The White Moonlight I Chased, the Divorce I Never Expected (GL) - Chapter 25

In that brief moment, all the unspoken questions rushed into Chi Yi’s mind.

Why was Wen Ranqing doing this?
Was it really out of guilt?
But if it was guilt, why had her sadness felt so real when Chi Yi had said those harsh things?

It felt like… she truly cared about her.

But they were divorced.
If Ranqing really cared, why had she kept her distance all this time? Why now?

Chi Yi knew some people were possessive—obsessive even—unable to bear letting someone go.
But clearly, Wen Ranqing wasn’t aggressive or controlling.
She seemed… cautious. Gentle. Tentative.

While Chi Yi hesitated, Wen Ranqing merely nuzzled her hand—just that.
She didn’t move closer. She didn’t dare.
Then she whispered softly, “Don’t feel burdened… because of us.”

“If it’s too difficult for you, I’ll talk to Uncle Chi myself.”

Her breath was warm in Chi Yi’s ear, her voice trembling slightly, unfamiliar with taking the lead like this. The tips of her ears were burning red.

Strands of black hair brushed across Chi Yi’s hand, and the heat of it seeped from her skin into her chest.
That familiar scent—Ranqing’s perfume, the wild rose pheromones—was intoxicating.
She’d smelled it countless times, but right now it tugged at her senses just like her pheromones did.
Chi Yi felt smothered, overwhelmed by Ranqing’s quiet, earnest tenderness.

She pulled her hand back.

Her tone was far from gentle.
“President Wen, what exactly are you trying to do?”

“I want you to be happy,” Ranqing replied, quietly and honestly.

“You know that’s not what I meant, President Wen.”

Wen Ranqing bit her lip, tightening her grip around herself. Her nose nearly rested against Chi Yi’s collarbone, but she didn’t dare lift her head.

After a long pause, she murmured, “Things like… this, they can still happen…”

Things like what?

Chi Yi quickly replayed what she’d just said.
Her brows furrowed. She didn’t even stop to think—she rejected it outright.

“We’re divorced, President Wen. Whatever ‘this’ is, it’s not going to happen again.”

Chi Yi had noticed Ranqing’s unusual attention lately.
More tender, more thoughtful than she had ever been—whether when they were young or even after they got married.

What she couldn’t understand was why. Why now?

Ranqing’s affection always came like water—soft, gentle, vast. The kind that slowly pulled you in, drowned you if you weren’t careful. That was what unsettled her most.

She had always thought she was someone who could stay rational, steadfast.
But with Wen Ranqing like this, it was already hard enough not to respond.
Let alone push her away.

And Chi Yi was in her early twenties—restless, emotional, and very much alive.
It was driving her insane.

“It can still happen, Xiao Yi…”
Wen Ranqing tilted her head slightly, emotions brimming and overflowing from within.
All she could do was repeat that same, ambiguous phrase, again and again.

Chi Yi forced herself to ignore the softness of the body brushing against hers.
Coldly, she pushed Ranqing back toward the edge of the table.

Her composure finally cracked.

“What can happen, President Wen?”

“You mean you, playing the dutiful wife in my home every day?”

“Or you, my ex-wife, doing this kind of thing with me in the kitchen?”

“Hm?”

Wen Ranqing didn’t seem to catch which part struck Chi Yi the most.
But her face flushed instantly, turning a delicate shade of red.
She lowered her head, biting her lip hard enough to draw bl00d.

When she finally spoke, her voice trembled with a quiet vulnerability.

“If Xiao Yi is willing… then I’m willing to do both.”

From the unsteady rhythm of Chi Yi’s breathing, the visible tension in her throat, and the pounding of her heart, Wen Ranqing began to understand what self-control looked like on her.

She remembered how it felt herself—how difficult it could be.
She knew Chi Yi must not be comfortable.

She wouldn’t force anything on her.
But if Chi Yi wanted it, anything was possible.

