I Am the White Moonlight that the Former Movie Queen Secretly Loves - Chapter 26

Tonight’s sleet and rain pelted down as the howling wind relentlessly rattled the windowpanes. Before Meng Jiang could even respond—

A spider, hanging upside down from its web in the corner, suddenly dropped with a plop—

Right at Meng Jiang’s feet.

Her face turned a shade paler than when she had a stomachache, her eyes narrowing as she leaped up two steps in one go.

Noticing this, Qi Sijia subtly moved toward the black spider, blocking Meng Jiang’s line of sight from the unsettling sight.

The hallway light on the fifth floor had burned out at some point, leaving the stairwell dim as the two ascended.

When Meng Jiang remained silent, Qi Sijia hesitated before offering comfort: “A twenty-year-old building is admittedly a bit run-down, but at least it doesn’t have the kind of terrifying critters you’d find on the streets of Australia.”

The attempt at reassurance fell utterly flat.

Only after confirming there were no more “adorable little surprises” lurking around did Meng Jiang finally look up at Qi Sijia, her gaze now tinged with something softer.

“I’m serious,” Meng Jiang said. “You should really move.”

She emphasized, “You’ve lived here for five years already.”

Qi Sijia hummed noncommittally, not mentioning her impending move. Instead, she steered the conversation back: “Earlier, you mentioned filing a complaint?”

Meng Jiang faltered for a second. “I also said the sanitary conditions here are appalling. If money’s tight, you could always stay at my place.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Qi Sijia abruptly turned, taking two steps forward. “Meng Jiang.”

Her autumn-hued eyes flickered with something unreadable, a hint of irritation surfacing.

Meng Jiang caught it. “You actually believed that? I was joking. What I meant was, if you need help, I could lend you the housekeeper from my family’s old estate…”

Ah, so she lived at the family estate.

Qi Sijia relaxed, decisively withdrawing her gaze. “No need.”

–

The moment the door opened, flakes of white paint crumbled from the walls.

The three-bedroom apartment wasn’t small, but the walls were peeling, the door was broken, and even the bathroom lacked a proper partition.

Only one pair of shoes sat in the entryway.

After changing into her slippers, Qi Sijia paused, then retrieved a folding step stool. She reached into the top of the shoe cabinet and pulled out a brand-new pair of taro-purple slippers.

They were Qi Sijia’s size—slightly larger than standard women’s slippers.

“Make do with these,” she said.

Meng Jiang stared at the slippers for a long moment, a faint smile curling at the corners of her lips. “Do you usually not have visitors?”

Baffled by her suddenly amused expression, Qi Sijia replied, “Aren’t you a visitor?”

Meng Jiang let out a short hum, her lips quirking further. “I see. So it’s just me…”

She trailed off, then added, “…who gets to come.”

Qi Sijia paused, shrugged, and ignored her.

–

Once inside, Qi Sijia left Meng Jiang in the living room and headed to the kitchen to cook.

The doors to both the kitchen and bathroom broke at least once a month.

Too busy to fix them lately, Qi Sijia had simply left them open.

Now, with someone else in the house, she occasionally glanced over to see Meng Jiang curled up on the oversized, plush sofa, idly sniffing a bag of chips—though not eating any—while staring at the big orange cat across from her.

–

There weren’t many fresh ingredients at home. Meat, fish, and shrimp would take too long to thaw and prepare.

After weighing her options, Qi Sijia finally pulled out a packet of instant noodles from the cupboard.

“Is this all you’re giving me to eat?” Meng Jiang had walked over at some point, holding the big orange cat in her arms. When Qi Sijia looked over, she saw the shameless cat tilting its head, rubbing its whiskered face against Meng Jiang’s impressive chest.

Qi Sijia glanced at them, then calmly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

A startlingly bright smile danced in Meng Jiang’s eyes. Whether intentional or not, she turned slightly, the slit in her long skirt revealing a glimpse of her smooth, glowing calf right in Qi Sijia’s line of sight.

She walked over slowly, step by step, the slit parting all the way up to her thigh.

She stopped close behind Qi Sijia, leaning forward to peer over her shoulder at the pot.

They stood so near that when Meng Jiang lowered her head, her voluminous curls cascaded down, brushing against Qi Sijia’s cheek, carrying the fresh, alluring scent of her shampoo.

Qi Sijia’s brow twitched. Realizing the proximity, she took a step back.

She pulled out a packet of heavily greasy seasoning from its packaging and placed it conspicuously on the countertop, her tone indifferent. “This is all we have. I’m not much of a cook.”

It was a lie, but it made her stance clear—she didn’t want to give Meng Jiang any room for ambiguous thoughts.

As the guest, Meng Jiang deferred to her host. She glanced at the unlabeled seasoning packet and smirked.

