The White Moonlight I Chased, the Divorce I Never Expected (GL) - Chapter 24

The sky was a dull gray. Before his wife’s tombstone, Chi Zhong’s tall frame seemed to slump slightly. Leaning against a tree, his eyes were dark and clouded, full of unspoken emotion.

He murmured to himself, “I couldn’t be by your side… In the blink of an eye, four years have passed, Chi Yi.”

“Now that I’m out, it feels like everything has changed, and yet nothing has.”

“My daughter has grown up—she’s an exceptional young woman. I’m proud of you.”

“I… I loved your mother deeply.”

“I regret it so much. I blame myself for missing the most important moments in my daughter’s life. That was my failure.”

“But at least you and Ranqing can support each other, move forward together. That way, I’ve honored your mother… and your Uncle Wen and Aunt Qin as well.”

“If Ranqing isn’t busy tonight, have her come home for dinner. I’ll cook myself—make some of your favorite dishes.”

Chi Yi stood quietly beside him, her fingertips digging into her palm, saying nothing for a long while.
But the one who should feel ashamed wasn’t Chi Zhong—it was her.
She hadn’t truly been able to support Ranqing, let alone live a happy life together with her.

Her face turned pale, and though she wanted to tell the truth, she couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth here—not in front of her father and her mother’s faded black-and-white photo. Her emotions twisted within her.

Maybe… it was better to say it when the three of them were together.

After a long silence, Chi Yi finally lifted her head and gave Chi Zhong a soft smile.
“Okay, I’ll ask her.”

Her deep, clear black eyes shimmered slightly red at the corners. Chi Yi had always been like this—her emotions worn plainly. When happy, she could out-laugh anyone, but she would only cry in front of those she truly cared about.

The familiarity of his daughter returned in that moment. Chi Zhong, feeling more at ease, carefully finished wiping down both gravestones, and they descended the mountain together.

Considering it was a family matter, Chi Yi directly dialed the number she had memorized by heart.

Inside her car, Wen Ranqing’s phone buzzed in her coat pocket. The screen lit up with the contact name: “A Chi Yi.”

It was Chi Yi calling. The “A” prefix had been added so the contact would always stay pinned at the top. Back when the note was created, smartphones weren’t yet common—calling was the only reliable way to stay connected.

They hadn’t spoken over the phone in more than ten years.

For a moment, Wen Ranqing thought she was seeing things. She stared blankly before finally pressing the answer button.

The phone had rung for five seconds. When the call connected, Chi Yi inexplicably let out a breath of relief.

“Do you… have time tonight?”

With Chi Zhong walking just behind her, Chi Yi suddenly felt a twinge of guilt for no clear reason. She quickly corrected her tone, calm and polite again:
“If it’s convenient… would you like to have dinner together?”

“…Xiao Yi…”
Wen Ranqing, looking up, saw two familiar figures descending the mountain path. Understanding dawned in her eyes. She turned her car around and, with her usual quiet tact, replied:

“Alright~”

She didn’t ask why the sudden invitation.
There wasn’t a hint of refusal—her voice was soft, and it even sounded… happy.

Chi Yi’s brief moment of doubt was quickly suppressed by the presence of her father across from her.
She hadn’t told Chi Zhong about the divorce—something so significant—and she knew that was wrong.
Still, she was hoping to find the right time. His emotions were already unsettled, and springing the truth on him now could be bad for his heart.

Chi Yi got into the car and spoke as she started it up, “Dinner’s at my place. It’s… my dad—he wants to see you…”

In the distance, a black car emerged into view under the weight of the gray sky. The license plate was hard to make out. Chi Zhong retracted his gaze, opened the car door, and got in, casting a questioning glance at Chi Yi.

The explanation she meant to give Wen Ranqing—why she was being invited to dinner—stuck in her throat.
Chi Yi cleared her throat and nodded to her father.

“Your throat sore?” Wen Ranqing’s voice came through the call, warm with concern.
“Do you want me to bring you some medicine?”
“Cough drops? Or maybe some cold remedy?”