What did she mean by “if you’re willing, I can do anything”?

That day… Wen Ranqing had worn the same expression—soft, delicate—and had exposed her gland to Chi Yi, even allowed her to mark her.

At the time, Wen Ranqing had been in heat, her mind clouded. That might have been understandable.
But now—standing right in front of her—this was a fully aware, clear-headed Ranqing.

Chi Yi had nowhere to place her emotions.
She wasn’t even in a susceptibility period, yet her gland began to feel hot and tingly. Her mental energy surged out of control, and her pheromones started to leak.

High-grade Alphas were typically able to control their mental and physical responses well.
But Chi Yi had always been the rare exception—her pheromone fluctuations sometimes came without warning.

On the counter, the stove flame still burned, and the hot oil spat in small, erratic bursts.
Chi Yi frowned, leaned forward, and turned off the heat with one hand.

Her waist and hips pressed against the cold edge of the counter.
Wen Ranqing stifled a small gasp, her breath hitching in the space between her lips—hot, nervous, and tangled with panic.

Chi Yi caught the faint scent of whiskey—her own pheromones.
Wen Ranqing tightened her arms around herself and, after a long pause, stood on tiptoe, inching closer. Their pheromones began to weave around each other in silence.

“Are you insane?” Chi Yi tilted her head up, doing her best to ignore the comforting scent of wild rose drifting off Ranqing.
She reached for the range fan control, but her arm was intercepted.

Wen Ranqing’s hand landed lightly on her shoulder, her body trembling faintly as she tried to elevate herself slightly.

Chi Yi turned her face away, confused and angry at how Wen Ranqing, once so aloof and reserved in public, could now appear so soft and reckless.

Her voice grew colder without her realizing:
“So this is President Wen’s new game? You’re so casual now that you can act like this even with someone you don’t like?”

Something flickered in Wen Ranqing’s eyes—hurt, quiet pain.
Her peach-blossom eyes shimmered, corners reddening without her even noticing. The ache in her feet from standing so long went ignored as she rushed to explain.

“No, Xiao Yi…”

She gently patted Chi Yi’s shoulder, then her back—soft, like a small, warm creature curling up.
“Your condition isn’t stable right now. Uncle Chi is here, and he can’t easily leave the house…”

“If I release a little pheromone, you won’t feel so uncomfortable. I promise I won’t be affected. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“And… you’re not…”

Even now, Wen Ranqing didn’t lose her temper. Her words came faster, but still with that same calm gentleness.
Like she had endless patience for Chi Yi.
Gone was the cold distance of the past—she simply couldn’t maintain it anymore.

Chi Yi’s back was damp with sweat, the stickiness irritating. Her hand curled into a fist, then came down hard on the counter with a dull thud.

Wen Ranqing’s face turned pale.
Her unfinished words died in her throat, and she turned abruptly to leave—but in a flash, Chi Yi grabbed her and lifted her up onto the counter.

The ache in her feet faded as Chi Yi leaned forward, resting her chin on Ranqing’s shoulder.
She took in a long, steadying breath, then withdrew her hands from the soft curves she’d touched—planting them on the counter instead.

“Xiao Yi…”

Wen Ranqing’s lashes fluttered, her heart twisting painfully.
She lifted her arms and wrapped them around Chi Yi’s back, gently coaxing her.

She wanted to pursue Chi Yi.
But whether Chi Yi would accept her—that had to be her decision.
To win her back was just Wen Ranqing’s wishful hope.
If this closeness brought Chi Yi pain, she would retreat without hesitation.

“…Am I making you unhappy?”

Chi Yi’s breathing had steadied—noticeable to them both.
But she didn’t speak. She didn’t move.

The range hood continued to hum overhead, but it couldn’t muffle the silence between them.
Ranqing waited, but no answer came.

That long-standing fear she had carried in her chest—the one she never dared name—suddenly turned to sharp thorns.

Her heart ached in a deep, dull way.

