I Am the White Moonlight that the Former Movie Queen Secretly Loves - Chapter 16

The interruption from Fuguihua left Qi Sijia uncertain in her heart.

Perhaps it was just her innate temperament. Though she claimed to be pursuing someone, the thought of actually taking the initiative in romance made her scalp tingle and her body tremble with social anxiety.

This was exactly why Qin Xiaofang often teased her for having a pretty face but never managing to find a partner.

For Qi Sijia, meeting a suitable person wasn’t difficult—what was rare was encountering someone who made her genuinely want to pursue them.

Since birth, there had only been two such people.

And the owner of the penthouse was one of them.

A crush that came once every five years—Qi Sijia wasn’t ready to give up just yet. She decided to observe a little longer.

The next day, at six in the morning, Qi Sijia woke up on time.

The night had passed fairly well, filled with lingering, dreamy scenes.

The face of the penthouse owner had been veiled in mist until, just before the alarm rang, the veil lifted.

By the time Qi Sijia fully awoke, it had transformed into the flamboyant, alluringly beautiful face of Meng Jiang.

In the past, Qi Sijia had never been particularly drawn to women like Meng Jiang—those strikingly radiant types who stood out like a crane among chickens, exuding confidence and boldness wherever they went.

Those dazzling, self-assured women had always seemed to belong to a world entirely separate from hers.

But somehow, over time, her aesthetic preferences had unconsciously shifted toward Meng Jiang’s type.

Even though her own style remained understated, she had unknowingly begun to admire the kind of charm and confidence that Meng Jiang embodied.

For years, Qi Sijia had never found this strange.

But last night’s dream, where the veiled figure turned into Meng Jiang’s face, sent a sudden chill down her spine.

Staring at the ceiling for a long, long time, she thought to herself—she really needed to get a girlfriend.

It had only been a few days since her breakup, yet it felt like years of loneliness.

So much so that now, no matter who she looked at, even in her dreams, their face morphed into Meng Jiang’s.

–

When Qi Sijia came downstairs from the rundown tenement building, the first-floor door opened right on time, just like the day before.

A box of green dumplings was thrust into her hands. Upon closer inspection, the lunchbox had been swapped—this one was a transparent plastic container with the faintly printed words “Complimentary Gift from Master Kong” on the lid.

“Um.”

Gui Xiaolian’s eyelids drooped as she rubbed her hands together. “The metal lunchbox from yesterday was too old and worn out.”

“My mom,” she continued while slipping on her shoes and stepping out, “got up early to go to the morning market yesterday. She traded five packs of instant noodles for this.”

Qi Sijia paused. “Morning market?”

It had been half a year since the demolition notice for the development zone was issued, and the nearest morning market had long been shut down by city officials.

If Qi Sijia remembered correctly, there weren’t any morning markets nearby.

Gui Xiaolian locked the iron door behind her. Peering through the gap, Qi Sijia noticed the apartment was quiet—no more of the heart-wrenching coughs from yesterday.

Gui Xiaolian looked up and gave a quiet “Mm.”

Only then did Qi Sijia see how frighteningly pale she was, her eyes swollen and red.

Pausing mid-step, Qi Sijia turned back. “Did you pull an all-nighter?”

At this, Gui Xiaolian’s gaze flickered away before she replied, “Just one late night. It’s fine. I’ll nap in the break room at noon.”

“What about your mom?”

Gui Xiaolian lowered her eyes. “She went out.”

Her voice was evasive, fingers tightening around the straps of her backpack as she avoided Qi Sijia’s gaze and quickly darted out of the tenement building.

At that very moment, the lanky man and the stout fellow she had met downstairs the day before were heading home after work, cigarettes in hand.

The dim hallway made Gui Xiaolian the first to be noticed.

“How’s Auntie Gui doing? Which room is she in at the district hospital?”

“I’ll go with your Uncle Qiang to see her this afternoon.”

Standing in the shadows, Qi Sijia overheard the exchange. Gui Xiaolian awkwardly fended off a few more questions before the two men left. Turning back to Qi Sijia, she said apologetically, “Sorry about that. My mom has pneumonia, and with the recent spike in cases, her coughing’s gotten worse. She went to the morning market in the west of the city yesterday—probably caught a chill. So I took her to the hospital for a few days of IV fluids.”

