So I Had No Choice But to Stop Being the White Moonlight – Chapter 78

I’m Not Going to Be the White Moonlight

How about we set our wedding for August this year?

After noon, the sun began its slow westward descent, as if deciding to finally restrain its wanton display across the world.

But a stuffy, heavy air still floated through the manor, and the slanted daylight felt even more scorching than the direct glare of midday. A light breeze swept through the tall trees by the lake, stirring a heat wave across the water’s surface and muffling the drone of the cicadas.

Watching Chi Qian, Shi Jinlan felt an indescribable, choked-up ache in her chest. It was as if a breath had been trapped by the same sickness afflicting the woman before her, and it now lingered within her own empty, barren body.

Chi Qian hadn’t yet recovered from her nine-deaths-one-life¹ ordeal, and once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop.

A tangled mess of teardrops streamed from the corners of her eyes, flowing over Shi Jinlan’s fingers as she cupped her face, soaking them one after another.

Shi Jinlan disliked seeing others display such overwhelming emotion. The more they did, the more useless she found them to be. But with Chi Qian crying in front of her now, she felt a discomfort in her own eyes. The humid, heavy air seemed to press in on her, and not only did she not feel repulsed, she felt an urge to cry herself.

Shi Jinlan didn’t know if it was better to be forgotten by Chi Qian or deceived by her. All she did was trail her fingertips over Chi Qian’s eyelids and murmur at her stubbornness, “Silly girl.”

Her hand stroked Chi Qian’s cheek, slow and gentle. The tears were warm, yet they felt as bone-chilling as ice.

That night, she had so desperately wanted to know the answer. But in this moment, she was the first to relent. “Stop thinking about it. And stop testing it with your life.”

But Chi Qian couldn’t stop.

She clutched at her chest, her palm balling up the fabric of her dress. The material was so light she couldn’t feel what she was grabbing. Her mind was a cavernous void, and her memories were just as empty.

“But those were my memories with you,” Chi Qian sobbed, her body curling tightly into Shi Jinlan’s side. The massive skirt of her dress fanned out around her slender frame, and under the light of the crystal chandelier, she looked so incredibly small, like a single speck of dust in an infinite world.

“Sometimes I don’t even know if I’m really me. Who am I? Why do things I know nothing about keep popping into my head? And why are the things I think I know so completely unfamiliar?”

Hearing Chi Qian’s words, spoken on the verge of collapse, Shi Jinlan’s gaze sharpened, instantly seizing on the heart of the problem. “What do you mean, ‘unfamiliar’?”

“Just… unfamiliar,” Chi Qian repeated. Her tear-stained face suddenly grew calm. Her eyes were filled with a blank, exhausted haze, and her voice was low. “I went to my company, and I didn’t even know what floor my office was on. My supervisor praised me, and I had no idea what kind of program I had written.”

“I don’t think I am me,” Chi Qian’s voice faded until it was nearly inaudible.

She was completely dazed, her thoughts a thick sludge.

She looked at Shi Jinlan as if gazing upon a life-saving straw.² If Shi Jinlan weren’t beside her right now, she feared she would have shattered completely.

When people break down, they become little more than small animals. Shivering, curling up, wanting only to press closer and closer to a place that feels safe.

As she spoke, Chi Qian instinctively burrowed deeper into Shi Jinlan’s embrace. She knew this person’s body temperature was low and carried a fearsome, oppressive aura that she ought to dislike. But still, she drew nearer. Buoyed by the memory of Shi Jinlan having just wiped her tears, she approached without fear, secure in her newfound backing.³

Wave after wave of heat rolled in from the window, but the central air conditioning slowly exhaled its cool breath, holding it all at bay.

Looking at Chi Qian curled up in her arms, Shi Jinlan felt as if she had returned to the day they tumbled down the hillside. Chi Qian had been dragged into such danger because of her, and her slender frame seemed even lighter than before.

She just held her like that. It was as if a pale Weeping Flowering Crabapple⁴ was draped over her arm, and when the wind blew, a flurry of petals would scatter across the floor.

“You are Chi Qian.”

After a while, Shi Jinlan gave her an answer.

Her voice was resolute. “My Ah Qian.”

“Ah Qian…” Hearing the name, Chi Qian mimicked Shi Jinlan’s tone, murmuring it softly.

“Mm,” Shi Jinlan hummed in affirmation.

“Ah Qian is sleepy.” Childishly, like a little one tucked away in her safe harbor, Chi Qian twisted the hem of Shi Jinlan’s skirt, treating it as her A-beibei.⁵

“Go to sleep,” Shi Jinlan replied, showing no intention of leaving.

The air shifted, carrying the bitter scent of medicinal mist.

Watching Chi Qian lean into her embrace, Shi Jinlan reached out, her movements gentle as she brushed the back of her hand before lacing their fingers together. The woman’s body had just endured a catastrophe, and blue veins stood out on the bones of her thin hand.

Shi Jinlan held that hand in her palm for a long time. She waited until the veins had smoothed out, until Chi Qian’s even breathing filled the living room, before she slowly stood up.

