I Am the White Moonlight that the Former Movie Queen Secretly Loves - Chapter 29

As they were about to get out of the car, Ye Qianqian suddenly called out to Qi Sijia and handed her a business card from the side.

Qi Sijia glanced down at it.

“The other day, you mentioned meeting someone who could treat your psychological condition.”

“That’s right,” Qi Sijia looked up. “How do you have Mike’s contact?”

Mike was Qi Sijia’s primary psychiatrist, but he had retired three months ago, transferring all his patients to his assistant. He had set off on a planned trip around the world, so logically, Ye Qianqian shouldn’t have been able to get his contact information.

“There’s no service money can’t buy,” Ye Qianqian said dismissively, resting her hand on the rolled-down car window.

“I’ve arranged all the medical conditions for you. How’s it going on your end? It’d be best if you could get that person to contact Mike and follow professional treatment advice to help you overcome your psychological issues.”

That person would never agree.

Qi Sijia didn’t even have the courage to bring it up, especially after recalling her earlier assumptions and self-delusions about that person’s intentions…

It was too embarrassing to even think about.

Pressing her lips together, Qi Sijia tucked the business card into her pocket.

“I’m not close with that person.”

Ye Qianqian looked at her with exasperation, more anxious than Qi Sijia herself.

“If even Mike can be persuaded, why can’t she?”

“Unless someone has no need for money, there’s nothing that can’t be achieved by asking for help—only prices that aren’t high enough.”

Ye Qianqian seemed determined to make Qi Sijia accept treatment.

Qi Sijia thought for a moment, then pulled a blue velvet gift box from her travel bag and handed it to Ye Qianqian.

“That person doesn’t need money.”

Opening the box, a delicate pink diamond necklace came into view.

“Is this…?” Even someone as worldly as Ye Qianqian couldn’t help covering her mouth in shock. “One of those ten limited-edition pieces from last year’s Paris jewelry auction?”

Qi Sijia nodded. “I have another one—a matching set that Wei Yunfang went through hell to bid for at Christie’s earlier this year. The quality and size are identical. So tell me, why would that woman toss this to me without a second thought?”

Either she had ulterior motives, or she simply didn’t care!

After subtly confirming Qi Sijia’s work situation—learning that she wore eccentric outfits and never showed her face, making it unlikely the other party had any romantic interest—

Ye Qianqian gave her a complicated look before clicking her tongue in envy.

“Should I say you’re lucky or unlucky? I thought it was already absurd enough for the esteemed Miss Qi to lower herself to being a cleaner, but who knew you’d stumble upon such a windfall just by doing your job?”

So, even now, Qi Sijia found the penthouse owner’s behavior unbelievable. Her first instinct had been to assume the woman liked her.

But then it turned out she had a girlfriend. The necklace was given to Qi Sijia purely on a whim—either because the woman had so much jewelry she couldn’t wear it all, or because she had an innate system of rewards and punishments in her dealings with people.

“This is tricky.”

Based on Qi Sijia’s account, the wealthy woman had casually gifted a globally limited-edition necklace worth over 500,000 yuan to a complete stranger—a cleaning lady—as a token of gratitude. That alone proved she was far more affluent than Ye Qianqian had imagined.

At their level of status and wealth, there were indeed things money couldn’t buy.

Ye Qianqian sighed, seeing that further persuasion was futile.

Relieved, Qi Sijia unbuckled her seatbelt and reminded Ye Qianqian to switch seats.

Unexpectedly, Ye Qianqian reached out with her right hand and shamelessly grabbed Qi Sijia.

“I’m about to be late.”

“So what if you’re late? The whole point of taking this job was to overcome your social anxiety. Now that you’ve finally met someone you genuinely don’t mind interacting with, you should at least give it a try.”

Qi Sijia kept her hidden thoughts about the top-tier homeowner to herself, and Ye Qianqian didn’t notice at all. Tilting her head, her eyes suddenly brightened: “Why not just ask directly? If she refuses, you lose nothing. But if she’s willing to follow the doctor’s advice and help you with your psychological issues, the treatment would take at most three months. Plus, she likes your cooking—that means she at least has something to gain from it.”

Qi Sijia frowned, considering. “Wouldn’t that seem too opportunistic?”

Ye Qianqian, with her wealth of experience, said, “Do you think any of those rich women aren’t opportunistic? Even I, your dear sister here, act all high and mighty in public, but behind the scenes, I’m not above doing some shady stuff.”

