I Turned Out to Be the Dead White Moonlight of the Canary - Chapter 17

After finishing the stinky rice noodles, Song Shi’an said she wanted to wash her hair and took Yan Sheng along with her.

After washing their hair, the two returned home.

Once home, Song Shi’an couldn’t stand the lingering smell of the noodles on her and immediately went to take a shower, discarding the clothes that had absorbed the odor.

Yan Sheng finished freshening up and returned to the living room, only to find Song Shi’an wasn’t there.

Feeling a bit dejected, she sat on the sofa and played with her phone.

Wen Lan and her future team leader had already added her to the company and department group chats.

Yan Sheng casually exchanged a few words with everyone.

Then, as Wen Lan had instructed, she began watching some of the videos the company had produced.

She kept the volume very low, careful not to disturb Song Shi’an.

When Song Shi’an emerged in her pajamas, she saw Yan Sheng sitting on the sofa, intently watching short videos.

“Short videos have this kind of production quality?” Song Shi’an glanced over. She couldn’t follow the plot, but the costumes and sets were immediately noticeable.

Yan Sheng was momentarily speechless. “Sis, these were filmed by Heming. The manager asked me to study them carefully.”

Song Shi’an looked at her in surprise. “You’re actually planning to take work seriously?”

Who in their right mind would willingly slave away like this?

Yan Sheng scratched her head. But if she didn’t work, what else would she do?

Song Shi’an hesitated, then waved her hand dismissively. “Fine, go ahead and watch. I’m going to play some games.”

She headed toward the gaming room, and after a moment’s thought, Yan Sheng obediently followed.

Seeing her trail behind, Song Shi’an asked, “Not watching anymore?”

Yan Sheng shook her head. “I want to play with you.”

Song Shi’an chuckled. “But you’re not very good, are you?”

“I can learn,” Yan Sheng murmured.

With a smile, Song Shi’an booted up another computer for her and handed her a controller.

“Pick whatever you want to play. I’ve got people waiting for me.” Song Shi’an smoothly activated voice chat and launched her game.

The game she was playing today was different from the last one.

Yan Sheng wasn’t sure which one to choose.

“If you’re serious about playing, I wouldn’t recommend this one. It’s high-skill and not beginner-friendly,” Song Shi’an said, already logging into her game.

It seemed to be a mecha game, and Song Shi’an’s character was a strikingly domineering woman.

Yan Sheng studied it and thought it bore some resemblance to Song Shi’an herself.

Song Shi’an put on her VR headset and dove straight into the game.

Listening to her chat with teammates, Yan Sheng didn’t dare interrupt. Instead, she browsed through the games on the computer and eventually settled on the wuxia-style game Song Shi’an had played the other day.

The game was called Seeking Heroes. Yan Sheng spent a long time on the character creation screen, tweaking her avatar’s appearance for nearly an hour.

She didn’t enable VR mode, afraid she wouldn’t adjust well, and decided to explore the game first.

Once she finally entered the game, the controls proved challenging at first.

Fortunately, as an alpha, her learning ability was decent. After an hour, she had mostly adapted to the mechanics.

But her progress was slow—she preferred taking her time to explore and savor the story.

The characters in the game were genuinely interesting.

Beside her, Song Shi’an alternated between frustration and cursing at her teammates.

Her temper seemed notably short when gaming.

Shijiu said from the side, “Xiao Yansheng, you really shouldn’t like her anymore. A girl like that might be domestically violent. Even though you’re an alpha, compared to her, you’re really weak.”

Yansheng: “……”

“Big sister wouldn’t do that.”

“Having a bad temper while gaming doesn’t equal domestic violence. You’re twisting the logic—can’t people get frustrated when teammates drag them down?”

“Hopelessly love-struck,” Shijiu said with exasperation.

Yansheng always felt that Shijiu was trying very hard to drive a wedge between her and her sister.

Though she didn’t know why, she disliked Shijiu constantly speaking ill of Song Shi’an.

“Shijiu, don’t badmouth big sister anymore. I don’t like hearing it,” Yansheng said seriously.

Shijiu fell silent, giving her a look that said she was beyond saving.

After playing for three hours, Song Shi’an took off her helmet and saw Yansheng still sitting beside her, earnestly watching the game’s storyline.

For some reason, she found it oddly endearing.

“You’re really watching the story so seriously?” Song Shi’an asked with a laugh.

Yansheng turned her head, her eyes still slightly red. Song Shi’an noticed the tissues nearby.

