I Am the White Moonlight that the Former Movie Queen Secretly Loves - Chapter 32

The RV was warmed to a comfortable temperature, with the scent of jasmine and top notes of magnolia from the car diffuser filling the air.

Meng Jiang stole a glance at Qi Sijia, noticing the faint shadows under her eyes. But she didn’t offer any overly sentimental words of comfort—this wasn’t the right moment for that.

Without hesitation, she yielded the back seat to Qi Sijia and slipped into the passenger seat herself.

The interior lights dimmed, and a soothing serenade began to play, as if to lull them to sleep.

But Qi Sijia wasn’t in the mood for sleep. Resting her head against the cool glass window, she fought against the creeping exhaustion with sheer willpower.

Yet, as the wind howled outside, the confined space of the RV—where even breathing felt unnervingly tranquil—seemed to pull her into its quiet embrace.

Her eyelids grew heavier, and the only sound left in the car was the serenade fading out, replaced by another track—one the car’s owner had played on loop for five years straight.

An old announcement echoed crisply through the high-quality car speakers:

Next performance: “Huadan.”

Produced by Ning University Drama Club and 385 Sound Studio. Supervised by Professor Kang Minglan. Original work by Qi Sijia. Starring Meng Jiang in “Huadan.”

Back then, the now-celebrated host was still a greenhorn with a buzz cut, but her enunciation was flawless, and her announcement had a strangely hypnotic effect.

Before the opera’s prelude could even begin, Qi Sijia succumbed to drowsiness. Just before losing consciousness, she faintly heard a series of exaggerated coughs from the front of the vehicle.

“Why is this playing? Turn it off.”

“Right away, right away.”

Someone called out to her—

“Miss Qi?”

“Qi Sijia?” The voice repeated several times—a refined, expensive voice, laced with a hint of sweetness.

Subconsciously, it was a voice so familiar that she could surrender to sleep without a second thought.

“Asleep already?”

“What a shame. I thought I was about to be exposed. Oh well, I wasn’t planning to hide it anyway—would’ve been beneath me.”

Qi Sijia drifted into a long, fragmented dream, disjointed and chaotic, its timeline leaping erratically. It threatened to dredge up memories she had long buried.

Back in high school, Qi Jun and Wei Yunfang had discussed bringing Qi Sijia back home.

Qi Sijia refused. So did Grandma Qi.

The old woman scowled at the couple and said bluntly, “You ignored her when she was little, and now you think you can just take her back?”

Qi Jun set down his chopsticks, his brow furrowed tightly. “Mom!”

Grandma had always been sharp-tongued when she had the upper hand, especially with her own son.

Her words were cutting, leaving no room for Qi Jun’s pride. “Where were you when Jiajia didn’t even have enough to eat?”

The question left the couple speechless.

At the time, Qi Sijia hadn’t yet learned how to change a lightbulb. The living room’s incandescent lamp was coated in dust, casting a dim glow that settled heavily over the couple’s expressions.

But once Qi Jun made up his mind, he never wavered.

He knew he was in the wrong, but he was still Grandma’s son.

Softening his tone, he called out, “Mom,” twice.

Grandma, after all, couldn’t bring herself to sever the bond between father and daughter. Relenting, she hummed in acknowledgment, waiting for Qi Jun’s stance.

Yet Qi Jun had always been a refined egoist.

He cared more about his career, living his entire life weighing pros and cons, always seeking maximum gain.

The ruthless tactics of the business world were ingrained in his bones.

“Wei Yunfang and I are still Jiajia’s birth parents. We brought her into this world and raised her. You can’t just paint us as utterly worthless. What happened in America years ago—I promise you, it won’t happen again.”

Grandma Qi’s eyes showed disappointment, but she didn’t want to argue in front of Qi Sijia, afraid of leaving the child with emotional scars.

She ran a hand through her graying hair and didn’t bother wasting words with Qi Jun. “Fine,” she said. “As long as you and your wife promise to fire the nanny and take care of the child yourselves, I have no objections. Jiajia has needed her parents all these years.”

“But if you can’t commit to raising her yourselves—if you just treat her like a pet, checking in when it’s convenient and ignoring her for months when it’s not—then please leave.”

The couple couldn’t make that promise.

The big orange cat, who had spent years by Grandma’s side and understood human emotions, sensed her displeasure. It grabbed Qi Jun’s pant leg with its teeth and tugged him toward the door.

Amid the chaos, Wei Yunfang managed to maintain a strained smile as she asked Qi Sijia, “Jiajia, Mom wants to hear what you think. Don’t you want to come home with us either?”

When she was young, Qi Sijia had held naive, hopeful beliefs about the world. She longed to be loved but would never ask for it outright—she needed others to realize it on their own.

She had always thought that was what made parental love pure and unconditional.

