Moonlight Allure - Chapter 32

Jiang Xueyin still couldn’t put her mind at ease. She applied a heavy, dramatic layer of makeup, donned a face mask, a chestnut-colored wavy wig, and large sunglasses. Dressed entirely in black and bundled up tight, she checked herself in the mirror. Satisfied that even her own mother wouldn’t recognize her, she slipped out of the house.

A swarm of reporters besieged the hospital entrance. Despite the security guards’ best efforts to disperse them, more kept arriving. The main entrance was the most crowded, but even the side exits had four or five people lingering.

How do I get in?

As she hesitated, sirens wailed in the distance—the police had arrived. The reporters, thinking the officers were coming for them, scattered in all directions. Only a few remained, hiding their cameras and ducking behind trees, waiting for another opening.

Xueyin stayed put, observing.

Ten minutes later, the police emerged from the main doors escorting Xiao Nianru’s parents. Xueyin pulled her cap lower, cleared her throat to drop her voice an octave, and muttered audibly toward a nearby reporter, “Wait, aren’t those Xiao Nianru’s parents? Why are they being arrested?”

The effect was instantaneous. Someone stood up immediately, chasing after the parents with a camera.

“Look! Xiao Nianru’s parents are in custody! This is a massive scoop!”

“Hurry! Keep up with them!”

In the ensuing chaos, Xueyin followed closely behind an elderly woman. When the woman tripped, Xueyin caught her just in time. To the onlookers, she looked like the woman’s daughter, and no one gave her a second glance.

“Thank you, dear,” the old woman said, looking up and smiling once they were inside.

“You’re welcome.” Xueyin turned and hurried toward the VIP wing of the inpatient department.

When she arrived, only Li Han was in the room. Li Han stared at her, bewildered. “Who are you?”

Xueyin removed her glasses. “It’s me, Jiang Xueyin.”

“Why are you here?” Li Han admitted that if she hadn’t heard the voice, she wouldn’t have recognized her under that heavy makeup.

“I was worried,” Xueyin whispered, closing the door softly to avoid disturbing Nianru. she walked to the bedside, her heart convulsing with pain as she saw the woman on the bed.

“Were you spotted?” Li Han asked.

“No. I slipped in during the commotion. Besides, even you didn’t recognize me just now, right?” Xueyin had faith in her “supernatural” makeup skills; had she more time, she could have been even more meticulous.

“Sit down. Don’t block Nianru’s light,” Li Han said, gesturing to an empty chair.

Xueyin nodded and sat. “How is she?” Her heart sank as she looked down.

Nianru looked as if all color had been drained from her world. Her lips were bloodless, her face unnervingly pale, and her head was wrapped in heavy bandages.

“The critical window has passed, but she’s still unconscious. There are still risks,” Li Han said, rubbing her temples. “The police are investigating the film set, and her parents have been taken in. We’ll have results soon.”

“So, what was on their phones?” Xueyin asked. Her gut told her it was something foul.

Li Han sighed, her anger simmering. “It was for Nianru’s estate. Someone incited them to take the opportunity to kill her so she would never wake up—ensuring the inheritance went to them. It’s absolutely monstrous.”

“They really will do anything for money,” Xueyin said, her eyes turning icy. “They abandoned their younger daughter, and now they’re kicking the elder one while she’s down.”

Li Han looked worried. “The problem is, they were only at the stage of being ‘instigated.’ They hadn’t actually acted yet. Unless the police find a purchased weapon, it’s hard to convict them of anything. Since they didn’t do anything while at the hospital, they’ll likely be released soon.”

“Then let’s destroy their reputations,” Xueyin said, her gaze darkening. “The reporters caught them on film. Legally, since they didn’t commit the act, it might not be a crime. But you hold the evidence of their plan to murder her. That’s enough to make them social pariahs for life.”

“I’ll handle the media. Maybe you should head back?” Li Han was still worried about Xueyin being caught.

“I, I’m leaving for Country Y in three days. I want to stay here until she wakes up so I can say goodbye.” Xueyin’s voice was thick with emotion, tears shimmering as she looked at Nianru.

Xiao Nianru belonged on a stage, basking in the admiration of the world—not lying broken in a hospital bed. If someone had to suffer, Xueyin wished it were anyone else—those who hurt Nianru, or even herself—but never Nianru.

“You’re leaving?” Li Han was taken aback.

“Yes. This time, I’m really going.” Xueyin forced a bitter smile. Suddenly, she froze. “Was that an illusion? I think I saw her eyelashes flutter!”

Li Han hit the call button immediately. The doctor arrived and performed an examination, only to shake his head. “No change. That was just a normal physiological twitch.”

Both women sighed in unison as the doctor left. Soon, Li Han’s phone rang, and she stepped out to take the call.

Left alone, Xueyin sat as close as possible to the bed, gazing at Nianru. She had so much to say, but no idea where to begin. When Li Han returned, she looked hesitant.

“Li-jie, if you’re busy, go ahead,” Xueyin said. “I’ll look after her. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“It’s my job.” Li Han looked at Nianru, then back at Xueyin. “Fine. You stay here. Don’t go outside for any reason.”

