I Turned Out to Be the Dead White Moonlight of the Canary - Chapter 13

Outside the window, the moon was bright and the stars sparse, painting a serene and gentle scene. Inside, by the floor-to-ceiling window, Yan Sheng knelt on the sofa, her eyes blindfolded with a hair ribbon.

Song Shi’an had merely spotted the ribbon lying nearby and casually used it to cover Yan Sheng’s eyes.

Whenever those peach blossom eyes gazed at her slightly, Song Shi’an always felt it was too unfair—every time she looked, she couldn’t resist teasing her.

But after blindfolding Yan Sheng, Song Shi’an realized it made no difference.

With her eyes covered, Yan Sheng only made her want to tease her even more.

Her fingertips lightly pressed against Yan Sheng’s tongue.

“Sister~” Yan Sheng’s voice carried a hint of grievance.

Song Shi’an released her and pulled her back into her embrace.

The next morning, when Song Shi’an woke up, she saw the girl lying beside her.

Sitting up in a daze, the events of the previous night still felt vivid in her mind.

Song Shi’an couldn’t quite understand—was she really such a lustful person?

Even during her heat cycles in the past, she had always endured them alone. Yet ever since meeting this girl, her self-control seemed to have plummeted.

Annoyed, though unsure whether at Yan Sheng or her own sudden lack of restraint, Song Shi’an got up and took a shower. Her body still carried a faint sense of exhaustion.

After showering and changing, she stepped out onto the balcony outside her room.

A freshly brewed cup of coffee was delivered by the smart robot in the room.

Once the robot handed over the coffee, it retreated back into its storage space.

As she ate breakfast and sipped her coffee, Song Shi’an checked the stock market.

The recent turbulence in the market finally dispelled the lingering embarrassment in her heart.

Auntie: [Your mom is complaining to me again about how you refuse to go home and take over the company.]

Song Shi’an: ……

She rubbed her temples and returned a video call to Xun Yanru.

Soon, Xun Yanru’s bold and unrestrained face appeared on the phone screen.

Xun Yanru was the youngest daughter of the Xun family, only five years older than Song Shi’an, and an omega.

She was purely an unexpected late addition to the family, but as the youngest, she had been doted on while growing up.

Unlike Song Shi’an, however, she loved the thrill of making money.

So she had entered the family business early and had since achieved considerable success.

Song Shi’an sighed helplessly at Xun Yanru. “I really don’t enjoy management work. My mom really isn’t afraid I’ll squander the family fortune, huh?”

“Most people worry about their incompetent kids insisting on starting their own businesses, but they’re actually pushing me to manage the company. Aren’t they afraid I’ll run it into the ground?” Song Shi’an said wryly.

“Oh, come on.” Xun Yanru knew exactly what Song Shi’an was capable of—she simply didn’t want to, not that she couldn’t.

Song Shi’an had been an outstanding graduate in finance from Nan University. During her college years, she casually started a company that turned a profit by its second year.

Though she no longer managed it, the company was now under the group’s umbrella.

The managers were still the same people she had originally scouted, and the company now ranked solidly among the group’s subsidiaries.

Moreover, while Song Shi’an disliked management, she loved investing. Every project she had invested in—at least the ones Xun Yanru knew about—had turned a profit without fail.

Her management skills were still unclear, but her investment abilities were certainly no less impressive than those of her two mothers.

She simply felt she hadn’t had enough fun yet.

“How old is my mom anyway, always thinking about retirement? What would she even do after retiring? Spend every day nagging me to get married?” Song Shi’an couldn’t help but feel exasperated.

Hearing this, Xun Yanru suddenly remembered something: “I heard Cheng Yuncheng has returned to the country?”

“Let her come back if she wants. What’s it to me?” Song Shi’an replied indifferently.

“She’s your fiancée after all. Aren’t you going to see her?” Xun Yanru teased.

“What? Since when can two alphas get married?” Song Shi’an shot her an annoyed glance.

“You’re becoming less and less adorable.”

“Even if you can’t marry, there’s nothing stopping you if you like each other. Alpha-alpha relationships aren’t uncommon these days, and fewer people are getting married anyway,” Xun Yanru continued her relentless teasing.

“Cut it out. I’m traditional—what others do is none of my business, they can stay single for all I care, but not me.” She despised most alphas.