Leaning in slightly, she said with effortless ease, “Fine, I’m not picky.”

Her words sounded natural, as if she were someone who could adapt to anything.

In the confined space, Meng Jiang inched closer, the fragrance from her skin lingering in the air.

By now, the original intention of seeing Meng Jiang home tonight had taken on a different tone.

Though there was no overt flirtation in Meng Jiang’s expression, the atmosphere seemed charged with an unspoken tension, as if someone was deliberately weaving an invisible thread between them.

The water in the pot boiled. Qi Sijia took a deep breath and turned down the heat, letting the rising steam obscure her expression. Before Meng Jiang could move closer again, she abruptly turned and asked bluntly, “How much did you hear?”

Meng Jiang’s gaze lingered leisurely on Qi Sijia’s face.

After a moment, she replied, “Hear what?”

Qi Sijia pressed, “When I was talking to Fu Chuchu.”

Meng Jiang answered, “Not much.”

“Liar.”

Without giving Meng Jiang a chance to deflect, Qi Sijia dropped the accusation and didn’t wait for a rebuttal.

She stepped aside, using chopsticks to stir the noodles in the pot before cracking a poached egg into it. She sliced some sausage and tossed in washed greens.

A few minutes later, the noodles floated to the surface.

When it came time to add the dubious seasoning, Qi Sijia hesitated. After a moment’s thought, she tossed the packet into the trash. Instead, she heated oil in the pan, frying scallions until their aroma filled the air, then drizzled the fragrant oil over the noodles.

Throughout it all, Meng Jiang’s gaze never wavered. For some reason, in this quiet, unhurried moment, there was a sense of long-awaited peace.

Taking in the rich aroma of the food, Meng Jiang set the orange cat down and pulled out her phone.

Qi Sijia finished cooking the noodles before sparing her a glance.

Meng Jiang was playing a game on her phone—a single-player one with garish yellow-and-black bomb graphics.

Her elegant fingers, adorned with pink diamond rings, tapped furiously at the screen.

Meanwhile, Qi Sijia’s phone, left on the sofa, buzzed incessantly.

The scrolling bar on Huangjiang Literature Network was constantly lit up with deep-water torpedo special effects.

At this moment, the entire internet was witnessing the most extravagant display of wealth in livestream history—the affluent socialite Lady Fortuna showering her favorite author, Ji Liu, with a thousand gold coins.

Such a grand spectacle naturally drew a crowd of readers to spectate.

Lady Fortuna’s comment—When’s the next update?—was pinned to the top by the moderators.

First comment: Here for the drama.

Second comment: Here for the drama +1.

Third comment: …

……

Comment #1,880: While everyone’s busy gawking at the rich lady, I’m the only one seriously analyzing the underlying truth. Based on my years of experience shipping Lady Fortuna and Ji Liu, if Sister Fortuna is dropping this many torpedoes tonight, it’s either a holiday, the author’s birthday, or… the day the author found a partner. Ah, the plight of the unrequited lover—when they’re in a bad mood, they spend recklessly, bombarding her with torpedoes, blowing her new romance to smithereens. Keep it up, Sister Fortuna!

Lady Fortuna: Laughs.

Comment #1,890: Holy sh1t, a selfie with the queen herself!

……

Qi Sijia had no interest in snooping on Meng Jiang’s in-game character. After waiting for a while and seeing that Meng Jiang still hadn’t looked up, she had no choice but to speak up. The noodles were about to turn soggy.

“Done?”

Meng Jiang turned away with an odd expression, locking her screen.

“Thanks,” she said, perfectly composed.

Qi Sijia: …

–

While Meng Jiang ate, Qi Sijia pulled out her phone, intending to ask Qin Xiaofang about what had happened after they left.

But Qin Xiaofang didn’t have time to explain in detail.

Instead, she renamed the three-person group chat they’d just created to “We Are All Goddesses” and proceeded to tag both Qi Sijia and Meng Jiang.

She recounted everything that had happened after their departure, down to the smallest detail.

That Miss Ye is really something. I guess this is the natural aura of a top-tier heiress. Qin Xiaofang marveled at how Ye Qianqian had effortlessly silenced their classmates with a mix of grace and authority, ensuring no one would speak of tonight’s events.

Good thing you two left early. Later, some paparazzi disguised as waiters snuck into the private room. Qin Xiaofang added: Miss Ye handled it—her skills are next-level.

Qi Sijia: Oh. Did you get caught on camera?

Qin Xiaofang: Even if we did, so what? The ones who really got screwed were Li Ang and Fu Chuchu—they’re already trending on Weibo.

Lucky you two left in time. Then she tagged Meng Jiang.

Qi Sijia replied: She’s eating. Just tell me.