“I won’t.” Xueyin wanted nothing more than to stay by her side forever.

Once Li Han left, Xueyin resumed her vigil. After a long silence, she finally began to whisper the words she had never dared to say aloud.

“Sister, let me tell you a story. It’s a bit of a cliché youth-crush romance. There was a young girl who fell in love with you before you were ever famous. She was a high school freshman, and you were a senior. You were the one who pulled her out of the mire of her despair and gave her hope to live. You probably don’t remember her, but she’s loved you for eight years—watching you from afar. She’s lucky, I suppose, to get to see you again.”

Xueyin leaned her head against the edge of the bed, not daring to do anything more. “I’m afraid if I don’t say this now, I’ll never get the chance. My situation, I don’t dare ask for much.”

She wished she were more mature. In the eyes of Lin Shan and Li Jiannan, she was the “Madwoman Jiang Xueyin” who had betrayed her family and burned her own bridges. But here, she was as fragile as a wilting wildflower.

Meanwhile, Lin Shan and Li Jiannan had both used their privilege to get out of detention. One was confined to his home by his family, while the other continued to dominate the business world.

Li Jiannan sat in his house, holding a small paper effigy with “Jiang Xueyin” written on it in ink. His face was twisted with rage as he stabbed the paper repeatedly with a ballpoint pen, tearing holes into it until it shredded. Then, he would simply make another.

“You better really be dead,” he muttered. “Because if you aren’t.”

The humiliation had started with her. If he hadn’t been so careless, she never would have found an opening.

Days ago, Lin Shan had visited him. “Jiang Xueyin might have faked her death,” she told him. “I’m sending people to camp out at Xiao Nianru’s place. If we catch anyone suspicious, we’ll end it right there.”

“What about Xiao Nianru?” To Li Jiannan, Nianru and Xueyin were two sides of the same coin.

Lin Shan narrowed her eyes. “If she dies suddenly, the public pressure will be too much for me to handle. Besides, without Jiang Xueyin, she’s no threat.” Furthermore, Nianru was Lin Xi’s biological sister; she couldn’t bring herself to kill her.

But Li Jiannan didn’t care. He wanted revenge. Even if he didn’t kill Nianru, he wanted her to suffer for crossing him. He had paid someone to infiltrate the set and tamper with the props.

Hearing that Nianru was in a coma, he laughed aloud. “I hope she never wakes up!”

Xueyin stayed the entire night, but Nianru remained unconscious. The doctor’s expression the next morning was even more somber than the day before.

“If she doesn’t wake up by tomorrow,” the doctor sighed and trailed off.

Xueyin knew exactly what he was implying. She pushed the thought away and continued to sit by the bed, talking to the quiet room.

“Let me tell you more about that girl,” she said, leaning against the bed as she had yesterday. “The girl heard that the person she liked had manifested as an Omega, so she dreamed of becoming an Alpha. She even spent a whole month’s allowance on a scam. The con artist told her that if she ate those candies, she’d turn into an Alpha. But they were just ordinary orange-flavored sweets. When her Beta mother found out she’d been cheated, she gave the girl a beating.”

Jiang Xueyin gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “You must think she was incredibly foolish, don’t you? I think so, too.”

The young are prone to such fantasies; their hearts are always brimming with a desperate kind of hope.

In the years that followed, she stopped dreaming. She lived a life of numbness, finding relief only in the occasional outburst—moments of controlled madness where she could finally vent the crushing weight of her suppressed emotions.

“And yet,” Xueyin continued, her lips curling into a faint smile, “that girl cherishes the memory of that cautious, hidden crush more than anything. The accidental encounters, the stolen glances that could fill her entire heart with joy. She would wonder: Did she see me? Does she remember me?”

“The person she loved graduated and chased a brilliant future, while she remained just an ordinary girl—manifesting as a mere Beta.” Xueyin fell silent for a long moment, her voice thick with unshed tears. “If only I could have come to you sooner and now, I have to leave again so soon.”

She slowly closed her eyes, only to feel the sudden, warm weight of a palm resting gently atop her head.

“You arrived just in time.” Xiao Nianru’s voice was faint, so soft it felt like a trick of the mind.

Xueyin’s eyes snapped open. Feeling the warmth of that touch, she didn’t dare make a sound, terrified that even a breath would shatter the illusion.

“Did you fall asleep?” Nianru whispered.

“You’re awake?” Xueyin gently took Nianru’s wrist in her hands and slowly looked up, tears finally spilling over and tracing paths down her cheeks.

Nianru let out a soft “mm” of affirmation, her eyes closing again from sheer exhaustion.

Forgetting for a moment how much Nianru might have overheard, Xueyin scrambled to press the call button. The doctors rushed in, and by the time the examinations were complete, evening had already settled over the city.

“Are you hungry?” Xueyin asked softly. “I’ll go get you something to eat.”

“Okay, thank you.” Nianru’s face was still pale, her voice barely a thread of sound.

As Xueyin turned to leave the ward for the cafeteria, Nianru slowly turned her head. She watched Xueyin’s retreating figure until she disappeared, her voice a low, private murmur:

“Xueyin, I heard you.”

She finally remembered.