She said it lightly, but Qi Sijia’s gaze lingered on the hollows under Gui Xiaolian’s eyes for a moment.

“Which hospital?”

“The district one.”

After getting the address, Qi Sijia went to the hospital during her lunch break.

The place was crowded, and her gas mask and eccentric outfit made the security guards refuse her entry. After some back-and-forth, it was clear she wouldn’t be taking off the mask—and with so many people around, this impromptu, overly charitable visit that risked unnecessary socializing wasn’t worth the trouble.

She knew she didn’t have the energy to argue her way in with an aggressive tone, nor could she force her way through with sheer will.

Instead of pushing herself, she tapped into her grandmother’s old connections, made a call, and settled Gui Xiaolian’s mother’s medical bill right at the hospital entrance.

Of course, Qi Sijia didn’t know that when her call reached the district hospital director’s phone, the old man was in the middle of giving Qi Jun a private checkup.

“Nothing major—just liver yang hyperactivity with some bl00d stasis,” Director Wang said after taking Qi Jun’s pulse. He scribbled a prescription for some herbal remedies and handed it to his assistant.

Once that was done, Qi Jun had his assistant set up a chessboard in the ornately decorated tearoom.

“Not busy today?”

Qi Jun smiled. “Only here can I carve out some leisurely time.”

It was a polite remark. The Qi family’s vast and varied business holdings meant his visit wasn’t purely social.

Over the past two years, the Qi Group had been shifting its focus toward medical equipment, investing heavily in importing a batch of advanced machinery. But finding distribution channels for these untested, high-cost imports wasn’t easy—no hospital wanted to take the risk.

Qi Jun had come to Director Wang for introductions or guidance.

After some small talk, he laid out his intentions.

Director Wang frowned. “Foreign certifications are one thing, but whether Ningcheng’s hospitals will accept them is another. I can’t guarantee anything—this isn’t something I can decide alone.”

“The hospital network is tangled with complexities,” Qi Jun said, pausing to meet the director’s gaze.

Their shared look spoke volumes—their connection ran deep.

“If you want to monopolize medical equipment deals across all of Ningcheng’s major hospitals, one director’s word won’t cut it. That’s why I say it’s tough.”

Director Wang wasn’t holding back, but he left a sliver of hope. “But you’re in luck. This year, the city hospital and maternity hospital leadership underwent major reshuffles—two directors replaced in a row. Coincidentally, the new heads all share a common mentor.”

“Twenty years ago, during an orthopedic surgery, there was a highly respected chief of orthopedics who was wrongfully accused and stripped of his medical license. You must have heard of him—his surname is Mo. If you can find him, this matter will be much easier to handle. Ninety percent of the orthopedic chiefs in Ningcheng, including the current hospital director, are his students.”

Qi Jun’s fingers paused briefly before he smiled.

The old fox was playing his cards carefully, step by step. Director Wang was naturally no match for Qi Jun.

Twenty minutes later, Director Wang tossed aside the white chess piece and laughed at Qi Jun. “Still as decisive and ruthless as ever. No wonder Jiajia comes to me instead of you.”

Qi Jun froze. Throughout this entire negotiation, he had barely shown any emotion, whether bargaining or appealing to sentiment. But the mention of his daughter visibly made him lift his eyelids.

“What did she want from you?”

“There’s a patient who’s been living in the tenement buildings near her godmother’s area for years. They fell ill and were hospitalized yesterday. Your daughter—my goddaughter—has a kind heart and covered all their medical expenses.”

Qi Jun threw down the chess piece in his hand and snorted unhappily. “I don’t see her showing that kind of concern for me.”

Director Wang mocked him. “And whose fault is that? You brought this on yourself.”

“Now you have to resort to scheming just to get your daughter to visit you.”

At this, Qi Jun’s brows furrowed deeply. He let out a cold snort, no longer pretending to be the affectionate brother.

