So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 38

Shi Jinlan Seems Very Reliant on the Host.

That faint voice trembled, scraping past Chi Qian’s ear with an immeasurable weight. Currents of electricity spread through her, making her taut nerves shudder.

She hadn’t called her Miss Chi, or Chi Qian.

But Ah Qian.

Chi Qian froze as if she’d been struck.

She remained in that position, close to Shi Jinlan, for a long time, a strange sense of familiarity washing over her at the sound of Shi Jinlan calling her name.

It wasn’t because she’d heard Yuan Ming call her that before, but because of the authenticity in the sound as it vibrated from Shi Jinlan’s throat.

The silence of the dark night always gives rise to fanciful thoughts.

An inexplicable sadness filled Chi Qian’s unblinking eyes, as if Shi Jinlan had always called her this in the past.

As if Shi Jinlan was always supposed to call her this.

“…Ngh.”

Before Chi Qian could process her own thoughts, a scorching breath from Shi Jinlan puffed against her chest.

The pain Shi Jinlan had never shown during the day now surfaced completely.

She curled up again, and flickering, burning flames wrapped around Chi Qian’s fingers, emanating a fine, dense stinging, like the pricking of needles.

For some reason, even though the flames on Shi Jinlan had shifted from a negative black to a shimmering silver-gray, she seemed to be in even more pain.

The flames still made Chi Qian’s skin ache, and Shi Jinlan seemed trapped in a nightmare.

【Host, quickly help Shi Jinlan cool down!】 Thirteen reminded her inside her head.

Right.

Chi Qingyan had instructed her during the day that Shi Jinlan might have an episode tonight.

But as long as she didn’t get the chills like last time, she wouldn’t be in any serious trouble. She had to endure this high fever on her own.

Chi Qian snapped back to her senses, her heart clenching tightly.

The best way to deal with a high fever was physical cooling. There was no water prepared in the room, so Chi Qian decided to get out of bed to fetch some.

But just as she moved past Shi Jinlan and slipped her feet into her slippers, her arm was pulled back.

Someone had grabbed her.

Shi Jinlan had taken hold of Chi Qian’s hand at some point.

Her grip wasn’t tight—Chi Qian hadn’t even noticed it.

And yet, it was so tight that Chi Qian’s movement of getting out of bed hadn’t been enough to break it.

“Ah Qian.” It was another of Shi Jinlan’s delirious murmurs, but it sounded more urgent than before.

The moonlight was veiled behind the curtains, its dim glow wavering, making it difficult to see clearly.

Shi Jinlan’s brow was tightly furrowed, as if the departure of the person in her grasp was causing her more distress than her physical pain.

Chi Qian opened her mouth, about to habitually call Shi Jinlan “Miss Shen.”

But the moment the words were on her lips, she suddenly stopped. She felt she shouldn’t call her “Miss Shen.” It was as if, with neat symmetry, for Shi Jinlan’s “Ah Qian,” she should also have a more fitting name for Shi Jinlan.

This feeling came on so strangely.

Chi Qian suddenly felt a sense of detachment from this world; the familiar surroundings abruptly turned foreign.

“Ah Qian, don’t!”

Suddenly, Shi Jinlan’s voice grew more frantic.

Chi Qian’s wrist throbbed in her grip, and she frowned.

The scorching palm pressed against her skin, and time felt increasingly urgent.

She cast aside any thoughts of politeness or gentleness and reached to pry Shi Jinlan’s hand open. “Miss Shen, could you please let go? I’m going to get some water to cool you down.”

“Don’t go!” Shi Jinlan shook her head.

The more Chi Qian tried to pull away, the harder Shi Jinlan held on.

Their hands were locked in a stalemate.

Chi Qian didn’t know what kind of nightmare had ensnared Shi Jinlan, but it was as if the person she was holding onto would vanish the moment she let go.

But how could she disappear?

She was standing right here, perfectly fine. She would stay with her, until the end of her life.

A hollow feeling opened in Chi Qian’s chest.

It felt as though she hadn’t woken up from her earlier dream either; the unsolid clouds beneath her feet sent her into a continuous fall.

【Shi Jinlan seems to be very reliant on the Host.】 Thirteen’s voice pulled Chi Qian back to reality.

【Then what should I do? It’s not a solution for her to keep holding me here.】 Chi Qian frowned and asked Thirteen without much hope, 【Do you have any way to cool her down?】

And this time, Thirteen actually provided a solution: 【I can temporarily lower the Host’s body temperature.】

This was completely unexpected for Chi Qian: 【You have this function?!】

Thirteen scratched its head: 【It seems that as the Host’s points increased, I unlocked corresponding functions.】

【My points… increased?】 Chi Qian couldn’t believe it. She had always assumed they would only be tallied at the very end.

