So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 76

I’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight

Bracelet

It seems that many things in this world don’t need a long period of mental preparation to begin.

One moment, Chi Qian was still agonizing over whether Shi Jinlan’s feelings for her were merely anchored to the person she used to be. The next, she had effortlessly digested the problem, her thoughts zeroing in on the heart of the matter.

During her half-year in the System Space, she had spent her days with Song Tang, managing to get by on a muddled diet of alcohol. But now that she was back at Shi Jinlan’s side, she could no longer avoid the question: when she was executing the mission, had the old her truly not invested a single shred of emotion?

The memory of Shi Jinlan’s tongue so easily prying past her teeth, the familiar warmth of her breath brushing against her nose… some things, even when forgotten, could not be feigned; the body’s reactions were honest.

Chi Qian couldn’t convince herself she was just some cold-hearted liar. It wasn’t about absolving herself of responsibility; it was that her entire self-perception had been flawed from the very beginning.

When Thirteen heard her words, its eyes filled with astonishment, quickly followed by excitement. 【Host, have you realized something?】

Chi Qian nodded.

She remembered the sound of Shi Jinlan’s low whimpers in her ear yesterday, a tangled and lingering echo that overlapped with a scene that had never existed in her memories. The humid air of the hot spring was more scorching than the summer heat, and Shi Jinlan’s pupils were crimson. Though Chi Qian had been the one beneath her, Shi Jinlan’s expression made it seem as though she was the one being controlled, her fingers tracing over Chi Qian’s lips, teasing them again and again.

But how could she possibly tell a second person about something like that?

An inexplicable possessiveness made her bristle with hostility toward Thirteen for even asking. She answered vaguely, 【Lately, images I don’t remember have been appearing in my head.】

As she spoke, she looked at Thirteen, sensing from its reaction that the little System knew something. 【This isn’t just my imagination, is it?】

【It’s not.】 Thirteen was practically bursting with excitement. 【Those are things you and Shi Jinlan experienced before.】

It had been struggling with whether or not to tell Chi Qian. It originally thought that with the mission over and Chi Qian not returning, forgetting would be a good thing for her. It had never expected Shi Jinlan’s obsession to run so deep.

Perhaps its Host and Shi Jinlan were simply fated to be together. No matter how much Chi Qian forgot, she and Shi Jinlan would always meet again.

Thirteen searched its memories from that time and began to debrief Chi Qian. 【Do you remember, right after you finished the mission, you asked me if you could go back and take a look?】

Chi Qian did remember. “But after I came back from the Main System, I didn’t want to anymore.”

She grew thoughtful, reading something in Thirteen’s reaction. “But my feelings for Shi Jinlan were nowhere near as calm as I’ve acted these past six months, were they?”

【That’s right,】 Thirteen nodded.

Hearing this confirmation, Chi Qian’s shoulders slumped. The onlooker sees clearly.¹ So, she really had forgotten.

Only now did she realize just how piercing her words to Shi Jinlan—that “she will have children and grandchildren fill the hall”²—must have been. Though she’d said it long ago, the phrase felt like a stray arrow that had shot through Shi Jinlan’s chest, circled back, and then pierced the one who had spoken it.

Chi Qian took a deep, shuddering breath. She urgently needed Thirteen to confirm the answer to the question Shi Jinlan had pinned her down and demanded of her. “Did I love her back then?”

At that, Thirteen blinked.

It seemed to fall silent for a long time, though it might have only been a second. Then, it shook its head.

Chi Qian’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t love her?”

【That’s not it.】 Thirteen quickly denied it. 【Human emotional judgment is too complex, and the Host’s feelings for Shi Jinlan at the time were far more complicated than any host I’ve ever managed.】

The more Thirteen spoke, the smaller its voice became. How it wished it could just tell Chi Qian that yes, she loved her. But its programming forced it to tell the Host nothing but the truth. Systems weren’t supposed to have emotions, let alone interfere with or influence a Host based on their own ideas. An answer that could not be determined by its program could not be called an answer, and they were forbidden from speaking it.

But why? What was the basis for determining human emotion? Why did something so obvious to others need to be verified again and again?