This time, rising was far easier than the last. Chi Qian was leaning against her, held securely in her arms. She had never been so grateful for the decision to have her left leg broken and re-set.

In the past, others had always served her. Shi Jinlan had next to no experience caring for another person. She carried Chi Qian back to the room and placed her on the bed. Seeing her sleep deeply but not peacefully, she found herself in a daze for some time before realizing she’d forgotten to pull the extra pillow out from under her head.

Once the pillow was removed, Chi Qian’s entire face snuggled into the remaining one. Shi Jinlan carefully smoothed down the strands of hair that had been ruffled by the pillow. As she stood guard over that peaceful, sleeping face, the shadow of a Calico cat⁶ slipped through the doorway.

Thirteen didn’t really know what had happened.

After struggling against that immense pressure and taking a risk to contact Shi Jinlan, it had suddenly reverted to the Calico cat form it’d had on the island. But compared to the Golden Shaded Munchkin cat,⁷ it much preferred this body. It was light, nimble, and possessed a feline grace.

Thirteen tiptoed into the room, not intending for Shi Jinlan to notice it. It was a cat, after all. If it moved lightly enough, a human surely wouldn’t see it. This place blocked nearly all of Thirteen’s functions. It couldn’t return to Chi Qian’s mind, so it wanted to check on its Host in this form.

“She’s asleep.”

But Shi Jinlan found it anyway.

It had just taken one sneaky step into the room when her voice sounded. Sunlight shimmering off the lake spilled into the room. Shi Jinlan’s back was to the door; she hadn’t even glanced at Thirteen. But her voice was so certain, as if she could perceive the presence of an animal.

Or rather, perceive the presence of a System.

Thirteen’s steps faltered. The moment its little head turned toward this two-legged beast,⁸ Shi Jinlan turned to look at it. “I think we need to talk.”

The cat’s round eyes were pools of black. This wasn’t Thirteen trying to be cute; it was nervous. Not only was Shi Jinlan an existence that could destroy this small world, but just moments ago, she had even faced a system punishment head-on. If it did anything to displease her, given that it could only exist in this cat’s body, it knew it wouldn’t have any good fruit to eat.⁹

But the most important thing was this: Could it really trust this dangerous person, this rebel designated by the System?

As if hearing Thirteen’s concerns, Shi Jinlan spoke. “You want to protect your Host, and I want to protect Ah Qian. Our ultimate goals are aligned, are they not?”

Thirteen wasn’t sure if it was its imagination, but when Shi Jinlan said this, her oppressive aura seemed to lessen. It genuinely pondered her words for a long moment before nodding. “Meow~ (Yes).”

“Then tell me everything you know,” Shi Jinlan said. Her tone was unhurried as she watched it, but a sharp glint of ruthlessness entered her otherwise gentle eyes. “Or, I can use my own methods to get the information I want from you.”

A draft blew down the corridor and into the open bedroom, ruffling Thirteen’s fur the wrong way. It couldn’t help but shiver. It looked up at Shi Jinlan and truly believed she was capable of dismantling it to get to its Core Storage Document.¹⁰ The only difference between her and other systems was that, to keep Chi Qian from worrying afterward, she would probably put it back together exactly as it was.

But if they could cooperate nicely, why suffer through all that for nothing?

It who understands the times is a wise meow!¹¹

“Meow~” Thirteen let out an extremely fawning cry in a delicate voice. Then it swished its tail and hopped obediently into Shi Jinlan’s lap.

The movement was so practiced.

It was as if, at some point in the past, it had been turned¹² by Shi Jinlan in this very same way.

SPACE LINE

The afternoon sun once again graced the bedroom, its light shimmering off the lake.

Chi Qian lay on her side on the soft pillow, her pale pink lips parted naturally, her warm breath escaping and entering in a slow, gentle rhythm.

As the warm breath cycled, Chi Qian never knew that someone’s fingers had rested there, stroking them again and again, holding back several times before finally restraining the impulse to press down and disturb her sweet dreams.

Chirp—

The cicadas were even more intense than the day before. Chi Qian frowned and woke up reluctantly. Her ability to adapt seemed strong; she had already grown accustomed to her current surroundings. So when she opened her eyes and saw the familiar furnishings, her heart settled with a sense of peace.

The breeze lifted the curtains, carrying the coolness of the lake water with it. Just as Chi Qian was lazily sinking into this slow-paced leisure, the faint sound of keyboard clicks reached her ears.

The sound wasn’t part of the white noise she had stored away from her time in the lakeside cabin, so she turned her head to find the source. She should have been able to guess who it was, but her eyes still held a flicker of anticipation. She looked over, hoping her guess was right, hoping so much that her heartbeat slowed.

The wind-blown curtains rose and fell like ocean waves. Amidst the churning white fabric, a calm and focused profile appeared and disappeared from view. The sunlight outlined the person’s tall figure on a white canvas. Shi Jinlan was leaning back in a chair by the window, her long legs crossed, recklessly wasting her god-given assets¹³ as a stand for her laptop.

