After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's "White Moonlight" - Chapter 63.1

The sudden commotion successfully drew the attention of He Zhi nearby. She turned her head, her gaze landing precisely on the hands of Cheng Siyu and Ji Yun, which were locked together.

“I made it very clear to you: we’ve broken up.” Cheng Siyu tried once more to push Ji Yun’s hand away, but Ji Yun wrapped her arms around Cheng Siyu’s waist instead, murmuring in a pleading tone, “Can’t you give me one more chance? Please?”

Cheng Siyu felt a wave of coldness wash over her heart. This was Ji Yun—the once high-and-mighty Ji Yun, the Ji Yun who had once looked down on her with disdain.

Now, as Ji Yun held her, Cheng Siyu felt no ripple of emotion. She was like a shark that had been trapped behind glass for so long, battering its nose until it was bruised and bloody; by the time it finally saw food, it only perceived it as a trap, choosing to starve instead.

Her past experiences ensured she would never trust the person before her again. She still remembered the sensation of shedding her armor only to be brutally stabbed in the back. She simply pushed Ji Yun away.

“There was never any love. Why mention a second chance?”

Her words carried a sense of finality, mirroring the very words Ji Yun had spoken when she pushed her away years ago.

“Why? Is it because of Xi You? Did she say something to you? Have you fallen in love with her?” Ji Yun’s emotions suddenly flared. She asked in confusion, “Why? You used to love me so much.”

Those words made Cheng Siyu freeze for a moment. After a few seconds, she turned back and offered a smile of quiet liberation.

“Yes. But that was in the past.”

The Cheng Siyu who had loved her so very much had died in that car accident.

As soon as she finished speaking, Ji Yun stood frozen on the spot. It wasn’t until Cheng Siyu walked out and closed the dressing room door that she finally snapped out of it.

“It’s not like that… no.” She slumped against a chair, muttering dejectedly to herself.

Meanwhile, He Zhi and the makeup artist stood there in stunned silence, witnessing the aftermath of the drama, feeling that things had truly spun out of control.

After leaving the dressing room, Cheng Siyu saw Qin Xiangqing and Shen Moxu filming a scene together. She stood against a wall nearby and continued flipping through her script.

Halfway through, Shen Moxu finished her shoot and walked over to stand beside her.

“In what way does Little Ji not satisfy you?”

In Shen Moxu’s eyes, Ji Yun was ten thousand times better than Qin Xiangqing. Whether in the past or present, regardless of gender, scandalous rumors about Ji Yun were extremely rare—especially given her status as a wealthy heiress, which made it even more remarkable.

“I just don’t like her,” Cheng Siyu said flatly. The fact that Ji Yun had no scandals only served to remind her that Ji Yun had remained “chaste” for Ji Yan all this time; except for those who resembled her, Ji Yun had never let anyone else touch her. If Cheng Siyu hadn’t been the one used as a substitute, she might have found it a touching tale of devotion. “She has someone else in her heart.”

Cheng Siyu’s tone was level. Shen Moxu suddenly understood and stopped probing, pivoting the conversation elsewhere.

“Your assistant added me on WeChat.”

“She’s a good person; you can chat with her,” Cheng Siyu replied, looking at Shen Moxu. She noticed Shen Moxu was staring blankly at a movie poster on the wall; when those photos were taken, she and Qin Xiangqing were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship.

“Or maybe you should take more time to slow down. There’s no need to rush into things.”

“No. I want her to know that I can live perfectly well without her. She can tell me to stay safe in the morning and then go to bed with my sister in the afternoon—so why can’t I move on?”

As Shen Moxu spoke, she became agitated again. Seeing this, Cheng Siyu knew she was lost in an emotional labyrinth. She simply pressed a hand on Shen Moxu’s shoulder and offered a reminder:

“Don’t become the same kind of person she is.”

Just then, Qin Xiangqing walked past the two of them. Cheng Siyu glanced at her, and their eyes met. Qin Xiangqing’s gaze lingered on Shen Moxu’s shoulder before looking away.

A moment later, the next scene began. This time, they were filming the scene where Chen Yiyun discovers all the evidence and begins interrogating Wen Shu. It was also the final scene the two would film together.

“3, 2, 1, Action.”

“Teacher Wen, do you have anything else to say?”

Wen Shu looked quietly at the pile of evidence spread across the table, then at the handcuffs on her wrists. Her face lacked its usual composure, showing a few more signs of weariness, yet her tone remained calm. “No.”

“May I ask… why did you have to do this?” Chen Yiyun looked at Wen Shu with pity. A former high-achieving student who had returned from studying abroad was now equated with a murderer.

“There is no reason why I ‘had’ to do it. Perhaps I’m just tired.” Wen Shu stared blankly at Chen Yiyun and spoke slowly. “I thought life would get better, but it only got worse.”

She had thought that once the sleazy principal retired next year, he would no longer have the power to manipulate her. Instead, that very night, she had been caught off guard, drugged with an aphrodisiac by a student who then took compromising photos to blackmail her into stopping her discipline.

The only thing she had ever done was reject his confession and report the matter to the school. She didn’t understand what she had done wrong—or perhaps, her crime was simply having a beautiful face.

Chen Yiyun gazed into those indifferent eyes for a long time before finally speaking:

“The law will become more and more perfected.”

This final line had been added to pass censorship, while also serving to deepen the impression on the audience.

“Cut!”