Did this mean that Shi Jinlan’s feelings for her had progressed significantly since they first met?

Did this mean that even if she messed up the mission in the end, she wouldn’t have to be sent for destruction?

At worst, she could just restart?

Having unexpectedly discovered that her little life seemed to be secure, Chi Qian was suddenly filled with confidence.

She nimbly hopped back onto the bed, letting Shi Jinlan hold her hand. Spreading her limbs out, she said to Thirteen, 【Then bring it on! I’m ready!】

【Please wait a moment, Host.】 Thirteen said as it began the operation.

The spring air on the island already carried a hint of summer, and a warm breeze wafted through the night.

The thin fabric of her clothes hung on her body. Slowly, she could clearly feel the temperature around her dropping. The chill began to gather at her fingertips before advancing toward her internal organs.

So cold…

The cold made Chi Qian shiver, and she belatedly realized her situation: 【Thirteen, I think I forgot to ask you, will I catch a cold from this?】

【You will not,】 Thirteen stated definitively.

【Wh—】

Before Chi Qian could finish her question, she was interrupted by a figure suddenly leaning against her.

Sensing a source of relieving coolness, the delirious Shi Jinlan held onto Chi Qian’s hand and drew closer.

A cleansing was underway inside Shi Jinlan’s body as the flames spread, burning torrentially.

With such a heat source present, Chi Qian indeed would not catch a cold.

They were two temperatures that should not mix, yet they huddled close to one another.

Chi Qian still remembered the first time Shi Jinlan had fallen ill, how she had recoiled when she’d tried to touch her.

And the person who had once curled up, with her thin back turned to her, had now turned toward her in the night.

The hem of her light skirt was bunched up, pressing against Chi Qian’s leg without any inhibition.

The ill-fitting neckline was rumpled, a mountain range of snow rising and falling, dyed pink by the excessive heat.

Chi Qian’s cheeks, which had been ice-cold a second ago, were now burning hot.

She frantically chanted do not look at what is improper in her mind as she shifted her gaze upward.

But every one of Shi Jinlan’s breaths was hot. Her messy, long hair was tangled beneath her face, and her feverish exhales stirred the strands. The soft, dark locks brushed against Chi Qian, feeling as if they were probing her heart, stirring it into chaos.

Shi Jinlan’s brow was knitted in pain, and Chi Qian’s breathing slowed.

She watched Shi Jinlan, who was now leaning against her, as the silver-gray flames enveloped them both. She felt what she felt, ached as she ached.

A heavy feeling settled in Chi Qian’s heart, as if she were being dragged down by the weight of the flames.

In all the time she had known her, she had never dared to look at Shi Jinlan so freely. As the moonlight spilled into the room, she couldn’t resist reaching out to brush the hair away from Shi Jinlan’s face.

Her pale pink nails gently lifted a lock of hair, slowly and deliberately tucking it to the side of Shi Jinlan’s face.

Chi Qian herself didn’t notice how light and practiced her movements were, as if she had repeated this action countless times in some other life.

Shi Jinlan’s hair was soft. Sweat dampened it at the roots, making it stick limply to Chi Qian’s hand—a stark contrast to the grim, cold indifference that usually kept everyone a thousand li¹ away.

Chi Qian caressed her carefully, yet brazenly, unable to resist stroking it a few more times.

She felt this touch was so familiar. As if guided by a ghostly hand, she moved her fingers downward.

Slowly, she touched Shi Jinlan’s face.

Chi Qian wondered if praising Shi Jinlan as “good-looking” was too impoverished a description.

But Shi Jinlan was truly good-looking. The fever had flushed her cheeks and the corners of her eyes red, yet it didn’t dilute the coldness in her features. The only change was the forbearance that flickered in her tightly knitted brow.

It seemed she had long grown accustomed to silent endurance; even in her unconscious state, she tried her best to conceal this pain.

Her thick lashes trembled, making her look all the more pitiably fragile.

Chi Qian wanted Shi Jinlan to get better quickly.

And yet, she despicably wished she wouldn’t get better quickly.

If Shi Jinlan got better, they would be one step closer to parting.

She would return to that family of treacherous undercurrents, facing nine deaths, one life², to reclaim what was originally hers.

She would become more violent, wielding a scepter, her moods unpredictable.

If the residual poison in her body tormented her then, who would be there to soothe her?

