So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 42

Familiarity

The last shadow of the sun hung by the window, burning a glaring circle of red upon the dim surface of the sea.

Thirteen’s enthusiasm instantly ignited the heat within Chi Qian, making her face burn hot.

Chi Qian couldn’t quite remember what had happened earlier, only retaining a vague impression in the blur of it all.

She had brushed past Shi Jinlan’s neck and asked her if she wanted her to pledge her body in exchange¹…

She—how could she have said such a thing?!

And she said it so naturally, even getting physical with Shi Jinlan!

Chi Qian felt that a temporary lack of oxygen to the brain really did make people stupid. Pledge her body in exchange—it was rich that she even thought of it, let alone dared to say it out loud.

【Is the Host hesitating?】 Thirteen tilted its head in confusion as it looked at Chi Qian’s expression.

【I feel like what you said isn’t necessarily right.】 Chi Qian said.

She felt Thirteen was being a bit rash. Shi Jinlan had only stood up; it wasn’t some other incredibly difficult feat.

Grandpa had said before that she should be able to stand up soon. Maybe it was just a coincidence…

Chi Qian suddenly became cautious, rationally dissecting what Thirteen had just said.

There was only one sentence about Shi Jinlan falling for her, yet thousands upon thousands of reasons popped up in her heart to deny it, suppressing her violently beating heart, telling it to stop beating so wildly.

Anyone encountering that situation would force themselves to push through; a human life was at stake, after all.

But somehow, as reason spoke to Chi Qian, she recalled the descriptions of Shi Jinlan in the text.

It said she was cold-blooded, tyrannical, and moody. She was the most outstanding merchant, and profit was practically the measuring stick she used for everything in the world.

So… would Shi Jinlan be that way too?

Or did she really… just because it was her?

Chi Qian didn’t dare to think too deeply about it.

Soft tentacles probed toward the bottom of her heart, but before they could touch the cage, they were repelled by a strong rejection reaction.

Probably because she had consumed too much energy just standing up, Shi Jinlan, who used to wake at the wind blowing and the grass moving², was still asleep.

The sun retracted its final ray of light, sweeping across Shi Jinlan’s profile. Silver-gray flames wrapped around her, illuminating her features making them exquisite and vivid, save for a wisp of hair stuck to her forehead—a trace that dried sweat had once been there.

Looking at Shi Jinlan’s sleeping form, Chi Qian’s guilt skyrocketed.

What if Shi Jinlan really had fallen for her?

The moment Chi Qian thought of her identity as a task-taker³, her chest felt as if someone had twisted it hard. It was more uncomfortable than asthma, pressing down on her heart as if trying to dissect something out of it.

But what could be dissected out?

She was a liar.

She would die a horrible death.

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Since that day, Shi Jinlan could stand up, though she didn’t stand very steadily and still needed a cane.

After Chi Qingyan returned, he gave her a comprehensive examination. Just as written in the original text, Shi Jinlan’s left leg did not recover as well as her right.

Everyone thought this was a prelude to getting better, but only Chi Qian knew that Shi Jinlan’s left leg would very likely never return to normal.

That gem-encrusted pure black cane would become her trademark. She would still walk with that unhurried pace, her natural nobility exuding a lazy air, but in certain details, people would always be able to see her inconvenienced left leg.

Whenever she thought of this, Chi Qian’s chest couldn’t help but feel tight.

Shi Jinlan was so good. Why couldn’t the System have a little more pity on her? It was clearly willing to give her everything in the first half of her life, yet in the second half, it wanted to strip it all away.

It really made one unwilling to accept it.

Reality was manipulated by the System. Chi Qian wanted to find a way to make Shi Jinlan completely better. She pestered Thirteen for a long time until she finally got it to agree to search the System’s internal database for a method.

Such a method was like dredging for a needle in the sea⁴, and Thirteen wasn’t exactly a reliable salvager.

Days passed like this, one by one. The Third of March⁵ drew closer with each day. On the Second of March, the heads of each family had to stay up all night, bathe and change clothes, and go to the ancestral hall to invite the gods down from the mountain.

As the actors for Ah Qing and Lady Ling⁶, Chi Qian and Shi Jinlan couldn’t avoid going to the ancestral hall to pay respects either.

The sun set in the west, and the island was brightly lit.

Swaying lights shuttled through the forest foliage as a mighty group of people went up the mountain.

The dark night completely lacked the momentum to swallow the world; the scattered starlight of the night sky gazed from afar at the incandescent lights around the ancestral hall, echoing each other.

Before Chi Qian even got close, she saw from a distance that the altar table in the ancestral hall was piled high with a small mountain of offerings—melons, fruits, and pastries—everything that should be there was there⁷. It was incredibly lavish.