Huh? You two—are together?

Before Qi Sijia could figure out how to explain, Meng Jiang, who had been silent until now, chimed in: Something came up. I’m at Qi Sijia’s place.

Qin Xiaofang went quiet for a long moment before finally sending a sticker: Mind blown.jpg

Worried that Qin Xiaofang might misunderstand and start spouting nonsense, Qi Sijia casually explained the reason she’d brought Meng Jiang home.

Got it, got it. Thanks. Honestly, I’m just relieved it was you who took the goddess home. If it were anyone else, I’d be losing sleep tonight.

Qi Sijia: Do I have one of those faces that puts you at ease?

“Pfft.”

Qi Sijia instinctively glanced toward the dining area. Meng Jiang was dabbing her lips with a napkin, her eyes gleaming with amusement when she looked back.

Irritated, Qi Sijia turned her attention back to the screen.

Qin Xiaofang was still rambling in the group chat: Yeah.

Not saying you’re ugly or anything. Even I wouldn’t dare say something like that.

Then why? Qi Sijia asked half-heartedly. She was unusually chatty today—not because she actually wanted to talk, but because there was another person under the same roof.

If she didn’t keep herself occupied, she couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling of being watched—or coveted.

Qin Xiaofang: “Didn’t you already have someone you liked? That female boss you had a crush on while gaming last time?”

“I know your personality better than anyone. No one could ever make you cheat or two-time someone.”

Qi Sijia thought to herself, I’ll take that as a compliment.

Meng Jiang suddenly @’ed Qi Sijia and brought up the topic: “How are things with your boss now?”

Qi Sijia paused for a moment before replying: “Same as always.”

Meng Jiang: “Still secretly in love?”

Qi Sijia: “Mhm.”

Meng Jiang: “You like her that much? Even if she has a girlfriend, you don’t mind?”

Qi Sijia: “I never told you she had a girlfriend, did I?”

Meng Jiang choked. She couldn’t exactly reveal that she was actually the mastermind behind Ji Liu’s schemes—the so-called “wealthy flower.”

After a pause, she said: “Just a guess. The way Second Miss Ye treated you tonight… I thought the rich boss you mentioned might be her.”

Qi Sijia was about to deny it when Qin Xiaofang, for some inexplicable reason, sent a flurry of messages:

“That makes sense!”

“Qi Sijia, be honest—is Miss Ye the one you’re secretly in love with?”

“After you left, she called you ‘kid’ herself. Since when did you become someone’s ‘kid’?”

Meng Jiang’s eyebrows twitched, and she echoed aloud: “Kid?”

Qi Sijia instinctively glanced over, their eyes meeting midair.

Meng Jiang had her arms crossed, a cigarette pinched between her fingers. She had stood up at some point.

With a mocking smile, she said, “So it’s really—”

She paused, lifting her gaze to meet Qi Sijia’s eyes. “Her? You like her?”

Qi Sijia’s expression was one of sheer absurdity. Faced with Meng Jiang’s dark, unmistakable anger, any rebuttal she might have offered would have sounded like an excuse.

So she stayed silent.

“Turns out you’ve grown up,” Meng Jiang said. “Now anyone can call you ‘kid.’”

The air grew heavy. Qi Sijia’s emotions faded.

When their eyes met again, there was nothing but the coldest detachment.

The nickname “kid” had once been a term of endearment between Qi Sijia and Meng Jiang during their first love.

“I’m Meng Jiang. You’re younger than me—if you can’t remember, just call me ‘Dream.’”

“Don’t you think we’re meant to be? Your dream is writing scripts, and I’m the one acting in them. Right, kid?”

…

“Alright, I won’t move. Don’t be mad, okay?”

…

“One year older is still older.”

“Why can’t I call you ‘kid’? Fine, let’s compromise. Off the bed, you’re the kid. On the bed, I’ll let you be the older sister, deal?”

…

Back then, “kid” had been an affectionate term in Qi Sijia’s eyes. But five years ago, when neither of them had fully matured, “kid” had represented immaturity, distrust, and insufficient love in Meng Jiang’s eyes.

Fu Chuchu had once confronted Qi Sijia, demanding to know why she hadn’t shown up that night.

But the truth was, Qi Sijia had gone.

On her way to the Huadan stage play, determined to end their cold war and reconcile—both with herself and with Meng Jiang—Qi Sijia had sent Meng Jiang two text messages.

For days, they went unanswered, sinking into oblivion.

And Meng Jiang would never know what kind of personal hell Qi Sijia had endured during that month when she had vanished without a trace, chasing her career.

–

So now, whether as someone with social anxiety or someone trying to overcome it, Qi Sijia couldn’t afford to have any further entanglement with Meng Jiang.

