Moonlight Allure - Chapter 29

Meeting Xiao Nianru’s searching gaze, Jiang Xueyin instinctively took a step back. Like a puppy caught stealing treats, her eyes darted around, and she lowered her head guiltily. “I, I was a bit bored, so I just came out to walk around.”

“Did you not bring your phone when you left the Jiang house?” Xiao Nianru asked softly, setting her script aside.

Jiang Xueyin shook her head. “Mr. Jiang confiscated it back then. Besides, my SIM card was registered under my old identity, so I can’t even use my old WeChat account anymore.”

“I thought as much.” Xiao Nianru rose from the sofa. She picked up her own phone and walked over to Jiang Xueyin, offering it to her. “Why don’t you order a new one through a delivery app? See which model you like. As for the SIM card, we can handle that tomorrow.”

“No, no!” Jiang Xueyin flushed a deep red, waving her hands in refusal. “I have to go to the service center tomorrow anyway; I’ll just buy one then. I’ll just watch some TV for now. Please don’t trouble yourself over me, Sister!”

“Alright.” Xiao Nianru gathered her script and placed it on a nearby bookshelf. She then went to the bedroom and brought out a thin blanket for Jiang Xueyin. “The weather is turning chilly. Cover up if you feel cold.”

“Thank you for caring, Sister. You’re so kind,” Jiang Xueyin chirped sweetly. She sat down exactly where Xiao Nianru had been sitting moments ago.

She turned on the TV and found one of Xiao Nianru’s films from this world. Two minutes in, she paused it and turned to look at Xiao Nianru, who was pouring water nearby. She rubbed her head sheepishly. “Sister, am I interrupting your script reading?”

“No, I’ve finished for now,” Xiao Nianru replied warmly.

Based on the original character’s memories and her own knowledge of Xiao Nianru, Jiang Xueyin knew the actress was the type to pore over a script dozens of times. Jiang Xueyin switched off the TV and leaned her elbow on the arm of the sofa, blinking at Xiao Nianru. “If you don’t mind, I could help you run your lines.”

Before the Scum Alpha had abandoned her directing career, she and Xiao Nianru used to study scripts and discuss performances together. Xiao Nianru dazed for a moment as the memory surfaced. She quickly composed herself and nodded. “Okay.”

She handed the script directly to Jiang Xueyin. “Here, read the lines for Hua Ming. Start from Scene Six and go through Scene Eight.”

Trembling slightly with excitement, Jiang Xueyin took the script. Her fingertips accidentally brushed against Xiao Nianru’s; the contact felt like an electric shock, causing her to jerk back and steady the script with both hands. She thought to herself that if she weren’t wearing the scent-blocking patch, her orange-scented pheromones would be flooding the room right now.

Jiang Xueyin quickly scanned the synopsis. It was a story of forbidden love—not only a Beta-Omega relationship, but one separated by a massive social divide. Their only link was a deceased Alpha husband (and brother). Her eyes flickered as she turned to Scene Six. Clearing her throat, she began to deliver the lines, looking up with an intense gaze at Xiao Nianru after every sentence.

Xiao Nianru seemed to slip into character instantly. She looked back with a gaze of such tender, profound affection that it felt like a whirlpool, pulling Jiang Xueyin in until she couldn’t breathe. Unconsciously, they drew closer until they were sitting side-by-side on the sofa, separated only by a throw pillow.

Driven by Xiao Nianru’s lead, Jiang Xueyin’s performance grew more emotional, as if she were merging with the character.

“Let’s leave this place together, alright?” As she reached the penultimate line, her voice dropped, heavy with the character’s despair. In the story, the characters were on the verge of separation due to internal agony and external conflict; the Beta, Hua Ming, was pleading for her to stay.

Xiao Nianru looked down at Jiang Xueyin’s trembling, tear-soaked lashes. A large tear fell onto Xiao Nianru’s hand, feeling scorching hot against her palm.

