So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 10

This Isn’t a Good Idea, Is It…

A great wave crashed onto the shore, its white foam striking the reef and splashing everywhere.

Chi Qian watched, trembling with apprehension, as Shi Jinlan’s gaze fell upon her. After she had spoken, Shi Jinlan said nothing at all.

Her face was covered in sea spray, the cold water coaxing a faint blush onto her pale lips.

They were pressed lightly together, bewitching and dangerous.

I just offered to wipe her face, but she didn’t say yes, and she didn’t say no.

What does that mean?

Could it be that she’s like those leaders from my world, adhering to the principle that no denial means consent?

Chi Qian grumbled internally. She glanced at Shi Jinlan a couple of times and, seeing that she remained silent, boldly took a handkerchief from her pocket and began to wipe the water droplets from Shi Jinlan’s face.

Shi Jinlan simply watched the figure before her, her expression a mask of calm. Yet, a gloomy pressure radiated from her, burning fiercely along with the flames that wreathed her body.

The moment Chi Qian’s hand touched her damp forehead, chilly flames coiled around her wrist, making her temples throb.

Haltingly, Chi Qian lowered her head to look at Shi Jinlan.

Her surreptitious glance was met directly by Shi Jinlan’s upturned eyes, pitch-black and filled with a cold aura. Her displeasure leapt onto the paper.¹

In that second, Chi Qian suddenly felt she had misjudged the situation.

Shi Jinlan wasn’t tacitly agreeing to her suggestion; she was probably just purely angry.

The kind of angry where you don’t even want to talk to someone.

It makes sense when you think about it, she thought. A corporate boss who once commanded the wind and clouds², a future archvillain who will slay gods who stand in her way, now soaked by a single seagull. Who wouldn’t be angry?

A tiger fallen to the flatlands gets bullied by dogs.³

The phrase suddenly popped into Chi Qian’s head, and her grip on the handkerchief tightened.

She suddenly didn’t know whether she should stop and wait for Shi Jinlan to finish being angry or continue to brace herself and wipe the water off. In any case, she was already mentally screaming for Thirteen to pick out a burial plot for her.

She preferred a place with a nice environment, the kind where lots of flowers would bloom in the spring.

The sun hung brightly in the sky. The daylight was strong, and so were the shadows.

Shi Jinlan watched Chi Qian standing before her, her dark pupils appearing exceptionally cold in the shade.

Many people had once surrounded her, all sorts of men and women, and they were all slick characters who could observe words and expressions.⁴

But Chi Qian was not.

To be precise, Chi Qian was indeed trying to read her, but she always judged incorrectly.

Her tone and expression clearly revealed a sense of fear and awe, yet she always pushed forward.

When Chi Qian’s handkerchief landed on her forehead, for a moment Shi Jinlan couldn’t believe her eyes.

In a rare lapse, she failed to control her emotions, and the angry flames of her fury overflowed beyond words and expressions.⁵

But this person seemed not to see it at all and actually leaned closer.

Shi Jinlan’s hands, resting on her knees, suddenly tightened. The next instant, a soft touch brushed across her cheek.

The texture of the cotton handkerchief was not good at all; the softness came from Chi Qian’s palm.

Although Chi Qian was being as careful as possible, she still couldn’t avoid her hand grazing Shi Jinlan’s skin.

Shi Jinlan had always been decisive in her actions and demanded the same from her subordinates. She thought she ought to feel disgusted by Chi Qian’s carelessness.

In fact, the first second she noticed Chi Qian’s action, Shi Jinlan did frown.

But then, no further emotions followed.

A strand of Shi Jinlan’s hair fluttered, and a clean scent drifted on the sea breeze.

She looked up and met Chi Qian’s eyes, which were focused intently on her face. Countless rays of bright sunlight refracted through the other woman’s pupils, shining with a brilliant golden light. The warmth of the palm against her cheek was like a petal falling into a lake, its ripples spreading out, bit by bit.

