Her round, apricot eyes shimmered with golden light, clean and brilliant.

Yuan Ming seemed startled for a moment. The gentleness on her face appeared to freeze, and her calm eyes suddenly grew profound. “Have you thought it through?”

“Of course,” Chi Qian nodded without hesitation.

But after getting this answer, Yuan Ming just smiled helplessly.

She stood beside Chi Qian, her tall figure looking down from a superior height. She chided her softly, “Silly girl, I mean have you two thought of a reason to fool Teacher? Shouldn’t you let me in on it too, so I can help you cover?”

Chi Qian first froze, then had a sudden realization and nodded repeatedly. “Oh, oh, oh! We have!”

“We’ll just say that I’ve been undergoing treatment all these years and have only just now fully recovered, without any scars left on my body.”

“Is that so?” Hearing this, Yuan Ming lowered her eyelashes thoughtfully.

Her gentle gaze fell leisurely on Chi Qian’s arm. Because it held no aggression, it went unnoticed.

After a good while, she finally smiled warmly at the smooth, unscarred arm. “Sometimes I don’t understand, does Ah Qian truly trust me, or has she forgotten?”

“Yes, there really are no scars on Ah Qian’s body.”

The light skirt was blown by a draft, brushing against Chi Qian’s calf, barely there.

She looked up at the smile in Yuan Ming’s eyes and, for the first time, felt that this person was not as simple as she appeared on the surface.

“But why is that?” Yuan Ming mused, seemingly with no intention of letting Chi Qian explain.

Her gaze swept over Chi Qian’s arm, lifting bit by bit until their eyes met again. “Could it be that Ah Qian is a person from another world?”

Thump!

Chi Qian’s heart skipped a beat.

One person in this world had already awakened. If Yuan Ming also became aware of the System’s existence, she was afraid she’d never be able to clean up this mess.

“Ah Yuan,” Chi Qian called out. She wasn’t ready to confess to Yuan Ming, and her voice was dry.

But Yuan Ming just smiled, the profoundness in her gaze enveloped by gentleness and disappearing from sight. “Don’t be so nervous. You are not the person I’m looking for. I will protect you and Shi Jinlan well.”

It sounded like a promise.

But hearing it, Chi Qian felt a little uneasy.

Was Yuan Ming’s affection for the Original Owner that deep?

Even now that she was gone, leaving only this shell that looked identical to her, she still had to protect it.

But the more Chi Qian thought about Yuan Ming’s words, the stranger she found them.

It felt like there was something missing between those last two sentences, a reason or a boundary.

She was not her Chi Qian. Yuan Ming had told her that a long time ago.

So where did her Chi Qian go?

The night was heavy, and the moon’s reflection hung on the treetops, serene and peaceful.

Shi Jinlan’s condition wasn’t that bad. After finishing the IV drip, most of her fever had subsided.

Her body was no longer frighteningly hot. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Even the ever-composed Madam Housekeeper made a rare show of relaxing, secretly pressing her hands together as if thanking the heavens.

The day had been filled with one piece of bad news after another,⁹ topped off with Shi Jinlan’s collapse.

And to cap it all off, a memory she didn’t remember had been inserted into the mix.

Chi Qian had never felt a day could be so full and fast-paced.

She was truly exhausted. After a quick shower in the bathroom, she prepared to go to bed.

As for the memory, she would have to wait until Shi Jinlan woke up to check with her.

She didn’t want to lose her memories with Shi Jinlan, even if that particular one was excruciatingly painful.

With that thought, Chi Qian walked to the bed.

Specifically, to the side closer to Shi Jinlan.

Her legs seemed to have a mind of their own, leading her, lost in thought, to crouch down right in front of Shi Jinlan.

Earlier, Chi Qian had thought that leaving the room lights on would disturb Shi Jinlan’s rest, so she had only turned on a tiny lamp on the headboard on her side to serve as a guide.

Now, this small lamp cast a glow from behind Shi Jinlan, dim and clean, blanketing the dark room in a layer of tender, warm yellow.

Shi Jinlan seemed to have realized that her hand was no longer restrained, and her body had returned to a curled-up, side-sleeping position.

She rested quietly on the soft pillow, her entire face sinking into the soft, plain white. The light rose and fell in the wrinkles of the fabric, casting unflattering shadows on her face, making the bridge of her nose seem flatter and diminishing her eyelashes. It was like an egregious waste of beauty,¹⁰ but it made her look unusually peaceful.

Just sleep well like this.

Tomorrow will be a brand new day when you wake up.

Chi Qian’s eyes watched the sleeping Shi Jinlan intently, not noticing the flicker of an eyelash hidden in the shadows.

Under the dim yellow light, Shi Jinlan opened her eyes.

Her dark pupils were clear and bright with a watery sheen, like a deep pool.

Chi Qian’s heart jumped in shock, and she subconsciously tried to get up and flee.

But before she could run, her wrist was seized in a tight grip.

It was as if Shi Jinlan knew she would definitely run and had prepared early, just waiting to catch her in the act.¹¹

“Ah… Ah Lan, you’re awake,” Chi Qian said, a bit awkwardly. She was stuck in a half-crouch by the bed, her smile unnatural.

“Mm,” Shi Jinlan replied, watching her clearly, her expression as calm as water.

She watched Chi Qian maintain this position for several seconds without a change in expression. Just as Chi Qian was about to lose her balance, Shi Jinlan gave a gentle tug of her arm and pulled the other person into her embrace. “Come here and sleep with me.”

The author has something to say:

Qianqian, innocently: What kind of sleeping? This one doesn’t understand~ Do the aunties know?

PS: Sorry for the late update. Red envelopes for comments.

Footnotes

心有余悸 (xīn yǒu yújì): An idiom meaning to have lingering fear or trepidation from a past traumatic experience.
身临其境 (shēnlínqíjìng): An idiom meaning to feel as if you are personally on the scene; an immersive experience.
失之交臂 (shī zhī jiāo bì): An idiom literally meaning “to lose something that was right by your arm.” It signifies missing a great opportunity or losing someone who was very close.
生离死别 (shēnglí sǐbié): An idiom describing the sorrow of being separated from loved ones, either through distance in life or by death.
缠绵悱恻 (chánmián fěicè): An idiom describing emotions or a story that is deeply sorrowful and poignant.
管家太太 (guǎnjiā tàitai): Literally “Housekeeper Madam,” a respectful title for the head female housekeeper of a wealthy household, combining the professional role with an honorific.
习以为常 (xíyǐwéicháng): An idiom meaning to be so used to something that it feels normal or unremarkable.
条件反射 (tiáojiàn fǎnshè): A conditioned reflex, an automatic response to a stimulus established by training or experience.
噩耗连连 (èhào liánlián): An idiom meaning a continuous stream of bad news.
暴殄天物 (bào tiǎn tiān wù): An idiom that means to waste or ruin something precious or beautiful recklessly.
抓包 (zhuā bāo): Literally “to grab the package,” this is slang for catching someone red-handed or in the act.

I’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight

Footnotes

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