“We will meet again,” she delivered the character’s response, but her mind began to wander. She realized she really needed to schedule the surgery to remove the permanent mark soon. Otherwise, she would continue to be affected by Jiang Xueyin’s presence, even with the patches on.

“Don’t cry.” That was the final line, meant to be followed by a kiss on the forehead.

At that moment, Jiang Xueyin didn’t feel like a character in a play; she felt like a puppy waiting for its master’s favor, a secret longing blooming in her heart.

However, Xiao Nianru snapped out of the scene, skipping the final physical gesture. She said with a bright smile, “Your delivery is excellent. Have you studied acting?”

“No, I was just carried away by you, Sister. Your voice is so evocative.” Jiang Xueyin pulled out a tissue to dry her face. She closed her eyes to hide the flash of disappointment, and when she looked back at Xiao Nianru, her eyes were curved into a sweet, calm smile as if she had never been lost in the scene.

“You did great.” Xiao Nianru laughed and reached out to ruffle Jiang Xueyin’s hair.

“Thank you.” Jiang Xueyin paused, then asked tentatively, “Sister, what do you think of the Beta-Omega romance in this script? Do you find it absurd?”

Xiao Nianru raised an eyebrow. “If I found the relationship absurd, I wouldn’t have accepted the role. Besides, my biological parents were a Beta-Omega couple.”

Jiang Xueyin froze. She remembered clearly that in the novel, Xiao Nianru’s parents were both Betas. Xiao Nianru must be talking about her parents from the real world.

“They were just ordinary university teachers,” Xiao Nianru continued, her gaze softening. “Being together was the most rebellious thing they ever did. Their relationship was beautiful. So, I don’t believe pheromones are everything. Love is what overcomes all obstacles. Love can move through thorns and across mountains to reach its destination.”

Jiang Xueyin’s lashes fluttered. “If you reached the destination and found it wasn’t as good as you imagined, what would you do? Would you regret it?”

Xiao Nianru fell silent for a long time. Finally, she said, “It’s true, the destination isn’t always filled with flowers; it might be a trap. But I think the ending isn’t the most important thing. What matters is the happiness I experienced during the process. So, there might be regret, but I would move past it quickly. Dwelling in pain is just too painful.”

“The ending isn’t important.” Jiang Xueyin murmured. Is that really true? Who doesn’t want a happy ending? She realized Xiao Nianru was likely comforting herself because her journey with the Scum Alpha had reached such a miserable conclusion. Jiang Xueyin felt her heart ache for her even more.

“Yes, it’s not important,” Xiao Nianru repeated, as if convincing herself. She checked the clock—it was nearly 10:00 PM. “Goodnight.”

“Mmh, goodnight.”

Jiang Xueyin had no intention of sleeping. Back when she was a corporate worker, she would have just been getting home and showering at this hour. She lay in bed, tossing and turning.

In the master bedroom, Xiao Nianru wasn’t sleeping either. A warm lamp illuminated her desk, casting light on a small box of cards. She picked up the card from the “original” Jiang Xueyin and dazed for a moment, then looked out at the star-studded night sky.

Is the ending really not important?

When she was with the “original” Jiang Xueyin, Xiao Nianru had also given her heart. She had even told her once that she didn’t belong to this world. However, Jiang Xueyin had been drunk at the time and likely didn’t take it seriously.

Xiao Nianru had truly hoped they could stay together forever, just like her parents. Now, she had to repeatedly tell herself that the ending wasn’t important—it was the only way to keep from falling into a bottomless abyss of grief. She had to walk out of the pain; otherwise, it would consume her.

The next morning, when Xu Wei and Li Han walked in, they ran straight into Jiang Xueyin coming out of the guest room in her pajamas.

The two looked as if they had seen a ghost. Xu Wei’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she shrieked, “You, why are you here? Am I hallucinating?!”

Jiang Xueyin shot her a brief look before quickly averting her eyes. Li Han, however, had her brow furrowed deep in thought. “What is going on? The media confirmed with the Jiang family that you died in the fire. They’re planning your funeral for a few days from now.”

