So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 93
by Little PandaI’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight
The Scent That Only Shi Jinlan Has
The mist was ethereal. White vapor coiled around Chi Qian’s fingers, slowly lingering and twining around her knuckles, pulling her into Shi Jinlan’s world.
Facing those eyes that leisurely turned toward her, Chi Qian clutched the room number tag in her hand.
She truly hadn’t realized that was what Auntie Zhou meant just now. How could she have assigned her and Shi Jinlan to the same changing room!
Even if, even if they were getting married…
It wasn’t like the changing rooms were in such short supply that the two of them, a pair of fiancées, had to make do!
“You’re in this one too?” Shi Jinlan noticed the astonishment in Chi Qian’s eyes and asked calmly.
“It seems so…” Chi Qian said, opening her palm to show Shi Jinlan her number tag.
The round, green tag with a white number lay in her hand, clearly displaying “19”.
For some reason, though, she felt there was something strange about her tag.
Just then, a shadow fell over her.
Long hair brushed almost imperceptibly against Chi Qian’s fingertips, diffusing a delicate fragrance into the warm, humid air.
Shi Jinlan leaned closer.
She looked at the tag in Chi Qian’s hand and narrowed her eyes slightly. Then she raised her hand, took Chi Qian by the wrist, and turned her hand and the tag around. “This side is up.”
As she spoke, the “19” in Chi Qian’s line of sight became a “61”.
The number she had checked several times had changed, just like that, right before her eyes.
Chi Qian stared blankly at the tag, the surprise in her eyes now tinged with deep apology.
I’m sorry, Auntie Zhou.
I’ve wronged you.
“These cards seem to have a security issue,” Shi Jinlan remarked, analyzing the small card seriously.
“Exactly,” Chi Qian immediately nodded in agreement.
Wanting to quietly erase her blunder, she closed her outstretched hand right in front of Shi Jinlan. “Ah Lan, I haven’t changed yet. I’ll get going.”
With that, Chi Qian tried to pull her wrist from Shi Jinlan’s grasp and beat a hasty retreat.
But unexpectedly, she was pulled in the opposite direction, stumbling two steps.
Shi Jinlan’s hand remained firmly around Chi Qian’s wrist, her arm forming a smooth, taut curve. “Why go through all that trouble? I’m just about done changing.”
“Is that really okay…?” Chi Qian hesitated.
Although between them, everything that could be seen had been seen.
But in a place like this, Chi Qian still felt a bit of bashfulness, a sense of “look at no evil.”1
However, Shi Jinlan didn’t give Chi Qian a chance to hesitate.
She glanced at the bathrobe in Chi Qian’s basket, which was a similar style to her own, and asked, “Do you know how to tie a bow?”
“I do,” Chi Qian nodded.
She was an expert at tying bows.
In high school, cotton dolls had been all the rage in her class, and her deskmate often dragged her into tying all sorts of bows on her dolls.
“Thank you.”
Shi Jinlan’s voice was polite, and her eyes held the humility of someone asking for a favor.
But before she had even finished speaking, she had already stuffed the sash into Chi Qian’s hand. Her thin lips curved into a faint smile. “Miss Private Assistant.”
The warm steam drifting in from the other pools coated the changing room in a thin layer of vapor.
Shi Jinlan stood before Chi Qian, her black hair brushing against her cheek. Her features were softened by the white mist, her face fair and clean. Her eyelashes, dotted with water droplets, curved slightly, her smile sly. She didn’t look like herself, and yet, it seemed like the real her.
She should smile like this more often.
Chi Qian was suddenly in a daze, feeling as if she had thought this before, long ago.
The satin sash made a soft sound as it was rolled between her fingertips.
The cool fabric pressed against Chi Qian’s palm. It wasn’t the best material for tying a bow. She thought for a moment, then wrapped the long sash around Shi Jinlan’s waist once, then again.
Their shadows on the wall tilted toward each other, the fixed distance between them invisibly closing.
Shi Jinlan seemed accustomed to being cared for like this. As Chi Qian leaned in, she cooperatively raised her arms.
Her slender arms hung in the air, held at a steady and proper angle.
The simply tailored fabric draped over her body, its plain white background dotted with small flowers. It seemed to become translucent against her skin, as if the flowers were blooming on her as well.
Chi Qian snuck a peek, feeling as if she were dressing up her own doll.
Her fingers guided the sash across Shi Jinlan’s waist, audacious and bold, using a public duty for private ends2 to measure her body.
Although it had been years since she’d last done it, Chi Qian’s muscle memory kicked in, and she tied a beautiful bow for Shi Jinlan.
