The White Moonlight of Three Male Leads - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Yi Xiangsui

Yi Xiangsui took out a book from his backpack and asked, “Are Auntie and Uncle home?”

It took Song Yuyan a moment to realize that Yi Xiangsui was referring to his parents.

Before transmigrating, he had been alone. After transmigrating, he was still alone.

Song Yuyan shook his head. “They’ve been gone for a long time. It’s just me at home.”

Yi Xiangsui studied him carefully and realized that Song Yuyan was genuinely calm.

“You’ve always been by yourself?” Yi Xiangsui’s eyes wandered around the room. It was clean—not the kind of clean that comes from frequent tidying, but the kind of clean that comes from someone barely moving around. A place where one cleaning lasts a long time because no one is there to mess it up.

That realization made his eyes sting.

Song Yuyan had just nodded when he heard Yi Xiangsui say, “You teach me to study, and I’ll take you to exercise!”

Yi Xiangsui wasn’t joking.

He had seriously thought about the logistics of going running. Morning was out of the question—neither of them would want to show up to school dripping with sweat.

After school was the ideal time for a run.

System: “Host, you agreed?!”

The host always came home and collapsed on the bed like he intended to lie there for ten thousand years. The system had already quietly labeled him—this host didn’t seem to like exercising.

Did he have a bit of a belly now? Probably not. The host studied so hard every day; he probably burned a ton of energy.

Song Yuyan: “What else would I do?”

Besides, running at night sounded great—moonlight casting shadows, a cool breeze drifting by. After the run, he could come home and take a shower.

But Song Yuyan was clearly someone who knew how to make the most efficient use of time.

He thought for only a moment, then agreed and offered a suggestion: “Let’s run after school. We don’t need to go to the track. Running along the way home sounds good!”

Yi Xiangsui made a noise of agreement.

There’s no way he’d be able to run home every day on his own.

In fact, he usually didn’t even walk home—he’d sit in a car. A lot of things had always felt like a waste of time to him.

But now, thinking back, Yi Xiangsui realized it had already been half a month since he started walking home every day.

It had really been that long.

He actually looked forward to running home with Song Yuyan now.

…

Song Yuyan always followed through on what he said.

Just like when he said he was going to win over the male lead—he’d tease him now and then, making sure Yi Xiangsui’s mood went up and down like a rollercoaster.

So when he said they’d run, that same evening after school, the two of them started running together.

Yi Xiangsui had better stamina. He exercised regularly. Unlike Song Yuyan, who usually moved as little as a sloth.

They started running.

Song Yuyan thought it would be hard, and it was—for the first few steps. But after running for a bit, he stopped caring about what others thought. All he saw were the sights he was passing, the cool wind brushing his face, the gentle moonlight surrounding him. He breathed heavily, expelling all the pent-up tension and pressure from his chest with each exhale.

When they finally stopped, Song Yuyan was gasping for air, hands braced on his knees. His slender back was bent, and his narrow waist was exposed slightly.

He looked up, breath unsteady, panting, and said messily, “I’m really glad I met you, Yi Xiangsui!”

Yi Xiangsui took a deep breath. He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze drifted, and his heart floated along with the boy in front of him, as if he couldn’t stay grounded.

After a long pause, he gave a quiet “Mm.”

Then he walked up to him, bent down slightly, and used his long, fair fingers to cradle Song Yuyan’s face.

Both hands, gently cupping his face.

Song Yuyan felt like his face had frozen. He couldn’t move. He just stared stiffly at Yi Xiangsui.

At that moment, Yi Xiangsui didn’t seem human. He looked like an enchanting spirit.

His exquisitely handsome features felt unreal in the moonlight. Then Song Yuyan heard him say, “I want to draw you. Can I draw you in the future?”

A proper drawing?

If this had been a normal moment, Song Yuyan would definitely have joked and teased him until Yi Xiangsui’s ears turned red.

But right now, he could only blankly nod. “Sure, I’ll be your model.”

“No need. I don’t need models to draw.”

“You draw abstract art or something?” Song Yuyan finally found his voice.

“No,” Yi Xiangsui said, releasing his face.

He’d wanted to draw Song Yuyan before, but the urge had never been as strong as it was tonight. And he didn’t need to look at someone to draw them.

When Song Yuyan looked at him, Yi Xiangsui smiled in response.

What else could you expect from a future entertainment industry star?

The night was cool, and the boy’s smile bloomed like a flower. Song Yuyan couldn’t describe it. The night was so cool, yet his heart felt like it had rolled through a furnace.

They didn’t talk the rest of the way home.

Once they arrived, they said goodnight as usual and parted ways.

The closed door blocked the view. Only when Song Yuyan had completely disappeared did Yi Xiangsui continue upstairs.

…

The next morning, when Song Yuyan stepped out of his house, he saw a tall figure leaning against the wall.

Yi Xiangsui looked up at the sound of the door opening. That’s when Song Yuyan noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

Did Yi Xiangsui not sleep again last night?

But Song Yuyan didn’t say anything. After all, Yi Xiangsui wasn’t like him—they were on different tracks entirely. Yi Xiangsui could catch up on sleep during class.

Sure enough, by the time they got to school—before the bell even rang—Yi Xiangsui was already slumped over his desk, dozing off.