Qi Sijia glanced at her and couldn’t help but laugh. “At least you know it’s not exactly honorable. Have you figured out how to explain it to that Miss Shen?”

Ye Qianqian clutched her chest dramatically. “Why bring her up? If she were any use, she wouldn’t have been exiled to Siberia by her boss. As your sister, I can’t even help you come up with a solution now. Forcing you to ask a stranger for help—what a humiliation.”

A warmth spread through Qi Sijia’s chest, and her lips curved slightly. “You really don’t hold back, using your lover to do my bidding. That’s peak opportunism.”

For nearly five years, Ye Qianqian hadn’t seen Qi Sijia wear such a genuinely relaxed smile.

“Pfft. With friendship this old, of course sisters come before wives.”

“Fine, I’ll think about how to ask for help.”

After the banter, the tension between them eased somewhat. Ye Qianqian studied Qi Sijia for a long moment before asking, “Jiajia, if you don’t mind me asking—for so many years, you couldn’t move past it, so why have you suddenly changed so much? It can’t just be because Qi Jun and I pushed you, right?”

“Or is there another reason?” That last question was the crux of it. As her best friend, Qi Sijia’s recent transformation was startling—not necessarily a bad thing, but the abrupt shift in attitude left Ye Qianqian with a vague unease.

After all, just how much weight did the person who could reconcile Qi Sijia with her past and motivate her to seek treatment hold in her heart?

Ye Qianqian wasn’t entirely sure.

In fact, her sixth sense often had an uncanny accuracy that defied scientific explanation.

Qi Sijia was quiet for a long moment before settling back into the driver’s seat and answering frankly, “Honestly, maintaining a state of severe social anxiety didn’t really affect my life. Back then, I didn’t want to socialize—I refused to invest emotions in anyone. The upside of that state was that I never had to deal with positive or negative emotional feedback from others. Being a loner spared me a lot of trouble. But the most important reason was another thing: revenge on Qi Jun.”

Ye Qianqian’s eyes widened in shock. She never would’ve guessed that Qi Sijia had been planning to hand over the Qi family fortune to someone else.

Who could’ve imagined that was her goal?

In his youth, Qi Jun had stopped at nothing for his career, clawing his way to become a self-made tycoon. The industry knew him as shrewd, far-sighted, and cunning. But even the most capable people grow old. When his time came, someone would have to take over the sprawling empire he’d built.

Qi Jun must have realized this point, but no matter how anxious he was these past few years, it was all in vain. The companies under the Qi family had just gone public a few years ago, and the board directors would never agree to hand over the Qi empire to Qi Sijia, who had psychological issues.

So, after Qi Jun passes away, who will inherit those assets?

Even Qi Jun himself probably knows all too well—the empire he spent his life building, sacrificing his wife and daughter for, is about to bear another family’s name.

This revenge was nothing short of ruthless.

Ye Qianqian found her mouth dry. Thinking back to Qi Sijia’s state five years ago, she had always assumed the father-daughter relationship was strained. But now, it seemed far more complicated than just “strained.”

“Then…” Ye Qianqian paused, her voice softening involuntarily. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I was wondering—Zheng Xin and her mother have been squatting in the Qi family like cuckoos for five years, and you didn’t react at all.”

Qi Sijia leisurely took off her glasses, pulled out a gas mask from her travel bag, and fastened it over her face. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she adjusted the straps.

Noticing Ye Qianqian’s hesitant expression, a faint smile flickered in her eyes. “It wasn’t sudden. This trip made me realize something. I met some people, and there was that whole development zone demolition protest. It made me see that I’m not as indifferent to fame and fortune, as aloof and noble, or as unwilling to bend for survival as I thought. What’s mine should stay mine. All these years, I’ve borne the title of Qi Jun and Wei Yunfang’s daughter without reaping a single benefit. Now that they’re old and ready to pass on their assets, I still believe—all of it should be mine.”

Ye Qianqian burst into laughter, lifting her head. “Now that’s some enlightenment! You’re absolutely right. If you were some self-sacrificing saint who didn’t fight for what’s hers and just handed everything over, how could we ever be friends? After all, a saint would never tolerate a morally bankrupt, money-grubbing bestie like me.”

Qi Sijia smirked and glanced at her. “So, can I go to work now?”

Ye Qianqian quickly let go, waving cheerfully. “See you.”