Her wavering gaze gradually steadied into resolve.

Qi Sijia’s voice was almost too soft as she broke the silence, looking straight at her: “Meng Jiang, you would never consider reconciling with me, would you?”

The air grew unbearably still.

After a long pause, Meng Jiang set down her chopsticks with a faint, ambiguous smile and said, “Wait a moment.”

Qi Sijia watched as Meng Jiang rolled up her sleeves and walked to the sink. The moment the icy water hit the basin, it turned her skin red and purple. Yet she remained composed, meticulously scrubbing the dirty bowl and chopsticks as if nothing were amiss.

Her hands were soon covered in soap suds. After washing the dishes, she went to the bathroom, squeezed disinfectant onto her palms, and rubbed them together repeatedly.

Minutes later, her hands were visibly flushed from the friction.

Meng Jiang let the water drip off her hands before turning around. The open kitchen allowed her to meet Qi Sijia’s gaze with a slight lift of her eyes.

Qi Sijia tossed her phone aside and asked bluntly, “Shall we talk?”

A small orange lamp cast dim, flickering light in the living room, its glow dancing in Meng Jiang’s eyes.

Without a word, Meng Jiang moved from the dining table to the sofa beside Qi Sijia, bringing with her a trace of coldness that drifted into Qi Sijia’s senses.

At some point, she had taken out a cigarette and held it between her fingers. “Mind?” she asked.

Qi Sijia shook her head, signaling for her to go ahead.

“Tonight, you can ask me anything you’ve been wanting to.”

In truth, Qi Sijia already anticipated the heart-wrenching conversation that lay ahead. But there was no more room for hesitation.

Because Qi Sijia was determined to push past her social anxiety, and Meng Jiang was the root of its worsening over the years.

Some things, as Cat Boy had said, only grow harder to resolve the longer you avoid facing them.

The cost of avoidance had been rejecting the offer to write for Sinking, abandoning the career she loved, relinquishing the Qi family’s legacy, watching her family decline, and letting hundreds of stray cats in Cat Boy’s care perish that winter.

Qi Sijia didn’t know when she had grown so tender-hearted, but she realized that life wasn’t just about solitude—it was about embracing an ever-expanding range of emotions.

Not just clinging to loneliness.

She had always had mild social anxiety, but she used to navigate crowds with ease—until her breakup with Meng Jiang five years ago.

Now, with Meng Jiang also willing to revisit the past, Qi Sijia had no reason to evade it. She wanted to face those unresolved feelings head-on, with the other party present, to finally let go.

Meng Jiang leaned against the sofa, expertly lighting the cigarette with a flick of her lighter. Soon, a wisp of smoke curled from her red lips.

She held the cigarette between her fingers, the ember glowing faintly.

Her expression was somber, yet she let out a soft laugh. “You said you texted me that night during Huadan, telling me not to go public.”

Qi Sijia lowered her gaze. “I also sent you another text—I’m willing to wait for you.”

Meng Jiang abruptly sat up straight, turning to stare at Qi Sijia.

“When did you send that?”

Her voice grew heavier with each word.

Qi Sijia smiled. “Many times. They all went unanswered, so I stopped keeping track.”

The cigarette ash fell, burning Meng Jiang’s fingers. She flinched, opening her mouth to explain, only to find no words could justify the oversight.

Five years. She had never known those messages existed.

“I’ve never bowed my head to anyone in my life. Only to you,” Qi Sijia said calmly. “You won.”

“I don’t like that term.” Meng Jiang flicked her fingers, tapping off the ash before meeting her gaze. “There’s no winner or loser here. What happened back then—there might have been misunderstandings…”

Qi Sijia tilted her head, cutting off Meng Jiang’s unfinished words. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Meng Jiang. Do you know why I looked so haggard the last time we saw each other?”

Meng Jiang suddenly recalled the scene of their final breakup and asked, “Why?”

Qi Sijia replied, “Because I came out to my family, and my father sent me to a correctional facility.”

And because, during that time, the household was in chaos. Wei Yunfang and Qi Jun, furious over Qi Sijia’s “corrupted” sexual orientation, turned their marital grievances squarely on her, demanding she “fix” herself.

That storm of confrontation ended only when Grandma Qi was literally angered to death.

On the night of the opera performance, Qi Sijia had gone. But on her way to the theater, she received the call announcing the old woman’s sudden passing.

For love, she had lost everything—deprived of the last trace of warmth in her world.

She had suffered so deeply that facing this person again, she lacked the courage to endure it a second time.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Qi Sijia raised her head to look at the dazzlingly beautiful woman before her.

Her voice was almost too soft as she met her eyes and repeated the same question from before: “Meng Jiang, you wouldn’t possibly have any thoughts of us reconciling, would you?”