I Am the White Moonlight that the Former Movie Queen Secretly Loves - Chapter 15

The rest of the day passed without running into Meng Jiang, leaving Qi Sijia’s question temporarily shelved.

Returning home in the evening, with no writing to do, Qi Sijia found herself with more free time than usual.

First, she cleaned Big Orange’s cat cage, filled the multi-functional cat bowl with warm water and kibble, and then headed to the kitchen to cook for herself.

Her phone was left outside to charge.

During this time, Qin Xiaofang called to remind Qi Sijia not to forget to check in under her serialized novel.

The reason was that Huangjiang Literature Network had recently rolled out a new feature—a reader-driven update reminder system. If the top-ranked reader’s “deep-water” reminders (a high-value tipping system) reached 5,000, the author would be required to respond promptly, even if they had posted a hiatus notice on the novel’s homepage.

Frankly, Qi Sijia disliked this feature. For one, it indirectly encouraged readers to throw money at authors. For another, she hadn’t updated. Receiving so many deep-water reminders made her feel undeserving.

But the website’s priority was maximizing profits, and the rule was mandatory. Qin Xiaofang had no say in the matter, and neither did Qi Sijia. She reluctantly agreed to comply.

After finishing the call—perhaps hearing the sizzle of hot oil in the pan—Qin Xiaofang asked, “It’s so late. Why haven’t you eaten yet?”

“It’s so late,” Qi Sijia replied. “Why aren’t you at Les Bar hooking up for a one-night stand?”

“Hahahaha, we really are sisters. Bored out of our minds at night, huh?” Qin Xiaofang laughed before adding, “Anyway, since you’re not writing tonight and won’t be able to sleep early, I’ll call you later for a gaming session with some old classmates.”

Qi Sijia was busy cooking—sea bass sizzling in the pan, scallions turning golden in the oil—and didn’t quite catch that Qin Xiaofang wanted to play games with their former classmates.

She absentmindedly agreed.

Waiting for the fish to crisp on both sides, she caramelized rock sugar until it bubbled, added seasonings, poured in warm water to submerge the fish, and tossed in enoki mushrooms, tofu skin, frozen tofu, and other side dishes.

After covering the pot and reducing the heat to simmer, Qi Sijia finally had a free moment to pick up her phone.

She logged into Huangjiang Literature Network.

A reminder from “Rich Flower” had already been sent to her author dashboard.

Rich Flower: When’s the update?

Qi Sijia glanced at the tipping amount from Rich Flower, then doubled the deep-water tips for Ji Liu’s account in the backend.

She directly refunded Rich Flower’s recent reminders and tips via a red packet.

Next month, maybe. Dropping a red packet to lure readers out.

A few seconds later, Rich Flower uncharacteristically replied with a ?

Qi Sijia had seen people with money to spare, but never someone like Rich Flower, who casually threw it around. Before Huangjiang’s aggressive reminder system, Rich Flower had only tipped a thousand at most. But in the past two days, the spending had multiplied.

Qi Sijia couldn’t in good conscience accept so much from a reader. Her online persona was more expressive: Sweetie, remember not to tip me next time. If I see this many deep-water tips again, I’ll just return them.

Rich Flower: ?

Rich Flower was stubborn. Qi Sijia had told her many times that love was enough—no need for money.

But Rich Flower seemed to take endless pleasure in spending on her.

To preempt any refusal, Qi Sijia sent a cat sticker: Off to game. Goodnight.

Meng Jiang stared at that cheerful “goodnight,” silent for a moment before curling her lips and replying: Goodnight.

Qi Sijia exited the app but then reopened it, still uneasy. She emphasized: Love is in the heart. No money talk.

Meng Jiang set aside her yoga ball—used for stretching—and plugged her phone into the charger.

After one last glance at the text message from Qi Sijia,

She scoffed, put away the untouched takeout on the table,

Turned to take a bottle of red wine from the liquor cabinet, and sat on the fabric sofa.

In front of her, the TV was playing an interview with Meng Jiang from a few days ago on the “Sixth Princess” channel.

