The White Moonlight I Chased, the Divorce I Never Expected (GL) - Chapter 30

After Chi Yi and Qu Yinan exchanged ideas and preliminarily agreed on a change of direction, they threw themselves into work. Barring any surprises, the project should be delivered on schedule early next month.

Time flew by, and soon it was noon. Stretching lazily, Chi Yi declined a colleague’s invitation to have lunch together. She was often like this when working—unable to concentrate on anything else until she finished her current task. Years of irregular meals had left her with chronic gastritis, though her more recent consistent eating habits had helped keep it in check.

While zoning out, her phone screen lit up. The first thing she saw was something she never expected to appear in Wen Ranqing’s chat—an emoji sticker.

It was a ragdoll cat, pure white with a grey-tipped tail lying sideways. Its front paws were folded neatly over its chest, one hind leg stretched out while the other curled slightly. Its head tilted to the side, the entire kitten curved into an adorably soft arc. Big round eyes stared unblinkingly, and its long fur lay slightly tousled.

Trying to act cute…

As the thought crossed Chi Yi’s mind, she instantly imagined Wen Ranqing behind the message. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath faltered.

She quickly skimmed through the earlier messages and put the phone aside. Her sore eyes closed for a moment.

As soon as she shut her eyes, that kitten reappeared in her mind—but this time, it moved. Its tail lifted and swayed from side to side as it happily trotted forward, then flopped onto its side, its fluffy tail brushing the floor as it rolled back and forth, begging to be petted.

That emoji was originally a GIF, Chi Yi recalled. Somehow, what Wen Ranqing sent had turned into just a static image.

She opened a rarely used drawer that held a few boxes of antacids and a small tin of milk candies. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at her phone again. A few more messages had come in.

Wen Ranqing:
[Xiao Yi… I didn’t know that’s what it meant.]
[Just… remember to eat on time.]

The typing indicator flickered—first showing her name, then changing again—and nearly a minute later, another message appeared:

[Please don’t forget, QAQ]

To say her heart remained unaffected would be a lie. Chi Yi’s eyes darkened, her fingers turning pale as they clenched the phone. It took a long while before she managed to resume her work. She didn’t look at her phone again for the rest of the afternoon.

“President Tan, one moment please.”

Outside the meeting hall of Yitong Group, Wen Ranqing’s face bore none of the usual businesslike smile. Her tone was calm and composed, exuding a quiet authority that stood unfazed among the suits and ties—a textbook example of the cool, elegant beauty.

Tan Youlin remained expressionless, following her toward the elevator, exchanging only polite pleasantries in his role as a business partner.

Inside the elevator, as Cheng Yuan helped Wen Ranqing select her floor, Tan Youlin handed her a black invitation card embossed with gold, his mature charm accompanied by a suave smile. “Now that we’ve finished business, it would be my great honor if I could invite you in a personal capacity.”

Tan Youlin had long navigated the business waters of Beihang City with finesse. Yitong Group had long been a powerhouse, enjoying peace under its strong canopy. While favorable timing and alliances played their part, his personal business acumen could not be underestimated.

Their collaboration counted as a kind of rapport, and Wen Ranqing did not decline. Her face, as flawless and cool as polished jade, lost all expression once the elevator doors slid shut.

Once in the car, the driver glanced at the time and asked whether she wished to return to the office.

“To Nanlin Road.”

She rested her eyes for about twenty minutes. The car came to a stop outside a cake shop. If Wen Ranqing remembered correctly, her mother used to buy desserts from this very store. When Chi Yi was little, she had loved sweets. Wen Ranqing had more than once seen that little cream-covered face from the second-floor window.

Thinking of this, much of her fatigue melted away. She got out of the car alone and stood in line for half an hour. She picked out a slice of strawberry cream cake and also bought a box of freshly baked cookies.

She hadn’t expected such a long wait at the cake shop. Her ankles ached in high heels, and the night—still far from cool—felt stuffy and stifling. Yet the faint smile on Wen Ranqing’s lips never faded, and she happily carried the treats back to the office.

By the time regular office hours ended, Chi Yi hadn’t left. Her teammates, already used to her staying late, instinctively stayed on another two hours themselves. With solid core data now available and under the general framework Chi Yi had laid out, today’s productivity exceeded that of any day in the past two weeks.

Chi Yi often stayed late in the past as well. She was quite familiar with the night security staff, knowing their shift started at midnight and that they patrolled every half hour. Around 11:30 PM, she stood up and stretched her back. A glance outside confirmed that everyone else had left by now.

Back in her sophomore and junior years, she had plenty of free time and would spend long hours at Wen Corporation. At one point, she had even started clocking in and out on a regular schedule. So apart from more people watching her now, her mood upon returning wasn’t much different from before—and frankly, she didn’t care about those stares.

Solving difficult problems bit by bit gave her a strong sense of satisfaction. She tidied up her desk, and just then, a dynamic simulation of the bridge girder framework was sent over. She sat on the sofa, resting her chin on her hand, and watched for a while.

The sound of high heels echoed, approaching from afar. At first, Chi Yi paid no mind—until there was a soft knock on the office door.

A few seconds passed before the person outside asked, “Xiao Yi, are you in there?”

The voice was barely audible, like a whisper. But Chi Yi still heard it. She frowned slightly and replied in a flat, impersonal tone, as any ordinary employee might: “I’m here.”