–

Those outside the entertainment industry naturally lack awareness of security risks. Qi Sijia was used to being casual with Ye Qianqian.

It never crossed her mind that Ye Qianqian’s face—and her car—were prime targets for paparazzi.

The reason? From last night until this morning, the three-word name of a famous singer-dancer’s rumored wealthy girlfriend had dominated the trending charts for a full twelve hours.

Fu Chuchu’s home address and Ye Qianqian’s car had long been under surveillance. So, during the few minutes Qi Sijia spent chatting with Ye Qianqian in the driver’s seat, the paparazzi captured everything perfectly.

At the same time, in a high-end office building, Ge Yarui was drafting a news article when the faxed photos and a phone call came in simultaneously.

Her right-hand man, A Jin, was grinning ear to ear. “Didn’t expect an even juicier follow-up.”

Ge Yarui listened in rare silence.

“I’ve got the full video. Confirmed—the woman who got out of Fu Chuchu’s rumored wealthy girlfriend’s car wasn’t Fu Chuchu. The two seemed intimate and stayed inside for a long time.”

Ge Yarui: “…”

“Boss, why aren’t you saying anything? This is explosive. Are we dropping it live tonight or warming up on Weibo first?”

Ge Yarui pushed open the window, and a gust of cool wind rushed in. Squinting her eyes, she lowered her voice irritably, “Shut up. Use your brain. A little gossip about Fu Chuchu is harmless. But who is that rich second-generation? How many media outlets would dare expose her cheating? Figure that out first before talking about anything else.”

“Boss, you’re in a bad mood, huh?”

Of course, Ge Yarui was in a bad mood. She swiftly suppressed the photo incident with a few words and instructed Ah Jin to clean up the film reels properly.

Ye Qianqian’s status didn’t need investigating—those in the industry who had been around long enough could roughly guess her background.

From last night’s speculative revelations about the rich second-generation’s identity to this morning’s complete erasure of any trace of her, even the topic forums had scrubbed all clear photos of her face.

Ge Yarui was no fool. She knew that to survive long in Ningcheng, one had to understand what should and shouldn’t be said.

And there was one more crucial reason—the person who stepped out of Ye Qianqian’s car was…

“Qi! Si! Jia!”

Gnashing her teeth, Ge Yarui glared at the tall woman wearing a gas mask and tapped open Qi Sijia’s WeChat.

Her long nails pressed against the phone screen as she deleted a string of accusatory messages and instead hit the voice call button.

No one answered.

Back when we broke up, you said you’d never go for someone as opportunistic as me—someone who’d do anything for money, who didn’t want commitment and only wanted one-night stands. But after all these years, your taste is still as terrible as ever.

–

Qi Sijia glanced inexplicably at her WeChat, taking a long moment to remember who “Pigeon Paparazzi” was. At first, she thought it was some promotional spam for romance novels on the app.

So she removed the contact from her address book.

After that, she turned around to find the supervisor and several cleaning aunties blocking her at the entrance of Building 18.

Qi Sijia had been reported. The reason? A lawyer’s letter from Fu Chuchu. In a high-end residential complex like Jinbiaomingting, known for its strict management, someone had actually let in paparazzi.

Last night, the entire property management team had lost sleep. The residents here were all wealthy or influential, and when the complex was sold, privacy and security had been its primary selling points.

Yet just two years after its completion, such a problem had arisen.

The property management took it very seriously, reviewing surveillance footage overnight.

In the end, they discovered that Qi Sijia had spoken with Ge Yarui. Even more shocking—Qi Sijia actually had access cards to enter and exit the buildings.

Even the cleaning staff didn’t have the access cards reserved for residents.

As luck would have it, Xiao Su, who had recently handled Qi Sijia’s onboarding, had returned to her hometown to attend a family funeral.

So the deputy manager, who had just returned from maternity leave, took matters into her own hands, shifting the blame onto Xiao Su. Without even asking, she labeled the incident as a recruitment issue within the cleaning staff.

The cleaning supervisor, under the property management’s oversight, naturally couldn’t escape responsibility. Not only was she fined, but she also had to write a formal self-criticism report.

The supervisor’s mood was understandable. She deliberately sent Gui Xiaolian away and cornered Qi Sijia downstairs, snapping, “No matter what tricks you used to get Miss Meng from the penthouse to cover for you, this time, you’re in the wrong.”

Qi Sijia gave her a cold stare. “It wasn’t me.”