Even now—with so little context—she was worrying about her. That same inexplicable, familiar concern.

Chi Yi’s grip tightened around the steering wheel, her brows furrowing unconsciously. “Just show up.”

“We might be back a bit late. If you get there first, just go in. The code is…”
She trailed off.

Why was she about to say that?
They were wives. How could Ranqing not know the code to the house?

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Chi Zhong watching her.
Wen Ranqing’s simple “Okay” had barely landed when Chi Yi abruptly hung up.

She put down her phone and licked her lips, a subtle sign of tension still clinging to her.

“Chi Yi.”

The air inside the car turned still for two seconds before Chi Zhong spoke, his tone holding a note of dissatisfaction.

Though he had always doted on his only daughter, he was not indulgent without reason. When she was in the wrong, he believed in correcting her and teaching her the importance of honesty and kindness. He often said, “You don’t have to be extraordinary, but you must never go astray.”

Chi Yi kept her eyes on the road, saying nothing, but her shoulders were slightly tense. On the surface, she answered calmly, “Mm.”

“When you were little, your mischief could be excused. But now, you’ve started a family. You need to treat Ranqing well. I won’t nag—but remember that.”

“…I know,” Chi Yi said, lowering her gaze.

From the city to Yushan Cemetery and back, the round trip had taken four to five hours.

They stopped by a large supermarket near home to buy ingredients. Chi Zhong, who hadn’t cooked in years, was visibly excited as he carefully picked out items for a home-cooked meal.

Chi Yi was distracted throughout.

Before heading home, she finally opened her WeChat and sent Wen Ranqing the code to the front door.

The reply came back almost instantly:

Wen Ranqing: [Okay]

Just one word. No emojis, no extra punctuation—nothing elaborates.

Her profile picture hadn’t changed in years: a hand-drawn cartoon cat.
A small, crying flower cat—drawn by Chi Yi herself back when she was feeling petty and changed it without telling her.

While other girls enjoyed sharing their lives on social media, Chi Yi rarely paid attention to such things.
To her memory, Wen Ranqing had only ever posted once—and it remained her only post to this day.

Chi Yi’s finger hovered, then as if guided by instinct, she tapped into Wen Ranqing’s Moments feed.
Still, only that single update: a group photo taken during Chi Yi’s tenth birthday party.

Noticing his daughter scrolling through her phone while grocery shopping, Chi Zhong frowned.
He thought she wasn’t being considerate—paying more attention to her phone than to her wife.
“What are you looking at? Stop standing around. Come help me pick out the shrimp.”

“Coming.”

By the time they got home, it was nearly five.
With an undeniable tension in her chest—and a bit of subconscious anticipation that she hadn’t even recognized—Chi Yi saw Wen Ranqing waiting for her inside.

She was wearing a long black dress, looking like she had just come from some formal event.
Her appearance was elegant and composed, her hair neatly tied low, revealing slender, delicate earrings.
And yet, despite the polished look, there was a warm domesticity to her presence.

She didn’t seem like the usual sharp, decisive CEO.
Instead, she looked like someone ready to cook a meal for the person she loved.

Wen Ranqing’s peach-blossom eyes lit up with delight and concern. She naturally reached out and took the shopping bags from Chi Yi’s hands.
“You’re back.”

Chi Yi awkwardly cleared her throat. Before she could say anything, Wen Ranqing turned toward the hallway and greeted warmly,
“Hello, Uncle Chi.”

“Ah, good girl,” Chi Zhong replied cheerfully. “It’s been so long. You used to call me Uncle, but now that you’re in our home… shouldn’t that be upgraded a bit?”

Then he chuckled, easy and kind.
“But since you’ve called me that for years, there’s no rush. I can wait until you get used to it.”

Chi Yi was thrown off by their familiar banter.
She glanced toward the dining table and noticed a new vase filled with liuhehua—auspicious flowers typically gifted to elders.

For some reason, a strange mood overtook her.
She felt out of place, disconnected from the other two.

