The White Moonlight of Three Male Leads - Chapter 29

Chapter 29: The Legendary Junior

 

Before arriving at the destination, Song Yuyan had already learned a great deal about Li He and the others—names, personalities, and of course, those suffocating kisses.

 

When they finally met—Li He and his friends were busy working up a storm. When they saw Feng Chengling walk in, they didn’t think much of it and continued focusing on their tasks.

 

Suddenly, it was as if a switch flipped—they looked up sharply, hands pausing mid-action.

 

Who was the beautiful person standing next to Feng Chengling?

 

The answer was obvious.

 

Among the stunned faces, the slightly chubby Li He was the first to speak.

 

Pushing up his glasses, Li He stammered, “Are… are you the legendary junior?”

 

Song Yuyan’s pupils widened slightly. Was that supposed to be describing him?

 

But before he could answer, Li He and the others had already drawn their own conclusions from the fact that he and Feng Chengling were holding hands.

 

Li He and his group were incredibly enthusiastic.

 

“You must be the legendary junior!” Li He repeated with shining eyes.

 

The group crowded around, chirping like birds outside a window.

 

Song Yuyan had always thought of himself as outgoing—until he met this group. Only now did he understand what true extroversion meant.

 

Feng Chengling had mentioned their personality traits before, but now that he was actually meeting them, Li He and the rest were nonstop selling Feng Chengling to him: how devoted he was, what he liked to do in his free time, and so on. By the time Song Yuyan left, he felt like his brain had been forcibly stuffed full of Feng Chengling trivia.

 

Feng Chengling found a casual excuse and led him out.

 

Outside, Song Yuyan breathed in the fresh air.

 

Suddenly, a pair of warm hands gently pressed on his temples.

 

Feng Chengling was massaging them as he spoke softly, “They’re not usually like this. I mean, they’re always chatty, but not that chatty.”

 

Seeing Song Yuyan listening attentively, clearly interested, Feng Chengling added, “They probably got a little overexcited seeing a new face. Or maybe… they admire you a bit?”

 

“Admire me?” Song Yuyan asked in confusion. “They’ve never even seen me before. Isn’t that a bit abstract?”

 

It felt like being a fan meeting their idol.

 

Still, the enthusiasm was nice.

 

…

 

Time flies when you’re in love.

 

By the end of Song Yuyan’s sophomore year, Feng Chengling had already started job hunting.

 

Song Yuyan knew how busy he was.

 

Even so, Feng Chengling still made time to see him every single day.

 

“I thought I was good at time management—until I met you,” Song Yuyan teased with a suppressed laugh. “I seriously don’t know where you find the time.”

 

“There’s always time if you squeeze it,” Feng Chengling replied, but his brows drew together, a hint of grievance in his expression. “Are you getting tired of seeing me every day?”

 

Feng Chengling always kept an eye on Song Yuyan’s social media. He knew about his interests and hobbies—he never sat still, loved excitement and novelty, and was always up for an adventure. One day it might be driving lessons, the next he might pick up a musical instrument.

 

Feng Chengling’s jaw tightened. He looked at Song Yuyan, unmoving.

 

Song Yuyan glanced around to make sure no one else was nearby. Leaning forward, he hooked a finger under Feng Chengling’s chin and softly brushed his own lips over his.

 

Pulling away slightly, he let his gaze linger on Feng Chengling’s lips.

 

The light color of Feng Chengling’s lips had now been kissed into a rich shade of red.

 

Feng Chengling’s eyes darkened. He yanked Song Yuyan back in just as he was about to pull away and leaned forward, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss.

 

Compared to Song Yuyan’s teasingly gentle peck, Feng Chengling’s kiss was burning with intensity.

 

Song Yuyan felt like his breath was being stolen from him—consumed by a greedy beast. Every bit of air was taken until he was left dizzy.

 

Even though it wasn’t their first kiss, every time still left him feeling like he couldn’t take it.

 

When they finally separated, Song Yuyan was gasping for air, while Feng Chengling only seemed slightly winded—completely composed.