“Old Qi, don’t leave yet,” Director Wang said. “At your age, getting jealous over your daughter—what’s the point?”

–

Qi Sijia received Qi Jun’s call while changing in the locker room.

She had taken time off earlier to go to the hospital.

Now, the cleaning aunties were all busy in their respective buildings, leaving the place empty. “Dad,” Qi Sijia answered.

“So you still remember you have a father?” Qi Jun said. “Your dad’s been in the hospital for days, and you haven’t even bothered to check in.”

Qi Sijia’s hands paused as she dressed. Without much emotion, she asked, “Are you feeling better?”

“Can’t get better without seeing you.”

Qi Sijia: …

This claim didn’t hold up under scrutiny—just last night, she had seen Qi Jun, impeccably dressed in a suit, on a well-known business interview program.

“Then get some rest, drink less, don’t smoke, and stay hydrated when you’re sick…”

“How is that any different from a neglectful scoundrel who only pays lip service?”

Qi Sijia held the phone silently.

Qi Jun’s sudden liveliness had an ulterior motive.

As expected, after the seemingly harmonious father-daughter exchange, Qi Jun abruptly changed the subject. “Jiajia, your dad’s getting old.”

“When are you coming home?”

The top button of her uniform was misaligned. Qi Sijia undid it and adjusted the yellow cleaning jumpsuit.

This wasn’t a question she could answer directly. Qi Jun was glossing over their past conflicts.

“I like women,” Qi Sijia said softly. “If I come back, will you stop trying to change me?”

The line fell into prolonged silence. Minutes later, the call disconnected.

Wearing a gas mask, Qi Sijia didn’t bother wiping the sweat from her forehead.

When she turned around, she noticed an aunt—perhaps surnamed Wu—had entered the locker room at some point. Qi Sijia nodded at her in greeting.

Having taken time off, she hadn’t eaten lunch yet. She packed two lunch boxes from her bag into a bag and headed upstairs.

The top floor was a duplex, with a small unused storage room in the stairwell.

The developer had designed it as a cleaning supply closet, complete with a microwave.

Qi Sijia had discovered this spot just yesterday. Heating her meals here meant she could avoid the break room and minimize contact with others.

As she approached the fire exit, she overheard a conversation she shouldn’t have.

Inside, two voices could be heard—one belonging to the penthouse owner and the other to a middle-aged woman with a shrill tone.

“What has Shen Tunan ever done to offend you?” the middle-aged woman said. “Why would you assign her like this?”

“What have I assigned her?” Meng Jiang, dressed in a red dress with a white feathered shawl casually draped over her shoulders and a black mask hanging from her face, replied with a tired yawn, not even lifting her eyelids.

“How dare you talk back? I don’t even know if your conscience has been eaten by dogs!” the woman snapped. “Five years ago, if it weren’t for Second Miss Shen pulling you up, how could you have gotten to where you are today? Now that you’ve risen to success, first you cut her out of profitable projects, and then you assign her to Italy.”

“The Shen family has done favors for your uncle and the Chen family. We don’t expect you to be grateful, but at the very least, you shouldn’t repay kindness with enmity.”

Bathed in the light, Qi Sijia instinctively turned to leave.

But then came a loud smack—what sounded like a stack of documents being thrown to the ground.

Worried the argument might escalate into a physical altercation, Qi Sijia decided to stay put.

Through the gap in the door, she saw the woman leaning against the far wall suddenly raise her head.

“You said it yourself—the Shen family did favors for the Chen family and for my uncle. What favors did she ever do for me?”

The moment these words were spoken, the middle-aged woman at the door seemed to grow even angrier. “So, the Meng family can be your shield? That grandmother of yours, who’s over eighty and acts all doting and sweet to your face—you think she’s a good person? How naive! Who in Beicheng isn’t laughing at you behind your back? The so-called Fourth Miss Meng is nothing but the illegitimate child of a second marriage, an embarrassment. If it weren’t for your grandfather and uncle fighting tooth and nail to get me into the Meng family back then, you wouldn’t even have the Meng surname today. The Meng family is full of bastards, but Meng Xing is no less capable than you, and he’s a man. When it comes to inheritance, your grandmother and father might not leave you a single cent.”

