Snatching My Stepsister's White Moonlight Omega - Chapter 5

Lin Xiangwan: “Play your games, but don’t go throwing your pheromones around.”

Xu Chen burst out laughing. “Sending secret messages… you really love playing that role, don’t you?”

“There’s a reason for it,” Lin Xiangwan said, looking up, a hint of indulgent resignation flickering in her eyes. “We’ll talk about it later. Just calm down for now.”

“I have my reasons too,” Xu Chen replied, half-evading, half-teasing, as she tucked her terminal into her handbag and handed it to Lin Xiangwan. “Will you hold this for me?”

Lin Xiangwan silently took the bag and placed it beside her on her lap.

The wheelchair continued forward, Xu Chen walking alongside, her mood brightening. “Oh, are you using a contact lens terminal? But those require a relay device, right? Where’s yours?”

Lin Xiangwan raised her hand and lightly tapped the wheelchair’s armrest with her fingertip.

“Oh—” Xu Chen understood. “Right, such a big piece of equipment. And hey, are you using the beauty lens mode? Is that cold, aloof gaze natural?”

“I take them out before bed. Want to see?” Lin Xiangwan replied coolly.

Xu Chen carefully considered the tone, unable to discern whether it was anger, flirtation, or a simple statement of fact. Audaciously mimicking Lin Xiangwan’s tone, she replied, “I’ll consider it.”

Before the words had even left her lips, she couldn’t hold back and burst into laughter again.

Lin Xiangwan chuckled softly as well. Xu Chen was now certain: this woman was absolutely not angry.

“I understand,” Xu Chen concluded. “You’re just under too much pressure. After all, carrying so much wealth must be quite a burden. Don’t worry, I’ll help you shoulder some of it from now on.”

“You sure get chatty when you’re happy,” Lin Xiangwan said, her voice tinged with amusement. “But…”

She paused, her smile vanishing abruptly, her voice softening to a sigh, yet also sounding like she was coaxing someone. “Just don’t cry later, okay?”

Xu Chen froze, startled. At that moment, the wheelchair came to a stop and turned toward a door.

Their foster mother—or rather, their former foster mother—Song Yanzhou’s room lay ahead.

The doorbell rang, and it took several minutes for Song Yanzhou to answer. She was impeccably dressed, her makeup neither fresh nor faded, and her hair perfectly styled, making it impossible to imagine what she had been doing while delaying opening the door.

“Hello, Auntie,” Lin Xiangwan greeted formally. “I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I came to check on you.”

Xu Chen noticed the deliberate choice of words. Song Jinshi had originally said she was “tired,” which wouldn’t justify a visit, but “not feeling well” was different.

What a clever trick, blurring the lines and subtly shifting the meaning.

“It’s nothing, just getting old and not able to move around as much,” Song Yanzhou said with a smile, then turned to Xu Chen. “Jinyu’s here too. Perfect, let’s all spend some time together.”

The woman and her wheelchair entered the room without a hitch. Xu Chen glanced around and noticed the room was nearly identical to Lin Xiangwan’s, except the curtains were drawn tightly shut.

The wheelchair rolled up to the coffee table. Lin Xiangwan didn’t bother to move; she simply used the wheelchair as her seat. This made Xu Chen slightly uneasy. She skirted around the wheelchair and settled into the nearby armchair.

Song Yanzhou walked over with two glasses. “It’s getting late. Would you like some water?”

“Thank you, Auntie,” Lin Xiangwan said politely, but didn’t lift a finger. Xu Chen watched this and also made no move to take a glass.

Song Yanzhou’s gaze swept over both women, then she smiled faintly at Lin Xiangwan. “I heard you were dancing earlier. You seem to be in high spirits.”

Lin Xiangwan nodded. “It’s quite a coincidence, actually. Miss Xu and I seem to have a natural connection.”

Song Yanzhou paused, surprised. “Miss Xu?”

“I don’t remember my past,” Xu Chen explained. “My mother found me on the beach and took care of me when I was sick. That’s why I took her surname, Xu.”

“You’re my daughter,” Song Yanzhou said, her eyes flickering with deep sorrow. “You grew up in the Song Family, and your name was Song Jinyu, meaning ‘pure and beautiful jade.'”

“Jade?” Xu Chen suddenly realized the middle character was different from Song Jinshi’s name. “I thought it was the ‘brocade’ character from ‘brocade embroidery.'”

“Yes…” Song Yanzhou’s gaze wavered slightly. “It wasn’t fashionable to give sisters similar names back then.”

The excuse was flimsy, but Xu Chen didn’t press the issue, responding with a small smile.

“Let me show you some old photos,” Song Yanzhou said, rising and heading to the bedroom. She quickly returned with an old-fashioned terminal, unlocked it, opened the photo album, and handed it to Xu Chen.

Without asking further questions, Xu Chen focused on the photos on the screen. The first image showed a delicate, porcelain-like baby, too young to resemble anyone.

“Is this… me?” she asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

Song Yanzhou smiled faintly. “Yes, that’s you. It was taken right after I found you.”

Xu Chen nodded and swiped to the next photo. There were many pictures from her infancy and childhood, suggesting a comfortable upbringing. The child in the photos was also quite lovely.

Yet, she couldn’t muster any deeper emotions. It felt like these were someone else’s memories, completely detached from her own life.

