I Turned Out to Be the Dead White Moonlight of the Canary - Chapter 21

After breakfast, Yan Sheng remained at the house. Although Song Shi’an hadn’t developed a fever today, she had already asked the housekeeper to prepare plenty of ready-to-heat meals in the refrigerator.

Bored, Song Shi’an had Yan Sheng take her to the game room to play video games.

On the way, Yan Sheng noticed a music room next door, equipped with a piano and various other instruments.

“Does sister play piano too?” Yan Sheng asked casually.

“Just a little, not very skilled.”

Tsk, ‘not very skilled’ enough to compete in international professional competitions.

“Haven’t practiced in a long time. Feel free to play if you want,” Song Shi’an said offhandedly.

Yan Sheng shook her head: “I don’t know how.”

“Oh.” Song Shi’an didn’t press further or show any surprise.

Although Yan Sheng had decent academic performance, she truly knew little about the arts.

During university, she’d occasionally encounter classmates who’d exclaim in surprise: “You don’t know how to do this?”

Their questions were innocent, but Yan Sheng couldn’t help feeling the gap between herself and others.

In college, Yan Sheng joined a club and learned some basic drawing. The senior teaching her said she had some talent for it.

But other than that, she really couldn’t pick up any other artistic skills.

Early in her university days, Yan Sheng would feel insecure when people expressed surprise at her lack of certain skills.

Later, she realized there were many things she could do that others couldn’t, and that perspective brought her peace.

Song Shi’an’s simple acknowledgment—just accepting the information without further comment—might seem cold to others, but Yan Sheng found it perfectly comfortable.

No need for explanations, just mutual understanding. It felt effortless.

Entering the game room, Yan Sheng carried Song Shi’an to the sofa, watching as she selected an action game.

Yan Sheng sat beside her, keeping her company despite having no skill for such games herself.

The story-rich game Song Shi’an had recommended earlier was something Yan Sheng occasionally played after work. It wasn’t easy to pick up—she’d only reached max level two days prior.

With max level achieved, she found herself bored and returned to earlier quests, revisiting the plot.

Playing through the story was a nice way to unwind during breaks from scriptwriting, though some arcs were so heartbreaking she’d cried while playing.

She hadn’t finished all the storylines yet, but building houses, farming, and fishing in-game had become her main enjoyment.

Now, watching Song Shi’an play this action game, Yan Sheng felt little interest—nor did she have the skill for it.

“If you’re not into it, you can do something else. Just focus on your own stuff,” Song Shi’an said, finding it odd having Yan Sheng simply watch her play.

Yan Sheng scratched her head, unsure what to do.

Song Shi’an gestured to a nearby laptop. “Feel free to use that, or you can go watch something in the home theater next door. The study upstairs has books too—help yourself.”

Though not an avid reader herself, the villa housed an extensive collection, mostly her mother’s. Some overflow volumes had ended up stored here.

The main issue was that there were already two studies at home. Opening up another one seemed excessive even to her mother, so some of the read books ended up in Song Shi’an’s place, under the pretense of “helping Shi’an cultivate her mind through reading.”

But Song Shi’an genuinely wasn’t interested—they just gathered dust.

Yan Sheng shook her head. “I’ll just use the laptop.”

She didn’t want to go next door. Right now, she just wanted to stay with Song Shi’an, even if they were each doing their own thing—at least they’d be in the same space.

Song Shi’an didn’t mind.

Yan Sheng logged into her account on the laptop and synced the script from the cloud, preparing to revise the first draft she had completed earlier.

Zhao Tingran had taken part of the script to negotiate with the director, but the rest still needed to be finished.

After finishing a round of gaming, Song Shi’an noticed Yan Sheng working and suddenly asked with genuine curiosity, “You actually enjoy being a workhorse?”

Yan Sheng didn’t catch the meaning at first, then blushed awkwardly and shook her head.

“I just think it’s better to finish things early.” She wasn’t one to procrastinate.

Besides, it was just revising what she had already written.