“May I come in?” Wen Ranqing’s heart beat a little faster, even though no one else was around. She asked softly, not daring to enter without Chi Yi’s permission.

That gentle and sincere question, spoken so quietly, made Chi Yi’s heart soften slightly. Maybe she’s just here to return the jacket, she thought.

“Xiao Yi…”

Chi Yi’s heart trembled faintly. “Mm,” she responded.

Wen Ranqing sat down beside her, holding two small bags. They weren’t large, and the logos looked somewhat familiar—clearly not holding a jacket. Chi Yi glanced at them briefly, then looked away, resuming the video playback.

Wen Ranqing wanted to ask whether she’d eaten lunch or dinner, but worried it would sound too nagging. In the end, she simply asked, “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

Chi Yi had hastily grabbed something from the convenience store downstairs that afternoon—just like she often did when buried in work. Now, with midnight approaching, she was indeed a bit hungry. But she kept her eyes glued to the screen, unwilling to engage in any eye contact with Wen Ranqing.

Tonight, Wen Ranqing wore a white silk blouse. The sleeves were bunched slightly, revealing part of her fair forearm. Around her snow-white neck, faint traces of something hidden could just barely be seen. Chi Yi had noticed it the moment she walked in.

Her ears grew warm and flushed. Feeling uncomfortable, she kept watching the video of the launching gantry placing girder segments—tedious, really. One only needed to check the beginning, the end, and the pier junctions. But with Wen Ranqing there, Chi Yi’s hands froze, unable to drag the progress bar forward.

Wen Ranqing quietly nudged the small bags to a spot out of Chi Yi’s view. She bit her lip and moved a little closer, knowing Chi Yi was still feeling awkward. She didn’t speak again—just silently stayed with her until the video ended.

The video was ten minutes long; six had already played before Wen Ranqing came in, so the rest finished quickly. Her presence beside Chi Yi was impossible to ignore, and it unsettled her focus entirely.

Chi Yi closed the laptop and placed it into her bag. Throughout the entire process, she never once looked in Wen Ranqing’s direction. Her tone was polite, businesslike: “It’s very late. Is there something you need, President Wen?”

That soft, spoiled kitten emoji—Chi Yi didn’t know whether she’d seen it or not—but Wen Ranqing’s face flushed with embarrassment. Still, she remained patient and said, “I just wanted to see if you were feeling tired… or if anything unpleasant happened today.”

Was she treating her like a child?
Telling her to eat lunch on time, then showing up at night just to check on her—it was just a regular workday. Chi Yi didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary herself. She had always been clear about keeping work and personal matters separate.

Still, those gentle, soothing words flowed quietly into her heart like a soft stream, dampening a small corner.

Chi Yi didn’t carry many things: a laptop, a few books, her phone, and keys. She quickly packed them all into her bag and stood up. “Nothing unpleasant happened.”

Wen Ranqing asked softly, “Was the revised proposal going smoothly?”

“It went alright.”

Wen Ranqing sat just slightly to the side of her. Chi Yi’s office wasn’t very big—passing by meant they would inevitably brush against each other.

Chi Yi was about to ask Wen Ranqing to move a bit when she looked down and saw those peach-blossom eyes—eyes she had coldly brushed off more than once—wide open and unblinking, not even a hint of hurt in them. In fact, there was the faintest trace of a smile.

Wen Ranqing was genuinely happy. She smiled, her eyes curving gently. “Xiao Yi is amazing.”

Her dark hair hung down on both sides of her face. When she looked up, the faint love mark on her neck came into full view. Chi Yi saw it instantly. She remembered how soft and trembling those wrists had been in her hands, and now, just seeing it made her feel uncomfortable.

She had words on the tip of her tongue but instead asked, “President Wen, was sending emojis over the screen not enough? You want to act cute in person too?”

In her heart, she wanted to believe it was just something Wen Ranqing had sent on a whim—but she couldn’t stop herself from reacting, from caring, from responding.

Wen Ranqing froze for a second, a warm flush spreading across her face. Chi Yi had clearly seen the messages—but hadn’t replied. And yet, that fact alone was enough to make her happy. Without thinking, she tugged gently at the hem of Chi Yi’s shirt and asked quietly, “Do you like it?”

Do you like chatting with emoji stickers like that? Do cute animals lift your mood? Will you listen if someone asks you not to skip meals?

And if you do like it… will that change anything?

Chi Yi turned her head without responding and stepped past her with her long legs—but a light tug held her back. She turned, a little impatient.

“Is President Wen going to perform for me now?”

For a second, Wen Ranqing bit her lip, face burning with embarrassment. She realized Chi Yi had misunderstood—and even though it flustered her, she couldn’t help but feel a little caught off guard. Those pitch-black eyes stared at her, instantly calling to mind the way Chi Yi had pinned her against the wall the night before—how captivating and overwhelming she had been.

Dark hair brushed her shoulders, peach blossom eyes glistened, lips a soft rose red with a hint of moisture. There was a trace of helplessness in her gaze as she looked up at Chi Yi—and that alone was almost too much for Chi Yi to bear.

She tried to leave, but once again, that slight tug at the hem of her shirt held her back. The force wasn’t strong—more like a kitten’s gentle paw, soft and coaxing.

After a long moment, the corners of Wen Ranqing’s eyes turned slightly red. She parted her lips just a little.

“Meow~”