After Awakening Consciousness, I Was Entangled by the White Moonlight Female Supporting Character - Chapter 3

“Damn it, what kind of joke is this? There’s no way I could fall for Jiang Wanhe, and the Jiang family would never collapse under him.”

Reason told Jiang Ciqiu that such absurd claims couldn’t be believed, but emotionally, she couldn’t help feeling an inexplicable unease.

The memories that had suddenly flooded her mind were terrifyingly vivid, as if they were unfolding right before her eyes.

Whether it was the Jiang family’s change of ownership, her parents’ tragic deaths, or even her own despairing end—it all felt branded onto her heart. Just the thought of it made her suffocate.

Finally, gritting her teeth, Jiang Ciqiu straightened up. “Whatever, I’ll go find that person and get some answers first.”

She needed to confirm whether that person truly was the “White Moonlight” before making any decisions.

Fortunately, the corner where the woman had disappeared led to a long, straight hallway ending in a row of rooms labeled “Dressing Rooms.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jiang Ciqiu pushed open the door marked “Staff Only.”

As soon as the door opened, a thick, chaotic mix of perfumes and cosmetics assaulted her senses.

Inside, a woman sat sideways to the entrance, applying lipstick. Jiang Ciqiu studied her for a moment. Whether it was because of those strange memories or not, the woman’s face now seemed oddly familiar—as if confirming that those memories weren’t wrong.

Chu Han lowered her eyes slightly, twisted the lipstick back into its tube, and placed it neatly on the table.

The person at the door had been standing there watching her the whole time, seemingly with no intention of entering.

She wasn’t one to invite trouble, and given her current circumstances, she couldn’t afford even the slightest complication.

Jiang Ciqiu was, without a doubt, the biggest trouble at this entire banquet. So, Chu Han did her best to ignore the Jiang heiress.

She hadn’t been invited to tonight’s event—someone had brought her in to play the piano for the guests. One night’s work would earn her fifty thousand dollars.

That fifty thousand was crucial. With her father gone, her mother’s medical condition depended entirely on this money.

If she couldn’t afford to provoke the Jiang family’s young miss, couldn’t she at least avoid her?

Standing up, Chu Han moved sideways toward the exit.

Two slender yet entirely different figures brushed past each other at the doorway.

Suddenly, Jiang Ciqiu reached out and grabbed Chu Han’s wrist. “Wait.”

The woman being grabbed clearly hadn’t expected this. She froze for a second, though her expression remained calm. “Is there something you need, Miss Jiang?”

Her tone was eerily indifferent, as if the person who had slapped her earlier hadn’t been Jiang Ciqiu at all.

“About earlier—when I slapped you—I want to say that wasn’t my intention. From your perspective, it might have seemed deliberate, but I had no memory of doing any of those things at the time.”

“To put it simply, you could say I was sleepwalking. Everything I did was unconscious. Do you understand?”

Oh, so it was dissociative identity disorder? Another personality did it?

Chu Han didn’t care. She had no opinion on Jiang Ciqiu’s explanation.

It was just a slap and some inexplicable insults—at least she hadn’t lost anything.

But if Jiang Ciqiu didn’t let her go soon, she’d miss her piano performance slot, and who knew which substitute would take her place then?

Thinking quickly, she needed to extricate herself without provoking the other woman. With practiced ease, Chu Han curved her lips into a smile. Her delicate brows and slightly upturned eyes momentarily dazzled Jiang Ciqiu.

She said, “It’s alright, Miss Jiang. But I still have things to attend to. Could you let go of my hand?”

Jiang Ciqiu followed her gaze to where her own hand was gripping the other woman’s wrist. “Apologies. Aside from what I needed to explain earlier, there’s something else I’d like to ask you.”

That the young mistress Jiang would actually say “apologies” surprised Chu Han momentarily. After all, this was the same person who had been coldly smashing wine bottles over someone’s head just moments ago.

The change was as if she’d become an entirely different person.

Not daring to shake off the unpredictable young mistress’s grip, Chu Han could only let her keep holding her wrist. “Please go ahead, Miss Jiang.”

Jiang Ciqiu asked, “Do you know Jiang Wanhe?”

“I do.”

Jiang Ciqiu’s grip tightened slightly, her expression darkening noticeably in Chu Han’s eyes.

She repeated, “You know him?”

“Isn’t he your elder brother? Jiang Wanhe, the young master of the Jiang family. Everyone here knows him.”

“No,” Jiang Ciqiu shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”

With uncharacteristic patience, she rephrased: “I meant, have you had any previous contact with him? Private interactions.”

Chu Han studied her for a moment before shaking her head.

“Truly none?”

“None.”

Jiang Ciqiu frowned. “That can’t be… it doesn’t match my memories…”

Chu Han glanced at the clock in the dressing room and subtly tried to free her wrist. “I’m sorry Miss Jiang, but I really must go now. Would you please release my hand?”

Letting go, Jiang Ciqiu pressed further: “Which high school did you attend?”

The repeated delays were beginning to wear on Chu Han’s patience, though she showed no outward sign of it.

“Beichang International High.”

With that, she turned and walked back down the corridor the way she’d come.

“Beichang…” Jiang Ciqiu watched her retreating figure disappear around the corner.

That was it—Jiang Wanhe had attended that same high school. And she herself had gone there for both middle and high school.

If her memory served, Chu Han must have gone abroad after graduating senior year.

They must have crossed paths in high school, though perhaps for some reason she hadn’t mentioned it.

Jiang Ciqiu smacked her small handbag in frustration. “Damn it, I should have asked her age too.”

The woman had only just turned the corner when Jiang Ciqiu gathered her skirts to give chase, but she froze mid-step.

Wait—wasn’t this line of thinking tantamount to accepting that this was some fictional world?

But these were all living, breathing people. Could they truly be manipulated to their deaths by cold lines of text?

Did that mean everyone she’d ever met was just some fabrication? That none of them—not even herself—truly existed?

Impossible!

This was absolutely the real world. There was no such thing as some novel universe. She must be coming down with something to be having these absurd thoughts.

She decided she ought to book an appointment with a psychiatrist.

Yet her poised foot hesitated, neither advancing nor retreating.

“Fvck!”

Jiang Ciqiu swore under her breath, steadied her skirts, and made to run after her.

But her phone, tucked away in the handbag, suddenly rang—her father calling.

She answered, “Dad? What is it? Make it quick, I’m in the middle of something.”

“What could you possibly be doing? Get back from M Country immediately. Secretary Bai already told me what happened. Are you unwell?”

“I’m fine, Dad, don’t worry…”

The woman’s voice on the other end carried even more concern than the man’s: “Little Leaf, come home quickly. Mom will take you to the hospital for a check-up when you return. Don’t make me worry, okay?”

Jiang Ciqiu could never refuse her mother’s gentle words of concern and worry.

With a resigned sigh, she let go of her skirt hem: “Understood, I’ll be right back.”

Father Jiang took over the phone again: “The plane tickets are booked, and your ride is already waiting at the entrance.”

“Alright, I get it… Daddy.”

Jiang Ciqiu rarely called him “Daddy.” Every time she used this term, it was because she was dissatisfied with her father’s decisions yet couldn’t refuse to comply.

After hanging up, Jiang Ciqiu walked to the corridor junction where the hallway split in two directions and chose the opposite path.

As she walked, she suddenly thought: “Wait, what was her name again?”

Meanwhile, just around the next corner, Chu Han was being cornered against the wall by several young women wearing custom-made, exorbitantly expensive dresses, who were sneering at her.