Huo Enlin whispered, “Does Yi Xiangsui never sleep at night?”

Song Yuyan replied, “You’re asking me like I’d know.”

Huo Enlin said, “Everyone knows you two are always together. I thought you were close friends.”

Were they really always together?

Song Yuyan thought about it for a moment and replied on the surface, “Yeah, we’re friends.”

Behind them, Yi Xiangsui hadn’t fully fallen asleep yet. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark and heavy before he slowly closed them again.

He looked just like a quiet, innocent pretty boy.

…

Midterm exams arrived faster than expected.

Even though Song Yuyan had been working hard, when the exams finally came, his mind still felt like a blank slate.

Coming back to redo high school didn’t make you smarter.

He stared at his report card, dazed.

Something must have gone wrong, but he didn’t know what.

High school knowledge felt so distant, but thankfully he still had time.

Three years. Not too long, not too short. Enough time to make an inspiring mini-drama about his journey.

Song Yuyan wasn’t just all talk. Redoing things might not make you smarter, but it did give you more self-control.

There were too many temptations during youth. Even if he couldn’t become a genius, he could still settle down and study, learn some techniques, and improve his grades.

At the very least, over the past few months, he had climbed from the bottom 30 in class to around 15th place. He was already becoming something of a dark horse among teachers and students alike.

Teachers and classmates were all watching his progress.

Some even asked him for tips.

Students who were eager to improve didn’t buy his modest explanations.

“You only study until midnight?” One classmate looked skeptical.

Huo Enlin laughed and said, “He studies until 2 or 3 a.m. sometimes. Doesn’t even sleep at all on some nights.”

When Song Yuyan tried to explain seriously, no one believed him. But when Huo Enlin blurted out something casually, the whole class took it as truth.

Well, that made sense. No wonder he caught up so quickly—he paid attention in class, worked hard after school, ran in the evenings, and even burned the midnight oil.

If hardworking people don’t improve, then who will?

This version of events started spreading beyond the students—soon, even the teachers were talking about it.

After another round of exams, Song Yuyan didn’t do well on the Chinese test and was called to the office by the Chinese teacher.

He thought he was going to get scolded, but instead, the teacher was kind and warm. “I know you love studying and you’re a good student, but Chinese is about accumulation—it takes time. I have a lot of books here. Take whatever you want.”

The teacher added, “Also, no matter how much you study, you still have to take care of your health. Sleep earlier!”

Song Yuyan realized the teacher must have seen him zoning out in class but didn’t scold him—instead, just assumed he was overstudying.

Ah. So the rumor about him studying late into the night had really spread everywhere.

He walked back to class in a daze, only to see Yi Xiangsui, as if he had radar, suddenly lift his gaze and glance his way.

Yi Xiangsui’s face could heal all sorrows. Whatever melancholy Song Yuyan felt was instantly gone.

But Huo Enlin, ever curious, pestered him about what happened in the office.

After hearing it, Huo Enlin rubbed his chin and said seriously, “Should I clarify things with everyone?”

He hadn’t expected Song Yuyan to become a role model. But with such rapid improvement, it was hard not to take notice.

“Probably no use,” Song Yuyan replied. “Even if I don’t study in class, people will still think I work hard at home.” Worse, they’d think he was faking.

This world runs on other people’s assumptions. He wasn’t about to do something ridiculous just to prove something imaginary.

Seeing Huo Enlin looking a bit guilty, Song Yuyan smiled. “Don’t overthink it. There will always be people who talk about you, people who like you, people who hate you. I choose to be myself. Who cares?”

“Besides, I like this version of me. Who knows, maybe even more people will like me now.”

Huo Enlin laughed in relief. “You’re right. The Chinese teacher likes you, I like you, and more people will like you too!”

He said this while slinging an arm around Song Yuyan’s shoulders—only for his arm to be brushed away a second later.

Yi Xiangsui had removed Huo Enlin’s hand, then immediately let go with an expression of disgust.

Huo Enlin caught that look and thought, What’s his problem?

Yi Xiangsui stared deeply at Huo Enlin and said, “I like him the most.”

Huo Enlin froze. “What do you mean by ‘the most’?”

He was too shocked to be angry. Was this the kind of “like” he was thinking of?

Yi Xiangsui lowered his eyes. “The kind of like you have for a friend.”

Then he moved his lips again and added, “My best friend. My favorite.”

Song Yuyan met Yi Xiangsui’s eyes, then quickly looked away. Yi Xiangsui was way too good-looking. With that face, even saying “like” or “favorite” didn’t sound off.

Otherwise, Huo Enlin wouldn’t be giving him that you’re crazy look, and Zhang Yuan wouldn’t be holding in laughter watching the show.

Song Yuyan couldn’t keep watching the comedy unfold. He said, exasperated, “You’re all my friends. If you really want to compete for first place…”

He paused and had an epiphany. “Why not compete through test scores instead?”

Huo Enlin chuckled sheepishly and returned to his seat.

Yi Xiangsui narrowed his eyes, rested his head on his long arms at his desk, and said nothing.

Song Yuyan couldn’t help but laugh. He chuckled a few times, then pulled out a book and spread it on his desk.

Since everyone already thought he studied until the middle of the night, why not live up to it?

Maybe one day, he’d become a legend.