The supervisor flinched under that icy gaze, her heart chilling halfway.

The supervisor eyed Qi Sijia’s tall stature and muttered to herself, “With my old bones, if I really pin this false accusation on Qi Sijia, what if she decides to throw punches later?”

She imagined herself ending up with a bloody head and just wanted to wrap this up quickly. Shooting a sharp glare at Aunt Wu beside her, the latter shrank back guiltily.

Mixing dialect with Mandarin, the supervisor hastily cobbled together a fake legal argument, shifting all blame onto Qi Sijia: “Ms. Fu has filed a complaint against the property management, but the real issue lies with you. According to the law, fraudulent employment and the theft of private information are criminal offenses. We plan to hand you over—there’s surveillance footage of you chatting with a suspicious person in the elevator.”

Qi Sijia showed no reaction, her expression calm as she patiently corrected the supervisor’s legal knowledge: “Article 305 of the Criminal Law of the People’s Republic of China states: ‘Any witness, expert witness, recorder, or interpreter who intentionally gives false testimony, expert evaluation, records, or translations concerning circumstances material to a case, for the purpose of framing another person or concealing criminal evidence, shall be sentenced to fixed-term imprisonment of not more than three years or criminal detention; if the circumstances are serious, the sentence shall be not less than three years but not more than seven years.'”

Her tone was composed, reciting the exact legal statute with precision. Paired with her deep, resonant contralto, she sounded like a judge presiding over a courtroom.

Intimidated—and with no real legal knowledge or solid evidence—the supervisor took a step back, bumping into the trembling Aunt Wu.

Sweat beaded on Aunt Wu’s forehead as she avoided Qi Sijia’s gaze, bluffing nervously, “D-don’t listen to her nonsense! The evidence is clear—who else could’ve done it? What kind of cleaner would go out of their way to forge an access card only residents are supposed to have?”

Qi Sijia reached into her pocket, where her access card and keys were tucked inside her uniform. She hesitated, unsure whether to pull them out, and the standoff continued.

Then, a light chuckle came from behind.

The penthouse resident was dressed in a new tracksuit, her long, wavy hair loosely tied into a low ponytail. Black sunglasses and a mask concealed her face, revealing only a sliver of pale skin beneath her flawless hairline.

Behind her was a strikingly beautiful woman with shoulder-length, inward-curled hair that accentuated her delicate features. Her eyes were small but didn’t detract from her refined appearance.

She wore frameless glasses—unlike Qi Sijia’s mild prescription—and carried a bouquet of bellflowers. Her gait matched the penthouse resident’s, every step poised and deliberate, though she deliberately stayed half a step behind.

As they reached the elevator, she casually asked, “Still living on the top floor?”

Qi Sijia heard the penthouse resident respond with a cold “Mm.”

She instinctively averted her gaze, but the penthouse resident suddenly turned, locking eyes with her mid-air.

Breaking the tension, the resident said, “It wasn’t her.”

Meng Jiang simply didn’t want to engage with Shen Tunan. She left her standing at the elevator, completely oblivious to the latter’s sullen glare.

Gracefully stepping closer, she glanced at the two petrified cleaning ladies.

Perhaps because Meng Jiang’s notorious pickiness and difficulty surpassed even Ms. Fu’s complaints from the day before, the supervisor forced a smile and said, “Ms. Meng, you see, we have evidence.”

“Just present the evidence,” Meng Jiang said in an unhurried tone. Even when speaking to a cleaning lady whose status was worlds apart from her own, there wasn’t the slightest hint of condescension in her words.

With her usual half-smile, she continued, “During the time the paparazzi entered the community, she—” Meng Jiang pointed at Qi Sijia—”was cleaning outside my door.”

“I can arrange for the police to come and retrieve evidence from the surveillance footage.”

No one had expected such a twist in Qi Sijia’s case. The supervisor froze on the spot, while behind her, Aunt Wu’s forehead beaded with sweat, droplets hitting the ground.

Her lips trembled as she stared at the floor, taking a deep breath before saying, “Miss, we know you’re close to her, but how do you explain the other evidence? Last Wednesday night, outside working hours, she… used her access card to bring a group of people into the community without authorization.”

Meng Jiang raised an eyebrow and turned to Qi Sijia.

She was merely stating facts, testing Shen Tunan’s patience.

But when it came to the private matters of the cleaning lady before her, that was beyond Meng Jiang’s scope. She crossed her arms and looked directly at Qi Sijia.