“If you don’t side with your mother and the Chen family, the Mengs will leave you with nothing but an empty title.”

Standing at the door, Qi Sijia was visibly stunned.

This woman was actually the penthouse owner’s mother, yet her words were so venomous they sounded more like an enemy’s.

Meng Jiang’s tone remained calm. “So what do you want me to do?”

Seeing her attitude soften, the middle-aged woman adopted a haughty tone. “You should allocate more resources to your uncle’s side. And as for the Shen family—Tunan hasn’t done anything wrong. If she wants to invest in your media company—”

Meng Jiang cut her off. “How about this—why don’t I just give her the company?”

“You—!” The woman’s voice turned shrill again. “How dare you speak to me like this? I’m your mother!”

Meng Jiang let out a derisive laugh. “Mom, if you think giving birth to me was just to make me your pawn, then take this life back. Look at how complicated you’ve made things. At most, it’s just a life for a life.”

“A worthless life—here, take it. But if I’m gone, I doubt you and your beloved Chen family will last long in Beicheng.”

Her slender legs stood firm, her posture unyielding even in the face of her mother’s tirade.

Unlike Qi Sijia’s silence, she seemed to have long since found a decisive path through the tangled web of familial bonds—one that Qi Sijia herself yearned for.

Qi Sijia had initially thought she had inadvertently overheard a silent drama of familial affection similar to her own. However, the top-floor owner’s unyielding, rebellious stance—declaring she’d pay with her life if necessary—was truly beyond reproach. She had voiced the kind of sharp words Qi Sijia would never dare to say in her lifetime, yet it was undeniably satisfying.

For a fleeting moment, a faint smile flickered in Qi Sijia’s eyes.

Despite the middle-aged woman at the door being utterly furious, the top-floor owner remained composed, smiling lightly as she bluntly stated that merchants prioritize profit.

“In the past, whenever the Chen family or you wanted to participate in the capital operations of my projects, I never once refused. After all, if things went well, it just meant sharing a portion of the profits from my own pocket. But if they failed, they’d still have to get out of my way—let alone an outsider like Shen Tunan.”

“Instead of coming here to persuade me, you’d do better to think about how to be a proper Mrs. Meng.”

“Because without the title of Mrs. Meng, if you were just ‘Miss Chen,’ you’d be nothing in Beicheng—just like me.”

“The only difference is that I’ve used the Meng family name to build my own assets, and now outsiders are so envious they’re scrambling for a piece of the pie. But I have every right not to hand it over.”

“Five years ago, when I was dragged into your schemes, I learned a lesson: familial bonds and emotions can all fade. The only things you can hold onto are money and power. Do well, and you stay. Fail, and you’re out. Does that answer satisfy you?”

Meng Jiang finished in one breath, leaving Chen Ting so furious her eyes nearly rolled back.

Suffering from a stomachache, Meng Jiang had no patience to engage further. Right in front of Chen Ting, she made a call to her driver and said, “Mrs. Meng is here. Take her back.”

By this point, Chen Ting’s rage had stripped her of all reason. She raised her hand, poised to slap Meng Jiang, but her palm froze mid-air. After a long pause, she withdrew it angrily, her high heels clicking sharply against the floor as she stormed off without a backward glance.

Only then did Qi Sijia dare to exhale.

But unexpectedly, a pair of eyes suddenly appeared in the narrow gap of the door.

Meng Jiang had approached without her noticing.

Qi Sijia froze, her gaze colliding with Meng Jiang’s through the half-open door. All she could see was one dark, glass-like eye, glinting with reflected light, exuding a faint sense of scrutiny and pressure.

“How much did you hear?”

Meeting Meng Jiang’s gaze unflinchingly, Qi Sijia replied, “Not much.”

“‘Not much’ is how much?” Meng Jiang crouched slightly, her form-fitting pencil skirt cinching her waist to a slender curve. The black shawl draped over her shoulders slipped slightly, and though her eyes curved into a seemingly charming smile, there was a sharp, needle-like intensity hidden beneath—a silent warning.