In the end, they never got their second test. The story had been forced to a period the very first time fate had tested them.

Thirteen’s brow furrowed, and the fur on its body seemed to stand on end as if agitated by a rapid electric current.

Chi Qian was genuinely afraid Thirteen would crash like it had those two times before. She quickly reached out and stroked its peach-sized head. “Okay, okay, don’t think about it. Maybe even I didn’t understand it myself back then.”

But “do I love Shi Jinlan” was far from the only thing Chi Qian didn’t understand.

She looked at the hand she had used to pet Thirteen, turning it over and back again, her gaze murky. “Like this body of mine.”

“Thirteen, don’t you find it strange?” Chi Qian said. “It’s been so long since I completed my mission. Why hasn’t my body returned to its original form?”

“I was in the System’s internal space for over half a year. Even if they were investigating a problem, they should have found it by now, right?”

The topic shifted, and Thirteen’s chaotic programming was temporarily shelved. It recalled its previous work reports and agreed it was odd. 【I write about this problem in my weekly report, but every time I go to the internal system to report, the error is still there. It just says it’s ‘being handled by a specialist,’ but I’ve never been able to look up that specialist’s ID number, and I can’t contact them directly.】

Something that even a System couldn’t figure out felt deeply unsettling.

Chi Qian couldn’t help but shiver, a little scared. “That’s so creepy.”

【I know, right? It’s very creepy. A situation like this has never happened in the system before.】 Thirteen didn’t see it as a ghost story; it was just plain frustrating.

But what Chi Qian said next terrified it.

“Thirteen, do you think it’s possible…”

“That I… might not be me.”

Chi Qian’s expression was inscrutable, but the seriousness in her eyes was no joke.

Thirteen stared at her, getting drawn into her confusion, its fur puffing up again. 【Host, don’t scare me. I’m not sure I understand what you’re thinking.】

“Didn’t you say that to reduce the operational load, the System used my original world’s background for my current identity?” Chi Qian explained. “But when I went back to the company last time, I discovered that I don’t seem to know how to program.”

【How can that be?】 Another strange point was laid on the table, shocking Thirteen.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.” Chi Qian threw up her hands. “Can you go into the internal system and check for me? Check who I am. Your system should have a file on every mission-taker, right?”

【We do.】 Thirteen nodded, taking the task upon itself. 【The system in charge of the current mission-taker archives is my Xuejie.³ I know her well.】

Hearing a concrete plan amidst her swirling questions, Chi Qian couldn’t help but marvel. “Whoa, I didn’t know you had connections like that.”

Proud that it could help, Thirteen lifted its fluffy little head. “Meow~” (Of course.)

Like drawing silk from a cocoon,⁴ Chi Qian unraveled the doubts in her heart one by one, until her attention finally fell on the main event.

She raised her left arm, placing the silver bracelet from her wrist between herself and Thirteen. “And then there’s this bracelet.”

Her train of thought had been perfectly clear. She’d only changed the subject to keep Thirteen from crashing, but now she returned to it. “I lost those memories only after I came back from the Main System. Your Lord Main System might know something, and that’s why it did this.”

【Actually, I have that feeling too,】 Thirteen agreed.

“Then let’s test it.” Chi Qian reached her right hand toward the bracelet resting on her wrist.

Sunlight streamed into the room, refracting off the silver and creating a piercing glare.

Thirteen, who had been sitting primly, tensed up. Though it had no idea what danger the bracelet posed, its feline instincts screamed that something was wrong. 【Host, what are you trying to do?】

“The Main System only gave me this.” Chi Qian’s gaze was deep as she stared at the strange yet familiar bracelet. “There is definitely something wrong with it.”

As she spoke, her right hand closed around the delicate bracelet.

A silvery light shone through the cracks between her fingers. Chi Qian’s heart pounded. She felt something stirring, about to be released, only to be violently suppressed by another force.

They threatened her, tempted her, urged her to give up. Just do the missions obediently and go back to the System. She could go back to being a salted fish,⁵ soaking in Song Tang’s bar with a pile of points, never worrying about her livelihood again.

