I Turned Out to Be the Dead White Moonlight of the Canary - Chapter 27

Yan Wuyou was quite serious about teaching Yan Sheng how to play billiards. From time to time, Yan Sheng would feel a bit embarrassed, afraid she was being too slow.

 

Meanwhile, Song Shi’an and Cheng Yuncheng were chatting, while Zhu Yuandong and Gu Qinghe were still playing games together. The two were teamed up in a survival game and seemed to get along surprisingly well—it didn’t look at all like they had just met that day.

 

Yan Sheng occasionally glanced at Song Shi’an, who seemed to be enjoying her conversation with Cheng Yuncheng. She wondered what they were talking about.

 

“I’m planning to start an investment company. Shi’an, Qinghe, would you be interested?” As the conversation went on, Jiang Qingtang suddenly asked Cheng Yuncheng why she had returned.

 

Cheng Yuncheng briefly explained her plans and thoughts.

 

“The domestic market has been developing rapidly these past few years. I wanted to come back and explore opportunities.” She didn’t hide anything from them and even tried to recruit them.

 

Song Shi’an chuckled. “I don’t know the first thing about that.”

 

Jiang Qingtang also shook her head. “How could I compare to you?”

 

“You don’t need to invest, Qingtang,” Cheng Yuncheng said with a smile as she refilled her tea.

 

“Honestly, I just trust your judgment. I could really use some help—recruiting the right people isn’t easy.”

 

Song Shi’an laughed lightly. “So you’re here to exploit your friends?”

 

“Why not ask Yuandong or Wuyou?”

 

Cheng Yuncheng shook her head. “Yuandong and Wuyou aren’t really interested in this kind of thing. Their passions lie elsewhere—Yuandong loves design, and Wuyou only cares about painting. I wouldn’t want to force them. But you’re different, Shi’an. I know the two companies you’ve invested in have done well.”

 

Investment does involve some degree of gambling, and while Song Shi’an might not be skilled in management, she had a sharp eye—something evident from the stocks she had chosen.

 

Host, host! Cheng Yuncheng is trying to rope your sister into starting an investment company. Shouldn’t you stop her? In the past, this was exactly where Song Shi’an stumbled—it even dragged the entire Song family down.

 

Yan Sheng suddenly grew curious. Why are you suddenly supporting me being with Song Shi’an? Weren’t you vehemently against it just a couple of days ago?

 

Shijiu coughed lightly before muttering, [What else can I do? My daughter’s a hopeless romantic—how can I stop her?]

 

Yan Sheng: “…”

 

Being treated like a doll in some bizarre raising game was… weird.

 

But I don’t know how to stop them. They’ve known each other since childhood, and their families have been close for generations. Would Cheng Yuncheng really be so cruel as to ruin the Song family? Yan Sheng studied Cheng Yuncheng and found it hard to believe she could be that malicious.

 

Shijiu pulled out some sunflower seeds again. Cheng Yuncheng? She’s not exactly evil, but she’s ruthless in business. In the past, she did it because Song Shi’an hurt you.

 

Yan Sheng was speechless once more. Thanks, but no thanks—she really didn’t think she had the charm to make some domineering CEO destroy her childhood friends Song Shi’an and Zhu Yuandong over her.

 

Besides, the plot Shijiu had shown her didn’t always match what Shijiu said, which was strange.

 

Because of this, Yan Sheng didn’t fully trust Shijiu.

 

Meanwhile, Song Shi’an and Cheng Yuncheng continued discussing the investment company.

 

Before long, the housekeeper came to inform them that dinner was ready.

 

Gu Qinghe took off her headphones and stretched: “I thought I was bad at this. When I used to play with Shi’an, she’d always scold me. Never thought you’d be worse than me.”

 

Zhu Yuandong rubbed his nose: “But I can supply you with resources. Isn’t that enough?”

 

“Well, that’s true. Not completely useless.”

 

The two of them seemed to be having quite a bit of fun.

 

Cheng Yuncheng thoughtfully pushed Song Shi’an’s wheelchair. Yan Sheng, who had arrived with Yan Wuyou, watched the two chatting and laughing but couldn’t find a way to join in.