It was a look that instantly reminded one of her earlier defiance of maternal authority, every word she’d spoken clashing with the principles Qi Sijia had been raised on. Yet, each syllable had struck a chord deep within her.

It was like a shift in aesthetic preference. Qi Sijia used to favor simplicity, but over time, she found herself drawn to those who exuded innate confidence—those rare, captivating individuals who lived boldly, unapologetically, as if declaring, “I’m my own queen, don’t mess with me.”

A faint admiration stirred in her. Unconsciously, she lifted her gaze, only to meet Meng Jiang’s scrutinizing eyes again.

For a moment, she felt an overwhelming pressure, as if this woman was capable of anything.

Had anyone else been standing there, they would have been terrified by that look.

After all, standing before her was Meng Jiang, the second daughter of the Meng family in Beicheng, a woman who lived at the pinnacle of high society.

Yet, Qi Sijia remained utterly unfazed, meeting Meng Jiang’s striking phoenix-like eyes with composure.

“Is knowing more necessarily a good thing?” she asked.

Meng Jiang raised an eyebrow. “No.”

Qi Sijia pressed, “Then do you want me to repeat all the disgusting things that person just said?”

Meng Jiang crossed her arms, her gaze faltering slightly. “No.”

“Then there’s nothing. I didn’t hear anything at all.”

Qi Sijia’s tone was unnervingly calm. Though she wore protective goggles, her eyes didn’t shy away—focused and unwavering.

Strangely, her attitude made Meng Jiang feel as though she was being protected.

Meng Jiang almost laughed at her own thought.

Her stomachache, which had been bothering her, flared up as her nerves relaxed. She slid down against the doorframe.

Qi Sijia quickly pushed open the fire exit door.

Moving closer, she caught a faint whiff of alcohol. “You’ve been drinking.”

Meng Jiang’s eyelids drooped slightly, her lashes fluttering.

She thought, Shouldn’t you help me up?

But moments later—

Qi Sijia frowned. “And smoking.”

Meng Jiang: “…”

“If you don’t know how to be a good Samaritan, could you at least fetch my phone and call my driver?” Though the driver was probably still on the way back from dropping off Chen Ting.

Meng Jiang’s brow furrowed slightly.

Qi Sijia didn’t catch the sarcasm in Meng Jiang’s words, too busy wrestling with her own dilemma.

As someone with severe social anxiety, Qi Sijia was especially averse to physical contact.

Her hand reached out, then hesitated and withdrew.

But I’m trying to pursue someone. Leaving her like this is obviously not an option.

Taking a deep breath, Qi Sijia closed her eyes and slid her arm beneath Meng Jiang’s waistline. She paused—thankfully, she didn’t feel repulsed.

But the moment she touched the other woman’s soft body, her heart skipped a beat.

Another deep breath. Her palm was slick with sweat.

“How do I help you?” she asked, feigning calm.

The warmth at her waist made Meng Jiang narrow her eyes. Weak from two days without food, she suppressed her discomfort and said, “Take your hand away.”

Then she draped an arm over Qi Sijia’s shoulder, leaning her full weight against her.

“…Take me home.”

Qi Sijia settled Meng Jiang onto the sofa and poured her a glass of warm water. “How are you feeling now? Should I call an ambulance?”

Meng Jiang waved a hand. “It’s nothing serious.”

“Just haven’t eaten in two days. I’m starving.” Her beautiful eyes flickered as she lowered them, pressing both hands to her stomach, clearly in discomfort.

Qi Sijia noted the gesture and was about to ask if she should buy some food when her gaze landed on the Nordic-style TV console.

Beside it sat a Pikachu-shaped trash bin, piled with two takeout containers and an empty liquor bottle.

In stark contrast to the immaculate European-style living room, the overflowing bin stood out glaringly.

It was impossible to miss. Suddenly, Qi Sijia remembered—on the first day, Meng Jiang had thrown out her takeout too.

She doesn’t like street food.

Understanding dawned. After a moment’s thought, Qi Sijia asked, “Would you mind the lunch I brought?”

