I Turned Out to Be the Dead White Moonlight of the Canary - Chapter 1

The cross-river bridge in Cangnan City had become a popular social media spot in recent years.

Countless tourists came and went, all eager to take photos here. On the opposite side stood a statue of the Divine Maiden, a deity worshipped by the people of Cangnan for centuries.

The Divine Maiden stood in the middle of the river, her expression one of sorrow and compassion.

Tourists loved taking pictures with her from the bridge.

At this moment, a stunningly beautiful woman was perched on the railing.

She had captivating peach-blossom eyes, delicate and perfectly proportioned features, a small nose, and lips tinged with a soft pink—like tender peach petals in early spring. A single glance at her would make anyone feel an irresistible urge to cherish her.

Yet, the passersby seemed oblivious to her presence.

Even as she sat on the railing, no one paid her any attention.

Some tourists even walked right through her.

Yan Sheng sat there, watching the lively crowd of visitors, resting her chin on her hand as she sighed.

She had been dead for five years now, and she still had no idea when she’d get to reincarnate.

How boring.

Five years ago, she’d been hit by a car and died, only to end up in this ghostly state. At least she wasn’t restricted in movement—she could go wherever she pleased.

She wasn’t afraid of sunlight either, so she didn’t have to worry about being burned away by it.

But in these five years, she hadn’t encountered a single other ghost like herself.

Yan Sheng sighed again. Life—or rather, death—was truly dull.

Just as she was lamenting her monotonous existence, she suddenly heard a scream.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

The scream sounded utterly distraught, and for once, Yan Sheng felt a spark of interest.

She looked around, trying to spot the source of the commotion.

But the tourists around her all seemed perfectly normal, with nothing out of the ordinary happening.

Yan Sheng scratched her head. Weird.

Wait, no—she was the weird one. The only ghost in this world.

“God, how did my female lead die?!”

“No wonder the world is suddenly on the verge of collapse—the female lead’s been dead for five years! Of course the world’s falling apart!”

Yan Sheng heard the voice again—a distressed female voice, though it sounded oddly robotic.

She scratched her head. Could ghosts hallucinate?

Just as she was puzzling over it, a tiny figurine suddenly appeared in front of her.

It looked like a small, exquisitely crafted doll, with jet-black hair and dressed in a horse-face skirt—absolutely beautiful.

The little doll flew up to Yan Sheng and pinched her cheek. “Wahhh, you’re so cute! No wonder you’re the female lead!”

Yan Sheng actually felt a twinge of pain.

Now that was strange.

“You can see me? And pinch my face?” Yan Sheng stared at the doll in disbelief.

“Of course I can see you!” The doll crossed its arms, looking utterly exasperated.

“Why are you so worked up?” Yan Sheng, on the other hand, was delighted. If it could see her, that meant she finally had someone to talk to.

“Worked up?! Do you have any idea that because you—the female lead—died out of nowhere, this little world is about to collapse?!”

Yan Sheng blinked at it innocently, her face full of confusion.

“Huh? Female lead?” What kind of female lead had a life as tragic as hers?

Born an orphan, she’d never differentiated even in her twenties.

She’d finally graduated and was about to receive her first paycheck when, on her way to work, she ran into a drunk Alpha whose pheromones went out of control. She was hit by a car and died instantly.

And then she became the only wandering ghost in this world.

Having been dead for five years, she sometimes got so bored that she would visit the scene of her death, waiting to see if any new spirits would appear. But there were none—only her, wandering back and forth.

After pouring out her grievances to the little figurine, it actually started crying.

“Wahhh, no wonder you’re the tragic heroine of a melodrama. Your life really is miserable.”

“The reason there are no ghosts is because they’re all data entities who haven’t awakened yet. When they die, their data disappears, so of course there are no souls,” the figurine explained between sobs.

Yan Sheng didn’t understand why it was crying so pitifully, but she still offered some half-hearted comfort: “It’s okay, you’re luckier than me. At least you met me and don’t have to drift around alone anymore.”

“You really are something else,” the figurine sniffled, wiping its tears and giving Yan Sheng an exasperated look.

Yan Sheng shrugged. “What else can I do? Can you bring me back to life?”

“By the way, what exactly are you? A figurine that gained sentience?” She picked it up and examined it curiously.

The figurine sighed again. “I’m not a figurine! I’m a system from the Time-Space Bureau, responsible for maintaining the stability of various small worlds!”

“Oh… still don’t really get it.”

“Never mind, let’s not talk about that for now. I need to bring you back to life first, or the world will collapse, and I’ll be penalized for dereliction of duty! I don’t want to be sent back for punishment.” The figurine muttered to itself.

Yan Sheng didn’t understand most of that, but she caught one thing—this little system could revive her.

“Even though you’re the tragic heroine and might suffer terribly in the beginning—”

“Wait, suffer terribly?” Yan Sheng looked at it uneasily.

The figurine nodded. “Yeah, isn’t that how tragic heroines are? They always have a miserable start.”

Thinking back on her past life, it had indeed been full of hardship. The memories nearly brought her to tears, and she gave the figurine a pitiful look. “Can I just… stay dead?”

She didn’t want to go through that again.

“No way! You’re the tragic heroine—you can suffer, but you can’t die!” the figurine said sternly.

