So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 39

【Punishment initiated. High-level punishment will automatically block the system. Please be prepared, Host.】

The sun fell at just the right angle, sprinkling golden light across Shi Jinlan’s curling eyelashes.

From within her silver-gray irises, it was as if the starry sky itself was rushing forth, surging toward her.

Chi Qian blinked in a daze, looking at the smile Shi Jinlan was giving her first thing in the morning.

Her pitch-black pupils were filled with a pristine clarity. It was the same aloof coldness that kept others a thousand miles away, yet because of her arching brows and smiling eyes, it seemed exceptionally gentle in the sunlight.

Shi Jinlan’s smile.

It was a bit too unfair.

Chi Qian’s ear was pressed against her pillow, and she could feel her heartbeat vibrating from her chest and pounding into her ear canal.

Thump. Thump. It felt like it was about to shatter her.

Meanwhile, a cool touch graced her other ear.

A neatly trimmed, rounded fingernail gently grazed the shell of her ear. Every brush brought a tickle, a current that was also golden.

Chi Qian was a living embodiment of the word “stunned.” Only a sliver of her rationality remembered to have its owner respond to the greeting she’d just received. “Morn—morning.”

The morning sun seemed to have refreshed the world, making everything feel stable and secure.

The two greetings met in the air, gentle and beautiful. It sent Chi Qian into a sudden trance, her gaze clearly blank for a long moment, until Shi Jinlan asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Chi Qian replied, “I just feel like you have done this to me before.”

Perhaps the moment was too warm and wonderful, causing Chi Qian to subconsciously answer Shi Jinlan’s question with the honest truth.

Shi Jinlan froze.

Because she felt the same way.

Even the way she had just raised her hand to brush past Chi Qian’s ear had not felt entirely like her own “volition.”

---

The morning daze did not evolve into any major discovery. Chi Qian still had to decoct medicine, and her phone alarm was nagging her to get out of bed.

And Shi Jinlan was not the type of person to easily voice her own feelings.

They had a tacit understanding. Shi Jinlan continued her treatment, and Chi Qian continued being her little night-shift nurse.

However, aside from the first few days after the treatment plan was changed, when Shi Jinlan would occasionally develop a fever at night, she had not had one since.

Chi Qingyan’s treatment was proceeding smoothly, and Shi Jinlan’s body was recovering faster than before. When Chi Qian massaged her legs, she could feel that the muscles were noticeably less tense.

Spring was about to give way to summer. Everything was heading in a good direction.

The third day of the third month¹ was just around the corner, and this green, ocean-ringed island was about to welcome its grandest celebration of the year.

The village had already held several rehearsals, each one a boisterous and lively affair, expressing the islanders’ simple and sincere reverence for their gods.

The people playing the gods did not have much to do. They were usually called for a simple walk-through only after the procession was finalized and the rehearsals were nearly complete.

So, on this day, Chi Qian and Shi Jinlan were called to the rehearsal site.

Auntie Zhou was the head of the family that sponsored the worship of Lady Lingji and Ah Qing. She even drove over in a sports car. In both her lifetimes, this was the first time Chi Qian had ever ridden in such a vehicle.

She looked at the top-tier Porsche carrying the Mountain Goddess in front of them and felt it was a real eye-opener.

On this island, which was far less developed than the mainland, people sincerely believed in their gods, offering them the very best they had.

Chi Qian looked at the bustling crowds and listened to the deafening drumbeats. The ever-rising skyscrapers of the city were swallowing up this kind of primitive simplicity. She had not seen such a lively scene in years and could not help but look forward to March 3rd.

Shi Jinlan, however, watched from her seat in the car, feeling nothing.

She disliked such clamor. The faces of all sorts of people passed by, some smiling, some straining. She found it all noisy.

If she had known back then that the parade float procession would be like this, she thought, she would have definitely…

“Wow, what a beautiful dragon!”

Just as she was thinking this, Chi Qian’s exclamation cut through the sound of the drums and reached her ears.

She looked up at the person beside her, whose expression was far more interested than her own, her eyes wide with excitement.

Uncaring whether the sunlight was harsh, Chi Qian held her head high. Her simple, neat ponytail hung over her shoulder, bathed in a brilliant golden light, full of carefree vitality.

Maybe it would not be so bad.

Shi Jinlan’s gaze wavered. As if possessed by a phantom impulse, she completed the thought she’d left unfinished.

“There are no dragons, but we have lots of flowers,” Auntie Zhou said with a smile, walking over when she heard Chi Qian’s cry of amazement. “Ah Qing loves flowers. Lady Lingji once conjured countless flowers for her, so I will be making lots of floral decorations for you two as well. I promise they’ll be exceptionally beautiful.”