The temperature at the heart of the lake wasn’t so scorching, and the afternoon sun was gentle. Lying in bed, Chi Qian watched the distant yet so-close Shi Jinlan at work. It felt like so many ordinary, everyday afternoons she had spent with her.

“You’re awake?”

Chi Qian had wanted to keep that image in her eyes for a few more seconds, but Shi Jinlan had already noticed her. Chi Qian could no longer peek in secret; the scene had been broken by her waking. She quietly returned to her senses and nodded at Shi Jinlan. “Mm.”

“How do you feel?” Shi Jinlan asked, setting her laptop aside.

“I feel…” Chi Qian didn’t think there was anything wrong with her body, but she looked up at the sun outside the window and couldn’t help but ask, “Did I sleep for a long time?”

Shi Jinlan nodded. “You slept for almost a full day.” Then she reassured her, “The doctor came by and said you’re fine, just exhausted.”

Chi Qian listened, nodding thoughtfully. She had indeed been through a lot. But that bracelet…

She glanced at the silver bracelet still on her wrist, her expression darkening. All that struggle had been for nothing. The bracelet was still there, and she’d made Shi Jinlan watch over her for an entire day. At that thought, her eyes immediately filled with anxiety. “Did I interfere with your work? Didn’t you say you’d be busy lately? I’m fine now, you should hurry back to the company.”

Seeing her like this, Shi Jinlan sat down on the edge of the bed and pressed her shoulders, making her lie back down. “No, I can work from anywhere.”

Her voice was exceptionally calm. It wasn’t indifference, but the confidence of one devising strategies within a command tent,¹⁴ of someone holding the winning ticket in hand.¹⁵

This was the first time Chi Qian had seen a Shi Jinlan like this. The sun rose behind her, casting a golden, shimmering light. In her familiar domain, she handled everything with ease,¹⁶ as if she were glowing.

But it seemed that even the ever-confident Shi Jinlan was stuck on something. Her tone suddenly shifted. “However, there is one thing I have to do here.”

As she said this, Shi Jinlan let out an imperceptible chuckle.

Lying in bed, Chi Qian looked up at her and couldn’t help but think of certain things.

To eat the marrow and know its taste.¹⁷

Her face flushed red.

Mainly, wasn’t it a bit much for them to be doing this every day? And she had just woken up. Wasn’t jumping right into the main event bad for her health?

“Ha.”

In the silence, Shi Jinlan suddenly let out a laugh. Her dark eyes gazed at Chi Qian, and she asked meaningfully, “What are you thinking about?”

The question shot through Chi Qian, making her wonder if Shi Jinlan was a mind-reader. She instantly realized she had been overthinking and quickly pretended to be calm. “I… I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

“Do you know that your emotions are often written right on your face?” Shi Jinlan said nonchalantly, a smile playing on her lips. Her fingers stroked gently, tracing over the collar on Chi Qian’s neck. They moved inch by inch across the skin beneath, searching for the thrumming of her pulse, both amorous and earnest. “Yesterday’s events… how much do you still remember?”

Was she talking about how she nearly lost her life trying to remove the bracelet? Or how Shi Jinlan somehow found out and came to rescue her? Or how she had a complete breakdown because she wanted to forget what had happened between them?

Chi Qian desperately wanted to say she’d forgotten.

Ever since becoming an adult, she had never cried so messily in front of anyone. She knew she was heartbroken, but why did she have to let it all out in front of Shi Jinlan? The elegant image she had maintained in front of her was completely gone.

Seeing her expression, Shi Jinlan knew what nonsense the girl was thinking and decided to take back the topic she’d thrown out. “Yesterday, didn’t you say you didn’t know if your past self loved me?”

“I thought about it all day. I don’t want you to think about the past. I want you to think about now.”

Hearing this, Chi Qian was pulled from her mortification. She felt lost and helpless, as if her heart was being held in Shi Jinlan’s hand, waiting for her to explain if those words meant what she thought they did.

“Let’s get to know each other all over again, okay?”

Shi Jinlan asked, and Chi Qian’s heart gave a sudden, violent thump. She stared into the pupils looking back at her, at her own pale, disheveled, and sickly reflection, and her heart raced so fast she thought it would burst. Yet she felt an inexplicable sense of inferiority.

Anyone who realizes, only in hindsight,¹⁸ the importance of something they treated carelessly would ache for a chance to do it over. But could someone like her really start over with Shi Jinlan?

She had to try again.

The flower-snake, painted with possessiveness, flicked its tongue,¹⁹ silently coiling around Chi Qian’s heart. As if bewitched, without asking for clarity, without giving Shi Jinlan a chance to reconsider, she agreed in a single breath. “Okay.”

But Shi Jinlan didn’t need to reconsider. All she wanted was that one answer from Chi Qian, and an even deeper smile instantly bloomed across her face. Her gentle eyes looked as if she had her prey cornered, revealing the greed hidden beneath.

“How about we set our wedding for August this year?”

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The author has something to say:

Question: Why does Lanlan want to marry Qianqian!

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