“Besides, if you don’t come back, the world will be destroyed. Do you really want all those people to disappear because of you?” It pointed at the humans passing by.

Yan Sheng hesitated. “But didn’t you say they’re just data entities without souls? Who cares if they die?”

“Well, not all of them. You just had bad luck—the ones you met were data entities. There are some awakened beings in this world too, people like you who’ve developed their own consciousness.”

Hearing this made Yan Sheng even sadder. Even in death, her luck was terrible—she couldn’t even meet another ghost.

Still, she hesitated. She didn’t want the awakened beings to die, but she also didn’t want to suffer again.

Her indecision triggered her tear-prone nature, and she nearly started crying.

The figurine almost softened at the sight, but to prevent itself from relenting, it closed its eyes and kicked Yan Sheng.

“No, no, can’t give in! You have to live. If you don’t, I’ll get scolded during my performance review. Sorry, but you’ll have to endure and go back to living.”

The next moment, Yan Sheng felt like she’d been tossed into a washing machine.

Dizzy and disoriented, she opened her eyes again—and realized she really had come back to life.

She woke up in a hospital, the sharp scent of disinfectant filling her nose.

The pain in her body was so intense that Yan Sheng couldn’t help but cry.

It wasn’t that she wanted to cry—she just had a tendency to tear up easily, and there was nothing she could do about it.

But after the pain subsided, the overwhelming sense of reality left her dazed for a long time.

Heh, how does it feel to be alive?

The voice of the system figurine, Shijiu, echoed in Yan Sheng’s mind.

Yan Sheng pursed her lips. “Not great. I’d rather be dead.”

Come on, little Yan Sheng, you’ve got to stay positive. Stop thinking about dying. With me here, I won’t let you die.

Hearing its words, Yan Sheng let out a faint laugh but didn’t respond further.

The moment of her revival coincided with the aftermath of being hit by a drunk alpha.

However, thanks to Shijiu’s supernatural intervention, Yan Sheng hadn’t been killed or crippled—just some superficial wounds, nothing broken or permanently damaged.

Shortly after she woke up, the drunkard’s family came to apologize. The alpha himself hadn’t died, but years of alcoholism had completely destabilized his pheromones, rendering him unfit for society. He had been confined indefinitely.

The family’s attitude was decent, but Yan Sheng noticed the omega woman among them—she seemed like a pitiful soul too.

But Yan Sheng could barely take care of herself, let alone help others.

Her injuries weren’t severe, so after two days in the hospital, she was discharged.

During those two days, the system had fed her the entire original plot, claiming that knowing the story was essential for saving the world.

Yan Sheng learned that, in the story, she was the tragic, endlessly suffering omega “white lotus,” while the other protagonist was Cheng Yunchang, the now-famous S-rank alpha heir to the Hongxu Group.

“How would an ordinary, low-tier person like me ever cross paths with the heir of the Hongxu Group?” Yan Sheng found the idea utterly impossible.

Shijiu perched on her shoulder, looking smugly wise. “You’ve got to trust the plot’s arrangements. Young one, you still know nothing of the plot’s power.”

Hearing this, Yan Sheng’s chest tightened with frustration, her eyes reddening with unshed tears.

She looked at Shijiu with a trembling, tearful expression. “But… but I don’t want to be someone’s replacement. I don’t want to lose control of my pheromones and have to depend on others to survive.”

Shijiu suddenly lost its appetite for the popsicle it was holding. “Ah, well, it doesn’t necessarily have to go that way. You’ve got me, remember? As long as the world doesn’t collapse, you don’t have to suffer that much.”

“Shijiu, you’re the best.” Yan Sheng grabbed it and nuzzled her cheek against it.

Shijiu felt a little lightheaded, thinking to itself—Yep, definitely the white lotus heroine.

After leaving the hospital, Yan Sheng followed the system’s instructions and returned to her cramped rented apartment—a place she had searched long and hard to find.

An old building, tiny, just a single room, but at least she didn’t have to share it with anyone.

The space was clean and, though small, still cozy.

Exhausted, Yan Sheng took a shower and immediately fell asleep.

That night, her alarm startled her awake. Glancing at the reminder, she remembered—she still had her part-time shift at the bar tonight.

Yan Sheng instantly felt that being alive was terrible. She was nothing but a workhorse.

By the time she arrived at the bar and changed into her uniform, she was still in a daze.

Shijiu had long since wandered off to entertain itself, leaving Yan Sheng to fend for herself.

Tonight, the bar seemed to have been booked for a private event—some rich kid’s birthday party—so it wasn’t as hectic as usual.

Watching the wealthy heirs arrive, Yansheng suddenly recalled Shijiu’s words about the power of plot.

Now it seemed there was some truth to it. If the plot demanded it, even someone as poor as her could encounter these rich second-generation elites.

As Yansheng was lost in thought, a woman in a red qipao walked in.

The woman had a slender figure and striking, elegant features, with chestnut curls cascading down her back. Her beautiful phoenix eyes carried a sharp intensity when she wasn’t smiling.

Her delicate lips were exceptionally pretty, yet they gave off an air of unapproachability.

Standing in the corner, Yansheng stared at her, the sense of déjà vu growing stronger.

She had seen her after death—during a piano performance. Yansheng, as a ghost, had listened from the audience while Song Shi’an performed on stage as a living person.

That was their beginning.