This was mainly directed at Shi Jinlan, who had never participated in the parade before.

But the longing in Chi Qian’s eyes was far more obvious than Shi Jinlan’s.

She liked sports cars, and she liked flowers.

A sports car adorned with flowers was even better.

However, the variety of fresh flowers on the island was limited. To make the decorations beautiful, they would have to be shipped from the mainland.

Chi Qian did a quick mental calculation and could not help but exclaim, “Goodness, Auntie Zhou, this must be costing you a fortune again.”

Auntie Zhou waved it off. “It is for the two Goddesses. No amount of money is too much.”

Listening to this, Chi Qian was impressed without fully understanding why.²

She felt she should be grateful for patrons like this on the island; otherwise, she would never have been able to witness such a grand spectacle.

“Where is Chi Qian!”

Just then, someone from the crowd ran hurriedly toward them.

Chi Qian’s sharp ears caught her name, and she quickly raised her hand. “I’m here!”

“There’s—there’s a critically ill patient in the next city. They need Old Dr. Chi for a consultation.” The man was gasping for breath from running but did not dare waste any time. “The speedboat has already picked him up, but he did not take any of his clothes. He will be gone for two or three days. Can you pack a bag for him? I will take it to him.”

“Okay,” Chi Qian nodded.

This was a common occurrence, and she was used to it.

But this time…

Chi Qian turned to look at the mobility-impaired Shi Jinlan. “Miss Shen, you…”

“Do not worry about me,” Shi Jinlan said calmly.

Perhaps it was the stillness in her voice amidst the chaos, but Shi Jinlan’s reply put Chi Qian at ease.

As if they shared a deep, unspoken understanding, her worries subsided. She smiled and nodded at Shi Jinlan. “Hey, if I finish up early, I’ll come back to get you.”

Shi Jinlan nodded in return.

She had never been a person of many words, and she simply watched as Chi Qian turned to leave.

The rehearsal was still somewhat chaotic. Chi Qian’s figure disappeared into the crowd, her trail quickly lost.

Shi Jinlan followed that figure with her eyes for a long while until she could no longer find it, then finally looked away.

Unexpectedly, someone else had been doing the same.

Staring in the direction Chi Qian had left, holding their gaze even longer than she had before reluctantly looking away from where no trace remained.

Yuan Ming had been with Auntie Zhou the whole time.

Even though she had no role in this rehearsal.

Amidst the noisy chaos, two pairs of calm eyes met.

Shi Jinlan looked at Yuan Ming, whose expression was as gentle as ever. She knew Yuan Ming had caught her watching Chi Qian’s departing back.

The scent of one’s own kind emanated under the hot sun, then spread, invaded, and was mutually resisted.

The din receded, and the crowd blurred into phantoms.

After a moment of silent regard, Yuan Ming curved her lips into a smile and spoke first. “Miss Shen, I will carry you down later.”

“It will not be necessary, thank you,” Shi Jinlan politely refused.

She tightened her grip on the crutches beside her, indicating that she could manage on her own.

They were two intelligent people who shared a tacit understanding of the situation.

The rehearsal was nearing its end, and the crowd was even more disorganized than before.

Auntie Zhou was suddenly called away for a meeting, and the driver had snuck off for a smoke.

Perhaps remembering Chi Qian’s parting words of concern, Yuan Ming took the initiative to approach Shi Jinlan.

She came over casually, leaning against the car door as if to chat. “Actually, based on your condition, Miss Shen, you should be able to stand by now.”

“Is that so?” Shi Jinlan asked calmly.

“Yes.” Yuan Ming nodded, analyzing the situation for Shi Jinlan in earnest. “From my teacher’s records, the residual toxins in your body should no longer be sufficient to affect your mobility.”

As she spoke, she glanced up at Shi Jinlan, her dark eyes shining with sincerity. “Could it be a psychological issue?”

Yuan Ming would sometimes help Chi Qingyan with patients during her time off. Shi Jinlan had witnessed her medical skills over the past few days.

While not yet on Chi Qingyan’s level, she was already very good. And, perhaps from spending a long time with a certain someone, she seemed to be a kind-hearted person.

Shi Jinlan did not think Yuan Ming was skilled enough to deceive her. She was not displeased by her words, but she was not particularly happy either. “Is that what you think?”

Yuan Ming’s expression was gentle as she gave Shi Jinlan a slight nod. “Miss Shen, you do not currently have any muscle atrophy from prolonged inactivity. I have seen data indicating that a small percentage of patients are unable to walk due to psychological barriers.”