“If you were to meet her again, what would you do?”

On screen, faced with such a sensitive question, Meng Jiang showed not a trace of nervousness. She flashed an official smile, as if she had prepared a script in advance, and sighed jokingly, “I don’t know.”

In truth, Meng Jiang really didn’t know.

Though she had always been impeccable in social graces, navigating every situation with ease and cunning, those skills were useless in front of Qi Sijia.

Over the years, as her experience deepened, Meng Jiang had come to understand one thing: some matters, once set aside, would remain buried forever.

For the past five years, whenever she had a spare moment, she would wonder—could Qi Sijia be buried like that?

The answer had been clear since the day she recognized the orange tabby cat in Qi Sijia’s Weibo profile picture years ago.

Love kept in the heart would forever remain unspoken.

Just like when someone in the garden casually remarked, “There aren’t that many so-called fairytale romances in this world,”

All reconciliations were nothing more than forced narratives, deliberately constructed.

Using coincidences and fate to piece together what was broken, creating a chance to start anew.

At this point, Meng Jiang suddenly realized—no matter how adept she was at navigating human relationships, she was still just an ordinary person. From the “flower of wealth” to her first love, all her seemingly absurd actions were merely attempts to find a way to complete the circle.

–

The drama club’s group chat was buzzing.

Because Meng Jiang had popped up in the group a couple of days ago, there had been no shortage of lofty discussions, with every word dripping with flattery for her.

Qin Xiaofang, who always loved jumping into such lively conversations, didn’t have the habit of eating dinner. While waiting for Qi Sijia to finish eating and join the game, she chatted with a few old classmates in the group.

“Who’s joining the game later?”

A few people asked below: “What game?”

Qin Xiaofang, ever the show-off, replied: “What game doesn’t Fang-jie know how to play? Pick one.”

A few of her close girlfriends, familiar with her bragging, scoffed.

“Don’t believe me? Then do you believe Qi Sijia? Legendary King, max-level jungler. She’s also good at survival shooters—high rank, great positioning, quick with the gun, mows down enemies on sight. How about it? Let my Jia carry you.”

Qin Xiaofang typed away, bantering with the others.

Suddenly, a notification popped up in her WeChat messages from a stranger.

System notification: Drama club president Meng Jiang has added you as a friend.

Qin Xiaofang’s hand trembled. Disbelieving, she slapped the desk lamp on.

A minute later, the two became friends.

“Do you take on newbies?” Meng Jiang asked.

Qin Xiaofang pinched her thigh hard—confirming this wasn’t a dream—“Of course we do.”

Even if she was just a noob among noobs, with Qi Sijia around,

Taking on a newbie was no problem, especially when that newbie was goddess Meng Jiang.

–

Over here, Qin Xiaofang bluffed her way into promising Meng Jiang they’d meet in the game later, only for Qi Sijia to still be dragging her feet half an hour later.

“Where are you?” Qin Xiaofang asked.

Qi Sijia had finished eating, taken a shower, and only then noticed the message on her phone.

Perhaps due to the physical overexertion, she actually felt a bit drowsy.

So she replied: “Got back from work exhausted. Maybe tomorrow?”

Qin Xiaofang was stunned: “You found a job?”

Qi Sijia said: “Yeah.”

“Just a couple of rounds,” Qin Xiaofang pressed. “This time, the teammates are all from the drama club. You’ve got to get used to them, right?”

“Just think about the weekend class reunion—so many people will be there. You can’t possibly treat heart pills like candy and pop them like snacks.”

Qin Xiaofang was well aware of Qi Sijia’s social anxiety. She hadn’t gone to Less Bar tonight and had organized an online gaming session in the group chat, mostly for Qi Sijia’s sake. The only thing she hadn’t anticipated was inviting Meng Jiang along—an unexpected delight.

Qi Sijia thought it made sense. With everyone connected through voice chat in an online game, she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.

Getting used to her classmates’ voices a few days in advance was better than being completely unprepared, panicking, and feeling her heart race when the time came.

After hesitating for a moment, she finally nodded in agreement.