She lowered her head to adjust the full shape of the satin ribbons. After maintaining her composure for so long, she finally lost control and let out a sudden laugh.
“What are you laughing at?” As expected, Shi Jinlan caught the sound.
Chi Qian didn’t hide it. She raised her eyes, her hand hooking brazenly onto Shi Jinlan’s sash. “Ah Lan is like my doll.”
Shi Jinlan glanced down at Chi Qian’s hand, which was resting just below her line of sight, and suddenly smiled.
She didn’t mind them getting closer. Leaning in, she spoke slowly, her lips extremely close to the corner of Chi Qian’s mouth. “Then will you kiss your doll?”
The light filtered through the hazy mist, blurring their outlines like an old-fashioned film.
Shi Jinlan asked softly, her warm breath falling on Chi Qian’s lips. Chi Qian’s hand was still hooked on her sash. With a gentle tug, she answered the question with her actions.
Yes.
Without the restraint of the collar, Chi Qian seemed to be out of Shi Jinlan’s control.
She wantonly pulled Shi Jinlan into her arms. Their lips brushed, but she was in no hurry to pry open that barrier of teeth and explore within. Instead, she kissed her “doll” piously, her heart full of affection.
Calm and restrained.
But her heart was disobediently racing.
The feeling made Chi Qian lose herself, yet it also felt familiar.
That clean fragrance was intoxicating, something she yearned for. Impatiently, she parted that barrier of teeth, welcoming the richer scent that only Shi Jinlan had.
Their breathing deepened, the mist filled with a scorching heat.
Shi Jinlan felt as if everything in her mouth, including her breath, was about to be plundered by Chi Qian. With one of Chi Qian’s hands pressed against her heart, she felt as if she had finally found her footing.
The decision to bring Chi Qian back was the right one.
Only when the sound of a door opening and closing came from outside did Chi Qian seem to be reminded of their surroundings, reluctantly letting Shi Jinlan go.
At some point, the satin bathrobe had slipped from Shi Jinlan’s shoulder, revealing a layer of porcelain-white skin in the mist.
With one arm around Shi Jinlan’s waist, Chi Qian used her other hand to tidy the bathrobe for her.
Her fingers trailed up along the collar to Shi Jinlan’s neck. “Wait for me, be good. I’ll take you to the springs as soon as I’m changed.”
Shi Jinlan watched Chi Qian’s act of turning the tables3 with great interest. She didn’t expose her, but obediently sat down on the chair behind her.
Just this once, she would be her doll.
Chi Qian didn’t know how Auntie Zhou had designed it, but there was also a curtain in the changing room.
Although the design was a bit redundant, Chi Qian was very grateful for it now, as it preserved a shred of her dignity.
She pulled the curtain, separating her soon-to-be-unclothed body from Shi Jinlan.
As she changed her clothes, her thoughts seemed to change as well. She suddenly remembered what happened after lunch. “Ah Lan, I didn’t get a chance to ask you just now. What did Grandfather and Ah Yuan talk to you about?”
Chi Qian couldn’t see that as she asked this question, the person outside the curtain had lifted her head.
Shi Jinlan lightly gripped her phone, her previously relaxed expression changing slightly. She then replied calmly, “Nothing much. He just asked about your condition.”
“Is that all?” Chi Qian said as she dressed, feeling that things couldn’t be that simple.
“Yes,” Shi Jinlan was extremely calm in the face of Chi Qian’s doubt, her voice level. “Do you know how hard it is to deceive a doctor?”
Her gaze was fixed on the slender shadow on the curtain as she continued, “I also told the old gentleman that your memory is damaged, that there was a period when you couldn’t remember anything, and that there are still many things you can’t recall now.”
Chi Qian hadn’t expected Shi Jinlan to be so thorough. Then again, she was Shi Jinlan, after all.
The woman was preemptively providing an explanation in case Chi Qian reacted incorrectly to certain things now that she was home.
Chi Qian’s heart, which hadn’t even had a chance to rise, settled back down. “My Ah Lan is always the most considerate.”
“Of course.”
Chi Qian’s use of “my” was very pleasing to Shi Jinlan.
She smiled gently, her eyes never leaving the shadow on the curtain.
The warm yellow light made the curtain look like the screen of a shadow puppet play,4 and Chi Qian was moving vividly upon it.
Her every move captivated Shi Jinlan’s gaze. Her deep eyes were filled with a tenderness and longing that had been rare in recent years.
Even if it was just for a scene like this, she would exhaust herself to consider every detail.
“Miss Shi, I’m very grateful that you could bring Xiao Qian back.”