Qi Sijia blinked, then smiled.

Without even bothering to remove her gloves—earning a disdainful glance from Meng Jiang—she pulled out an access card and a set of keys from her work uniform pocket. With a turn of her foot, she gestured for the two aunties to follow her.

Her newly purchased home was a villa on the first floor, complete with a garden.

The main entrance was set within the garden. Qi Sijia led the group to the garden’s outer fence and, in front of everyone, unlocked it.

“Why do you have the keys to a first-floor homeowner’s property? Where did you get them?” Aunt Wu’s shrill voice rang out, making Meng Jiang frown and shoot her a glare.

Cowed by that look, Aunt Wu promptly shut her mouth.

Perhaps because a high-profile homeowner was present, Qi Sijia’s physical reaction wasn’t as severe as before. She instinctively stepped aside to the left and said calmly, “I am the first-floor homeowner.”

“Would you like to come in and see?”

The air fell silent. When no one moved, Qi Sijia stepped forward and pressed her finger against the fingerprint lock outside the garden gate. The glass door slid open instantly.

“Welcome home, master,” chimed the voice of the smart home system—a feature Qi Sijia had installed with a designer just last Wednesday night.

The scene was absurdly surreal.

Even Meng Jiang’s eyes flickered with brief surprise.

Several seconds later, the supervisor was the first to snap out of her shock. Her lips tinged purple, her chipped front teeth pressing against her tongue.

“You… you…” She patted her chest, perhaps struggling with rising bl00d pressure, her words incoherent. “If you’re so wealthy, why would you work as a cleaner? Who would believe this? I certainly don’t.”

Qi Sijia replied expressionlessly, “Suit yourself.”

A few minutes later, the property management retrieved the homeowner registration records.

Qi Sijia was indeed the homeowner—one of only two buyers who had recently purchased property in full.

The situation had escalated into an unmistakable case of slander.

Even if Aunt Wu and the supervisor couldn’t fathom why someone who could afford a multi-million-dollar villa would dabble in menial labor for fun, there was no refuting the facts. They couldn’t pin the blame on Qi Sijia.

Aunt Wu’s lips quivered as she shot the supervisor a meaningful look. The supervisor, however, shook her head, too afraid to say more—clearly still rattled by Qi Sijia’s earlier mention of criminal law. Resigned, she decided to downplay the matter.

They thought dropping the issue would mean it was over.

Unexpectedly, as they walked out of the garden, Meng Jiang lifted her eyelids slightly, a faint curve forming at the corner of her lips. “Wait a moment,” she said.

She had always harbored suspicions about the cleaning staff who wore gas masks while working in luxurious mansions. But even so, out of humanitarian concern, the petty tricks of the two aunties before her seemed far more detestable.

In an unhurried tone, Meng Jiang continued, “Aren’t you curious about who let the paparazzi in? I might be able to help.”

For the sake of protecting her own privacy, Meng Jiang’s car was equipped with a battery-powered dashcam that ran continuously, along with the latest miniature cameras installed outside the vehicle.

After fiddling with her phone, she quickly pulled up the surveillance footage connected to the car’s cameras.

Meng Jiang’s meticulous nature had never failed anyone. Qi Sijia followed the footage she had retrieved.

The paparazzi entering the community was no accident—it wasn’t Qi Sijia who let them in, but Aunt Wu and the supervisor, both from Panjia Village.

The police arrived five minutes later. Meng Jiang handed over the evidence and noticed only Shen Tunan trailing behind her.

She glanced around.

“The aunt you were looking for… left a long time ago,” Shen Tunan said.

Meng Jiang frowned…

Mentally noting this down, she thought, What an ungrateful wretch.

–

By the time Gui Xiaolian found Qi Sijia outside the crowd, she was already walking away, popping a small pill into her mouth.

Learning that the penthouse owner had just stood up for Qi Sijia, Gui Xiaolian was buzzing with excitement.

She couldn’t help but keep glancing at Qi Sijia. “She… really doesn’t have those kinds of feelings for you? It doesn’t seem that way to me.”

Only after escaping the crowd did the suffocating pressure in Qi Sijia’s chest ease slightly.

“Hmm.”

“Is it really okay for you to just leave like this?” Gui Xiaolian kept looking back every few steps. “She holds grudges, you know. Yesterday when you took leave, I could tell she was in a bad mood. She even complained about you to the property management.”

