I Am the White Moonlight that the Former Movie Queen Secretly Loves - Chapter 18

Ge Yarui had been tailing the car of Fu Chuchu, the top idol in singing and dancing, all the way to Jinbiao Mingting. Upon arrival, she discovered that the residential complex had extremely strict management—no outside vehicles were allowed in.

After pulling some strings and going through several hurdles, she finally managed to drive into the parking lot.

But the delay cost her. She lost track of Fu Chuchu and had no choice but to resign herself to bad luck, searching floor by floor in each building.

Her fingers slightly swollen, Qi Sijia stepped into the elevator and casually removed her rubber gloves.

Only then did she notice another person inside, who had been staring at her fingers for a long time.

Qi Sijia raised a brow slightly and swiftly put the gloves back on.

“No use hiding,” Ge Yarui said. “I’ve already recognized you. What are you doing here, Qi Sijia?”

The woman opposite her wore a black hoodie with ripped jeans and a black fisherman’s cap. Her hair was so short that, if not for the pink earring on her ear, her gender would have been hard to discern at first glance.

Qi Sijia was slightly taller. She lowered her gaze. “I work here.”

“A firefighter?”

Qi Sijia’s face was covered by a gas mask, her outfit fully geared up. Her voice, muffled by the mask, came out in an indistinct hum. If not for the tiny red mole on her left hand—something Ge Yarui remembered vividly—she wouldn’t have recognized Qi Sijia in this getup.

She just couldn’t figure out why Qi Sijia was dressed in a sanitation worker’s uniform.

Qi Sijia shook her head. “No.”

“Disinfectant worker?”

Another shake of the head. “Janitor.”

…

The elevator fell silent for a moment. Though Ge Yarui knew Qi Sijia lived in a rundown building in the development zone and came from a modest background, she never imagined she’d fallen to such straitened circumstances.

A light cough broke the silence.

“Don’t you have anything to ask me?”

What was there to ask?

Qi Sijia looked up, puzzled, just as Ge Yarui met her eyes.

“I’ve been doing pretty well these years.”

Qi Sijia gave an indifferent “Oh.” “Congratulations.”

The conversation hit a dead end.

…

The elevator paused at the 16th floor before continuing its descent.

Ge Yarui frowned, steadied her emotions, and tucked her DSLR into her backpack before speaking again. “It’s been two years. I know you might still hold a grudge. Since we’ve run into each other, I want to apologize for what I said when we broke up.”

Truthfully, Qi Sijia couldn’t even remember how they’d broken up. Out of politeness, she simply said, “It’s fine.”

“Do you remember the vegetable patch behind my old place? It’s been developed now.”

Qi Sijia: “Hmm?”

“The Pan Family Village area.”

Qi Sijia nodded. “Congratulations, Miss Pan.”

The air thickened with the same awkward silence.

Ge Yarui was speechless for a long moment. She took a deep breath, confirming there wasn’t a trace of mockery in Qi Sijia’s eyes, before recovering from the embarrassment of her ex forgetting her name.

Fortunately, years as a paparazzo had tempered her patience. “You’ve forgotten my name, haven’t you?”

Qi Sijia thought for a moment. “Your surname is Pan…”

Ge Yarui laughed in exasperation. If she hadn’t already known what kind of person Qi Sijia was as an ex, she might’ve rolled up her sleeves and thrown a punch right then.

No more beating around the bush for nostalgia’s sake.

When exes meet, it’s either mutual disdain or unresolved resentment. Ge Yarui was the latter—back when she and Qi Sijia were together.

It was the darkest moment of her life. The year they first met, amidst the pouring rain and muddy ground, she was beaten and left rolling in the dirt, barely clinging to life with a sliver of breath left. It was Qi Sijia who held an umbrella over her, looking down to shelter her from the storm.

From then on, no matter who she met, she couldn’t help but search for traces of Qi Sijia in them.

But if this were love, Ge Yaruo didn’t think so. Otherwise, after achieving success and even knowing where Qi Sijia lived, she would have sought her out at least once. Yet she never did.

Their relationship had lasted only ten days—they hadn’t even held hands, falling short of being lovers.

But after years apart, running into each other now, she couldn’t help but ask,
“Do you have someone now?”

In the confined space, Ge Yaruo leaned in, the heavy scent of Dior perfume clinging to her.

Qi Sijia stepped aside toward the corner. “No.”

Hearing this, a hint of a smile flickered across Ge Yaruo’s face. She retreated a few steps, only to press close to Qi Sijia again, her eyes brimming with a cloying temptation. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, she said, “Maybe you should consider me. These past few years, I’ve opened a studio in the Intercontinental Center—it’s gained some recognition in the industry. Cleaning must be tough work. Any interest in coming with me?”