“I only hope that our Xiao Qian can be safe and happy from now on, and that nothing else happens. I’m old now, I really can’t take any more turmoil.”
The waves crashed violently against the seawall, their roar ferocious and overwhelming.
Chi Qingyan’s stern voice echoed through her memory, not faded in the slightest.
He had never let go of what happened three years ago. Even though Shi Jinlan had painstakingly supported the island these past few years and had been a benefactor to this land, his attitude toward her hadn’t improved much.
Even if others thought President Shi’s promise was worth a thousand gold pieces,5 in Chi Qingyan’s eyes, her credibility was zero.
Back then, she had promised him she wouldn’t involve Chi Qian, but in the end, she had broken her promise. How could he possibly be friendly toward her?
Shi Jinlan closed her eyes, a rare look of defeat on her face.
The pitter-patter of slippers echoed crisply down the hall.
Song Tang pulled her red hair out from her collar. The loose bathrobe was slightly open at the neck, revealing a stretch of fair skin in the light.
She was always this casual, strolling out of the changing room with a lazy and composed air.
But the moment she thought about having to spend more time with Shi Jinlan, her relaxed expression shifted.
Song Tang felt she needed to do some homework. She tried to contact Chi Qian through the System Space: 【Ah—bzzzzzt!!!!!】
But just as Song Tang was about to connect with Chi Qian, a repulsive force struck her.
Sparks flew with a crackle, and an electric current shot through her skull.
She had never experienced such pain. It was a searing sensation, as if it were about to burn her nerve endings to a crisp.
“Kao bei…6 what the hell is going on with Chi Qian?” Song Tang showed no mercy to her own gorgeous face, contorting it into a highly exaggerated grimace.
Refusing to believe it,7 Song Tang rubbed her temples and prepared to try again.
But before she could even speak, she sensed an electric current coiled within Chi Qian’s world, like a gatekeeping patterned snake, baring its fangs at her menacingly.
Song Tang sucked in a sharp breath of cold air and hastily retreated. “…What the hell is that?”
Still reeling from the shock,8 what she had just perceived was far beyond her comprehension, and a chill rose from the bottom of her heart.
After thinking it over, she decided it was best to head to the private hot spring first.
Once she met up with Chi Qian, she would hash it out with her. She’d have to demand compensation for emotional damages!
Song Tang’s head was throbbing. The temples on both sides of her head were pulsing uncontrollably.
This is killing me.
Lifting her head, Song Tang saw the area signs that kept appearing in the corridor and quickened her pace toward their private hot spring.
“Beep—!”
She swiped the key card on the room’s smart lock, and the door unlocked.
Song Tang hadn’t expected the technological development in this Small World to be so advanced. She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
As she pushed the door open, warm white mist drifted out to greet her, a passionate welcome for the arriving guest.
The fresh scent of woven grass mats was intertwined with the steam. Through the main hall, she could see a rock garden in the distance, natural and realistic, surrounding the curling steam of the hot spring. It was like stepping into a mountain forest.
Song Tang couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration, “Hey, not bad at all.”
And following her exclamation, a gentle voice immediately sounded in the quiet room:
“Xiao Yu Island is rich in hot spring resources. It’s one of the few hot spring islands in the country.”
Song Tang froze for a second. She hadn’t noticed there was someone else in the room when she entered.
But when her gaze shifted downward, she met the eyes of Yuan Ming, who was sitting at the square table.
Footnotes
- A reference to the Analects of Confucius, part of the phrase “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, do no evil,” which outlines principles of propriety.
- A reference to the idiom 假公济私 (jiǎgōngjìsī), meaning to use one’s official position for personal benefit. Here, Chi Qian is using the task of tying the sash as an excuse to touch Shi Jinlan.
- The original is 倒反天罡 (dàofǎn tiāngāng), an idiom that literally means to reverse the Big Dipper. It describes an act of rebellion or upsetting the natural order.
- Shadow puppetry (皮影戏, píyǐngxì) is a traditional Chinese folk art where colorful silhouette figures are used to tell stories.
- A reference to the idiom 一诺千金 (yīnuòqiānjīn), meaning a promise that is extremely valuable and will be kept.
- 靠北 (kào běi) is a mild curse from Taiwanese Hokkien, similar in usage to “damn it” or “crap”.
- The original is 不信邪 (bùxìnxié), a phrase that means to be stubborn and refuse to be intimidated or accept a strange situation at face value.
- The original is 惊魂未定 (jīnghúnwèidìng), an idiom that literally means “the soul has not yet settled from a fright”.
0 Comments