But once she joined, she realized Meng Jiang was also in the four-person squad. Her first instinct was to yank out the internet cable.

Yet, her previous act of blocking Meng Jiang and the emotional confusion poll—where the subject of her feelings had voted—all pointed to Qi Sijia’s guilty conscience.

Avoiding her now would only make it seem like she was still hung up on those unresolved emotions.

Qi Sijia put on her headphones and glanced at the other two, who were already chatting animatedly.

In the team, Meng Jiang remained silent, while Qin Xiaofang and her fair-weather friend kept the conversation flowing.

The three of them had clearly been waiting for a while. When Qi Sijia logged in, Qin Xiaofang explained, “Meng Jiang’s new to this. Qi Sijia, make sure to guide her a bit later.”

Qi Sijia gave a soft “Mm” in response, then selected the rainforest map. Only after spawning in did she find the chance to ask Meng Jiang, “Have you never played this game before?”

Meng Jiang replied, “Isn’t that what I’m figuring out now?”

Even in-game, Meng Jiang carried herself with that same composed demeanor. Qi Sijia had originally planned to explain the post-parachute basics, but Meng Jiang was unnervingly steady—nothing like the typical newbie with endless questions.

Since Meng Jiang didn’t ask, Qi Sijia certainly wasn’t going to volunteer information. She decided not to invite trouble.

After jumping from the spawn island, Qi Sijia quickly scanned her surroundings.

“Enemy squad at seven o’clock.”

While speaking, she swiftly picked up a sniper rifle and engaged in a duel with the opposing team.

The entire skirmish was a one-woman sweep—Qin Xiaofang and her friend had long since hidden themselves away.

By the time Qi Sijia finished her assault, she turned to find Meng Jiang reaping the rewards, scooping up all the dropped sniper attachments and extended magazines from the ground.

“What are you looking at?” Meng Jiang stashed away the loot Qi Sijia had fought for, her voice—sultry with a hint of sweetness—filtering pleasantly through the headphones, low and teasing.

Qi Sijia suddenly felt her ears grow warm. She brushed her long hair aside and glanced past Meng Jiang’s shoulder. “Three o’clock to the left. Think you can handle killing someone?”

A normal person might’ve said something like, Because you’re pretty to look at.

Meng Jiang: “…”

Meng Jiang’s learning ability was legendary at Ning University. Even as a beginner, by the second half of the match, she was confidently wielding an AKM and sniping enemies at the spawn point.

Qi Sijia had no choice but to cover her from behind. The whole ordeal pushed her reflexes to new heights, terrified that a single misstep would get them both wiped out by the swarming parachuters. But no matter how fast Qi Sijia was, she couldn’t keep up with Meng Jiang’s talent for stirring up trouble.

Twenty minutes in, Qi Sijia used the last sliver of her health to take down the enemy team in a mutual kill.

Qin Xiaofang wailed in the team chat, “Qi Sijia, what happened? You actually lost?”

“This isn’t your usual level!”

“Or is your current job too exhausting? Gaming while fatigued must be affecting your performance.”

Qi Sijia hummed in acknowledgment, tacitly agreeing.

Qin Xiaofang was now feeling a bit regretful because Qi Sijia often said she was going out to work, but it was usually either volunteer work or manual labor that didn’t require interacting with people. When she said she was tired, she generally wasn’t lying.

Knowing she was in the wrong, Qin Xiaofang muttered, “Maybe we should…”

Before she could finish, Huang Yaran suddenly asked, “Qi Sijia, are you still working as a screenwriter?”

Qin Xiaofang: “No.”

Qi Sijia: “No.”

They spoke almost simultaneously.

Suddenly, another voice chimed in.

“What kind of job is so exhausting?”

Qi Sijia looked over. Meng Jiang had already respawned. Learning from the painful lesson of the last game, they chose a less crowded spot to parachute down this time.

After the group landed safely, Qi Sijia finally answered, “Service industry.”

At the mention of the service industry, Huang Yaran’s tone noticeably turned disdainful.