 

The atmosphere at the dining table was pleasant too. Gu Qinghe, ever the social butterfly, struck up conversations with Yan Wuyou and Jiang Qingtang.

 

She seemed to know a little about everything—not an expert, but well-informed.

 

After lunch, the others gradually left.

 

Cheng Yuncheng asked for everyone’s contact details, so they all exchanged numbers.

 

Gu Qinghe even created a group chat on the spot: “We should hang out sometime. My mom’s making me stay put in Cangnan City from now on.”

 

She sighed after saying this.

 

“Sure, let’s meet up when we have time,” Zhu Yuandong replied, always up for some fun.

 

Before leaving, Yan Wuyou waved at Yan Sheng: “Next time you need an illustrator, hit me up. I’m usually free, and if I can’t do it, I can recommend someone.”

 

Yan Sheng nodded: “Okay, thanks, Wuyou-jie.”

 

“No need to be so polite,” Yan Wuyou said, playfully pinching her cheek.

 

Song Shi’an glanced between the two. When did they get so close?

 

Once everyone had left, Yan Sheng pushed Song Shi’an back to the living room: “Jiejie, do you want to take a nap?”

 

Song Shi’an yawned lazily: “Sure.”

 

Yan Sheng then wheeled her back to the bedroom.

 

Once inside, Yan Sheng handed the gift from Gu Qinghe to Song Shi’an: “Jiejie, maybe you should keep this. I’m not that close with Qinghe-jiejie, and it feels too expensive to accept.”

 

Song Shi’an chuckled: “Don’t you like Qinghe?”

 

Yan Sheng shook her head in confusion: “No, that’s not it.”

 

“What do you think of her?”

 

Yan Sheng pondered seriously: “She’s nice.”

 

“Compared to Wuyou?”

 

Yan Sheng smiled shyly: “I feel more at ease with Wuyou-jie.”

 

Aside from her lingering reservations about Gu Qinghe, Yan Sheng also struggled with Gu Qinghe’s outgoing and assertive nature.

 

Though Gu Qinghe appeared gentle, she was too extroverted and forward, which often left Yan Sheng feeling awkward.

 

But Yan Wuyou was different—she knew how to keep her distance.

 

Song Shi’an nodded without comment, simply patting the space beside her.

 

“Wait a moment, jiejie, I haven’t changed yet.” Since they had guests over, Yan Sheng and Song Shi’an had dressed up, though they hadn’t put on makeup.

 

She had helped Song Shi’an change earlier but hadn’t gotten around to changing herself.

 

Song Shi’an gave a faint hum in response.

 

After changing and washing her face, Yan Sheng returned to bed.

 

Song Shi’an ran her fingers along Yan Sheng’s chin and handed the gift back to her: “She gave it to you, so keep it. It’s nothing extravagant—just an ordinary item for her.”

 

“Okay, I’ll listen to jiejie.”

 

Song Shi’an turned to look at her obedient expression. She had thought Yan Sheng was only like this around her, but it seemed she was this well-behaved with everyone.

 

“Little Yan Sheng is quite popular, huh,” Song Shi’an suddenly remarked.

 

Is she jealous? Shijiu watched from the sidelines, enjoying the drama.

 

Now you know how good our Yan Sheng is, right?

 

Yan Sheng suddenly grew flustered: “Sister, I…”

 

“You don’t act like an alpha at all—you’re as popular as most omegas,” Song Shi’an remarked with a hint of coolness in her tone.

 

Yan Sheng reached out and hugged her: “Sister…”

 

Her voice trembled slightly: “Do you… dislike it?”

 

Could it be that Song Shi’an still preferred alphas like Cheng Yuncheng?

 

But she could never be like that.

 

Seeing her nervous expression, Song Shi’an reached out and scratched her chin gently. “There, there. Why would I dislike you?”

 

She hadn’t meant anything serious—just a casual remark—but this girl looked like she was about to cry.

 

Song Shi’an softened. “Alright, let’s sleep.”

 

With that, she lay down.

 

Yan Sheng obediently followed, but couldn’t help asking Shijiu in her mind: Do you think Sister was just brushing me off?