But that life, a life Chi Qian had once dreamed of, suddenly held no appeal.

Beneath this bracelet lay something incredibly important to her. She didn’t want to lose it. Forgetting was the cruelest thing in the world, especially when it wasn’t her choice.

Chi Qian had wanted to say it for a long time. Why? Why was their very survival in the hands of this damned, broken system? They weren’t playthings. If Shi Jinlan could do it, there was no reason she couldn’t.

Screeeech—!!

Just as the bracelet was slipping off her wrist, catching at the widest part of her hand, a sharp, electric sound ripped through the air.

“Meeeow—!” Thirteen let out a bloodcurdling shriek, while Chi Qian felt a powerful current surge through her fingers. It was nothing like the gentle tingle of a kiss; this was sharp and brutal, as if trying to rip the nerves right out from under her skin.

【Destructive behavior by mission-taker detected. Second-level Punishment⁶ initiated. Timer start: 9:59:59.】

“What?”

The System’s cold, mechanical notification rang out without warning or preamble, directly inflicting the punishment on her.

Chi Qian had never anticipated that pulling off a small bracelet would trigger such a consequence. She hadn’t even thought the System would notice. The main reason she’d dared to try was that Shi Jinlan had said she’d shielded the System. And indeed, Thirteen had been unable to contact her.

Could it be that the bracelet wasn’t connected to the internal system, but had an emergency device built right in, just to stop her from taking it off?

Why? Why would the Main System go to such lengths to guard against her?

On this midsummer afternoon, the sunlight was thick with oppressive heat. The chirping of cicadas pierced the living room like it was cutting through glass, and a sudden, vicious chill rose in Chi Qian’s heart.

Then came the pressure.

The air around her felt like it was being compressed, and suddenly, Chi Qian couldn’t breathe. Her throat, working frantically, was like a set of broken-down bellows,⁷ producing a series of tortured sounds. This damned system’s punishments always targeted a person’s weak spot. Chi Qian felt her consciousness being stripped away, layer by layer, as the long-forgotten feeling of suffocation took control.

Ten minutes had never felt so long.

【Host!】

Thirteen realized at once that Chi Qian was having an asthma attack. It lunged forward to help her, only to be thrown back by a violent jolt of electricity. It was exactly like last time. The System had forcibly overridden its shield, and it couldn’t get near her.

“Ten minutes… I… I won’t die. After ten minutes, I’ll… I’ll still be a hero!”⁸ Chi Qian saw the little cat pacing beside her, its heart burning with anxiety.⁹ Her hand, sprawled on the floor, twitched weakly. She wanted so badly to comfort Thirteen.

But she couldn’t. The System’s punishment was suffocating her.

Thirteen circled her, its meows frantic and desperate. For all these years, Thirteen had never once questioned its internal regulations, but in this moment, it hated every single one of those damned rules. If the System demanded they unconditionally respect and protect the lives of their Hosts, then why did it so casually toy with their vulnerabilities, showing no respect at all?

It couldn’t save Chi Qian. It had to find help.

But who could it call? On this isolated island…

Thirteen never would have guessed that at a time like this, the first person to appear in its mind would be Shi Jinlan. That woman was someone who had torn through the rules of the world, a problem that neither the small world nor the System itself could solve.

More importantly, last time, she had been the one to save its Host.

Thirteen didn’t know where Shi Jinlan was, but it could feel she wasn’t far. The terrifying magnetic field that had been suppressing it yesterday was still lingering around the manor, radiating outward with Shi Jinlan at its center.

Thirteen’s brow tightened, its tiny cat ball of a body tensing. An electric current pulsed through its shell, as if trying to rip it from the body that wasn’t its own. But Thirteen turned a deaf ear to it, focusing all its effort on finding and approaching the very danger its instincts told it to avoid.

【Master! Save Ah Qian!】

The kitten’s young voice mixed with a piercing, cold wind. In the study, Shi Jinlan, who was in the middle of a video conference, suddenly stopped writing.

The voice felt strangely familiar. Her heart began to pound violently, just like it had on that night three years ago, the fifth time Chi Qian had stopped breathing on her own.

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