With unanswered questions swirling in her mind, the kitchen’s range hood was still running. Chi Zhong peered inside.
“Ranqing’s cooking, huh?”

“Chi Yi, don’t just stand around. Go help her in the kitchen.
Don’t tell me you’ve never even played sous-chef before. That’d be unacceptable.”

“Dad, we…”

Before she could explain, Chi Yi was half-pushed into the kitchen.
The glass door slid shut behind her, thoughtfully closed.

It wasn’t the time for honesty yet.
So Chi Yi stood stiffly behind Wen Ranqing, arms crossed, leaning against the door, her entire posture broadcasting:
I didn’t come in here voluntarily.

Wen Ranqing had been preparing fish soup. She wasn’t especially skilled, but she had just finished cleaning the fish and was heating the oil when Chi Yi got home.

She re-lit the burner.
A thin layer of oil in the pot quickly rose in temperature, sizzling and popping sharply.

The gaze burning into her back made Wen Ranqing’s face flush.

Chi Yi’s eyes dropped to the expensive-looking dress Wen Ranqing was wearing.
Her brows furrowed slightly.

At last, unable to hold it in, she reached for an apron hanging on the wall and spoke in a calm, detached tone,
“My dad doesn’t know about us yet. Sorry for dragging you into this.”

“This won’t happen again.”

Wen Ranqing turned, catching the faint trace of discomfort on Chi Yi’s beautiful face.
Chi Yi raised her hand clumsily, holding out the apron.
“Also… you should put this on.”

“Xiao Yi, will you help me?”
Wen Ranqing bit her lip, her ears flushing red almost instantly. Her eyes were wide, soft, and hesitant.
“I… it’s hard to move in this dress.”

Chi Yi had no good reason to refuse. After all, it was her own avoidance that forced Wen Ranqing into this little performance today.

The dress fit closely to Wen Ranqing’s arms, making it hard to lift them freely.

Chi Yi hesitated a moment, then slipped the apron’s top strap over Wen Ranqing’s neck.

The distance between them instantly narrowed.

The atmosphere, much like the rising temperature in the room, grew subtly more heated.

“Is your throat still bothering you? I bought you some lozenges… have one later, okay?”

Chi Yi was lifting her smooth, soft hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the apron strap, holding her breath as she moved.
The faint scent of Wen Ranqing’s perfume lingered in her nose, and the warm breath brushing against her collarbone scattered her thoughts completely.

“No,” she replied.

She realized her curt tone sounded impatient, likely from being unsettled, so she softened it.
“My throat’s fine.”

Their bodies were gradually drawn closer.
Chi Yi tried to hurry and finish tying the apron, but Wen Ranqing’s loose, half-embrace blocked her view.
No matter how she adjusted her fingers, she couldn’t manage to tie a proper bow.

Her heartbeat was rising—loud, fast, and completely out of sync with the task at hand.

“Xiao Yi, don’t be upset.”

Wen Ranqing gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind Chi Yi’s ear.
Feeling no resistance, she cautiously leaned in, letting her cheek brush against Chi Yi’s shoulder. Her hand lifted—faintly trembling—though Chi Yi didn’t seem to notice.

When the bow was finally tied, Chi Yi made to step back, but it was already too late.

They weren’t fully embraced, but the warmth of Ranqing’s body so close stirred a vivid memory in Chi Yi’s mind—one of the figures hidden beneath that elegant black dress.
It was impossible not to recall the soft curves, the way they felt against her.
Even her ears tingled with the memory of the breathy voice from just moments ago.

“What does President Wen want to say?”
Chi Yi tilted her head upward, her gaze deepening.

Her tone was cool, even as her hand pressed lightly to Wen Ranqing’s collarbone, trying to put some distance between them.
But before she could move, Ranqing leaned her face against Chi Yi’s hand—soft and smooth—rubbing lightly as if nuzzling her, eyes wide and blank with feigned innocence.

Every inch of her exuded an unconscious, devastating allure.