“Could it be… the deeper the love, the harsher the scolding?” Gui Xiaolian cupped her face, gazing at Qi Sijia with envy. “Honestly, sis, are you sure she’s not pursuing you?”

In the past, Qi Sijia might have believed those words.

After all, a woman who exuded such refined elegance from the first glance had no reason to play the saint, stooping to mediate disputes between cleaning aunties.

But she had stepped forward, right before Qi Sijia’s social anxiety threatened to overwhelm her.

That moment—when the woman chuckled softly behind her—Qi Sijia’s heart had skipped a beat.

Strangely, she felt none of her usual resistance to social interaction with this person.

But the woman had a girlfriend. And the one standing beside her earlier, tall and poised in a jumpsuit dress, was probably that very girlfriend.

A pang of discomfort settled in her chest. Qi Sijia stayed silent.

Lost in thought, she walked for a while before abruptly turning back as they parted ways. She asked Gui Xiaolian for a cup of instant noodles.

“Eh? Didn’t you bring your own lunch?”

If the penthouse owner hadn’t shown up in time, Qi Sijia could have handled the baseless accusations herself—though it might have landed her in the hospital. Confrontations with multiple people, especially tense ones, always left her breathless, heart racing uncontrollably.

But then the penthouse owner appeared.

Now, realizing she hadn’t even said thank you before unceremoniously walking away, Qi Sijia muttered, “I’ll give her my lunch.”

Gui Xiaolian stared at her in disbelief. Seeing how serious she was, she didn’t have the heart to discourage her.

Under her breath, she mumbled, “Someone like her probably feasts on delicacies every day. The only way she’d eat your humble meal is if she likes you.”

Since Meng Jiang had stayed over last night, Qi Sijia hadn’t cooked. Today’s lunchbox only contained freshly made congee and a box of steamed dumplings.

Would she even want it?

Qi Sijia hesitated, then her phone buzzed.

A notification from Huangjiang Literature Network: an hour ago, “Rich Flower” had tipped 20,000 for a bonus chapter.

After saying goodbye to Gui Xiaolian, Qi Sijia opened her private messages with Rich Flower.

The chat messages between the two still dated back to two days ago, when Qi Sijia had unilaterally messaged Fuguihua, saying: “She has a girlfriend.”

Fuguihua replied: “Well, maybe just let it go then.”

Qi Sijia lingered on the private message interface for a long time, feeling like she needed to say something to calm her emotions.

“This morning, some colleagues gave me trouble, and she stepped in to resolve it.”

“She sent those two colleagues to the police station with just a few words.”

“Too bad she has a girlfriend.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s a great person. Anyone around her would feel safe, I think.”

Qi Sijia felt a pang of regret. It was the first time she had ever wanted to actively pursue someone.

After waiting a while and seeing that Fuguihua hadn’t replied immediately, Qi Sijia didn’t keep staring at her phone. She picked up her lunchbox and headed upstairs—only for the situation to take an unexpected turn.

–

Shen Tunan sat idly in Meng Jiang’s home, doing nothing in particular, just keeping herself company on the cold sofa all morning.

Because Meng Jiang was tired, she had gone into the bedroom to nap. This inevitably made Shen Tunan recall the scene from earlier that morning when she had picked Meng Jiang up outside that rundown apartment building.

It was hard to imagine the usually elegant and composed Miss Meng emerging from a nearly collapsing residential building, reeking of cigarette smoke.

The shock was palpable.

When they met, Meng Jiang seemed to have anticipated that Chen Ting would send Shen Tunan to Ningcheng. She merely raised an eyebrow and asked, “Where’s Chen Cheng?”

“Aunt Chen summoned Chen Cheng back to the old house for questioning. She’ll probably come to Ningcheng in a few days.” Shen Tunan didn’t dare act out of line, behaving much more obediently than she had months ago.

“Do you want to change your clothes first?”

Meng Jiang wasn’t in the best mood. She gave a noncommittal hum and fell silent.

–

When Meng Jiang woke up, she found herself continuing the dream she’d had last night in Qi Sijia’s bathroom.

Blinking sleepily, she changed into fresh loungewear and opened the bedroom door.

Shen Tunan was still waiting outside.

Meng Jiang smirked faintly and walked to the front door, opening it for her. “Still not leaving?”

“Fourth Sister.”