As her voice fell, the surroundings suddenly grew quiet.

Shi Jinlan just looked at Yuan Ming. Her hand, resting on her knee, tapped lightly, brushing against a crutch with a nearly inaudible sound.

Shi Jinlan did not want to admit it, but she was afraid Yuan Ming was right.

She wanted to stand up.

But she was also afraid that she could not.

This feeling of precarious uncertainty accompanied her every time she got out of bed.

She always avoided letting her feet touch the ground. She did not want to feel the coldness of the floor, and she was even more terrified that she would not feel that coldness.

Schrödinger had placed a box before her.

The cat hidden inside was silent. It might be dead, or it might not be.

Before this, Shi Jinlan had never experienced such hesitation.

Was she afraid of the act itself?

Or the meaning behind it?

Silence blanketed the noisy scene. Shi Jinlan glanced at Yuan Ming from the corner of her eye.

The woman was leaning against the car door, her long, straight legs crossed casually.

Compared to her, Yuan Ming was healthy.

“But it is not a major issue,” Yuan Ming said, breaking Shi Jinlan’s train of thought.

She was always keenly aware of the details. Shifting her body slightly, she used the car door to create a visual blind spot, hiding her own stance as she comforted Shi Jinlan. “Perhaps if you relax, you will be able to stand up very soon.”

“Thank you,” Shi Jinlan said with a slight nod, though she paid the advice little mind.

Yuan Ming told her to relax.

But in Shi Jinlan’s world, there had never been such a thing as relaxation.

She was a puppet wound to its tightest, tirelessly spinning along the track that the Shi family had carved for her.

She could not stop, nor was she allowed to.

Which was why Shi Jinlan understood even less why she felt Yuan Ming was her own kind.

She and Yuan Ming were worlds apart. One saved lives, while the other wished she could kill all her enemies.

How were they alike at all?

---

As she moved away from the island’s center, the clamor and noise gradually faded, though the faint sound of gongs and drums still spread festively to every corner of the island. Chi Qian entered her house, but even the closed door could not block the sound’s penetrating power.

“Phew—” After packing Chi Qingyan’s things, Chi Qian let out a breath of relief.

Spring was about to hand the baton to summer, and the island weather was getting hotter by the day.

She had worked up a sweat at the rehearsal and another one packing for her grandfather. Chi Qian tugged at her collar, feeling how stuffy and hot it was. Fanning herself, she headed to her room to change.

“If I change my clothes before picking up Shi Jinlan, she won’t mind, right?” Chi Qian muttered to herself. “Smelling nice is better than reeking of sweat. Who doesn’t like a sweet-smelling, soft young lady, anyway~”

At that thought, Chi Qian smiled and rubbed her face.

Then, she deftly pulled off her jacket and tossed it onto the large table by the window.

The curtains, which she had not had time to open in her morning rush, billowed up with the movement of air. Beneath the white fabric sat a dark silhouette.

Chi Qian frowned, looking at the shadow by the window from a distance.

She realized it seemed to be the shadow of a cat.

Its soft ears twitched behind the glass, and the light illuminated its fluffy fur, making it look like a dandelion puff.

Hah, you stupid cat!

You won’t let me pet you, but you’ll squat outside my window and watch me change!

Chi Qian instantly recognized the cat behind the window as Thirteen and was about to scold it in her mind for its voyeurism.

But before she could form the words, her heart gave a sudden lurch.

THUMP!

THUMP-THUMP!

Two heavy heartbeats hammered against her chest, leaving her disoriented.

Amidst the swirling light and shadows, she saw Thirteen standing on its hind legs, scratching frantically at her windowpane.

Its untrimmed claws made a series of ear-piercing screeches against the glass that drilled straight into her eardrums.

Thirteen’s movements were more frantic than she had ever seen. It was meowing nonstop, but no words entered her mind.

It was as if the space around her had been sealed off.

Chi Qian found it hard to breathe; her entire body felt weak.

The objects around her began to blur, and the floor seemed to heave up and down.

“Thud!”

Chi Qian’s legs suddenly gave out, and she collapsed to the ground.

The cold ceramic tile pressed against her back, the impact sending pain through her entire body.

All the oxygen seemed to float upward in that instant. A white film spread over her vision. The air was thin. Chi Qian gasped, but she still felt like she was suffocating.

The familiar sensation made Chi Qian’s mind, which was rapidly going blank, remember.

It was asthma.

Her asthma was acting up.

Even though she had done nothing strenuous at all.

【Punishment initiated. High-level punishment will automatically block the system. Please be prepared, Host.】

Chi Qian: Goddammit!

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