After all, among their graduating class from Ning University’s Drama Society, there were people like Meng Jiang—a triple-crown actress and Oscar-winning leading lady, a status unreachable for most—or industry elites.

But absolutely no one had ended up in the service industry.

Huang Yaran feigned surprise in a sickly sweet tone, “I always thought… with your talent back then, you’d have already made a name for yourself as a renowned screenwriter.”

Qin Xiaofang clenched her fists, thinking, Who the hell do you think you are?

Five years ago, she was already a screenwriter, one you all couldn’t even compare to. Even now, if she wanted to, she could still write a web novel and make it big.

After Sinking sold its film and TV rights, the production team had wanted Qi Sijia to participate in the scriptwriting. If not for her social anxiety, it would’ve happened long ago.

Qi Sijia ignored Huang Yaran’s sarcasm, but Qin Xiaofang couldn’t stand it.

“This b1tch isn’t short on money.”

“Then what is she short on?” Meng Jiang, leading the way, suddenly turned back and asked.

“A brain?” Qin Xiaofang said. “This woman just went through a breakup a few days ago. Probably heartbroken or something, so she gave up a bright future to experience grassroots life and maybe pick up a girlfriend along the way.”

Qin Xiaofang emphasized bright future heavily, and perhaps realizing she was being a bit too harsh, Huang Yaran stayed silent in the team chat for a while.

Meng Jiang let out an “Oh,” as if casually asking, “So, has she found one?”

This respawn point wasn’t crowded, and the group wasn’t as aggressive as before. The pace slowed, and Meng Jiang’s voice was light and unhurried, each word dripping with a kind of alluring charm that made one’s heart itch.

For some reason, as her voice trailed off, Qi Sijia’s mind flashed to the top-floor resident’s soft laugh when she closed the door. For a moment, their voices and tones seemed to overlap.

Thinking of the top-floor resident’s poise and figure, and comparing it to Meng Jiang’s, Qi Sijia was startled to realize her taste had remained unchanged for years. Every girlfriend she’d ever had had striking features, impeccable fashion sense, and figures that looked good in anything they wore.

Their eyes sparkled, their voices were soft and lingering, with a husky, honeyed sweetness to them.

Remembering the top-floor resident, whom she’d only met a few times but had taken a strong liking to, Qi Sijia unconsciously smiled slightly.

She had no intention of answering Meng Jiang’s question further.

But then Qin Xiaofang’s laughter abruptly cut through.

As the group moved their game avatars forward, they approached a row of factory buildings.

Qi Sijia hid behind a door, confirming no one was inside, then waved the others in.

Only then did Qin Xiaofang say, “She hasn’t found sh1t.”

It’s unclear what happened between Qi Sijia and Meng Jiang during their first love, but it’s easy to get carried away when interacting with a goddess-level presence like Meng Jiang.

“To be honest, Qi Sijia only has her face going for her. Beautiful women walk past her all the time, and I’ve never seen her initiate a conversation.”

Qin Xiaofang went on and on, listing Qi Sijia’s past exes—some were regulars at lesbian bars, others were live-streamers on certain pink dating websites—the more she talked, the more outrageous it got.

Occasionally, a soft chuckle from Meng Jiang came through the headphones.

Qi Sijia couldn’t take it anymore.

“There was one,” Qi Sijia said, taking out a hidden enemy behind a wooden crate and switching to a submachine gun. “Just yesterday, I asked for her name.”

Qin Xiaofang’s voice cut off abruptly. “Who?”

Qi Sijia wasn’t sure how to describe the penthouse owner.

“My boss,” she said.

The voice channel fell silent for a brief moment.

Meng Jiang suddenly asked, “And then?”

Qi Sijia replied, “She said no.”

Qin Xiaofang burst into laughter. “Hahahaha, hahahaha!”

“Any follow-up?”

After eliminating another enemy while low on health, Qi Sijia noticed a gun dropped nearby. Meng Jiang swiftly picked it up, shamelessly pocketing it for herself, then turned back as if nothing had happened and asked, “What happened next?”

Honestly, discussing this with her first love felt strange.

Truthfully, things had gotten a little awkward afterward.