In that instant, the world suddenly grew quiet.

In her heart, Shi Jinlan understood that her anger wasn’t directed at Chi Qian.

Shi Jinlan was angry at her own legs, which couldn’t move.

She had clearly foreseen the danger but was unable to avoid it, forced to wait for the water to splash over her and accept the humiliation Shi Cheng had given her.

Shi Cheng…

Like a cat whose fur had been smoothed, Shi Jinlan sat primly in her wheelchair, the anger in her expression having faded considerably.

Even the intense indignation in her heart dissipated along with the wiped-away water droplets.

Shi Jinlan couldn’t see Chi Qian clearly, but in her mind, she had already placed her in a safe zone.

This was the first time she had judged someone based on an irrational feeling. This person was full of question marks; logically, she should feel unsafe.

But the reality was the opposite. This person had made her feel safe several times.

Why?

Shi Jinlan looked at the clumsy figure in her line of sight and silently realized that her method for judging people in her old world didn’t seem to apply to this one.

And it especially didn’t apply to this person.

“Done.” Her heart in her throat, Chi Qian finished wiping the last drop of water from Shi Jinlan’s face.

“It’s wet,” Shi Jinlan said instead.

Chi Qian froze for a moment, then, as if realizing something, looked down at Shi Jinlan’s soaked clothes.

She had indeed considered whether to wipe down Shi Jinlan’s dress as well, but she saw the thin, sheer fabric, beneath which Shi Jinlan’s pale, pinkish skin was faintly visible.

This isn’t a good idea, is it…

The sun climbed to its highest point in the sky, illuminating everything with no place to hide.

Chi Qian’s gaze was obviously wandering. Shi Jinlan followed the other woman’s eyes, then raised a finger and pointed at Chi Qian herself. “You.”

“Huh?” Following Shi Jinlan’s finger, Chi Qian looked down at herself.

Water dripped from her pant legs onto the beach, making the wet sand stand out.

She hadn’t paid attention when she was rescuing the seagull earlier; her own clothes had gotten wet even before Shi Jinlan’s.

Chi Qian was long used to such things and waved her hand nonchalantly. “It’s fine. It’ll dry in the sun.”

Her attention was still on Shi Jinlan’s wet dress. “Are we going home now? You should probably change.”

But Shi Jinlan leaned back against her chair. “It’ll dry in the sun,” she told Chi Qian.

Her voice was flat and casual, and in that dazed moment, much of her earlier hostility had vanished. Even the flames around her body burned steadily.

She sat there in her wheelchair, her legs crossed, her posture both straight and relaxed. The sunlight fell gently upon her, and that natural, noble sense of distance around her inexplicably lessened.

Chi Qian was a little surprised but casually sat down beside Shi Jinlan.

Since she wanted to sunbathe here, she would just keep her company.

Although the seagull had fainted, the wound on its wing still hadn’t been treated.

Chi Qian dragged it over as well, sunbathing while she bandaged the wound of this source of all evil.

As she worked, Chi Qian glanced again at Shi Jinlan sitting beside her.

Who knew what she was thinking. Her gaze rested calmly on the distant sea, its azure color filling her entire pupils, unstained by a single speck of dust.⁶

Is she looking toward Ningcheng?

Chi Qian figured that since two days had passed, Shi Jinlan must be curious about the Shi family’s situation. Feigning casualness, she took out her phone and handed it to Shi Jinlan. “For you.”

Shi Jinlan was puzzled.

“It’ll take a while to dry,” Chi Qian said. “My phone has tons of games. It can help pass the time.”

Shi Jinlan wasn’t interested in games, but phones weren’t invented just for playing them. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Just give me some more points in your heart, that’s all I ask.

Chi Qian thought to herself.

The evaporating moisture quietly disappeared under the sunlight. The seagull’s wound was more or less treated.

Chi Qian looked up at the sun and thought the weather was truly fine. A thin layer of clouds filtered the harsh glare, making it perfect for sunbathing. It made a person want to just lie right back.