But time stretched on, and those immature emotions faded away.

Now, she felt nothing toward others’ love or hatred—it was all meaningless.

If there was no love, she would love herself.

But back then, she hadn’t yet reached that adult realization. Her words often came out the opposite of what she meant, sharp and cutting, designed to wound.

Standing by the dining table that year, Qi Sijia looked down at a discarded plastic cup in the trash bin at her feet and replied to Wei Yunfang, “Next time, if there’s nothing important, you don’t need to come. I’m fine here.”

The words infuriated Qi Jun.

As he slammed the door on his way out, he accidentally crushed the big orange cat’s tail, severing it.

The cat endured immense suffering during the surgery that followed. Qi Sijia held it in her arms, feeding it by hand.

Grandma Qi chuckled and teased the cat, “You silly thing. Usually, you’re too lazy to even scare a mouse, but this time, you had to play the hero. What, trying to get Jiajia to spoil you with extra treats?”

Still laughing, Grandma wiped her reading glasses. The cat meowed pitifully at Qi Sijia, perhaps thinking that after this ordeal, its little owner would reward it with all kinds of expensive fish snacks.

But after it recovered, Qi Sijia never bought it another pricey treat.

Because from that day on, the young Miss Qi of Ningcheng, for the sake of the word “raising,” had ruthlessly severed all ties—and had no money left.

Many people said Qi Sijia was quiet and harmless, like a smooth, silent circle with no edges. If someone kicked her, she often seemed unresponsive, retreating into her own world, rarely fighting back.

But in truth, she was more cutting than even Meng Jiang—her sharpness extended to herself.

The only difference was that hers was hidden deep inside, while Meng Jiang’s was openly abrasive.

When Qi Jun tried to use “raising” as leverage for father-daughter affection, Qi Sijia never touched another cent from him or Wei Yunfang.

Grandma never knew, even until her death, that Qi Sijia’s tuition and living expenses in those years had been earned through her own hands and the help of screenwriter friends abroad.

Yet those friends had actually been introduced by Wei Yunfang. Had they bothered to ask around—or even glanced at the untouched balance in the bank account they’d set up for her—they would have uncovered the truth.

But in a twist of irony, it wasn’t until the year Qi Sijia was released from reform school that Qi Jun and Wei Yunfang finally realized the living expenses they’d deposited had never been touched.

Perhaps the moment they realized she had never used their money.

Wei Yunfang and Qi Jun must have been deeply stung as well, because later, the two of them cautiously and simultaneously came to Qi Sijia to apologize.

But Qi Sijia was cutting in her response, turning her back to them as her answer.

She was a circle without edges, yet her sharpness was etched into her bones.

If someone abandoned her, she would never give them a second chance—no opportunity for redemption, no turning back.

She refused to return to the starting point for anyone, including herself.

–

Qi Sijia met Meng Jiang during the most financially strained years of her life.

One day, while delivering coffee as a courier, she fainted from low bl00d sugar and collided with Meng Jiang’s slender back.

A head of seaweed-like hair, the scent of shampoo neither too strong nor too faint, drifted into Qi Sijia’s nose.

When she woke up, she found herself staring into a pair of slightly narrowed phoenix eyes.

The pupils weren’t perfectly round—they were slender and striking, with deep, layered eyelids resembling peach blossom petals, yet clearer and steadier, lacking the frivolity typical of girls her age.

“You’re awake,” said the girl with meticulously styled hair. “Do you remember what happened before you passed out?”

Qi Sijia was momentarily stunned. As her memories returned, her gaze drifted from the girl’s face downward, finally settling on the military-green notebook clutched in her hand.

The notebook had fallen from her bag, its pages splayed open, covered in dense, meticulously penned notes in small, elegant script.

The paper was yellowed with age.

Bound in a military-green cover, its edges were worn, revealing patches of white beneath.

As Qi Sijia studied Meng Jiang, Meng Jiang studied her right back, tilting her head slightly, her fair chin resting against the notebook’s worn edge.

Perhaps because their mutual scrutiny lasted too long, Meng Jiang suddenly curved her eyes and broke the silence: “Why are you staring at me without saying anything?”

Strictly speaking, that was Qi Sijia’s first real encounter with Meng Jiang.

Snow-white skin, jet-black hair, phoenix eyes, red lips, and a faint teardrop mole at the corner of her eye.

When she smiled, the corners of her eyes curved downward.

Qi Sijia stared for a long time, until another soft laugh escaped Meng Jiang’s lips.

She seemed to love laughing, effortlessly capturing attention with her beauty.

A nurse knocked and entered to change Qi Sijia’s IV. Meng Jiang stood by, watching quietly until the nurse left. Then she bent down, lifted the blanket, and tucked Qi Sijia’s exposed hand back under the covers.