“I told Zhao Tingran that short dramas should chase trends, but she wouldn’t listen. She wants to turn Hemeng into a full-fledged production company, believing short dramas can have intricate plots. But intricate plots mean higher production costs and longer cycles.” Song Shi’an’s perspective on this differed from Zhao Tingran’s.

Yan Sheng listened attentively to Song Shi’an’s complaints.

Noticing how seriously Yan Sheng was taking it, Song Shi’an couldn’t resist poking her forehead. “Why are you listening so intently? I was just venting. Besides, I don’t even manage the company. As long as Zhao Tingran doesn’t run it into the ground, she can do whatever she wants.”

“Who knows? She might actually succeed,” Song Shi’an added lazily.

Yan Sheng’s lips curled slightly. “You’re right, Sister. Though Manager Zhao’s idea isn’t bad, you’re not wrong either—it’s just two different directions.”

“Quite the diplomat, aren’t you?” Song Shi’an rarely smiled at her so easily.

“Are you bored?” Song Shi’an asked offhandedly.

Yan Sheng shook her head softly and murmured, “Just being with you is enough. I’m not bored.”

Song Shi’an felt something odd in her words—as if she was being accused of neglecting her—but she couldn’t pinpoint any evidence.

“Any games you’d like to try?” Song Shi’an asked casually.

Yan Sheng seemed lost. She didn’t think she had any particular preferences.

“What do you usually do at home, then?” Song Shi’an couldn’t imagine it. Most people she knew spent their free time watching shows or gaming.

Even if not both, at least one. Even her mother played games after work.

Yan Sheng scratched her head. “Because of the student loans, even with scholarships, I still had to earn my living expenses. Sometimes I’d go out to eat or shop with friends. If not, I’d be working part-time. Otherwise, I’d just read.”

After hearing that, Song Shi’an could only think: What a dull life.

After some deliberation, she picked out a game Yan Sheng might like—a city-building game featuring historical figures.

You could learn their stories or even romance them.

But the focus was mostly on the city-building aspect.

Of course, because it can be played as a strategy game, many history enthusiasts have criticized it.

Song Shian didn’t care; she didn’t have a strong sense of morality.

Besides, for another group of history enthusiasts, who wouldn’t want to have some interaction with their favorite historical figures? Even if it’s just in a game.

After listening to Song Shian’s introduction, Yan Sheng found it quite interesting.

This game also has a multiplayer mode where you can build houses together.

At first, Yan Sheng struggled with the controls, and the two of them were playing in a flurry.

Song Shian, rarely in a good mood, patiently taught her step by step. Watching Yan Sheng’s clumsy movements, she found it quite amusing.

If her other gaming teammates found out, they would definitely criticize her for being double-standard, since when Song Shian played games with others, they were usually considered noobs and would be scolded mercilessly.

In the past, Song Shian wasn’t interested in this type of game; only Zhu Yuandong liked to play construction games.

After playing for an hour, Yan Sheng got up to go to the bathroom and even asked Song Shian if she needed to go.

Due to the awkward situation in the morning, Song Shian had restrained herself from drinking too much water, so she was fine at the moment.

While Yan Sheng was in the bathroom, Song Shian suddenly seemed to remember something.

She took out her phone and sent a message in the small group chat with Zhu Yuandong and Yan Wuyou, both of whom were present.

Song Shian: Do lovers also need companionship?

She had never raised one before; previously, she thought having a lover was more convenient since it didn’t require her to pamper them.

Zhu Yuandong sent a string of ellipses, and Yan Wuyou sent a speechless emoji.

Zhu Yuandong: So if you don’t want your lover to accompany you, why are you keeping one? Just to admire it?

Song Shian: After the heat period, plus just to admire it.

Yan Wuyou sent another speechless emoji.

Song Shian’s reason for keeping a lover was indeed unique.

Yan Wuyou: Is it possible that you don’t actually need a lover, but just a long-term and stable bed partner who looks good?

Song Shian thought that made sense.