If Chi Yi truly wasn’t happy…

Then maybe spending the rest of her life quietly trapped in regret— …was exactly what she deserved.

Thinking that way, Wen Ranqing lowered her eyes.

Even though Chi Yi couldn’t see it, a faint smile still touched the corners of her lips. In a quiet voice, she said,
“It’s my fault… Just a little longer. Once the scent fades, I’ll…”

But the more Chi Yi listened, the more her brows furrowed.

She couldn’t bring herself to lie to someone like this—especially not to this version of Wen Ranqing.
The kind that made her feel like she’d overflow just from a touch—soft, salty, and lingering.

Wen Ranqing used to cry only during intimacy. But now, all Chi Yi could picture were those misty peach-blossom eyes—slightly red, staring up at her with unwavering focus.

Chi Yi blinked a couple of times, then abruptly interrupted her with a rough tone:
“Why are you talking so much nonsense? I’m not overthinking it.”

Wen Ranqing froze, caught off guard by the unrelated scolding.
Her nose stung, but then she remembered—it was she who told Chi Yi not to worry about her.

It took another moment for the words to truly sink in, like a firework blooming late in a winter night sky.
Still disbelieving, she murmured Chi Yi’s name under her breath.

Her voice shook even more than it did during those other moments.

Chi Yi cleared her throat awkwardly and shifted her chin back to her shoulder.

“I said stop talking.”

“Just stay for a bit. I’ll head out right after. Taking this long to cook fish soup is weird.”

Where their bodies touched, the skin wasn’t especially sensitive—but Wen Ranqing’s heart jumped anyway.
Her breath, quick and shallow, finally steadied as Chi Yi calmed.

Just as the intimate tension in the kitchen began to dissipate, there was a knock on the glass door.

Chi Zhong, clearly thinking along the same lines as Chi Yi, pushed the door open as he spoke:
“Ranqing? What’s taking so long? Is Chi Yi not listening to you again?”

“If she’s being difficult, tell me. If you can’t bring yourself to say it, I’ll say it for you.”

The fish in the pot had just started to change color. Wen Ranqing flushed but replied sweetly,
“No, Uncle Chi. Xiao Yi’s been very good.”

Chi Zhong sighed. “You always defend her.”

Still caught in the tail end of Wen Ranqing’s praise, Chi Yi hadn’t even moved away yet.
Her father shot her a helpless look before she could react.
She opened her mouth, unsure what to say, when a soft, elegant hand pressed gently against hers.

Wen Ranqing replaced the lid on the soup pot, steadied herself, and added gently,
“She wasn’t causing trouble. I’m just not very familiar with the steps… I was a little slow. Don’t blame her, Uncle.”

During his time in prison, most of Chi Zhong’s conversations with Wen Ranqing had been about Chi Yi.
Through her words, he’d slowly pieced together what his daughter had become since they last truly shared time—since that summer when she was fifteen.

Though Wen Ranqing never said it outright, her descriptions revealed what Chi Zhong valued most: that Chi Yi had become someone responsible, honest, and kind.

He had also learned about the parts of Chi Yi she never spoke of herself.
And most often, Wen Ranqing would simply say: “She’s good.”

Whether that was true or not, Chi Zhong couldn’t say.
But from everything he’d seen, the one thing he was sure of was this: these two kids had likely been doing just fine.

Relief warmed his expression.
He gently told Chi Yi to step out of the kitchen—two people were enough to handle the cooking.

After Chi Yi left, Chi Zhong washed his hands and began prepping vegetables.
Then, in a voice laced with meaning, he said to Wen Ranqing:

“Chi Yi’s always been a bit careless—rough around the edges. She’s not as sweet as she was when she was little.”

“But you two… you’re both flesh of my flesh.”

Wen Ranqing listened quietly.
Aside from the guilt she had no choice but to carry, her heart softened all over again.

She recalled Chi Yi’s reaction just moments ago and added silently in her mind:

“She’s… still very sweet.”