I Am the White Moonlight that the Former Movie Queen Secretly Loves - Chapter 17

Meng Jiang had been in a sour mood all day, and it only worsened in the afternoon.

Her driver returned in the afternoon to take her to Lantai Studio. After finishing the recording for the first episode of New Star Show, Meng Jiang retrieved her phone and saw the private messages from the author Ji Liu.

There were several messages.

Most of them brimmed with the flustered, delighted surprise of having a crush reciprocated.

Meng Jiang curled her lips and fished out a slim cigarette from her pocket.

Do you like her that much?

In the past, Qi Sijia would take a long time to reply to reader messages. But this time, it seemed her eyes hadn’t left the screen—her response was unusually quick.

Yes.

Meng Jiang flicked open her lighter, placed the slender cigarette between her lips, and leaned into the flame for a drag.

She didn’t particularly enjoy smoking—it wasn’t healthy.

Moreover, society often imposed harsher standards on women. Male celebrities could smoke and drink and be forgiven, but female celebrities? No. The same behavior would inevitably invite judgment.

Meng Jiang was strict with herself. She excelled at maintaining appearances, presenting a polished image in public. But that came at a cost—her personal discipline adhered to an extremely rigid standard.

Yet, in less than a month since arriving in Ning City, she’d already broken her own rules repeatedly.

If she stayed any longer, she might just turn into a full-blown chain-smoker.

Meng Jiang smirked self-deprecatingly, then typed back:

Then… describe her. What kind of person is she? Does she treat you well?

The taste of nicotine lingered on her crimson lips, bitter and astringent, like raw tea leaves.

At the same time, Qi Sijia stared at Fuguihua’s private message, momentarily stunned.

She typed and deleted multiple responses in the reply box.

The question made her realize how feeble her earlier description of the penthouse owner’s gifts had been—it lacked any real persuasiveness.

After all, she didn’t even know the penthouse owner’s name. It was too soon to define what kind of person they were.

After a long pause, she finally replied:

I don’t know.

But I think I like them.

Meng Jiang lowered her gaze, the teardrop mole at the corner of her eye accentuating her weary yet alluring expression.

Expressionless, she finished the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. Her slender, porcelain-like fingers lifted the phone again, forcing herself to reread the private message brimming with the other woman’s happiness.

Suddenly, she wanted a second cigarette. She resisted.

Then go confess. Telling me is pointless—it’s not like I’m the one you have a crush on.

Qi Sijia tapped her finger against the word “confess” but didn’t respond for a long time.

As someone with social anxiety, the idea of confessing her feelings outright was unthinkable.

Saying “I like you” would require summoning every ounce of courage she had. And if she were rejected, she’d probably never be able to say it again.

Never mind… Qi Sijia replied without hesitation.

Afraid she won’t like you back? Meng Jiang fell silent for a long time before responding: You care that much?

Care so much you’re scared to confess? If it terrifies you that much, can’t you just… not like her?

Three messages in a row, devoid of punctuation or tone markers.

Qi Sijia didn’t fully grasp Fuguihua’s meaning, but she understood the first two lines.

Like? Care?

Probably neither. At most, it was a mild attraction—learning that the other person liked her, and she, in turn, wasn’t opposed to exploring a new connection.

Beyond that, there was last night’s dream—so vivid and intimate it felt real, yet in the end, the face that emerged had been Meng Jiang’s.

As if desperate to prove something, Qi Sijia had felt a faint, restless urgency these past few days. She wanted to find someone to commit to seriously.

Before Meng Jiang’s face could consume her entirely.

After pondering the reasons for a long time, Qi Sijia stared at the dim streetlight and eventually lost the mood to reply to Meng Jiang any further.

When the driver came to pick up Meng Jiang, he noticed that the usually disciplined and restrained Miss Meng was reeking of cigarette smoke.

–

Following the suggestion from the “wealthy flower,” Qi Sijia thought long and hard about the purpose of her work and resolved to try overcoming her psychological barriers—to pursue the penthouse owner.

Even if she couldn’t articulate her feelings, she could at least take the initiative to do something.

So, for the past few days, Qi Sijia had been preparing an extra portion of lunch at noon.

The meat, eggs, and vegetables were all fresh, gifted by neighbors in the building.

Each evening, Qi Sijia would pack the lunchbox to the brim, carefully arranging the food in an aesthetically pleasing manner.

However, she was too shy to knock on the penthouse owner’s door. Instead, she hung the lunchbox on Meng Jiang’s doorknob every day, along with a note: “Remember to wash the dishes.”

Meng Jiang hated washing dishes, and her mood hadn’t been great lately. She figured that if the new cleaning lady didn’t get her lunchbox back, she’d eventually stop sending food.

But to her surprise, Qi Sijia kept sending meals for three consecutive days, each time with a brand-new lunchbox.

On the third day, Meng Jiang stared at the neatly arranged, limited-edition pink lunchboxes on her table and fell into deep thought.

Soon, a mocking smile curled her lips. If she remembered correctly, this “cleaning auntie” was only 23 years old once she took off her gas mask.

Young, long-legged, tall, and with top-tier life skills—and she had appeared right in front of Meng Jiang just as Madam Meng came knocking.