And Shi Jinlan did not disappoint Chi Qian’s kind offer, immediately opening the search engine.

News about the Shi family had been emerging endlessly these past few days, and reports of her disappearance and death were everywhere, with all kinds of malicious speculation.

Shi Cheng’s wolf-cub ambitions⁷ were clear. In the early morning after she was forced off the cliff, he called it by the fine-sounding name of accepting a mandate in a time of crisis⁸, taking over the Shinian Group. He even personally announced her disappearance, implying to everyone that she was already dead.

Power was a plaything in his hands. As soon as he took office, he carried out a major reshuffling of positions.

The people Shi Jinlan had appointed were put on ice, while those who had betrayed her in the shadows were promoted to high positions.

Shi Jinlan looked at the news, her eyes narrowing in a cold smile.

Shi Cheng’s actions clearly left those people no way out. Even if she were to return one day, these people, forced into her line of sight, would have no choice but to pledge their loyalty to him.

“Look at that! Are you capable of such methods?”

“The Shi family doesn’t need an heir like you, and neither does the Shinian Group!”

“Useless! You’re useless, utterly useless!”

Her grandfather’s scolding voice echoed in Shi Jinlan’s ears, his aged anger like that of a powerless lion.

He said she was a person of no value.

He said she was a failed chess piece.

Shi Jinlan’s gaze lifted from the phone screen. The sea stretched out, boundless.

Shimmering white light filled her vision; she couldn’t see Ningcheng from here.

The clouds by the sea were lighter than those over land. A gentle breeze was enough to move them a great distance across the sky.

The sun was fully exposed now. Shi Jinlan squeezed her eyes shut. The flames around her burned in silence, dense and immense, more alarming than ever before.

Shi Jinlan tightened her grip on the phone, preparing to return it to Chi Qian.

But when she turned her head, she found that Chi Qian had fallen asleep.

The sunlight on the beach was brilliant, and the waves constantly washing ashore were the best kind of white noise.

Chi Qian was asleep right there on the sand. Thirteen, who had run off somewhere earlier, was now curled up beside her. The girl and the cat leaned against each other, exuding a sense of freedom in their quietness.

This person slept with absolutely no sense of alertness, just lying there sprawled out, which made Shi Jinlan’s brow furrow.

But this furrow didn’t seem to be one of disgust.

Shi Jinlan was always on high alert.

She was not a person who needed a sense of security; she had spent the first half of her life in a state of high tension.

So Shi Jinlan didn’t understand how Chi Qian could do it.

The wind drifted lazily over from the grassy shrubs behind them, the early spring waves carrying a chill the sun couldn’t quite bake away.

Shi Jinlan stared at Chi Qian’s sleeping form for a long while, watching the shadow of a cloud move from her forehead to her cheek, her chin, and finally cover her body. The warm, bright sunlight bathed her sleeping profile. Her thick eyelashes were like a soft brush, sweeping across Shi Jinlan’s vision with the wind.

Later, a very long time later, Shi Jinlan would come to understand that this was the life she wanted most. It was a peace she could never grasp, never hold, something she could only feel in fleeting fragments when leaning against that cold, flower-covered gravestone.

And so, the present Shi Jinlan didn’t even notice that her gaze, as it moved to this person, had softened.

Sleeping like this, isn’t she afraid of catching a cold?

What an idiot.

This part of the beach seemed remote. In a world rarely visited by people, everything was quiet.

As Shi Jinlan scrolled through the news, the long hair draped over her shoulder suddenly fluttered. The dense thicket of bushes rustled in time with the sound of the waves crashing ashore.

The wind was picking up.

Shi Jinlan’s expression didn’t change, but the hand swiping the screen paused for a moment.

The wheels of her chair made a faint sound as they rolled over the sand. A shadow fell over Chi Qian’s face, blocking the slanting sunlight and the cool, blowing wind.

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