I Turned Out to Be the Dead White Moonlight of the Canary - Chapter 33

Yan Wuyou’s bodyguard arrived quickly—a tall, imposing female alpha who expertly carried her boss away.

 

“Does Wuyou-jie often get drunk?” Yan Sheng asked curiously.

 

“Yeah, she has zero awareness of her alcohol tolerance,” Song Shi’an said disdainfully.

 

“But isn’t it dangerous to have an alpha bodyguard?” Yan Sheng asked, slightly confused.

 

Song Shi’an chuckled lightly. “It would be dangerous, but that bodyguard had her pheromone glands removed.”

 

“Ah?” Yan Sheng scratched her head. “That must have hurt.”

 

“It happened before she became a bodyguard—your Wuyou-jie didn’t do it,” Song Shi’an said as she maneuvered her wheelchair forward.

 

Yan Sheng helped push the wheelchair, though it was more accurate to say the wheelchair was leading her along.

 

Once in the car, Yan Sheng sat obediently beside Song Shi’an, her cheeks still flushed red.

 

Her reactions were sluggish, confirming to Song Shi’an that she was definitely drunk—just with a different reaction than most people.

 

As the driver headed home, Yan Sheng dozed off in the car.

 

Feeling her lean against her, Song Shi’an adjusted slightly to let her rest on her lap.

 

Yan Sheng slept deeply, not even waking when they arrived at the villa.

 

It took Song Shi’an calling her several times before she finally stirred groggily.

 

“Jiejie?” She looked even more disoriented.

 

Song Shi’an sighed—the alcohol’s aftereffects were strong, especially since Yan Sheng had drunk quite a bit.

 

“Yeah, we’re home. Get out.” The driver helped Song Shi’an with her wheelchair, and she watched as Yan Sheng stumbled out of the car, swaying unsteadily.

 

Song Shi’an rubbed her temples in exasperation and signaled the housekeeper to help her inside.

 

The housekeeper steadied Yan Sheng, who behaved obediently in her presence.

 

She followed without protest, though the housekeeper, seeing Song Shi’an head straight to her room, naturally brought Yan Sheng there as well.

 

After all, though Yan Sheng had her own room, she never used it—she always slept with Song Shi’an.

 

“Miss, should I bring some sobering soup for Yan Sheng?” the housekeeper asked, noticing how Yan Sheng was already dozing off again on the sofa.

 

Song Shi’an glanced at her. “Never mind. Let her sleep.”

 

With a wave, she dismissed the housekeeper.

 

Yan Sheng curled up on the sofa and fell back asleep while Song Shi’an fetched her clothes and prepared to shower.

 

Her foot had mostly healed, so she could manage on her own now—though she usually let Yan Sheng help out of laziness.

 

It was a bit of a struggle, but she managed to wash up alone.

 

When she emerged, she heard Yan Sheng murmuring something in her sleep.

 

Rolling closer in her wheelchair, Song Shi’an listened.

 

“Jiejie… don’t leave me.”

 

A sudden wave of pheromones hit Song Shi’an, stirring a faint unease.

 

Her gaze dropped to Yan Sheng’s face—flushed with an unnatural redness.

 

She reached out and touched her forehead—it was burning hot.

 

Hadn’t she just taken a shower an hour ago?

 

She was perfectly fine an hour earlier—how did she suddenly end up like this?

 

Unable to hold back, Song Shi’an massaged her temples and called the doctor she usually consulted.

 

She briefly explained Yan Sheng’s condition.

 

After a moment of thought, the doctor replied, “This situation might be alcohol-induced pheromone instability. Has her pheromone always been volatile?”

 

“I don’t know. Her physical exam during differentiation didn’t show anything unusual.”

 

“Right after differentiation, it’s hard to detect. Abnormal signs usually appear about three months later.”

 

“Is there any solution? Any medication to stabilize it?” Song Shi’an asked.

 

“There is medication, but the effects are limited. The best option is for her omega partner to soothe her with their pheromones. If that’s not possible, take her to the hospital.”

 

Song Shi’an sighed. “Alright, got it. Thanks.”

 

After hanging up, she tentatively released her own pheromones. Yan Sheng seemed to react to them, appearing slightly less distressed.

 

Song Shi’an wasn’t the most patient person, but seeing Yan Sheng in discomfort, she forced herself to stay by her side.

 

Yet, as the minty scent from the alpha enveloped her, Song Shi’an could feel her own body growing restless.

 

Looking at the woman lying on the sofa, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of irritation.

 

Her usually cool eyes darkened with desire. Taking a deep breath, she pinched Yan Sheng’s cheek. “You really know how to cause trouble.”

 

Leaning close, Song Shi’an studied Yan Sheng’s flushed face before bending down to nip at her lips.

 

“Sis…” Yan Sheng’s eyes fluttered open hazily, her gaze unfocused as she looked at Song Shi’an.

 

Her expression held a tenderness Song Shi’an had never seen before. Unconsciously, Yan Sheng reached up to caress her face.

 

But then, tears welled up in her eyes.

 

“Don’t die, sis.”

 

She suddenly sat up and clung tightly to Song Shi’an.

 

“Don’t leave me alone. You’re all I have—please don’t die.”

 

“Sweetheart, don’t say such things. I’m not going anywhere,” Song Shi’an murmured, gently patting her back, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

 

“Don’t jump… Everything will be okay. Don’t abandon me. I’m scared.” Yan Sheng only grew more distraught.