Unable to resist, she lifted Yansheng’s chin with her fingertip. “Did you really cry over this?”

“You said the story was good, so I wanted to watch it, but so many of the side quests are heartbreaking,” Yansheng said, her voice thick with emotion.

Song Shi’an leaned in and kissed her lightly. “Alright, then let’s stop for now.”

She pulled Yansheng into her arms. “I’ll be away for a month starting tomorrow. You can stay in this apartment as you like—I don’t come here often, so do whatever you want with it.”

“But remember, around the 16th of each month is my heat cycle. I might come by or call you to another location, so keep that time free.”

“See? She’s just using you as a tool. She doesn’t love you at all.”

Yansheng ignored the voice. Song Shi’an had no reason to love her in the first place.

From the very beginning, it was clear—they were just lovers.

“Okay, I will,” Yansheng said, leaning in to kiss Song Shi’an.

This time, it really was just a brief, light kiss before they parted.

Song Shi’an still had to pack.

“Big sister, do you need any help?” Yansheng asked softly.

Song Shi’an wasn’t particularly good at packing—she usually just threw things together haphazardly, then ordered whatever else she needed to be delivered to her hotel, leaving most of it behind unless it was something rare.

“I used to work part-time as an organizer,” Yansheng offered carefully, afraid of upsetting her.

She knew it might be intrusive, but she just wanted to spend a little more time with Song Shi’an. The thought of not seeing her for a month made Yansheng reluctant to part.

Though Shijiu couldn’t understand her reluctance at all—they’d only been together for a few days!

Could she really have fallen in love just from sleeping together?

Yansheng didn’t want to explain. She still didn’t fully trust Shijiu, so she hadn’t mentioned that she’d met Song Shi’an in her past life.

Song Shi’an looked at her curiously. “How come you’ve done so many part-time jobs?”

“I thought orphans had plenty of welfare benefits? It shouldn’t be that hard, right?” Song Shi’an remembered Yansheng had excellent grades, often receiving high-value scholarships.

And she’d also had student loans back then.

Yan Sheng said sheepishly, “Because I wanted to participate in some school activities before, but those all required spending my own money, so I had to take on some part-time jobs to earn extra income. It wasn’t too tiring—they were all pretty flexible jobs.”

“And doing more part-time work can broaden my experience. Sometimes when I’m writing scripts or novels, it gives me more inspiration. The more I understand, the smoother my writing becomes.”

“Oh, so you’re quite a quick learner.” Song Shi’an rarely thought highly of anyone, but Yan Sheng constantly surprised him with new revelations about herself.

“Not really, I had people teaching me.” Yan Sheng found these things quite simple.

Song Shi’an suddenly asked her, “Aren’t you tired?”

Yan Sheng paused, her eyes briefly clouded with confusion. “I don’t really feel it—I’m just used to it.”

She had been doing odd jobs since middle school. Although the orphanage provided some subsidies, it wasn’t much. Many books she wanted were unaffordable, so she had to find ways to earn money to buy them herself.

Plus, having money in hand gave her a sense of security.

During her first semester at university, she couldn’t afford to join in her roommates’ activities, leaving her feeling isolated.

Yan Sheng disliked this loneliness but didn’t want to force her way in and make things awkward for them.

Later, with her part-time earnings and scholarships, she could finally engage in normal social interactions without hesitation.

Song Shi’an didn’t press further after hearing her response. Instead, he led her into his room and opened his suitcase.

He pulled out the things he needed and asked Yan Sheng if they would fit.

“I only want to bring one suitcase. If it doesn’t fit, then forget it—I’ll just pick and choose what to leave behind.”

Yan Sheng glanced at the items: mostly skiing gear and a gaming console, with hardly any clothes.

“Clothes aren’t necessary. I already had someone deliver them to the hotel in advance.”

Yan Sheng tried organizing everything for him, and it all fit perfectly.

Song Shi’an suddenly felt that keeping Yan Sheng around was indeed worthwhile. If he had to pack these things himself, they’d never fit—he’d usually have to either leave some behind or bring an extra suitcase and check it in.

He casually praised Yan Sheng a couple more times before unceremoniously shooing her back to her own room.

The next morning, when Yan Sheng woke up, Song Shi’an was already ready to leave.

Watching him walk out the door, Yan Sheng felt an inexplicable emptiness inside. The spacious house suddenly seemed overwhelmingly vast.

She didn’t quite understand why. In her past life, she couldn’t even get close to Song Shi’an.

But back then, her sister would take the initiative to care for her.