At that moment, Xiao Nianru emerged from the master bedroom. Li Han let out a quiet sigh of relief, though the situation remained bizarre.

“She is no longer the Jiang family’s Jiang Xueyin,” Xiao Nianru explained for her.

“So, you’re doing the ‘faked death’ run-away-from-home routine?” Li Han couldn’t wrap her head around it, and alarm bells were ringing in her mind.

“Something like that,” Jiang Xueyin said with a faint smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll move out as soon as I find a place.”

Li Han pushed down the eerie feeling in her gut and nodded. She turned to Xiao Nianru to discuss the business at hand. “By the way, the actress playing Hua Ming got caught up in a scandal. The crew is replacing her, so the scenes we already shot need to be redone.”

“At least it broke now and not after the release,” Xu Wei said, sounding relieved. “Otherwise, this movie might never have seen the light of day.”

In this world, the entertainment industry held actors to a rigorous moral standard. Any violation of public ethics or the law resulted in an indefinite ban, often tanking the projects they were involved in. Of course, these standards usually only applied to those without powerful backgrounds. For those with massive influence, scandals rarely saw the light of day.

Xiao Nianru thought back to how Jiang Xueyin had run her lines the previous night. Her gaze instinctively drifted toward her.

“You’re not thinking of recommending her, are you?” Li Han asked, her brow twitching.

“No. She shouldn’t be in the public eye right now; it would cause unnecessary trouble,” Xiao Nianru shook her head.

Jiang Xueyin nodded in agreement. “Right.” If she entered the industry now, she’d be a sitting duck. Some money just wasn’t worth the risk to her life.

“Fine. It’s getting late, let’s head to the set.” Li Han glanced at Jiang Xueyin again. “What’s your plan for today?”

“I’m going to the service center to get a new SIM card,” Jiang Xueyin replied honestly.

Xiao Nianru thought for a moment. “The door code is 0317. You should remember my mobile number. Call me if you run into any trouble.”

March 17th—Xiao Nianru’s birthday.

“Okay.” Jiang Xueyin knew the code well; it had been her own phone passcode for years. However, while this was Xiao Nianru’s birthday in the real world, the “character” in the book was supposed to have a different one.

After a quick cleanup and some light makeup, Xiao Nianru left with Li Han and Xu Wei. Jiang Xueyin stood on the balcony of the guest room, watching the exit of the underground garage. She stared longingly at the car as it disappeared into the distance. Only then did she change out of her pajamas.

She put on a gentle, black-and-white dress Xiao Nianru had given her. It looked brand new, carrying none of that familiar, intoxicating scent. She found herself missing the smell of Lily of the Valley—Xiao Nianru’s pheromones—faint, yet hauntingly beautiful.

Jiang Xueyin headed out, took the subway to a nearby service center, and successfully bought a new phone and SIM. The first thing she did was search for Xiao Nianru’s WeChat and send a friend request.

Then, she visited a bank to check her balance. Jiang Jue had been generous, leaving her with three million—more than most people see in a lifetime. She tucked the card away tightly, terrified of losing it.

She managed to find an apartment in the same complex. The landlord was moving abroad and needed to rent it out urgently, so the price was quite reasonable. After checking the paperwork, Jiang Xueyin paid for a full year upfront and added the landlord on WeChat.

But she didn’t want to move out just yet. She returned to the apartment, acting as though she hadn’t found a place yet.

She curled up on the sofa and watched Xiao Nianru’s movies. Gradually, the light in the room began to fade. The sunset was swallowed by heavy clouds, leaving the interior in a dim, purple twilight. She rubbed her aching eyes and decided to take a shower.

The patch Xiao Nianru gave her seemed waterproof, but she peeled it off anyway.

Fifteen minutes later, Jiang Xueyin emerged from the bathroom in her pajamas. Just then, she heard the front door open. She sprinted toward the entryway.

CLICK. The room was instantly flooded with light. Under the bright glare, their eyes met. Jiang Xueyin took a step forward, her foot suddenly slipping and she tumbled, seemingly by accident, straight into Xiao Nianru’s arms.