 

It dawned on Song Shi’an that the “sis” she was referring to might not be her.

 

As the girl in her arms continued to sob, Song Shi’an’s gaze gradually turned icy.

 

“Was she someone very important to you?” she asked gently.

 

Yan Sheng nodded weakly. “Sis… was everything.”

 

“Is she dead?” Song Shi’an probed further.

 

“I don’t know… I don’t know. I couldn’t find her.” The memories of those helpless days resurfaced.

 

Song Shi’an had leaped from that abandoned building. Yan Sheng had watched her die—yet there was no trace of her soul. Unlike herself, who lingered in this world after death, her sister had simply vanished.

 

For years, she had searched everywhere, but there was no sign of her.

 

“Did you love her?” Yan Sheng was an orphan—that much was certain. Song Shi’an had checked. She had been in an orphanage since she was less than a year old.

 

So the “sister” she mentioned couldn’t be her biological sister.

 

“I love sister, I do, but I haven’t told her yet.” Yansheng cried pitifully.

 

Song Shi’an pressed her lips together, never expecting the little canary in her arms to have a deceased white moonlight.

 

“Do I resemble your sister?” Song Shi’an pinched Yansheng’s chin, asking somewhat irritably.

 

Yansheng looked at her with tearful eyes: “You are sister…”

 

Still intoxicated, her gaze at Song Shi’an remained filled with lingering affection.

 

Tormented by pheromones, Yansheng’s consciousness blurred again, her mind muddled as she instinctively sought closeness to Song Shi’an: “Sister… it hurts…”

 

Song Shi’an chuckled lightly, her fingertips tracing Yansheng’s chin: “Hurting?”

 

“Then help yourself, be good.”

 

Song Shi’an wasn’t sure how to describe her current emotions.

 

She thought she’d adopted a canary, only to find the canary was using her as a substitute.

 

Yansheng looked at her, face full of grievance and discomfort.

 

“Sister~”

 

Hearing her tearful voice, Song Shi’an felt frustrated with her own body’s weakness.

 

But who was Song Shi’an? From her differentiation until meeting Yansheng, she’d endured every heat cycle alone.

 

Endurance was nothing but routine for her.

 

“Be good, go take a bath first.” Song Shi’an rarely spoke with such patience.

 

Always obedient, Yansheng could only force herself up from the couch and dutifully head to the bathroom.

 

Song Shi’an restrained her pheromones, even applying suppressant patches.

 

After rummaging through the room to find some toys, she wheeled herself to the bathroom again.

 

The moment the bathroom door opened, the pungent scent of mint assaulted Song Shi’an’s senses.

 

Even with suppressants, the glands at the back of her neck burned faintly, leaving her mouth parched.

 

The delicate alpha sat soaking in the tub, scrubbing her skin harshly.

 

Seeing Yansheng’s reddened legs and arms, Song Shi’an frowned: “Why so rough?”

 

Meeting her gaze, Yansheng bit her lip: “Sister doesn’t like…”

 

The thought that she might show this expression to others filled Song Shi’an with indescribable irritation.

 

She admitted to always having strong possessive tendencies, disliking sharing.

 

Otherwise, the maintenance contract wouldn’t have so many restrictions.

 

Leaning closer, Song Shi’an pinched Yansheng’s chin, her expression complicated.

 

Technically, Yansheng hadn’t violated any contract terms.

 

Yet Song Shi’an felt inexplicably displeased.

 

She activated the tub’s water replacement system, watching as the soapy water drained and clear water slowly submerged Yansheng’s body.

 

Song Shi’an observed the entire process quietly.

 

Then she leisurely opened the box she’d brought.

 

“Does it hurt, sweetheart?” Long past rationality, Yansheng nodded weakly at Song Shi’an’s question.

 

The pampered alpha seemed on the verge of tears.

 

Song Shi’an chuckled softly: “Make sister happy, and sister will help you, okay?”

 

With reddened eyes, Yansheng nodded as if agreeing to anything Song Shi’an said.

 

“Here, pick one yourself.”

 

She opened the box, turning it to show Yansheng.

 

Yan Sheng stared at those unfamiliar objects as her chaotic pheromones surged once more, her body feeling like it was burning up.

 

Without the soothing presence of omega pheromones, her own scent seemed to take on an aggressive edge.

 

Even through the suppressant patch, Song Shi’an could sense it.

 

A cold glint flashed in her eyes—she despised alphas who tried to dominate her.

 

Song Shi’an bent down, her fingertips skimming the water’s surface like ripe berries.

 

“Feeling this miserable?” She teased with a featherlight kiss on Yan Sheng’s forehead.

 

“Please, sister…” Yan Sheng’s voice trembled with tears, her distress genuine as she wept.

 

She couldn’t help clinging to Song Shi’an, nuzzling desperately against her neck, begging for even a trace of comforting pheromones.

 

But Song Shi’an gently pushed her away: “Control your scent, be good, or I’ll leave.”

 

Her aristocratic temper flared, leaving no room for gentleness with Yan Sheng.

 

Yan Sheng gripped her hand tightly: “Sister, don’t abandon me.”

 

Watching fresh tears fall, Song Shi’an sighed softly and kissed her eyelids.

 

Ultimately, she grudgingly suppressed her irritation and let Yan Sheng choose for herself.