 

Song Yuyan gave a low grunt. Feng Chengling chuckled, cupping Song Yuyan’s face in both hands. His skin was smooth and glowing, like polished jade.

 

He rested his forehead against Song Yuyan’s, voice hoarse. “I’ll try to hold back next time.”

 

But, realistically, he probably wouldn’t be able to.

 

Feng Chengling moved away, pulling Song Yuyan into a hug, resting his head on his shoulder to calm his pounding heart.

 

His eyes were dark, suppressing a wave of desire.

 

But with their bodies pressed so closely, even with layers of clothing between them, it felt like nothing at all. The embrace only made that buried yearning burn stronger.

 

Feng Chengling felt like walking hormones.

 

After getting together with him, Song Yuyan was finding it harder and harder to resist.

 

Thankfully, they composed themselves quickly. When they’d finally put a little distance between them, they met each other’s eyes—then looked away again.

 

Song Yuyan didn’t even remember how he made it back to the dorm.

 

Once there, he realized—Damn it. He forgot to say what he actually wanted to say!

 

Can’t couples do something other than making out?

 

Song Yuyan wasn’t one to wallow in regret. If there was a problem, he wanted to solve it.

 

And given Feng Chengling’s personality, this should be an easy fix. He was a reserved person—no matter how badly he might want something, he wouldn’t get handsy in public.

 

So, if they just changed the date location from a secluded grove to a crowded lecture hall…

 

Song Yuyan: “Perfect!”

 

System: “?”

 

The system: So what exactly did I just miss?

 

It was glad the host was ambitious, sure, but the way he kept running through plans entirely in his head—leaving it behind, confused and frustrated—was kind of cruel.

 

But if it was the one expecting something… then fine, no problem.

 

Song Yuyan had no idea the system was thinking so much. He just waited until Friday evening, knowing Feng Chengling had been busy with his startup stuff, and asked him out.

 

In the lecture hall, Song Yuyan picked an empty seat and sat down.

 

There were a few people inside, but everyone was spread out. Whether playing on their phones or reading, no one was bothering anyone else.

 

Reading in a lecture hall made sense, but playing on your phone? Why?

 

Then again, life is full of questions.

 

Song Yuyan opened a book in front of him just for show, then pulled out his phone.

 

Now he was one of those people.

 

The seat was hard, but somehow scrolling his phone on it made things more interesting.

 

He only meant to kill time, but ended up so absorbed that he didn’t notice the knock on his desk.

 

Looking up, he saw Feng Chengling, dressed in pale colors.

 

He wore a camel-toned coat with a long hem that draped past his waist.

 

And what a waist it was.

 

He had on white pants made of a similarly textured material, and bright shoes that gave him a youthful look.

 

Song Yuyan’s mind flashed.

 

Song Yuyan: “System, does Feng Chengling always dress this nicely?”

 

System: “Of course not. As the self-made, golden-lucky male lead, Feng Chengling’s time is super precious. According to his setup, he’s always thinking about how to make money, not about what color belt goes with today’s outfit.”

 

Song Yuyan: “…Then you might wanna take a look at your “male lead” right now.”

 

The system glanced over—and was stunned speechless by this young, trendy version of Feng Chengling.

 

It visibly fell silent.

 

Song Yuyan, on the other hand, was in a great mood. All because of him—again. He felt like he was floating in warm water, drifting freely with the current.

 

It was as if some invisible god was watching him tenderly, cupping water in both hands and gently pouring it over him, making him smile without even realizing it.

 

Scooting to the side, he propped his chin on one hand and gave Feng Chengling a flirtatious once-over. “Good evening, handsome.”

 

“And… can I sit here, handsome?” Feng Chengling asked, and without waiting for an answer, sat down beside him.

 

Roleplay? If it were up to Song Yuyan, once they moved in together, he could definitely explore more roles.

 

Doctor? Lawyer? King? General?

 

Feng Chengling’s throat bobbed. His eyes darkened.