“Old-fashioned,” Xun Yanru gave her a look of disdain.

“What, has my dear aunt taken a liking to some omega?” Song Shi’an joked half-heartedly.

Xun Yanru cleared her throat: “Is that so wrong?”

Song Shi’an nearly choked on her coffee—she’d only asked casually, never expecting it to be true.

“Oh? Who is it? Have I met them?” Instantly intrigued, Song Shi’an leaned in.

“I don’t pry into your affairs, so don’t pry into mine.”

Taking one look at her expression, Song Shi’an understood: “Oh, so you haven’t succeeded yet. Who would’ve thought, Auntie, you’re into unrequited love.”

“Still better than you copying others by keeping a sugar baby.”

“Jiejie~” No sooner had Xun Yanru spoken than a voice calling out “sister” came from Song Shi’an’s end.

The voice was pleasant, sweet enough to imagine a lovely girl behind it.

“Gotta go.” Without another word, Song Shi’an hung up, leaving Xun Yanru no chance to gossip.

Staring at the ended call, Xun Yanru was utterly stunned.

Song Shi’an actually dared to hang up on her just like that?

But recalling that slightly drowsy, sweet voice, she couldn’t help wondering what the girl looked like.

Still, curiosity aside, she resisted asking Zhu Yuandong or others for photos.

There’d be time to meet eventually.

“Awake?” After hanging up, Song Shi’an set her phone aside and turned to Yan Sheng.

Seeing her up so early for breakfast, Yan Sheng couldn’t help wondering how she wasn’t exhausted.

Weren’t omegas supposed to be more delicate than alphas? Why did it feel completely opposite with her and Song Shi’an?

Yan Sheng didn’t consider herself particularly fragile—she was petite but having grown up an orphan, she was far from spoiled.

Working multiple jobs had left her stronger and more energetic than many alphas.

Yet since meeting Song Shi’an, Yan Sheng began questioning if she truly was weak and delicate.

It wasn’t just about marking—Song Shi’an always took the lead. Taller and seemingly stronger, she consistently woke earlier even after nights ending in mutual exhaustion.

Approaching Song Shi’an, Yan Sheng asked, “Yeah, I’m up. How are you awake so early, jiejie?”

“I usually wake up quite early, as long as I’ve slept well.” Song Shi’an reached out and pulled her into an embrace. Yan Sheng naturally settled onto her lap, planting a shy kiss on her lips.

“Order your own breakfast,” Song Shi’an said lazily.

“Okay.” She had just finished washing up but hadn’t showered yet, only stepping out when she noticed Song Shi’an wasn’t in the room.

Song Shi’an inhaled lightly, the faint minty scent of pheromones striking her as rather pleasant.

Ever since she’d been marked by Yan Sheng’s pheromones, Song Shi’an felt she might not even need alpha perfume anymore.

Her gaze drifted to the red marks near the straps of Yan Sheng’s nightgown. Song Shi’an traced them with her fingertips and couldn’t help but chuckle.

Yan Sheng didn’t immediately understand her laughter—until she followed her gaze and flushed crimson.

No one would suspect Yan Sheng was an alpha; her appearance was far too deceptive.

By society’s stereotypes, she truly seemed like an omega.

“There are still plenty of people hanging around here today. Do you want to stay and play for another day, or head back straight to the hospital? You haven’t had your post-differentiation tests yet, so we don’t know your classification,” Song Shi’an asked for her input.

Yan Sheng hesitated slightly. “You’re not staying either?”

“It’s boring. I wouldn’t have come if Zhu Yuandong hadn’t insisted. I used to enjoy messing around with them, but now it just feels pointless,” Song Shi’an admitted frankly.

“Back when I had nothing better to do, I’d tag along, but it’s always the same cycle—thrilling in the moment, but hollow afterward. I’d rather go racing, bet on horses, bungee jump, or pick up something new and interesting.”

Of course, her mother had played a decisive role. During Song Shi’an’s wildest years, she’d truly lived extravagantly—even tossing money on the streets.

Eventually, her mother had enough and shipped her off for wilderness survival. She bought a deserted island, providing nothing beyond basic necessities.

A few instructors were stationed there to train her. After a month of that ordeal, Song Shi’an was practically feral.

From then on, she found such antics utterly meaningless.

Even now, the memory of that month filled her with dread.