As she leaned in, her breath brushed against Qi Sijia’s ear, and Qi Sijia heard her murmur softly, “Are you mute or something?”

Back then, Qi Sijia didn’t understand what it meant to be captivated.

She only felt that the sunlight was just right, the breeze restless.

Squinting against the lingering dizziness, Qi Sijia frowned and subtly shifted away from the stranger’s unusual proximity.

The feeling wasn’t unpleasant, but neither was it fondness.

She simply thought this person was overly presumptuous—after all, no one approached another without reason.

Withdrawing her gaze, Qi Sijia adopted the most detached expression possible and asked the beautiful girl before her for details.

Upon learning that the coffee she had been delivering had spilled on Meng Jiang’s dress before she fainted, Qi Sijia merely furrowed her brows slightly. She didn’t shy away from responsibility, mentally calculating her savings before asking frankly, “Can I pay you back in installments?”

Perhaps it was the first time Meng Jiang had encountered someone so indifferent to her charm, so quick to draw boundaries.

She fell into an odd silence for a moment before coughing lightly.

“Are you hungry? The doctor said you have chronic low bl00d sugar.”

Meng Jiang casually handed Qi Sijia a bottle of milk she had prepared earlier.

Her forearm, half-exposed, was as pale and smooth as lotus root.

The straw pressed against the corner of her lips, Qi Sijia couldn’t speak. After the initial surprise, she glanced over and slowly typed a question mark, signaling the other person to “get straight to the point.”

Now it was Meng Jiang’s turn to be surprised. She chuckled softly and muttered, “This kid’s guard is up pretty high.” Yet her face still wore that bright, determined smile that wouldn’t quit until she got what she wanted.

“You’re from Ning University, right?” Meng Jiang said. “What a coincidence, so am I.”

Qi Sijia had no patience for this kind of small talk. “So…?” She put on her usual aloof mask, one that usually made others back off. But Meng Jiang unexpectedly flicked her forehead with a playful boink.

“Kid, has anyone ever told you it’s pretty rude to interrupt someone trying to make friends?”

Qi Sijia froze. It was as if the other girl could see right through her. In that brief standoff, she suddenly laughed and said, “Fine, let’s both take a step back. If you think we’re not close enough, feel free to add this bottle of milk to the tab you owe me.”

With that, Meng Jiang ignored her, theatrically uncapping a pen, unfolding a napkin, and writing out an IOU: “Hospital fee: 28 yuan. Milk: 5 yuan. Dress cleaning fee—let’s call it 3 yuan. Total: 36 yuan. Just give me 40. How about paying in installments? Ten yuan a month?”

Qi Sijia couldn’t hold back anymore and opened her mouth to say, “Stop joking around.” But as she did, the straw in the milk cup slipped between her lips. The rich, creamy taste washed over her slightly bitter tongue.

With no reason left to refuse, a soft laugh sounded beside her as the bottle of milk was firmly pressed into Qi Sijia’s hand. She looked up and met Meng Jiang’s beautiful eyes—this time, they sparkled with genuine amusement.

“What, too much?” Meng Jiang asked.

Qi Sijia: “No…”

“Then it’s too little. In that case, let’s add another ten as interest for the installment plan,” Meng Jiang declared decisively.

Qi Sijia: “……”

In Qi Sijia’s life, she had rarely encountered someone like Meng Jiang—someone who wore their intentions so openly yet remained undeterred by her usual icy indifference.

So when Meng Jiang, under the midday sun, lowered her head, curved her eyes into crescents, and extended a fair, slender hand in greeting—

“Let’s get acquainted. I’m Meng Jiang. And you?”

Qi Sijia stared for a few seconds but didn’t take the offered hand. Just as Meng Jiang was about to lower it, Qi Sijia caught sight of the glaring stain on the pristine green skirt.

Closing her eyes, Qi Sijia heard herself say, “I know who you are.”

Then she took off her school jacket and motioned for Meng Jiang to come closer. As she loosely wrapped her arms around the other girl, she could feel Meng Jiang’s stiff posture. Assuming it was just shyness, Qi Sijia swiftly tied her jacket around Meng Jiang’s waist, securing it with a haphazard knot.

The coffee stain on the skirt was now completely hidden.

Qi Sijia gave it a once-over, satisfied, and leaned back against the bed.

The situation was objectively awkward, but Qi Sijia didn’t notice. She also completely ignored the way Meng Jiang’s narrowed eyes shamelessly roamed over her face, lingering several times.

“Well, well. So you’re a little fan.”

Was she really that happy about it?

Puzzled, Qi Sijia explained, “Last year’s opening ceremony—you played a Mozart piece as the student representative.”

Meng Jiang laughed. “Did you like it?”