 

He curled his fingers slightly, pressing his lips together just as he noticed the book in front of Song Yuyan.

 

Flipping it over, he saw the title: “Securities Trading Analysis.”

 

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

 

He’d noticed before that Song Yuyan wore high-quality clothes—not like him, whose wardrobe focused more on practicality and durability, not brand names.

 

But this kind of book wasn’t something you could casually get into just because you had money. If you rushed into it recklessly, you’d just end up losing it all.

 

Feng Chengling’s dark eyes flashed with the memory of Song Yuyan’s tearful, pouty face after being kissed too hard.

 

If it were anyone else, they’d probably want to push him even harder after that.

 

But how could he bear to?

 

Song Yuyan didn’t know what Feng Chengling was thinking—just saw his jaw tighten, chin slightly raised, his face cold and aloof, like a chaste angel descending to Earth.

 

His fingers twitched. That look on Feng Chengling’s face practically begged for him to do something.

 

Wouldn’t it be a waste not to?

 

Song Yuyan’s mischievous side was already stirring.

 

He slid a hand onto Feng Chengling’s waist, carefully watching for his reaction.

 

Feng Chengling’s whole body went stiff.

 

Turning to glance at him, Adam’s apple bobbing, he quickly looked away again.

 

So… this is what Song Yuyan likes?

 

If this was what Song Yuyan liked, then of course… Feng Chengling would indulge him.

 

Unable to move, Feng Chengling waited with anticipation to see just how far Song Yuyan would go.

 

The next moment, Song Yuyan’s hand, as if unsatisfied, began to wander along his waist.

 

Unfortunately, there were still people around. Feng Chengling glanced at their surroundings—Song Yuyan couldn’t do much in this kind of setting.

 

And he couldn’t exactly retaliate either.

 

Even knowing all this, Feng Chengling still enjoyed Song Yuyan’s initiative.

 

Song Yuyan’s hand moved boldly along his waist, and he was just starting to feel smug when suddenly, Feng Chengling caught his hand—guiding it downward toward his thigh.

 

Song Yuyan was completely stunned, his mind a mess.

 

He felt so dumb—he’d only ever considered how restrained Feng Chengling was, and had assumed he’d never be bold in public.

 

But he hadn’t expected this—Feng Chengling might be reserved on the outside, but inside, he was anything but.

 

He wasn’t the one getting handsy, sure—but he was definitely encouraging Song Yuyan to touch him.

 

It was a subtle but undeniable kind of seduction.

 

Eventually, Feng Chengling moved Song Yuyan’s hand off his thigh.

 

Song Yuyan stared at him, slightly dazed.

 

Feng Chengling pressed his lips together, the usually pale color darkened from tension. “Ah Yan.”

 

Song Yuyan coughed awkwardly, his gaze wandering. His porcelain complexion flushed with a soft, rosy hue—gone was the innocent, pure expression, replaced by a breathtaking radiance that was hard to look at directly.

 

And this was just from a little teasing.

 

If they ever actually did anything serious… would Ah Yan just completely combust from embarrassment?

 

Feng Chengling reached out, lightly brushing his fingers against Song Yuyan’s cheek. His long, slender fingers traced his flushed face, gently caressing him again and again.

 

“Song Yuyan, if you get embarrassed this easily… how are you going to survive in the future?” Feng Chengling chuckled lowly after speaking.

 

Song Yuyan glared at him. “From now on, keep your distance.”

 

He hadn’t thought he’d ever need to say that to Feng Chengling.

 

Feng Chengling raised both hands in mock surrender, his voice soft: “Okay, okay~”

 

Song Yuyan shot him another look—but couldn’t hold back his laughter.

 

That “okay okay~” was totally something Feng Chengling had picked up from him. And the way he said it, paired with his gesture, looked exactly like that adorable, helpless sticker he’d once sent.

 

Seeing Song Yuyan smile, Feng Chengling’s expression also softened.

 

Selling cuteness might be shameful, but it works.

 

Song Yuyan twitched at the corner of his mouth. He looked at Feng Chengling, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t reconcile that mature, calm man with the word “cute.”