“I heard from Yuan Ming that Miss Shen’s leg is healed. Seeing you now, it seems the recovery is truly going very well.” Auntie Zhou had been busy with affairs for the Third of March these past few days and hadn’t had time to visit. Seeing Shi Jinlan walk in leaning on only a single cane, she went up to welcome her, full of joy.

Shi Jinlan nodded politely. “It is all thanks to the old gentleman.”

“Elder Chi’s medical skills are truly superb, really amazing.” Hearing the exchange between Auntie Zhou and Shi Jinlan, someone else leaned in.

“Miss Shen is also a lucky person who has heaven’s assistance⁸. This is the first time I’ve seen someone able to stand up so quickly.”

“It really is Lady Ling’s protection.”

“Yes, yes.”

…

There were more people at the ancestral hall today than on ordinary days.

The matter of Shi Jinlan providing insurance for Auntie Zhou’s son had been spread as if it were god-like and mysterious⁹. Coupled with the fact that she had become the actor for Lady Ling in this Third of March festival, the stories about her eventually reached the level of: “Miss Shen just stood there, and the people from the insurance company nodded repeatedly, not daring to say another word.”

Everyone was extremely interested in this Lady Ling, but seeing Shi Jinlan’s “keep away” demeanor when she entered earlier, they hadn’t dared to approach. It wasn’t until Auntie Zhou greeted Shi Jinlan that they finally plucked up the courage to come before this “big shot” and become a familiar face.

Shi Jinlan had heard too much of this kind of sycophantic flattery; she really had no interest in conversing with them.

But when she wanted to leave, she found she was already surrounded in the middle by villagers. Her legs were inconvenient, making it even harder to leave.

And the island wasn’t big; they couldn’t lower their heads without seeing each other or raise their heads without seeing each other¹⁰. Chi Qian would inevitably have to deal with them in the future.

Thinking that social rules were similar everywhere, Shi Jinlan saw that among them were the person in charge of the port and people from the village committee, so she couldn’t easily reject their face¹¹.

She maintained her politeness like this, wanting to find Chi Qian to give her a look so she could find an excuse to take her out.

But unexpectedly, Shi Jinlan calmly looked around the circle and couldn’t find Chi Qian anywhere.

That person had clearly been right here worshipping with her just a moment ago.

Ah-choo—!

Unaware that she was currently needed by Shi Jinlan, Chi Qian sneezed violently.

The wind swept through the lush clumps of wood sorrel flowers, and the incandescent light floated like starlight.

Just after lighting the incense, Chi Qian remembered what had happened here last time. Back then, she had a guilty conscience like a thief¹² and ran off in a hurry, still owing Shi Jinlan a flower wreath.

Everyone had their own business to attend to. After Chi Qian and Shi Jinlan finished worshipping Ah Qing and Lady Ling, there was nothing left for them to do.

So, without alerting anyone, she took advantage of the others’ inattention to sneak out, heading straight for the patch of wood sorrel behind the ancestral hall.

The sky grew increasingly dim; looking into the distance, one couldn’t see the mountains on the opposite island.

But the area around the ancestral hall was brightly lit. The light fell casually onto the flower clusters, illuminating them completely. The vivid colors were even more gorgeous under the incandescent lamps, and the night wind wasn’t rushing anyone.

Chi Qian carefully selected and picked a large bouquet of flowers.

She still remembered the flower wreath she had left behind last time. Following her memory, she picked flowers while pushing aside the grass to search.

But it was strange. She searched for quite a while in the spot from her memory, but she just couldn’t find her wreath.

What was going on?

Did someone come here and take away the wreath she had woven?

Chi Qian crouched in the flower cluster, her brows knitted tight.

Just as she was puzzled, a familiar pair of flower wreaths appeared in her line of sight, and a voice followed from behind her: “I’m guessing you’re looking for this?”

The night wind blew through the flowers, stirring up a gentle warmth.

Full of surprise, Chi Qian turned her head to see Yuan Ming leaning down toward her, eyes curved in a smile.

Chi Qian had psychological trauma about being alone with Yuan Ming. She instantly felt nervous inside, but had to force herself to appear calm. “So you picked them up.”

“Mn.” Yuan Ming nodded. “This one is yours, this one is mine.”

Saying this, Yuan Ming handed the warm-toned flower wreath in her hand back to Chi Qian, and placed the cool-toned wreath she had woven herself onto her own head.

“Thanks.” Chi Qian nodded.

Over a week had passed, and the picked flowers showed signs of withering.

But the decay and the cool tones matched unexpectedly well. Clustered together, winding through Yuan Ming’s hair, it was a different kind of unforgettable beauty.