 

Shijiu, who could only hear their conversation, mused: Seems like it. Maybe not outright dislike, but she definitely wasn’t being completely honest. That’s my guess based on years of experience.

 

I don’t believe you. Yan Sheng pouted.

 

Shijiu: “……”

 

Then why did you even ask?!

 

Yan Sheng closed her eyes, cautiously inching closer to Song Shi’an before wrapping her arms around her.

 

Song Shi’an felt her movement but didn’t resist, letting her cling.

 

Yan Sheng slept soundly through the afternoon nap, not waking until past three.

 

When she opened her eyes, she found Song Shi’an already awake, sitting up and scrolling through her phone.

 

Still groggy, Yan Sheng let out a soft whimper.

 

Song Shi’an glanced down at her—she looked like a kitten just roused from sleep.

 

“Awake?” Song Shi’an rested a hand on her head, and Yan Sheng instinctively nuzzled into it.

 

“Why did Sister wake up so early?”

 

“You’re the one who overslept. It’s already four in the afternoon,” Song Shi’an chuckled.

 

Yan Sheng sat up sheepishly, her sleep dress slipping slightly to reveal one shoulder.

 

Song Shi’an’s gaze lingered on the marks there, a flicker of discomfort mingling with a quiet sense of satisfaction.

 

In the days that followed, Song Shi’an rarely went out, spending most of her time gaming or watching movies at home.

 

Gu Qinghe and Cheng Yuncheng visited occasionally. Though Jiang Qingtang lived in the same neighborhood, she was too busy to drop by often.

 

As for Zhu Yuandong and Yan Wuyou, they also visited infrequently. Rumor had it Zhu Yuandong had recently been sent by her mother to train under her non-bl00d-related older sister.

 

Yan Wuyou came slightly more often—about once a week—but mostly stayed home painting.

 

Yan Sheng, however, had grown quite close to Yan Wuyou.

 

Yan Wuyou found Yan Sheng aesthetically inspiring and often sought her opinions on her artwork.

 

Though Yan Sheng had no formal training in painting, some things truly came down to natural talent.

 

Whenever Yan Wuyou visited, she and Yan Sheng would spend hours discussing art and literature, leaving Song Shi’an to either listen in or occupy herself with games.

 

Yan Wuyou even enlisted Yan Sheng as her love advisor, confessing she was pursuing an elusive artist and constantly asking for advice.

 

The irony was that Yan Sheng herself was passive in relationships—she didn’t even know how to take the initiative with Song Shi’an.

 

The intimacy between her and Song Shi’an seemed to exist only in bed.

 

Yan Sheng was also troubled by this.

 

Fortunately, Yan Wuyou never asked what exactly her relationship with Song Shi’an was.

 

After all, Yan Wuyou probably understood Song Shi’an’s attitude toward her better than Yan Sheng herself did.

 

Half a month later, Song Shi’an slowly began his rehabilitation, while Yan Sheng continued working from home.

 

She seemed to have grown accustomed to their way of interacting.

 

When Song Shi’an played games with others or when Cheng Yuncheng and Gu Qinghe visited, Yan Sheng would retreat to write scripts—out of sight, out of mind. Otherwise, seeing Song Shi’an chatting happily with them would make her overthink uncontrollably.

 

Yan Sheng and Cheng Yuncheng remained merely acquaintances.

 

It wasn’t that Cheng Yuncheng looked down on her; they simply had nothing to talk about. Cheng Yuncheng had little interest in screenwriting, literature, or even painting.

 

And Yan Sheng couldn’t discuss investments, projects, or stocks with her either.

 

When no one else was around, Song Shi’an would occasionally play construction or exploration games with Yan Sheng. Their interactions weren’t particularly intimate, but they weren’t cold either.

 

Due to Song Shi’an’s injury, their nights rarely involved intense activity after his fever subsided.

 

Sometimes, Yan Sheng felt that apart from their time in bed, she and Song Shi’an were more like ordinary friends.

 

No, I think she treats you like a pet—playing with you when she’s in the mood, but mostly just keeping you alive.

 

Yan Sheng: “……”

 

She didn’t want to admit it, but Shijiu’s words made a lot of sense.