 

As his gaze lingered, Feng Chengling’s expression tightened—as if he were deliberately trying to stay composed. The tension made Song Yuyan feel even more self-conscious.

 

His fingers curled slightly. The lingering sensation of that firm, toned thigh still pulsed in his palm—heat radiating through the fabric like a silent temptation.

 

And his mind?

 

Definitely not working properly.

 

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be mentally replaying that moment on loop.

 

He coughed again. “Let’s talk business.”

 

Feng Chengling looked a little confused.

 

Song Yuyan cleared his throat. “I’ve been learning about optimal asset allocation lately.”

 

Feng Chengling made a small sound of acknowledgment, his eyes drifting toward the book on Song Yuyan’s desk. “That book won’t help you.”

 

He never shied away from talking about money. Since starting college, he’d read countless books on economics and finance.

 

Which was exactly why he knew how ridiculous some of those books were. Most so-called stock market “secrets” and investment guides were scams designed to empty your pockets by encouraging reckless trading.

 

The truth was far more complex.

 

Investing required not just knowledge of the market, but careful preparation. And most importantly, beyond people—was money.

 

Between him and Song Yuyan, there was no need to keep secrets.

 

As he explained, his insights and perspectives felt refreshing and enlightening.

 

Song Yuyan quickly became absorbed. Talking to Feng Chengling genuinely made him feel like he was growing.

 

Confident, intelligent, and not just a pretty face—plus, the man was objectively handsome.

 

He was like one of those glowing, long-legged leads from Korean dramas.

 

Absolutely irresistible.

 

“I know a lot of financial advice is a scam, but—” Song Yuyan’s bright eyes locked onto Feng Chengling. “Let’s say, hypothetically… I inherited a large sum of money one day…”

 

Feng Chengling was extremely glad he wasn’t eating or drinking anything in that moment. Even more glad that he usually didn’t show much expression—otherwise, he would’ve totally lost control of his face.

 

Do you even hear yourself? Inherit money? From where? What about your parents?

 

Shh, don’t interrupt me.

 

Once he got the hard part out, the rest—no matter how far-fetched—was easy to say.

 

Song Yuyan even wore a faint smile. Head tilted slightly, voice casual: “Let’s say… the amount is ten billion. How should I manage that inheritance?”

 

The reason it was ten billion and not thirty was simply because he only had ten billion accessible at the moment.

 

That’s also why he’d chosen to major in economics.

 

He genuinely had money to manage in the future.

 

He’d been taking specialized courses and reading lots of supplemental financial books, but the more he read, the more confused he became. So much of what was useful wasn’t taught in books—and what was taught often wasn’t applicable.

 

Now, he looked expectantly at Feng Chengling. He trusted his financial knowledge completely.

 

That trust wasn’t based on knowing Feng Chengling would be a billionaire someday. It came from the way he’d patiently, professionally, step by step, proven his capabilities in real time.

 

Feng Chengling stayed calm and composed. “That question actually has a textbook answer.”

 

“60% in stocks, 40% in bonds. That’s what Principles of Wealth Management says.”

 

“But personally,” he added with a small smile, “I don’t agree with that view.”

 

When Feng Chengling spoke about his field, his confidence practically glowed.

 

When he first mentioned the stocks+bonds ratio, Song Yuyan was disappointed—he’d already seen that advice in textbooks and lectures. If even Feng Chengling said the same, then maybe no one had better ideas after all.

 

But the moment he heard “I don’t agree,” all that disappointment vanished.

 

Feng Chengling’s confidence was magnetic, pulling him in completely. Song Yuyan couldn’t help but smile.

 

Why worry about investment returns or portfolio structure?

 

If I hadn’t come here but had time-traveled back instead… would there be any better investment than putting my money into the two Ma’s and one Wang?

 

I didn’t quite get that?

 

I’m saying I want to invest in Feng Chengling!

 

Investing alongside Feng Chengling, who’d once struggled desperately to raise funding, made so much sense.

