After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's "White Moonlight" - Chapter 20

This was the second time Cheng Siyu had heard these words, but this time her state of mind was no longer the same as the first. After a moment of silence, she merely reached out and gently stroked Ji Yun’s head.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, looking at Ji Yun’s face—flushed red from the biting cold—she suddenly felt a craving for a cigarette. She wanted to comfort Ji Yun, yet she found herself at a loss for words. Her mind was a chaotic blur of images: Ji Yun and Ji Yan together, and then herself, collapsed on a rain-slicked street after the accident, the metallic tang of blood and the stench of sewers flooding her nostrils while she lay paralyzed.

Amidst the rising mist from the hot water, Ji Yun began to speak of her childhood.

Cheng Siyu carefully played the role of the “confiding older sister,” listening intently, while her mind drifted to the scene of her own mother’s death.

Ji Yun’s mother was Yi Xuan, once the most popular actress in the entertainment industry. Though years had passed, Cheng Siyu could still find her likeness in numerous acting tutorials and archival materials.

From the moment Ji Yun was born, she felt that her parents were different from others. Ji Wanli did not want Yi Xuan to continue showing her face in public; he wanted to keep her at home like a canary in a gilded cage. Yi Xuan, who was then at the peak of her career, naturally refused. Consequently, the two engaged in countless arguments, ranging from petty squabbles to explosive rows.

The conflict eventually ended with Ji Wanli confiscating all of Yi Xuan’s means of communication and confining her within the Ji family mansion.

The headstrong Yi Xuan became like a bird with broken wings, falling ill and never recovering.

After her imprisonment, Yi Xuan’s health deteriorated steadily. In the later stages, she was confined to a wheelchair. The doctors claimed it was a “sickness of the heart,” but Ji Wanli remained convinced he had done nothing wrong. Whenever he returned home, he would mock and ridicule her, hoping to force her into submission.

Yet, toward Ji Yun, Yi Xuan remained gentle and magnanimous. She never displayed her suffering or her resentment toward Ji Wanli in front of her daughter. Instead, she tutored her, hoping that Ji Yun would never have to live a life like hers.

It wasn’t until junior high school that Ji Yun discovered her father was the architect of her mother’s misery. The two had a massive falling out, and from that day forward, Ji Yun stopped calling him “Dad,” devoting herself entirely to caring for her mother.

Finally, after twenty years of torment, Yi Xuan passed away. Until the very end, she never once yielded to Ji Wanli.

“I only have you now.”

As her body gradually warmed up, Ji Yun spoke through sobs, eventually leaning against Cheng Siyu’s shoulder and falling into an exhausted sleep.

Looking at her sleeping face, Cheng Siyu felt a sudden pang of sympathy. However, logic quickly reclaimed its position. Ji Yun was pitiable, yes—but what had she herself done wrong in her previous life?

Just then, the phone on the table rang. She settled Ji Yun onto her bed and walked out to the balcony to answer.

The caller was Ji Wanli’s assistant. The gist of the message was for her to comfort Ji Yun and ensure she didn’t do anything foolish; the rewards for her cooperation would be substantial.

The secretary’s tone was identical to Ji Wanli’s—laced with an underlying disdain for her. But Cheng Siyu didn’t mind. After all, Ji Wanli was currently her nominal benefactor.

“Understood,” she replied.

After hanging up, Cheng Siyu stood in the cold wind on the balcony for a while before slowly walking back inside.

A week passed. During this time, Ji Yun was like an unweaned child, sticking to Cheng Siyu whenever she had a free moment. She wanted to eat with her, attend lectures with her—she was just short of following her back to her dorm to sleep.

In Cheng Siyu’s eyes, the current Ji Yun was a reflection of her former self. Faced with Ji Yun’s enthusiasm, she responded only with perfunctory kindness. Occasionally, she felt the urge to forget her memories and enjoy the feeling of being loved, but the past would relentlessly strike back. Those countless late nights, the death of her dog, and most unforgettably, the smile on Ji Yun’s face when she stood beside Ji Yan—all of it dragged her back to cold reality time and time again.

The two remained inseparable until Cheng Siyu received a contract and script from Zhao Xixi, finally granting her a moment to breathe.

The script was for an urban romantic drama titled True or False. The plot followed the clichéd story of a “True and False Heiress” who were swapped at birth. Their identities were discovered during a blood test for a high school physical exam. After reuniting with their biological families, both girls fall for the same man, leading to a series of melodramatic entanglements.

The role Cheng Siyu received was the “True Heiress,” Duan Xiaohe—a tragic, “pitiful white flower” character. Born as the heiress to the wealthy Lan Group, she was accidentally swapped with Lan Yulin from a low-income family due to a nurse’s negligence.

The Duan family was extremely patriarchal, making her upbringing miserable. Even after reuniting with her biological parents, she was treated as nothing more than an ATM.

Cheng Siyu wondered if she had been cast in this tragic role because netizens often commented that her acting seemed “at one with suffering.”

Since the filming location was in S City, quite a distance away, the production crew covered the hotel and airfare. Upon seeing this, Cheng Siyu’s first thought was that she could finally use the filming as an excuse to distance herself from Ji Yun for a while.

But her relief was short-lived. She received another call from Ji Wanli’s assistant, who informed her that this script was specifically customized by Ji Wanli to make his daughter famous. Because Ji Wanli felt it was beneath his daughter to play a girl from a poor background—and feared it might limit her future roles—he had chosen Cheng Siyu for that part.

Ji Yun, meanwhile, was the pre-selected lead: the “False Heiress,” Lan Yulin, who was cherished by everyone in the show.

“Miss Cheng, just do your job. Miss Ji only agreed to sign the contract because she knew you would be participating. Therefore, the Chairman will provide you with an additional payment on top of your acting fee.”

The implication was clear: she could not refuse, and she was expected to keep an eye on his daughter.

“Fine, I understand.”

Cheng Siyu had no pride to defend and no leverage to fight Ji Wanli. Whatever he arranged, she followed, though she still looked forward to the day she could be independent.

As soon as she hung up with the assistant, Ji Yun’s call came in. The ringtone was a snippet of a love song Ji Yun had recorded herself and set on Cheng Siyu’s phone, wanting her to know exactly who was calling the moment it rang.

“Sister! I have good news for you. Guess what it is?”

The title “Sister” had crept into their relationship at some unknown point. Cheng Siyu didn’t like it; it reminded her of Ji Yan. She merely frowned and feigned confusion.

“I can’t guess.”

“Try!” Ji Yun’s voice was bursting with excitement and joy. Cheng Siyu felt that if there weren’t a phone between them, Ji Yun would have already pounced on her.

“Is it about the production crew?” Cheng Siyu already knew the answer but had to play along.

“Yes! And it’s about you, too!”

Ji Yun’s voice chirped through the receiver again. Cheng Siyu tapped the back of her phone, pretending to think, then spoke in a gentle tone.

“Did you get a role in a play?”