Unlike most people, who would’ve reflexively said “yes,” Qi Sijia—

Qi Sijia thought for a moment seriously, then nodded and said, “It sounded nice, but it’s strange—why would you play The Marriage of Figaro at the opening ceremony?”

The surroundings fell silent.

After a long wait, Meng Jiang still hadn’t spoken again until Qi Sijia looked up.

Only then did Meng Jiang finally speak. The fleeting daze from earlier had faded, and she gave Qi Sijia a deep look. “You listened that closely?”

“Do you like me?”

Qi Sijia, confused, countered, “What?”

“No?” Meng Jiang scrutinized Qi Sijia with a smile.

A few seconds later, Qi Sijia understood. She adjusted her glasses with the back of her hand, pushing them up the bridge of her nose before saying, “Sorry, I don’t make friends.”

“Is that so?” Meng Jiang’s gaze lingered on Qi Sijia’s glasses for a few seconds.

For some reason, she suddenly shifted the topic. “What a coincidence—I love making friends.”

Qi Sijia was speechless. Meng Jiang had plenty to talk about. If she wanted, she could go from piano compositions to architectural principles.

By the time Qi Sijia snapped out of it that afternoon, Meng Jiang was already casually slinging an arm around her shoulders.

So that day, after Meng Jiang had solidified this friendly rapport, she finally revealed a glimpse of her underlying ambition.

“Hey, junior, interested in joining a club?”

Her phoenix eyes curved into a smile as she said to Qi Sijia, “Our drama club hires scriptwriters. Paid work.”

–

It wasn’t until much later that Qi Sijia learned the drama club’s wages had always come from Meng Jiang’s personal account.

That year, Meng Jiang was preparing to start her own company after graduation.

Ning University attracted top talents in the performing arts from all over the country. She had long-term plans—to gather these people before they made their mark and build them into her own talent pool.

Back then, Meng Jiang was barely in her twenties, yet she thought further ahead than most students. She was skilled at manipulating people and would stop at nothing to achieve her goals. She wanted to win, and she wanted to do it with style.

Working with her was, frankly, a disaster.

Despite that, Meng Jiang’s reputation remained impeccable—brilliant, beautiful, and socially adept, she was practically the goddess of Ning University. Everyone around her was clearly being exploited, yet no one who left her team ever held a grudge.

She handled interpersonal relationships flawlessly. The only difference was that, around Qi Sijia, Meng Jiang’s usual polished social skills grew somewhat lax. She would blatantly display her ambitions and then squeeze every ounce of labor value out of Qi Sijia.

It wasn’t until they got to know each other better that Qi Sijia realized what kind of person she really was.

Even though she was duplicitous and full of flaws, she was still the woman who had dazzled Qi Sijia’s entire youth. By the time Qi Sijia realized it and tried to cast her out of her world—just like Qi Junwei and Yun Fang’s bank cards—she found it wasn’t so easy.

A year later, the mere thought of it could still shake her to the core.

It wasn’t until Qi Sijia learned to adopt preferences that ran counter to Meng Jiang’s—ignoring her, cutting her off beyond an impenetrable wall—that she found some peace.

At that class reunion, during their late-night conversation, Qi Sijia was confident that Meng Jiang no longer had the power to unsettle her.

But tonight, after getting into a stranger’s car and falling into a deep sleep, memories sealed away for five years surged up like a balloon pricked by a needle.

In her dream, a pair of all-too-familiar eyes stared back at her with perfect clarity.

–

Qi Sijia felt like an outsider, watching with cold clarity the blazing summer of that dream—and the two of them within it.

After the first successful performance of the huadan script was written and staged, the club decided to organize a team-building trip.

They were going to Las Vegas.

The club would cover half the expenses, while the members would pay the other half themselves.

For that trip, Qi Sijia spent all the savings she had earned. She treated Meng Jiang to raspberry ice cream at Capannari.

Someone in the club noticed that even a tiny cup of ice cream at Capannari cost a month’s salary for an average office worker, so they tentatively asked Qi Sijia if she had been to Las Vegas before.

Qi Sijia replied that she had.

Five years ago, Wei Yunfang had taken Qi Sijia to Las Vegas to learn American English. But Wei Yunfang left the very next day, leaving her with a Black nanny to accompany her during her studies in the U.S.

Back then, Qi Sijia was young and rarely complained.

Qi Jun and Wei Yunfang were busy with their careers back in China, often too occupied to even return home, let alone remember they had a daughter.

For months, there wasn’t even a phone call. The Black nanny, feeling at ease, took on four or five jobs and dragged Qi Sijia through various red-light districts in Las Vegas.

While working, the nanny would leave Qi Sijia at a Chinese-owned burger joint. The owner there liked children and agreed to look after her. The burger shop was spacious, often filled with backpackers from all over the world stopping by for lunch and chatting about everything under the sun during their breaks.

Bored and with little else to do, Qi Sijia made a game out of listening to the conversations around her.

So, while she had never actually visited any of Las Vegas’s local delicacies or tourist spots, she knew all the best places to eat and have fun.

When her classmates brought it up, Qi Sijia answered earnestly.

Her world had little room for jokes, and she rarely lied.

If asked, she answered—keeping it simple.

As she finished speaking and looked up, she caught Meng Jiang’s phoenix-like eyes narrowing slightly, a hint of quiet empathy in their depths.

Their exchange lasted only a glance. Around them, the noise continued, with one classmate teasing, “So, do you know about the new Louisiana-style raw seafood place at Fashion Show Mall? Heard it’s amazing. Since we’re all classmates, why don’t you take us there?”

The money Qi Sijia had earned was only enough for Meng Jiang and herself.

Others weren’t part of the budget. In fact, ever since she stopped relying on Qi Jun’s allowance, life, while not exactly tight, was no longer as carefree as before.

She shook her head in refusal. The girl standing to her left laughed. “Come on, we’re all classmates. You can’t just favor Meng Jiang and leave the rest of us out.”

This trip to Las Vegas hadn’t originally been on Qi Sijia’s itinerary. She only came because Meng Jiang had organized it as a date.

The day the message arrived on WeChat, they hadn’t spoken in half a month.

Meng Jiang’s tone was stiff: “Do you even remember who I am?”

Qi Sijia wondered why she always played these games of stating the obvious but answered honestly anyway: “Meng Jiang.”

“Oh, so you do remember me.”

Qi Sijia paused. “I’d recognize you even if you turned to ashes.”

“Do you know why I’m calling?”

“No.”

Meng Jiang said, “Just checking if you’ve blocked me.”

Qi Sijia: “I thought we were in a relationship.”

The implication being that blocking her was out of the question.

Meng Jiang laughed in frustration and immediately called her.

When Qi Sijia answered, Meng Jiang’s accusatory tone came through: “So?”

“What?”

A long and drawn-out silence ensued, until finally, it was Meng Jiang who couldn’t hold back any longer. With a mix of joy and anger in her voice, she said:

“A month ago, I suggested we give it a try. I thought you had already given me a clear answer that day.”

Qi Sijia agreed, saying, “I kissed you.”

“Oh, so you remember that.” Meng Jiang laughed again. “And your silence for the past half month—is that your follow-up?”

Her tone was vividly sharp, laced with accusation. “Kiss and discard, Qi Sijia. How impressive.”

Qi Sijia took a moment to process before realizing the misunderstanding her busy days had caused.

She tried to explain briefly, but before she could finish, Meng Jiang caught on. Though still a bit upset, their long collaboration had given her insight into Qi Sijia’s reticent nature. After a pause, she said impatiently, “Hurry up and come down. I’m outside your building.”

The swivel chair creaked as Qi Sijia sprang up, abandoning her pen and closing the overseas video call with her professor.

Tying back her sweat-dampened hair, she pulled open the curtains. Sunlight poured in as she looked down to see Meng Jiang standing in the light.

Under the scorching sun, she held a small floral umbrella, its wide brim revealing only a glimpse of her fair arm, glistening with fine beads of sweat.

Truthfully, Qi Sijia had been swamped. The script for Huadan had caught the attention of her professor in the U.S., who was organizing a “Renaissance Studio.” The head of the studio was the screenwriting mentor Qi Sijia had serendipitously met at a Chicago burger joint years ago.

Back then, she’d been short on money, just as she and Meng Jiang had begun dating. Romance required spending, and while Qi Sijia didn’t necessarily crave it, Meng Jiang deserved it.

At that age, not everyone could afford such gestures. So she agreed to join the project, and within a month of their relationship, she was buried in work.

A month later, the professor’s script project earned Qi Sijia nearly 100,000 yuan in royalties.

Qi Sijia rarely voiced her romantic gestures. She believed actions spoke louder than words.

Like now, when classmates pressed her about why she hadn’t treated them, Qi Sijia didn’t answer directly. Instead, she turned to Meng Jiang and asked, “Do you want to eat?”

Meng Jiang leaned against Qi Sijia’s shoulder, eyeing the teasing classmates with a half-serious, half-playful tone. “Enough already. Do I look like I have no temper? She’s right here, and you’re all trying to steal her away.”

Later, Meng Jiang and Qi Sijia slipped away hand in hand to the seafood house their classmates had raved about. While peeling shrimp, Qi Sijia asked curiously, “I thought you didn’t want to come?”

They’d agreed not to eat seafood, so why had Meng Jiang secretly shown up?

Meng Jiang replied, “Am I an idiot? They were obviously egging you on to treat them to a seafood feast.”

Under the dazzling lights, her eyes sparkled mischievously. “My girlfriend’s money is only for me. No one else gets a share.”

She exaggerated the words “my girlfriend,” sounding uncharacteristically childish.

Qi Sijia’s lips curled into a faint smile.

After their seafood dinner in Las Vegas, it was Meng Jiang who knocked on Qi Sijia’s hotel room door.

The door opened from within, revealing a pair of phoenix eyes unlike those of the Huadan protagonist—yet more languid and alluring than any opera heroine.

For a moment, Qi Sijia was stunned by those eyes.

Seizing the opportunity, Meng Jiang wound her fingers around the sash at Qi Sijia’s waist.

Then Qi Sijia saw Meng Jiang push the door shut with her heel.

A pull, a tug, and they were in each other’s arms.

Qi Sijia met those eyes brimming with warmth, afraid she might hit the back of her head, so she followed the motion and flipped them over, pressing Meng Jiang against the checkered gray wall.

A certain ambiguity lingered in the air.

Meng Jiang’s smile bloomed from the depths of her eyes as she intertwined her fingers with Qi Sijia’s and said clearly, “Let me ask you a question.”

Qi Sijia lifted her gaze. “Go ahead.”

“Can you tell? Actually, these past few days, I’ve been letting you chase me.”

“Not just ‘giving it a try.’”

…

Meng Jiang undid Qi Sijia’s tie, then stopped, waiting for her to take the initiative.

Qi Sijia stared at her, their eyes locking…

The sunlight was just right, the breeze stirring restless whispers…

That day, Qi Sijia’s gaze never once left Meng Jiang’s eyes—those alluring, upturned eyes tinged with a hint of crimson.

That was—

A radiant presence that had once seared into Qi Sijia’s heart in the height of summer.

So much so that later, when the mark was left behind, trying to carve it out became unbearable—more agonizing than letting go of the dependence she had on Wei Yunfang and Qi Jun in her youth.

In the end, Qi Sijia simply sealed the imprint away, locking it in memories she forbade herself to revisit.

–

The melody of Hua Dan played in her mind.

A golden-threaded embroidered robe, water sleeves fluttering, the prelude rising.

Someone sang: “I am but an insignificant dancer in Jinling City, skilled in the art of performance amidst the mortal world. With my pipa in hand, I play a tune—light, lingering, wild, and untamed. That day, I turned my head, and amidst the ceaseless clamor of the city walls, I met the calamity I would never forget in this lifetime… She was the eldest princess of Jinling, second only to the emperor, standing above ten thousand…”

The melodies of Jiangnan opera, the soft Wu dialect, a thousand sorrows woven into song—then, in an instant, the nation shattered, mountains and rivers trampled beneath ten thousand hooves…

In this absurd opera, Qi Sijia locked eyes with someone in the audience. The hua dan on stage, her thin veil half-lifted, revealed a pair of mesmerizing phoenix eyes. Though filled with sorrow and longing, there was an unyielding pride in those bewitching depths. Those eyes overlapped with those of the penthouse owner—absurd yet real, merging into one.

Qi Sijia jolted awake from this warmth-drenched space, as if gathering all the fragments of color from her otherwise uneventful life. What felt like an eternity had, in reality, only been five hours.

Her eyes snapped open instantly, without a trace of drowsiness.

A layer of cold sweat coated her forehead as she braced herself on her arms. The jacket draped over her slid to the floor of the car with a soft rustle. She didn’t pick it up immediately, instead sitting up in the extended van and glancing around—the curtains were drawn.

Qi Sijia pulled one aside.

Outside, dawn had yet to break, the faintest light barely touching the horizon.

Up front, Meng Jiang’s driver, hearing the movement, slid open the partition. Perhaps from staying up all night, he looked weary. “Miss Qi, you’re awake.”

Qi Sijia turned her gaze toward him, her eyes a shade of black so cold it bordered on indifference.

“How long was I asleep?”

The driver smiled. “Five hours,” he said, then added, “Miss has been watching over your cat. It’s doing fine—the surgery was successful three hours ago.”

Qi Sijia froze for a moment, then laughed at herself.

In such a high-stakes, life-and-death situation, she had been forced into a hazy, drawn-out dream.

Now, waking to reality, it all felt even more absurd than before she had fallen asleep.

Her thoughts drifted into emptiness. After a moment, she pulled open the car door. Just as she was about to step out, Qi Sijia paused, her back still turned, hesitating slightly: “She…”

Her expression, hard to decipher, was half-illuminated in the faint morning light. Qi Sijia murmured softly, as if speaking to herself, “Why didn’t she just wake me up directly?”

Though her voice was quiet, the driver, who had been by Meng Jiang’s side for years, heard her clearly.

Uncle Li was a man of few words but quick to act. He promptly explained, “Miss specifically instructed us not to disturb your rest. She said that if anything were to happen to your cat tonight, she’d offer herself as compensation.” The driver added, “Those were her exact words.”

Qi Sijia had one long leg out of the car when she paused again.

The sky stretched endlessly along the horizon, fading into the unseen distance.

Dawn had yet to break, yet the light was still piercing.

Qi Sijia withdrew her gaze, pressing her lips together. In the end, she said nothing and walked toward the hospital.

–

Only the emergency room of the pet hospital was open. Ale, carrying a bag of breakfast in his right hand, happened to run into Qi Sijia at the entrance.

“I was just about to call you,” he said, handing her the breakfast.

He had just arrived and hadn’t had the chance to ask about Big Orange’s condition. Qi Sijia thanked him and briefly relayed the driver’s words to Ale.

Ale’s expression relaxed.

“Was that your friend last night?” he asked. “She didn’t seem like a cat person, but to wait outside all night—you two must be close.”

Qi Sijia froze for a moment, her expression blank, and replied flatly, “I’m not sure.”

At this point, she truly couldn’t define what Meng Jiang was to her.

“Ah, so you’ve made a new friend.”

If he said so, then so be it.

Ale was like a little sun—he always managed to extract a sliver of positivity from Qi Sijia’s otherwise murky emotions.

But unfortunately, their conversation didn’t last long. Despite Ale wearing a mask, the veterinarian on duty at the entrance showed no intention of letting him inside.

He often visited this hospital, and everyone knew Ale was allergic to cat fur. Even standing outside the building, his sneezes were relentless.

His nose was red as he insisted on seeing Big Orange before leaving, but the doctor shook their head firmly.

Qi Sijia stepped in to mediate, “I’ll handle things here. You should head back first.”

“I’ll video call you later so you can see him, alright?”

Ale beamed. “Then don’t forget—I should be home in about twenty minutes.”

–

The ward had been changed—it was now a VIP room. Even the veterinarian who had treated Big Orange the previous night was a specialist flown in from Capital Star.

Qi Sijia first went to the doctor’s office to inquire about Big Orange’s condition, confirming he was out of danger.

Only then did she head to the ward.

Inside, Meng Jiang had one hand resting on her laptop, likely handling work. One earpiece was in, and a video call was open in the top-right corner of her screen.

Her demeanor while working was far more serious compared to her usual radiant, charming self when acting.

A nurse had been standing nearby, watching her for a while before finally mustering the courage to approach. “Miss, has anyone ever told you that you look like a certain celebrity?”

Meng Jiang’s eyes remained fixed on the screen, her phoenix-like eyes curving slightly as she replied, “Yes, some have said that.”

A gust of wind brushed past. The nurse’s words lingered on her lips: “Then they must’ve said you resemble Meng—”

The conversation halted abruptly.

Qi Sijia pushed the door open and walked in. Her steps were slow—no one knew how much she had overheard.

Meng Jiang turned her head at the sound and saw Qi Sijia. Recalling her earlier conversation with the nurse, she took a moment to observe Qi Sijia closely, noting that the gas mask did little for aesthetic appeal.

Qi Sijia’s outfit was nothing short of eccentric, and beyond that, it revealed absolutely nothing about her mood.

Meng Jiang retracted her critical, work-focused gaze, moved the mouse to close the dialog box, and only then met Qi Sijia’s eyes.

Unlike the polite yet distant smile she had given the nurse earlier, this time her eyes curved downward, and Qi Sijia could see genuine warmth in Meng Jiang’s deep, dark pupils.

Meng Jiang greeted her naturally, “You’re awake.”

There was an intentional note of familiarity in her tone.

Qi Sijia responded with a noncommittal hum. The gas mask obscured her expression.

Meng Jiang had no intention of probing further on this winter morning, the day after Da Ju’s surgery.

The timing wasn’t right. Between adults, whether pursuing someone or navigating social interactions, a measured distance was necessary.

One of the things Qi Sijia appreciated about Meng Jiang was her impeccable sense of boundaries. Seeing Qi Sijia arrive, she briefly updated her on Da Ju’s condition.

Then, without delay, she shut her laptop, packed it into her bag—two bags in total, one slung across her shoulder and the other carried by hand. Clearly unaccustomed to such a load, Meng Jiang adjusted the angle of the crossbody bag before stepping in front of Qi Sijia.

“I’m leaving,” she said.

Qi Sijia lifted her gaze and turned to Meng Jiang. “You didn’t sleep all night?”

Meng Jiang raised an eyebrow, surprised that the first question wasn’t about the cat but about her.

Without a hint of pretense, she admitted, “Do I look that bad? Then I’ll go catch up on sleep. I have things to do this afternoon, so I’ll leave him in your care. In half an hour, remember to call the doctor to change the dressing on his belly.”