Once she returned to that place, Shi Jinlan would no longer be the story’s protagonist.

Fate would no longer favor her.

The system had presented the best of the world to her, nourished her, nurtured her.

All to make her the most brilliant medal on the dragon slayer’s chest.

On what grounds?

On what grounds did Shi Jinlan have to go through something like this?

Stars twinkled as the night slowly deepened into silence.

Shi Jinlan had finally passed the crisis, but Chi Qian’s heart was filled with bitter reluctance.

She suddenly felt utterly exhausted. Her hand, still held by Shi Jinlan, tightened its grip.

Then she pulled Shi Jinlan into her arms, holding her as she drifted off to sleep.

A figure passed by the frosted glass of the door, their slender frame moving with slow hesitation.

Although Chi Qingyan had already given Chi Qian his instructions, he was still worried. He had woken up in the night to check on Shi Jinlan, only to see this scene.

The flashlight beam trembled, and in the shifting light, his aged eyes grew complex.

Chi Qingyan silently admitted that the scene was very beautiful—two young women embracing in sleep on this difficult night. But he also knew that Shi Jinlan was not suitable for Chi Qian.

The Shi family was a dragon’s pool and a tiger’s den³.

And she was not a good match.

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The first ray of morning sun fell into the bedroom as Shi Jinlan regained consciousness.

Her closed eyelids fluttered. For a moment, she felt as if she were back in the cave beneath the cliff.

The sunlight, filtered by the curtains, was soft and gentle on her face. It was a comfortable warmth, instantly turning the wind that had blown on her last night to dust.

That’s right, Shi Jinlan had had a long and chaotic dream last night.

She had been submerged in darkness as scenes flashed before her eyes like a revolving lantern. A cold wind howled, as if blowing from a cliff face.

A person’s imagination is built upon existing knowledge.

Shi Jinlan figured she must have dreamt again of the day Shi Cheng had forced her to jump into the sea.

The early spring night had been bitingly cold, the wind like a knife scraping her skin.

She couldn’t think of any other time she had experienced a wind colder than that.

And when else had she stood on the edge of a cliff?

“…”

It was not a pleasant memory. Shi Jinlan slowly opened her eyes.

The simple room’s decor spread out before her, familiar yet dreamlike.

This was not the cave.

She and Chi Qian had left the cave long ago.

A strange sense of wistfulness washed over Shi Jinlan.

She quietly shifted her gaze and was startled to find herself asleep in Chi Qian’s arms.

In the daylight, one of her hands was tightly clasped around one of Chi Qian’s.

She was leaning against Chi Qian’s chest, just as Chi Qian had leaned against her on their last night in the cave.

Outside the window, the sun was bright, and the morning world was as if newly washed.

There had been several times when Shi Jinlan had wanted to ask Chi Qian if she also missed their time in the cave.

But before the words could leave her lips, Shi Jinlan would find the question itself baffling.

Who would willingly miss a time of hardship?

She probably wouldn’t either…

Shi Jinlan’s raised gaze fell on Chi Qian’s sleeping face. Her eyes, calm and serious, watched her for a long time.

She looked at the fan-like spread of Chi Qian’s lashes and at her slightly parted lips, completely unguarded.

The warm breath that escaped her lips curled around Shi Jinlan’s fingers. As if possessed by a demon or sent by a god⁴, she raised her free hand, wanting to touch this person’s face.

But Shi Jinlan was someone who disliked physical contact more than anyone. An action like a caress had never been something she initiated in her world.

So she couldn’t believe this was her own action.

Her gaze flickered, her expression obscure and unreadable as she looked at Chi Qian.

This person was full of too many question marks.

She couldn’t see through her, nor could she understand her.

If she wasn’t going to leave anything behind on the island when she left, then what about Chi Qian, this unsolved problem?

If you don’t leave it, you must take it with you.

“Mm…”

With a soft sigh, Chi Qian began to wake from her sleep.

She didn’t know when she had fallen asleep last night, only that she still felt a little tired upon waking.

If it weren’t for the sunlight seeping in from the window, she was sure she wouldn’t have woken up so early.

Chi Qian blamed the heavens and the earth, but she didn’t blame Shi Jinlan.

She grumbled internally about the sun being bright at the wrong time as she groggily opened her eyes.

The first thing that entered her line of sight was a pair of dark eyes.

Shi Jinlan had been silently watching her wake up, a faint, mysterious smile in her eyes.

Under Chi Qian’s gaze, she raised a hand, her cool fingertips brushing against Chi Qian’s warm earlobe. “Good morning.”

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