Meng Jiang was the fourth child in the Meng family, with three older brothers above her. However, none of them were Meng Xingsheng’s biological children, nor were they the old madam’s. They were the offspring of the late Master Meng’s illegitimate son, Third Uncle Meng.

But Meng Xing liked them—or rather, he liked any child that wasn’t Chen Ting’s.

So, within the Meng family’s social circle, Meng Jiang had once been addressed as “Fourth Sister.”

In recent years, fewer people used that title, given her changed status. Unless they were close to her, no one really called her that anymore.

Shen Tunan’s apologetic and submissive attitude was sincere enough, but Meng Jiang saw right through it and didn’t respond.

She arranged the bellflowers she had brought into a Hangzhou porcelain vase in Meng Jiang’s home.

“Miss Qi helped pick these flowers. She even taught me a few tricks about flower arrangement. Look, aren’t they pretty?” Shen Tunan casually dropped the remark as she finished arranging the flowers and walked to the door.

Meng Jiang smirked. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

Caught, Shen Tunan quickly adjusted her expression. “You’ve been in Ningcheng for a few months now. Have you met the eldest daughter of the Qi family? A few days ago, Miss Qi asked me to invite you to meet her at a time of your convenience.”

Meng Jiang raised an eyebrow. “Which Qi?”

“The Qi of Ningcheng’s Qi Jun,” Shen Tunan replied. She had come to ask Meng Jiang for a favor, and this was just a convenient gesture.

Meng Jiang arched a brow. She wasn’t familiar with the Qi family—they were involved in medical real estate, while Meng Jiang played in the world of new media and entertainment.

With industries so unrelated, Meng Jiang remained unmoved.

“She plans to break into the entertainment industry. Besides wanting your help to guide her, she also has a project she’d like to discuss with you.”

Meng Jiang: “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

It was clear the other party was practically offering money on a silver platter—there was no reason to refuse. Shen Tunan was taken aback. “Why?”

“I can barely handle my own affairs. How am I supposed to help you manage your connections?”

Shen Tunan gave Meng Jiang a once-over. “Fourth Sister, you seem to be in a bad mood.”

Meng Jiang: “If I were in a bad mood, I wouldn’t have been chatting with you this long.”

The words sounded like they were laced with gunpowder. Shen Tunan clicked her tongue, then suddenly remembered why Meng Jiang had no patience for her.

Suppressing the gloom in her expression, she found her own way to save face.

“Then I’ll come back when you’re in a better mood. Aunt Chen mentioned last time that with your temper, if we don’t find you a marriage alliance, who knows when you’ll ever settle down.”

Instead of getting angry, Meng Jiang laughed. “Everything is just ‘Aunt Chen said.’ After all these years by my side, you still have no opinions of your own.”

Shen Tunan’s face flushed crimson: …

Having made a fool of herself, she turned and left.

When Qi Sijia arrived, she caught the tail end of the conversation.

This person doesn’t have a girlfriend!

So that day in the elevator, it seemed she never actually admitted to having a girlfriend—just that someone said she had a crush on someone.

But what others say could just be a joke.

After piecing together a series of earlier details, Qi Sijia’s usually tranquil heart finally began to stir with restless anticipation.

Too many signs suggested that the penthouse owner still treated her differently.

Qi Sijia wasn’t the type to believe everything she heard, but when it came to romance, she had zero emotional intelligence.

Her first instinct wasn’t to step forward and confess or confirm anything. Instead, she pulled out her phone.

Opening a private message to Fuguihua—the only person who knew about this emotional journey of hers.

The chat interface was still on the previous venting session.

“You…”

She had only typed one character before growing impatient with the slow typing caused by her rubber gloves. Qi Sijia peeled them off.

Leaning against the fire hydrant door, her fingers flew across the screen with newfound enthusiasm: “It was a misunderstanding. She doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“Darling, do you think I should make the first move?”

Meng Jiang was about to close the door when her private phone chimed several times in succession. She had set a special notification tone for private messages on Huangjiang Net and didn’t hesitate to pull out her phone, smoothly navigating to the backend.

Glancing at Qi Sijia’s message, Meng Jiang: …

Fuguihua: “No more changes? You’re sure she likes you?”

Ji Liu: “Yes. I’m certain.”

Meng Jiang had zero faith in Qi Sijia’s romantic judgment, but after last night, she wasn’t sure what position she stood in to advise her to turn back before it was too late—to not invest too deeply.