 

In the future, he and his team would scrape together credit cards and hand them over to Feng Chengling to manage. At one point, Feng Chengling held over a hundred cards, juggling payments and strategizing every day—it was unimaginably stressful.

 

Thinking of the images the system had shown him—Feng Chengling, gaunt and red-eyed—Song Yuyan’s heart ached.

 

Sure, mixing love and money was usually a recipe for disaster.

 

But he truly believed he could handle it.

 

Song Yuyan smiled softly, his eyes shining as he leaned toward Feng Chengling.

 

Feng Chengling’s lips pressed into a firm line, body tense and unmoving—but inside, he was burning.

 

He bit down lightly on his tongue.

 

Why was Song Yuyan always teasing him like this?

 

They were so close now.

 

So close that just as Feng Chengling’s overly-romantic brain started spinning again, Song Yuyan spoke.

 

“Ling-ge, are you still looking for investment?”

 

Feng Chengling’s throat bobbed. Song Yuyan’s breath was warm against the skin of his neck, and his voice sent a current through his whole body.

 

He paused, then realized what Song Yuyan meant.

 

He tried his best to hide the bitterness from his voice.

 

Sure, he’d once said, “Every year companies collapse and new ones rise up”—but in practice, only those who’ve gone through it know how hard it really is.

 

Yes, plenty of companies fail—but why should a new success story be his?

 

Achieving that was never easy. He’d started doing part-time jobs the moment he entered college—not just to escape his family, but to understand the outside world and find his path.

 

And he had found it. He even had a plan.

 

But he kept getting stuck at the same hurdle: seed capital.

 

The pressure on him lately had been overwhelming. But every time he saw Song Yuyan, he made sure to look composed—never letting him notice anything was wrong.

 

He never expected Song Yuyan to bring up funding directly.

 

The moment he heard it, his expression cracked.

 

Song Yuyan’s breath brushed against his neck, pulling him back to his senses.

 

Feng Chengling gently wrapped an arm around his shoulder. It was just a comforting gesture—but from a distance, it looked like a hug.

 

Two devastatingly good-looking guys. One photo and they could be the face of a postcard.

 

Feng Chengling lowered his gaze. “Don’t worry.”

 

He gave Song Yuyan’s arm a reassuring pat, voice calm and steady. “I’ll handle it.”

 

Song Yuyan looked up. Their faces were so close, they could see every tiny expression on each other.

 

Confident people really do shine.

 

Song Yuyan had no doubt Feng Chengling would succeed—not because he’d seen the future.

 

But because Feng Chengling already had everything success required: intelligence, courage, ambition, and the guts to take risks.

 

He could humble himself to handle the little things, to observe and understand the real world.

 

And if he could raise his head again after failure—still willing to fight, never giving up—then who deserved success more than him?

 

Song Yuyan leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Feng Chengling’s cheek.

 

He tried not to make a sound, but the intimacy of the moment made his embarrassment flare.

 

Feng Chengling tilted his chin up slightly, jawline tightening, his Adam’s apple pronounced and alluring.

 

“Ling-ge, you don’t have to keep hunting for investors anymore,” Song Yuyan said seriously. “Not joking—I actually inherited a hundred million.”

 

Wait… didn’t you say a billion earlier?

 

Even factoring in spending and the fact that money in the system account didn’t accrue interest, there was still a little over ten billion left.

 

Hadn’t he just said he inherited ten billion? How did it suddenly drop to one?

 

Then it hit the system. Remembering Feng Chengling’s future success… and this “modest” hundred-million seed fund…

 

It sucked in a cold breath.

 

That’s more than enough. Any more, and the male lead would end up working for Song Yuyan his whole life!

 

Only dead ex-boyfriends are good ex-boyfriends.

 

For him, this second chance at life was far more important.

 

He wasn’t even sure he could complete the mission with the third male lead.

 

So when the time came, he would still break up with Feng Chengling—and disappear from his life.

 

A hundred million was more than enough to launch his dreams.

 

Any more would only make things worse.