The unspoken words “I’ll take care of you” might as well have been written on her face.

Qi Sijia found it somewhat amusing. “Not interested.”

Suddenly, the elevator dinged.

Standing at the door was Meng Jiang, perhaps on her way down to take out the trash, dressed in thick, cozy pajamas.

A scarf wrapped three times around her face obscured her features, and a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose. Her long, curly hair cascaded untamed down her back, exuding a lazy, effortless charm.

Even in such a casual stance, her poise and grace outshone that of a model. Professional habit made Ge Yaruo glance at her several times.

Qi Sijia stepped out of the elevator, blocking Ge Yaruo’s line of sight, and turned to ask Meng Jiang, “Is your stomach feeling better?”

Meng Jiang nodded.

“You know each other?” Ge Yaruo interrupted.

Qi Sijia neither confirmed nor denied it, frowning as she urged, “Aren’t you going to the first floor?”

Ge Yaruo adjusted the strap of her camera bag over her right shoulder, her gaze lingering on Meng Jiang in a way that felt intrusive.

Qi Sijia just wanted to get rid of her quickly and repeated the question.

Only then did Ge Yaruo reply, “I’m going up.”

Then, turning to Meng Jiang, she asked, “Which floor for you?” She reached out politely to press the elevator button for her.

Meng Jiang didn’t even lift her eyes, tapping the ↓ button.

As the elevator doors closed between them, Meng Jiang cast a deep, sidelong glance at Qi Sijia. “She and you—”

Qi Sijia pressed her lips together, carefully considering her current relationship with Ge Yaruo before settling on two words: “Not close.”

“I know who she is,” Meng Jiang said cryptically, studying Qi Sijia for a moment before adding, “She’s a notorious paparazzo in the entertainment industry.”

“Most people she targets end up in serious trouble.”

Qi Sijia froze. Her first thought was that Q-niang’s identity as her first love would be exposed. Imagining the fallout, she instantly regretted speaking to Ge Yaruo at all.

Meng Jiang took in her expression, pausing briefly before withdrawing her sharp scrutiny at just the right moment.

Still in her pajamas, Meng Jiang wasn’t in a hurry to go upstairs. When the elevator on the right opened, she didn’t step in. Instead, she followed Qi Sijia.

Now, only the two of them remained in the stairwell.

Qi Sijia felt a little nervous. “Do you want me to get you a small stool?”

Meng Jiang thought to herself—it wasn’t like her stomachache was permanent.

“No need. Go about your work.”

So… was she planning to accompany her to work? To supervise?

But when she actually reached the stairwell, it didn’t seem like she was there just to accompany her work, lingering in the hallway instead.

Qi Sijia held a bucket, looking down from above.

The woman happened to pull out her phone from her pocket, leaning against the wall, sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose, revealing not a trace of expression.

Yet the thought of having someone there with her made Qi Sijia grip the bucket tighter, holding her breath as the tips of her ears quietly flushed red.

On the other side, Meng Jiang seemed lost in thought as she sent a message to Chen Cheng, asking her to investigate why paparazzi were here.

Also, look into someone for me—the new cleaning lady who started at Jinbiao Mingting this Monday.

Chen Cheng gave an “ok” and agreed, then abruptly changed the subject with an apologetic tone: Has Ms. Chen been looking for you lately…

She came by three days ago.

She didn’t do anything, did she?

It’s fine. Same as usual.

Meng Jiang brushed it off lightly and shifted the topic: Have you been managing the PR for the trending gossip about Ji Liu’s likes?

Don’t worry, there’s nothing negative to clean up. Honestly, not just netizens—even I find it hard to believe you’d still be hung up on a player.

Meng Jiang lowered her eyes, her long lashes nearly touching the bridge of her nose.

Her mood soured: Just because I didn’t like players before doesn’t mean I can’t now?

Chen Cheng was truly at a loss with her. No amount of persuasion worked, so while browsing online, she switched from typing to sending a voice message: “Fine, as long as you can tolerate her countless exes popping up one after another, I wish you two a happy ending.”

Qi Sijia’s grip on the broom suddenly faltered, her lashes fluttering.

At the same time, she heard Meng Jiang say impatiently to the person on the other end: “Why do you talk so much?”

She didn’t deny having someone she liked.

Chen Cheng retorted, “You’ve been so irritable lately.”

Qi Sijia inexplicably overheard Meng Jiang’s voice message and said nothing, lowering her eyes without any visible emotion.

She had been overthinking again. The penthouse owner had someone she liked—this unrequited crush was over.

Before heading home, Qi Sijia sent a private message to Fuguihua: Darling, you were right. She has someone she loves.