Her expression was cool as she typed: “Same as last time—telling me this is pointless. After all, the one you like isn’t me. If you’re sure it’s the person in your heart, go ask her directly.”

Qi Sijia: …

If she had the audacity to confess face-to-face, she wouldn’t have wasted time discussing it with an online stranger.

For someone with Qi Sijia’s level of social anxiety, confessing was social interaction on nightmare mode—akin to swallowing razor blades or rolling on a bed of knives.

But regardless of whether the other person liked her or not, Qi Sijia had already promised Ye Qianqian that she would take the initiative to seek the penthouse owner’s help in overcoming her social anxiety.

She always kept her word. No matter what, she had to make the first move.

Lost in thought, she accidentally hit the wrong key, sending a single, mortifying phrase: “Seduce.”

Realizing she had just sent such a shameless word to her wealthy reader, Qi Sijia hesitated before tentatively adding: “Do you recommend it?”

Fuguihua’s tone was sharp: “Can’t you focus on your career without dating? Will you die of loneliness?”

“When’s the next update?”

Feeling the pressure of the update demand, QiSijia felt a pang of guilt. She sent a cat sticker in response.

“Right away. So, you’re suggesting I try using my hands?”

“Using your hands?” Meng Jiang couldn’t stay calm, curling her lips in self-mockery. “How exactly do you plan to use them? Go ahead, try!”

QiSijia thought seriously for a moment. “My ex-girlfriends used to stare at my hands a lot. If—just if—she keeps staring at them, could that be a sign she likes me?”

Oh, so it’s about showing her hands, not using them.

Meng Jiang sighed in relief but didn’t know how to respond. Deep down, she didn’t believe QiSijia’s innocent hand-revealing tactic would work.

But at least there wasn’t any dirty intention behind it, which slightly improved her mood. Suppressing her irritation, Meng Jiang continued pouring cold water on the idea: “Or maybe she’s staring because your hands are dirty.”

QiSijia’s enthusiasm wavered upon reading Fuguihua’s last reply.

She frowned, pondering how to counter that argument.

Suddenly, the door creaked open from the inside.

The woman inside wore simple loungewear, the same black mask and sunglasses from the morning, and had swapped into sneakers—apparently planning to step out for some air.

Instinctively, QiSijia called out to her.

Annoyed, Meng Jiang rubbed her temples and glanced down at the strand of hair still lying uncollected by the door from yesterday.

Unable to hold back any longer, she turned a cold face toward QiSijia. “What?”

QiSijia held up a lunchbox. “Want some lunch?”

“Do I look like a food dispenser to you?” Meng Jiang’s tone was indifferent, devoid of emotion.

QiSijia felt a twinge of awkwardness.

She didn’t know how to respond to such rudeness and lowered her head, grateful for the full coverage of her gas mask.

Fuguihua was right—not everyone who stared at her hands did so out of affection.

Besides, the penthouse owner showed zero interest in her hands, not even sparing her a glance.

On the other side, Meng Jiang felt nothing. Her mood was already foul, and though she knew her words had been harsh, the other party hadn’t exactly been polite either, ignoring her earlier help.

Recalling the luxurious mansion she’d seen that morning, Meng Jiang scrutinized QiSijia with a critical eye.

The cleaner before her was even taller than Meng Jiang, dressed in a sanitation worker’s uniform, a gas mask, and goggles. Her appearance was completely obscured, even her voice muffled behind the mask.

Meng Jiang had no idea who this person was or what her real motives were for approaching her.

But Chen Cheng was already investigating. If Chen Ting hadn’t summoned her back to the family estate, they might’ve had answers by now.

Just as Meng Jiang was about to look away, her gaze drifted downward—and froze.

The woman’s slender, fair hand held a gradient-gold phone.

Under the light, a bright red mole on her left index finger stood out like a drop of cinnabar on exquisitely carved jade—vibrant, striking, and unmistakable.

Meng Jiang’s eyes snapped open, fixed on QiSijia’s left hand, unable to look away.

The air turned deathly still.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, motionless, before stiffly turning away and glancing at the discouraging message she’d just sent QiSijia.

“Fvck!”

Snapping back to reality, Meng Jiang forced herself to avert her gaze.

With a “snap,” she closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she took a deep breath. Lowering her head, she tapped open the chat window.

Fugui Hua replied to the author: “That was a slip of the hand just now, clicked the wrong thing. She does seem to like you a little—I’d say go for it boldly.”