“After the Third of March is over, I have to go back to school. Next time I come back, it might be for the New Year.” Yuan Ming sat down beside Chi Qian, actively starting a topic with her.

“Why?” Chi Qian didn’t understand.

“I’m staying at the school to do research,” Yuan Ming said frankly. “My professor also approves of me doing research at the school for a few years first. The equipment and resources there are top-tier in the country, and the scope for research directions is broad.”

Chi Qian was surprised by this.

This seemed different from Yuan Ming’s story as told to her by Thirteen.

In the original text, Yuan Ming did not stay at the school to do research. Instead, after Chi Qian passed away, she guarded Grandpa and this island for her sake.

For some reason, hearing Yuan Ming say this made Chi Qian’s heart suddenly open up.

She seemed to feel happy for Yuan Ming’s choice.

In fact, she really should be happy for Yuan Ming making this choice.

Yuan Ming was an outstanding doctor; she should have a broader world.

Rather than holding onto thoughts of her, tortured by obsession, all alone.

But why?

Why could Yuan Ming change her life path?

Was it because Yuan Ming wasn’t a crucial person in the text, so her life path wasn’t strictly demanded by the System like Shi Jinlan’s, where a deviation of even a fraction would be forcibly corrected…?

As a passerby character far from the center of the story, she had no character halo forced upon her by the System, yet she had relatively free life choices.

Was this her good fortune, or her misfortune?

If only Shi Jinlan could be like this too.

Chi Qian felt a sense of melancholy and couldn’t help but pin more expectations on Yuan Ming. “Maybe you can research something that saves humanity, Ah Yuan.”

Listening to this person’s erratic imagination, Yuan Ming couldn’t help but smile. “Let’s hope so.”

Then she took out her phone and said to Chi Qian, “Ah Qian, do you want to see the dormitory the school assigned me? I’ve already designed the layout.”

“You can design your own dorm?” Chi Qian showed an envious expression. When she was studying, she had been squeezed into an eight-person room.

“Of course.” Yuan Ming nodded, pulling up her design plan for Chi Qian to see.

It was a small loft of over thirty square meters with high ceilings, very similar to the layout of Chi Qian’s apartment in her original world.

Entering on the first floor, there was the kitchen, and opposite it was the bathroom. Because of the high ceiling, the living room didn’t look oppressive, and a spiral crystal chandelier hung down.

This layout…

The more Chi Qian looked at it, the more familiar Yuan Ming’s home felt. Her gaze locked onto the bar counter connecting the living room and the kitchen. “Is this… a mini bar?”

“Correct.” Seeing Chi Qian’s gaze, Yuan Ming nodded.

“High stools.” Chi Qian pointed at the chairs next to the bar.

“Mn.” Yuan Ming nodded again.

Seeing that Chi Qian had specifically asked about the bar, Yuan Ming took the initiative to ask, “Do you like it?”

Chi Qian shook her head.

“You don’t like it?” Yuan Ming asked again.

“No.” Chi Qian immediately denied it.

Looking at the layout of Yuan Ming’s home, she just felt that this part was carved from the same mold as her home in the original world.

The bar counter, the high stools, and the minimalist pendant light hanging above it.

Chi Qian was a bit confused and hesitant. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” Yuan Ming leaned in close to Chi Qian, her light voice sounding like an enchantment, blowing a warm breeze into Chi Qian’s ear.

Just that, thinking about it carefully, Chi Qian didn’t remember why she had set up a place like that.

She didn’t like to drink. She liked to sit cross-legged on the rug and eat while watching TV. A bar counter wasn’t very practical for her, let alone something she was interested in.

But her home just had one.

From the moment she had memories of that home, it had always been there.

The breeze blew, flower branches swayed, and the overexposed brightness concealed many details.

Chi Qian’s gaze was obscure yet clear. Thinking she couldn’t very well say her home was like this too, she simply said to Yuan Ming, “Familiar.”

Tree branches shook, the friction of green leaves sounding like the turning of book pages.

Memories fluttered. Yuan Ming looked at Chi Qian, her gaze deepening.

“Ah…”

“Ah Qian.”

Just as Yuan Ming was about to speak.

Suddenly, another voice calling out the same address rang out from the distance.

Chi Qian raised her head almost subconsciously, looking familiarly in the direction of the sound.

The incandescent lights made the night sky bright, and the silver-gray flames also revealed a layer of clean white.

Shi Jinlan leaned on her cane, her steps crisp and unhurried, walking toward Chi Qian from the other end of the sea of flowers.

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The author has something to say:

Lanlan: Something’s wrong with wifey

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