Qi Sijia nodded. “Got it.”

The atmosphere was so pleasant that Meng Jiang couldn’t resist adding, “Contact me anytime if you need anything.”

Unexpectedly, Qi Sijia responded again with a quiet, “Mm.”

Since their reunion, this was the first time their exchange had flowed so smoothly, brimming with an almost eerie harmony. It made Meng Jiang wonder if Qi Sijia was even real.

Perhaps because the mood was so good, Meng Jiang paused, then decided to add a little flourish.

She pulled a business card from her pocket and handed it to Qi Sijia.

The card belonged to Chen Cheng—not by deliberate choice. Someone of Meng Jiang’s status rarely carried her own business cards; people usually went out of their way to obtain her contact information through indirect means.

It wasn’t unusual for Meng Jiang not to have her own cards on hand. For acquaintances in the entertainment industry, she’d hand out Chen Cheng’s; for business partners, she’d refer them to Jiang Ru.

She’d never seen an issue with this before, but now, faced with Qi Sijia, Meng Jiang found herself regretting not having her own cards printed.

Part of her hoped Qi Sijia would notice the connection to Chen Cheng and piece together her identity, but time and again, Qi Sijia showed no interest in following up.

If she didn’t drop a hint, waiting for someone else to reveal her identity to Qi Sijia might make this serendipitous encounter seem like a calculated scheme.

That wouldn’t be fair—nor would it align with Meng Jiang’s current approach to pursuing someone.

As expected, Qi Sijia didn’t even glance at Chen Cheng’s card. Meng Jiang lowered her eyes, thought for a moment, then pulled the card back.

She wrote her personal number on the blank side and handed it over again.

“Call this number.”

Qi Sijia looked down, staring at the string of deliberately familiar digits.

After a pause, she turned to Big Orange in the isolation room. The cat had fallen asleep again, its body adorned with an assortment of transparent tubes.

In truth, the old cat struggled even to breathe, and sleep seemed more like torment than rest.

After all, it was old—its bones deteriorating, organs failing, each day a slow decline. Bringing it back might not have been hope but rather prolonged suffering.

Qi Sijia’s thoughts wandered for a moment before she turned back, tucking the business card away. Without looking at Meng Jiang, she said, “Thank you for stepping in yesterday.”

Her tone was neutral—neither distant nor overly familiar, devoid of anger, irritation, or surprise.

It was as if that string of numbers had meant nothing to her.

Then again, how could she still remember an ex-lover’s phone number after all these years?

Meng Jiang averted her gaze.

Her smile remained, the kind that followed casual conversation, her tone unchanged. Only she knew her spirits had dimmed.

“Don’t mention it. You make it sound like you owe me some huge favor.”

With that, Meng Jiang prepared to leave. It was clear Qi Sijia had no interest in further discussion. In adult pursuits, before intentions are clear, pushing too hard or overstaying one’s welcome only comes off as desperate.

Meng Jiang wasn’t above desperation, but she had once known a Qi Sijia who was. No matter how many tricks she had up her sleeve, she didn’t want to lose that.

Her interest waning, she lowered her eyes, never expecting Qi Sijia to suddenly turn and glance at her—leaving Meng Jiang no time to compose her expression.

Then she heard that clear, cool voice say, “Alright.”

The response was so unexpected that Meng Jiang immediately locked eyes with Qi Sijia, unwilling to miss even the faintest flicker of emotion in them.

But after a moment, she found nothing. Only a vague sense that Qi Sijia’s aura had inexplicably emptied, as though something had shifted.

Or perhaps it was just gratitude—special treatment softened by the halo effect of the penthouse owner’s favor.

Several times, Meng Jiang nearly blurted it all out, but in the end, she asked nothing.

Even though now was the perfect moment to clarify everything.

But Qi Sijia was facing the inevitability of life and death—even if the subject was just a cat.

Meng Jiang genuinely wished not to overshadow that, not to force their tangled history into Qi Sijia’s limited time with the cat she had depended on for so long.

Lingering in the air, she savored the inexplicable harmony that felt different from the earlier indifference.

Without another word, Meng Jiang smiled and took a step back.

“It’s getting late. I really should go.”

Qi Sijia raised a brow. “Go ahead.”

Meng Jiang nodded, then left without hesitation.

Qi Sijia watched her go before finally stepping back, bracing her arms, and turning to meet the gaze of the now-awake old cat in its enclosure.

“You okay?” Qi Sijia asked. “Maybe I shouldn’t have dragged you back to keep me company.”

Big Orange let out a weak meow, as if in reassurance.

Qi Sijia smiled, reaching through the sterile glass to stroke its head.

“Don’t worry, things will get better,” she said. “Let’s both try a little harder, alright?”