Meng Jiang was notoriously picky and had a cleanliness obsession. Even five-star restaurant takeout had been unappetizing to her these past few days.

She held no expectations for Qi Sijia’s homemade meal.

But she was always meticulous in her manners. Since the other woman had helped her—more politely and considerately than her own assistant had been lately, showing no curiosity or prying into her privacy—she couldn’t refuse outright.

At this thought, Meng Jiang’s tone softened. “If it’s not too much trouble, thank you.”

The green dumplings were a gift from someone else. Qi Sijia took out her own deluxe, oversized insulated lunchbox.

Inside were last night’s steamed sea bass, sweet and sour spare ribs, and blanched greens.

Meng Jiang hadn’t planned on eating—she wouldn’t even touch takeout, let alone a meal prepared by a cleaning lady.

But when Qi Sijia opened the lunchbox, the rice and dishes were neatly separated, the vibrant colors of the food strikingly appealing. Once heated, the aroma of the rice and savory broth was irresistible.

Struggling to maintain her composure, Meng Jiang casually asked, “If I eat this, what will you have?”

Qi Sijia replied, “I have two portions.”

After speaking, she took out the lunchbox Gui Xiaolian had given her that morning from her bag.

Thus, Meng Jiang saw Qi Sijia pull out a plastic container that came with instant noodles, containing a few modestly filled mugwort dumplings.

Meng Jiang pursed her lips, half her face hidden in shadow, her thoughts inscrutable.

After a moment of silence, just as Qi Sijia was about to return to the duty room to heat her meal,

Meng Jiang suddenly spoke: “How old are you?”

Qi Sijia replied, “25.”

Meng Jiang gave an “oh,” then went into the room for a moment. When she came out, she was holding a small gift box in a blue velvet pouch. Having drunk warm water and rested for a while, she managed to steady herself on her feet and walked Qi Sijia to the door. As she closed it, she casually tossed the gift box to her.

“For you.”

Qi Sijia was taken aback and instinctively refused: “I can’t accept such a gift without merit.”

When it came to social graces, Meng Jiang had always believed in reciprocity. She smiled, shedding all the decisiveness she had shown when dealing with Ms. Chen.

Her eyes brimmed with lazy amusement as she curled her lips and said, “It’s just a cheap little trinket, suitable for someone with a slender neck.”

Though the brand label had been considerately removed from the gift box, unfortunately, Wei Yunfang had once given Qi Sijia an identical necklace, so she knew its true value.

“It’s too expensive.”

“Just a trinket bought from a street stall, hardly valuable. Wear it for fun. Think of it as me liking to give you little things.”

Liked… giving her gifts?

Afraid she wouldn’t accept, she even… lied about it?

Only when the door clicked shut did Qi Sijia stiffly realize the implication behind the woman’s words.

Was this… liking her?

Qi Sijia didn’t know that Meng Jiang always treated those around her this way—whenever someone performed exceptionally, she would reward them with gifts.

Just like how, as a new cleaner who had worked overtime to finish tasks the day before, Meng Jiang had casually given them a raise.

Good service and outstanding talent required financial appreciation to maintain.

This was Meng Jiang’s way of conducting herself after transitioning from an award-winning actress to a capital investor.

Naturally, Qi Sijia was unaware of the intricacies of Meng Jiang’s complex social etiquette. Clutching the blue velvet gift box, she stood outside, her emotions in turmoil for a long time.

She took off her rubber gloves, pulled out her phone, and eagerly logged into Huangjiang Literature.

There was no update reminder from “Rich Flower” today, but late at night, the user had thrown a “deep water” bomb (a high-value virtual gift) under Sinking.

The same old comment in the forum: “Day seven of no updates. Is the author still salvageable?”

Kim Jisoo’s Wife: “Don’t worry, she’s salvageable—as long as she finds a ‘girlfriend,’ she’ll come back to update.”

Rich Flower @Author: “How much longer?”

The replies that followed were all variations of “LOL.”

After reading, Qi Sijia found yesterday’s private message exchange with Rich Flower in the backend and sent a new one: “Maybe—it won’t be long before updates resume.”