Xu Chen’s gaze froze on a close-up photo. The girl, around seven or eight years old, bore a faint resemblance to her own features. But the most striking detail was…

The small, light brown beauty mark beneath the outer corner of her left eye.

“So it appeared around this time,” she murmured. The beauty mark had grown slightly larger with age, and she saw it every day in the mirror. For some reason, each time she saw it, she felt a vague unease.

This photo was even more unsettling. Though it was her own image, her own beauty mark, looking at it evoked a sense of sorrow.

“I recognized you the moment I saw you,” Song Yanzhou said with a sigh of relief, like dust settling after a long journey. “After all, even if the resemblance were a coincidence, the beauty mark couldn’t be identical.”

“Why would it appear in such a place?” Xu Chen frowned, as if evaluating someone else. “It feels a bit… ominous.”

Song Yanzhou chuckled. “You can’t talk about yourself like that.”

Xu Chen continued to stare at the photo, trying to grasp something fleeting in her mind. A dull ache began to throb in her head, intensifying the longer she focused on the beauty mark.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Lin Xiangwan’s concerned voice came from beside her.

Her head throbbed fiercely. Xu Chen averted her gaze. “My head hurts terribly. It’s always like this whenever I feel like I’m about to remember something.”

“It’s alright, don’t force yourself,” Song Yanzhou said gently. “Whether you remember or not, you’ll always be my daughter.”

“Speaking of which…” Xu Chen glanced at her, a hint of awkwardness in her eyes. “My current mother has been very good to me. I need to discuss this with her first.”

Song Yanzhou forced a strained smile. “What kind of person is she?”

“She’s a good person, and she’s been very good to me,” Xu Chen replied briefly.

Song Yanzhou nodded, her eyes filled with anticipation, clearly waiting for Xu Chen to elaborate. But Xu Chen pursed her lips, offering an awkward smile.

This silent response made the middle-aged man realize that the adoptive mother’s situation was likely complicated. After all, what normal person would struggle to find specific virtues to describe someone?

“We’ll be staying in Kaman Port for a day tomorrow,” Song Yanzhou suggested tentatively. “Why don’t we accompany you home to visit?”

Xu Chen smiled awkwardly again. “No need. She might not even be home, and it would be a waste of your time.”

An awkward silence settled over the long-separated mother and daughter, enveloping Lin Xiangwan, who already felt somewhat superfluous.

To make matters worse, there were only two glasses of plain water on the table. The wealthy man likely found it too bland and spent most of the time staring down, lost in thought. Xu Chen, too, was reluctant to touch her glass.

The screen of the old-fashioned terminal went dark. Xu Chen glanced at it hesitantly and began, “A…”

She felt she should use a different term of address, but the other word circled in her mind, refusing to be spoken. “Auntie, could you send me these photos?”

Song Yanzhou smiled warmly. “The terminal is yours now, no password needed. By the way, since you work on the ship, what are the living arrangements like?”

The superfluous wealthy man rarely spoke, but he chimed in, “I’ve arranged a room for her.”

“That’s good,” Song Yanzhou said, turning to Xu Chen with a smile. “Speaking of family ties, it makes me happy to see you two getting along.”

This was clearly meant as encouragement for them to develop a closer relationship. However, Xu Chen hadn’t yet fully processed the reality of this “mother,” and Lin Xiangwan’s reserved nature only deepened the awkwardness. Both women merely offered polite smiles.

“Alright, get some rest. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other later,” Song Yanzhou said, tapping her bracelet-like wrist terminal. “Let’s exchange contact information.”

Lin Xiangwan picked up her handbag and handed it to Xu Chen. Song Yanzhou raised an eyebrow as Xu Chen retrieved a wrist terminal from the bag, activated the interface, and added her as a friend.

The handbag was too small to fit both terminals. Xu Chen stacked the two devices in her hand, stood up, and said, “Auntie, we’ll head back now.”

Lin Xiangwan’s wheelchair rolled back slightly. “Goodbye, Auntie.”

Stepping back into the spacious corridor, Xu Chen felt a sudden heaviness in her heart.

This sense of unease was nothing new. For the past few years, she hadn’t known who she was or where she came from. Perhaps because her past was a blank slate, her future remained shrouded in uncertainty.

But this heaviness was different. Precisely because of her poor memory, her entire life had always felt light, like a free bird, like the seagull from that ancient internet meme, its mind only occupied with “getting some fries at the docks.”

In a daze, she recalled Lin Xiangwan’s earlier words, “Don’t cry later,” and a sudden jolt of alarm shot through her.

How did she know I would be upset?

“Your room isn’t very big. At this hour, we couldn’t book a suite,” Lin Xiangwan said, her voice as flat and emotionless as ever, barely more expressive than a robot’s.

“It’s fine,” Xu Chen replied absently.

“It’s still early. Want to come to my room for a while?” Lin Xiangwan asked.

Xu Chen frowned. It was indeed still early, but their earlier errands had taken care of all the official business. What lay ahead was an uninterrupted night. Could this seemingly proper CEO be planning to misbehave?

The wheelchair continued to glide smoothly forward. The CEO, sitting upright, turned her head to glance at Xu Chen, then lowered her gaze to the items in Xu Chen’s hands.

The two glances were clearly meant as a hint. Xu Chen raised her hand to look at her wrist-mounted terminal and immediately understood what Lin Xiangwan wanted to convey.

Sure enough, there was a new message:

Lin Xiangwan: Come with me first. The equipment she gave you has issues.