But remembering how the woman had asked for her employee ID before leaving and even invited her to dinner—

Qi Sijia hummed in acknowledgment.

Omitting the penthouse owner’s identity, she thought carefully before answering, “Later, she asked for my name.”

“And gave me her dinner.”

This was Qi Sijia’s first time actively trying to make a friend. She couldn’t quite grasp the other person’s intentions, but today, everyone insisted the penthouse owner liked her. With Meng Jiang pressing the question, Qi Sijia also began to wonder—maybe there really was something there.

So she carefully phrased her next question: “If it were you, would you say she likes me?”

Qin Xiaofang gasped. “Wait, this actually happened?”

“Damn, girl!”

Huang Yaran chimed in, “Congratulations, that definitely sounds like she’s into you.”

Laughter filled the team channel—except for Meng Jiang, who remained silent. She raised the submachine gun she’d just picked up and unleashed a barrage of bullets, aggroing a hidden sniper outside.

The temporary four-man squad was wiped out again.

Without even checking the score, Meng Jiang said, “Let’s call it here.”

Everyone assumed she’d log off immediately.

But after her character grayed out for a moment, she reappeared online.

“Did she see what you look like?”

Qi Sijia shook her head.

“You think she’s pretty?”

Qi Sijia shook her head again. “Great figure, but I didn’t see her face.”

Qin Xiaofang burst into laughter, utterly amused by Qi Sijia’s romantic reasoning.

“Hahahaha, I knew it! Every time you develop feelings, the reason is absurd. You haven’t even seen her face—how can you call that liking someone?”

Meng Jiang raised an eyebrow, her mood seemingly improving slightly. “Then how can you be sure she fell for you at first sight? Or that she likes you without even seeing your face?”

Qi Sijia was left speechless. But she did feel some attraction toward the penthouse owner—even if pursuing her wasn’t an option, being friends would be nice.

“Maybe next time we meet… I’ll take off my mask?”

Muttering to herself, Qi Sijia suddenly asked, “Meng Jiang, what’s your type? Pretty? Nice hands…?”

Meng Jiang glanced back at her with a smirk and said, “Not someone like you.”

Qi Sijia: “…”

Fine. If we can’t see eye to eye, there’s no point in talking.

Meng Jiang seemed to be in a huff for some reason and logged off without even saying goodbye.

Her avatar grayed out almost instantly.

After Qi Sijia exited the game, she received another notification from the Huangjiang Literature website. Just six minutes earlier, “Rich Flower” had bombarded her with ten thousand yuan worth of “deep waters” (a premium tip).

Each deep water came with a single-word demand: “Update.”

Helpless, Qi Sijia could only send a private message to Rich Flower through the site.

After refunding double the amount, she sent Rich Flower an ellipsis.

Rich Flower: “Author, you seem upset.”

Indeed, her good mood had been ruined by Meng Jiang.

But there was no denying that every word Meng Jiang said had left Qi Sijia speechless.

Thinking back to their earlier conversation, Qi Sijia glanced at her phone screen and suddenly asked, “Do you have someone you like?”

Rich Flower: “Yes. For five years now.”

“When a girl likes another girl, does appearance matter much?”

Rich Flower replied swiftly: “Not necessarily. I value inner qualities more.”

Relieved, Qi Sijia smiled. “Is that so? Today, I met someone really special. She didn’t care about my looks or job and was very kind to me. I didn’t even struggle with communication around her. Does that mean she’s interested in my inner self?”

Rich Flower was uncharacteristically silent.

Encouraged, Qi Sijia pressed on: “Do you know how to pursue a girl? It’s my first time, so I don’t have much experience.”

After a long pause, Rich Flower finally replied: “Has she ever expressed any interest in you?”

“No, but she asked for my name and gave me her dinner.”

“Everyone around us says she likes me.”

“Have you considered that maybe she just needed to lose weight?”

“Based on what you’ve said, this girl doesn’t care whether another girl is pretty or not, but perhaps—”

“Her eyes only want to see handsome, dashing men.”

!!!

Qi Sijia: “…”