Meng Jiang sneered.

–

On Friday, it rained. Qi Sijia drove over, and as she got out of the car, her finger got scraped by the door, swelling slightly.

Gui Xiaolian followed Qi Sijia into the locker room shortly after.

Before they even entered, a shrill voice could be heard gossiping.

“No wonder it seemed odd—why else would the penthouse owner give her a raise? Turns out she’s got schemes up her sleeve.”

“Actively trying to seduce someone by sending food.”

“How can you say such things?”

Gui Xiaolian was the first to lose her temper. Thanks to Qi Sijia’s connections, her aunt had received expert medical care, making Qi Sijia something of a savior to the remaining residents of the tenement building.

Right now, Gui Xiaolian wanted nothing more than to tear that Aunt Wu’s mouth shut.

Among all the aunties, she was the one who loved to gossip the most.

Gui Xiaolian’s angry rebuke silenced the locker room. The raise Qi Sijia had received had left the other aunties with mixed feelings.

Aunt Wu muttered under her breath, “Some young women just refuse to find decent men and instead resort to underhanded tricks.”

Qi Sijia’s gas mask was still in her bag in the storage room. She paused, wearing a black face mask, high-waisted beige pants, and a ginger-colored sweater. Her long brown hair, untouched by scissors, cascaded down to the small of her back, left loose. Though only her eyes were visible, her gaze was striking—cold and piercing, exuding an icy, unapproachable beauty.

Her eyes swept past Aunt Wu and landed on the lockers.

In a low voice, she asked, “Are you done?”

Aunt Wu was a full head shorter than Qi Sijia. Perhaps it was Qi Sijia’s height, her impeccable poise, or the fact that she carried none of the pettiness of the others—even now, she spoke with calm composure.

In contrast, Aunt Wu’s earlier sarcasm came off as nothing but spiteful.

It was like punching cotton. Instinctively, Aunt Wu took a step back.

Qi Sijia’s eyelids drooped slightly under the early winter sunlight, revealing faint blue veins upon closer inspection. Standing before the auntie, she adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose with the back of her hand and said languidly, “After you’re done, please move aside.”

Her emotions remained unruffled. Being attracted to the same s3x was something she could declare to the world at any moment, just like Meng Jiang—a superstar who had publicly announced her sexual orientation upon debut.

Because everyone had the right to decide whom they liked, just as others had the right not to like them.

As for the gossip from these aunties, Qi Sijia mostly ignored it. There was no need to waste words arguing with irrelevant people.

Moreover, in Qi Sijia’s eyes, this particular auntie fell under the category of unnecessary social interaction.

Aunt Wu stared blankly at Qi Sijia, who simply walked past her without a second glance.

A lump formed in Aunt Wu’s throat—this indifference stung more than if Qi Sijia had lashed out at her. After all, the other party hadn’t even deemed her worthy of attention.

What Qi Sijia didn’t expect was that later, Aunt Wu not only continued making snide remarks in front of her but also used her seniority to approach Meng Jiang, insinuating that Qi Sijia had ulterior motives.

–

When Qi Sijia went to deliver lunch at noon, Manager Cai and Aunt Wu were also there.

“The salary you’re giving her is too high—enough to hire a professional cleaner privately. She’s still a newcomer. How about I assign someone more experienced to you instead?”

“Are you telling me how to run my affairs?” Ever since Meng Jiang had impulsively allowed Qi Sijia to pursue her, her mood had been abysmal. For three days, she hadn’t even checked the updates from her favorite author, Ji Liu. Her foul temper was evident.

Manager Cai froze, thinking, So she’s still the same difficult client as before. I shouldn’t have accompanied Aunt Wu up here—just asking for trouble.

Around Qi Sijia, Meng Jiang usually restrained herself because she couldn’t bring herself to be confrontational with someone so earnest. But lately, her mood had indeed been terrible. Behind that gentle smile was someone decisive and unyielding.

“Do you know why I increased her salary and not yours?”

“Because the cleaning she’s done so far equals what all of you combined managed in a month. She’s tough, efficient, and has astonishing stamina.”

At this evaluation, the faint trace of amusement in Qi Sijia’s eyes vanished inexplicably. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Meng Jiang’s words weren’t exactly complimentary—being described as “tough” didn’t seem like the right way to characterize someone you liked.

After the manager left, Qi Sijia handed over the lunch she had brought. But Meng Jiang was clearly in a sour mood today. Glancing at the pink lunchbox, she pulled out her wallet and offered Qi Sijia a check.

“Thank you.”

Qi Sijia pressed her lips together, refusing to take it. Her gaze locked onto Meng Jiang’s. “I don’t want money.”

“Let’s keep things separate.” Meng Jiang, a seasoned player in high society, was an expert at acting. Even if Aunt Wu’s words weren’t entirely credible, the consecutive days of homemade lunches and gourmet treats had made it clear that Qi Sijia’s attentiveness was anything but ordinary. Without outright calling her out, Meng Jiang tactfully drew the line. “You earned this. Your cooking is excellent.”

It was a compliment, but to Qi Sijia, it felt like a deliberate attempt to create distance. Sensing something amiss, she suddenly realized that confessing her feelings might no longer be an option.