After the scene ended, while waiting for the props team to unlock the handcuffs, Cheng Siyu heard Qin Xiangqing, who had stood up behind her, say while wiping her hands:

“Your acting is much better than Shen Moxu’s.”

Cheng Siyu looked up at her but did not respond.

At that moment, a burst of laughter came from nearby. Both of them instinctively looked toward the source. It was Shen Moxu, Lin Zhizhi, and He Zhi sharing a joke; all three were laughing so hard their eyes were mere slits.

Click. The handcuffs were opened, and Cheng Siyu immediately lowered her arms.

In her previous life, when Ji Yun was filming a police drama, they had played “cop and criminal” games. But back then, the handcuffs were much tighter than these. Indeed, Ji Yun had never cared about her feelings; she would summon her when needed and tell her to get lost when she wasn’t.

But now, as she looked toward the waiting area, she happened to lock eyes with Ji Yun, whose gaze was filled with grievance and sorrow.

In an instant, Cheng Siyu averted her eyes and rose from the interrogation chair. She hated her current self for still remembering so many things associated with Ji Yun.

If only she knew nothing and met the current Ji Yun for the first time… but every bit of suffering she had endured served as a reminder that she could never be soft-hearted toward Ji Yun again.

Standing back in the hallway, she took her phone from her pocket and tapped the screen a few times. In the chat at the very top labeled “Xi You,” she typed:

“Are you free tonight?”

“If it’s you, I’m free anytime.”

A reply came almost instantly. Cheng Siyu’s eyes swept over the text. It was the first time someone had ever said something like that to her, and her heart gave a traitorous flutter.

It felt good to have someone who was always there—so unlike her previous life, where every message she sent was like a stone dropped into the deep sea.

Cheng Siyu sent Xi You an address and put her phone away.

Only then did she notice that Ji Yun was standing beside her. She didn’t know how much of the chat history Ji Yun had seen. But Cheng Siyu no longer felt even a hint of worry.

“Snooping through other people’s messages isn’t very good behavior,” Cheng Siyu said to a grim-faced Ji Yun, her tone completely indifferent.

“When did your relationship with Xi You get to this level?” Ji Yun’s voice came through. Cheng Siyu knew this was the precursor to her temper, yet today, she seemed to intentionally want to step on Ji Yun’s triggers.

“When did I start needing your permission to chat with my own girlfriend?”

“Cheng Siyu, didn’t you love me? Didn’t you say you could only ever love me? Have you two slept together? Why? Am I inferior to her in some way?”

Ji Yun fired off a string of questions. As Cheng Siyu tried to walk away, she was grabbed by the collar. Her fearless gaze met Ji Yun’s resentful eyes.

“I told you, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Whether we’ve slept together or not—what does it matter? We’ve broken up. You have no right to control me anymore. If you feel miserable, then be miserable. What does that have to do with me?”

Cheng Siyu spoke with utter apathy. Even though she was being choked, she felt she wouldn’t mind dying right then. She didn’t understand why the heavens had given her the chance to be reborn.

After all, she was practically repeating all her mistakes. What was the point of a do-over?

After a long silence, Ji Yun finally let go. Perhaps because she hadn’t recovered physically, coupled with her rage, she leaned trembling against the wall, gasping for air. She managed to choke out one more question:

“When did you become like this?”

“I’ve always been like this.”

Since things couldn’t be undone, Cheng Siyu decided to stop caring entirely. She ignored the nearly fainting Ji Yun and walked straight away.

“Don’t… don’t go. Wait for me.” Ji Yun reached out to grab her sleeve, but her hand only caught the empty air. She watched Cheng Siyu’s back until she eventually collapsed to the floor, just as the voice of her assistant called out.

Cheng Siyu sat back in her seat and looked at the message Xi You had just sent: “Okay, do you need me to bring anything?”

“No, just yourself,” she typed and sent. Shortly after, a commotion broke out behind her.

“Miss!” “Little Ji!” “Why has someone fainted here?” “Call an ambulance, quick!”

Cheng Siyu acted as if she heard nothing, staring blankly at Weibo instead. Leaked photos from the set were out; fans and passersby were praising her looks and asking about the drama.

Many people commented that the photo of her in handcuffs was “too sexy,” and they had added filters and even more suggestive captions.

She glanced at them briefly and stopped looking. She put her phone away, only to find Shen Moxu sitting beside her. Noticing Cheng Siyu’s gaze, Shen Moxu spoke:

“Little Ji just fainted.”

“Oh.”

“She was calling your name until the moment she passed out.”

“And?”

Cheng Siyu looked at Shen Moxu, her eyes dark and devoid of emotion, as if she were speaking of someone completely insignificant.

“Siyu, can I ask… in what way has she wronged you?”

Shen Moxu looked up at Cheng Siyu. Just as she had discovered Qin Xiangqing sleeping with her sister that night, Ji Yun seemed to have become another version of herself in her eyes.

“She hasn’t wronged me in any way. It’s just… I don’t love her,” Cheng Siyu said tonelessly.

Hearing her words, Shen Moxu became agitated. “Then why did you get together with her in the first place?” She seemed to be treating Cheng Siyu as another Qin Xiangqing, questioning her harshly. “Why break up with her when she loves you the most?”

“So you know everything?” Cheng Siyu looked at the emotional Shen Moxu, realizing Ji Yun must have said something to her. She didn’t want to explain; after all, even she didn’t quite believe in reincarnation. She simply said: