The White Moonlight I Chased, the Divorce I Never Expected - Chapter 31

Wen Ranqing’s face was flushed, her whole body radiating a nervous shyness. She looked at Chi Yi with timid eyes—hesitant, yet completely yielding.

Can I be selfish and ask for something from you? Just a moment of kindness… or maybe, could I hope you’ll actually fall for me someday?

A wave of sourness rose in Chi Yi’s chest, and her eyes reddened before she even realized it.

In just these past few days, Chi Yi and Wen Ranqing had spoken more than they had in the past four years combined. Chi Yi couldn’t shake the feeling that she had missed something—or maybe failed to notice something important—which led them to this point.

Chi Yi had always handled things directly, decisively. But when it came to Wen Ranqing, everything became different. She couldn’t say the things she wanted to, and countless words remained buried in her chest. She gave away parts of herself she didn’t even know existed—clumsy, awkward, like she had become someone else entirely.

She had never felt so torn before.

“You don’t like it? If you don’t, I’ll stop.” Wen Ranqing’s dark eyes shimmered with emotions Chi Yi had never seen in her before—genuine sadness that stung. She quickly let go of Chi Yi’s hand, her ears burning with embarrassment, but she still admitted shyly that she hadn’t done it well.

Just one look from her could make Wen Ranqing so flustered, so eager to please. That made Chi Yi’s heart ache even more.

That day, when the forest ranger uncle had asked, Chi Yi had hesitated before admitting that she and Wen Ranqing were “just friends.” But deep down, she hadn’t meant it. At least for her, it was impossible to be friends with someone she loved—not now, not ever.

She had desires, longings she couldn’t count. Her thoughts weren’t pure, and her feelings were selfish. That’s why she couldn’t be “just friends” with Wen Ranqing.

Trying to figure Wen Ranqing out felt like biting into sugar-coated bullets. Chi Yi couldn’t tell what was true and what was a lie—or maybe she believed it all, but still couldn’t bring herself to fully trust.

Chi Yi really didn’t know what to do anymore. She sighed, turned off the light, avoided looking at Wen Ranqing’s vague silhouette, and spoke in a hoarse, quiet voice:
“It’s better if we don’t see each other too much at work.”

“…Okay.” Wen Ranqing was as obedient as ever. Then she asked softly, “Will you be going to the Les Luna Hotel next Tuesday?”

As long as she could see Chi Yi, Wen Ranqing would be happy—no matter what.

“If I have time, I’ll go.” Chi Yi wasn’t sure what trick Tan Youlin had pulled, but rumor had it that Mr. Wen Xu would be attending. He rarely showed up at events, and Chi Yi was leaning toward accepting the invite.

Wen Ranqing was quietly pleased and followed Chi Yi out of the office without a word, watching her walk away until she disappeared from sight.

Chi Yi took the elevator down to the parking garage. The one-piece work uniform she wore for convenience showed off her tall figure and long legs—quietly alluring. She unlocked her car and had just opened the door when someone called her name.

“Chi Yi.”

You Ranran’s face lit up with a flicker of surprise. It was her first time visiting her father’s company, and she hadn’t expected to run into Chi Yi. Standing beside her car, she called out with a cheerful voice and a gaze full of admiration.

Out of basic politeness, Chi Yi turned around. “Do you need something?”

“Heh.” You Ranran’s eyes curved into a smile that resembled Wen Ranqing’s, though the feeling they gave was completely different. She asked, “You don’t remember me?”

Chi Yi frowned slightly, recalling an unpleasant night at the bar. Her tone cooled.
“I remember.”

But she wasn’t interested in talking.

“If there’s nothing else, goodbye.”
Chi Yi turned around, opened the car door, tossed her bag into the passenger seat, fastened her seatbelt, and drove toward the exit.

You Ranran remained standing where she was, frozen in the same posture and expression. Her rose-red lips couldn’t hide their sudden pallor. She forced a slight smile.

For several days, Chi Yi was constantly shuttling between her office and the meeting rooms. The revised project plan had finally taken shape, and true to what she’d hoped, she hadn’t run into Wen Ranqing at the company since.

Taking advantage of a rare free afternoon and evening, Song Yan dragged Chi Yi out to the mall over the weekend to pick out a dress. Chi Yi used to wear exclusively custom couture, but Song Yan knew her limits—once she got busy with work, she couldn’t keep up. Just getting Chi Yi to step away from the office was already a victory; there was no time to commission a custom piece and go through endless rounds of design discussions.

Chi Yi sat off to the side, texting with Gao Tianzong, while Song Yan browsed dresses seriously. A store clerk followed her closely around, but it didn’t look like she was picking a dress for Chi Yi at all.

Song Yan and Chi Yi were about the same height, with similar body types aside from a few subtle differences. She picked up a sleek black evening gown and examined the waist detail closely, chatting with Chi Yi as she did.
“Seems like there haven’t been many rumors about you lately. Some media outlets used to update your news like it was a live feed. But maybe it’s a good thing—it was all too messy. People talk too much.”

She glanced at Chi Yi and asked, half-curious, “So you’ve actually been focusing on work these days?”

Chi Yi gave a soft “Mm,” not even lifting her head.

Gao Tianzong:
Here are the wind tunnel test results. Sister Qu thinks this version meets all the specs. She asked me to get your opinion.

Chi Yi thought for a moment, remembering a few edge-case scenarios.
Chi Yi:
Pay close attention to the bridge’s resonance frequency. It’s still possible to make adjustments.

That Chi Yi had fully thrown herself back into work was something Song Yan still found hard to believe.

As for Wen Ranqing—Song Yan didn’t care. She just didn’t want things to become complicated for Chi Yi. At their last dinner, Chi Yi had seemed distracted, and though she didn’t say much, Song Yan had a feeling something had happened between the two of them.

“Alright then.”
Seeing Chi Yi’s head fully buried in work, Song Yan didn’t press further. She pointed at the dress she liked. The store assistant quickly brought over the right size. Chi Yi tried it on, settled on it without hesitation, paid, and had it packed—all done in a flash.

Chi Yi thought she could finally head home, but Song Yan dragged her to another luxury boutique, insisting with a straight face that “clothes make the person”—they needed accessories to match the outfit. Chi Yi let out a long sigh. Shopping with someone was, in her opinion, one of the most exhausting things in the world. She didn’t even have the energy to complain anymore.

After more than three hours at the mall, the two of them returned to Chi Yi’s house in the evening. Song Yan had missed her father’s get-together with Chi Zhong, an old friend, a few days earlier due to work. Today, she was making a proper visit.

“Can you slow down?”
Chi Yi, carrying two shopping bags, walked ahead. Song Yan followed behind, laden with packages and wobbling with each step. She shot Chi Yi a murderous glare as they slowly inched from the garage toward the courtyard gate.

Chi Yi keyed in the code without looking back. “You were the one who wanted to buy all this. Didn’t you say you weren’t tired? Well, I am. I’m done carrying.”

“Aren’t those things for you? Then why do you still have the strength to carry the donkey-hide gelatin my mom made?”

“Your mom made it for my dad, obviously I’m taking it. Tell her thanks for me.”

“Chi Yi!”

Like two squabbling kindergarteners, the pair bickered their way into the house. As soon as Chi Yi looked up, she saw Chi Zhong casting her a long-suffering look. Song Yan popped her head out from behind and greeted him brightly:
“Hello, Uncle!”

“I came to visit you and snag dinner while I’m at it. Don’t blame Chi Yi—she only came with me because I dragged her along.”

“My mom says that donkey-hide gelatin is good for the heart. She made the slices just the right size—just take one in the morning and one at night. Oh, and these crabs are from my dad. He told me to bring them over. Eat them while they’re fresh…”

Song Yan had been quick-witted since childhood and was always good at winning over the older generation. After her cheerful round of greetings and explanations, Chi Zhong’s expression gradually softened. He took the items from her and said kindly,
“Come in, Yan Yan. Next time you visit, don’t bring so much. It’s a hassle to carry.”

Then he glanced at Chi Yi.
“I’m not mad at her. I just find her annoying.”

Chi Yi shrank her neck a little. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her old man had been carrying a grudge lately. And honestly, she did feel guilty. It wasn’t easy to swallow the fact that she had kept things from him. She’d come home empty-handed—just her appetite for dinner.

“It’s no trouble at all, Uncle. Actually, why don’t we go to the kitchen? I’ve been walking all afternoon, and I’m starving.”

When they were younger, Song Yan’s parents had been busy with work, while Chi Zhong, when not out on research trips, would be home for long stretches. There were months at a time when Song Yan practically lived at Chi Yi’s house, and she was especially close to Chi Zhong.

Chi Zhong pushed a dozen shopping bags toward Chi Yi.
“Help Yan Yan bring those inside. You’re just standing there like a little fool.”

Chi Yi: “…”

Song Yan changed into slippers, took the box of crabs, and walked toward the kitchen with Chi Zhong.
“It’s been ages since I had your cooking, Uncle. I’ve been craving it. Let me help out in the kitchen.”

As she spoke, she tossed Chi Yi a triumphant look.

Chi Yi slumped onto the couch, hands covering her face, her expression full of exasperated amusement. She wordlessly waved Song Yan toward the kitchen.

After dinner, Song Yan—still full of energy—joined Chi Zhong to watch a tennis match. He was a longtime fan, and Song Yan had grown up watching matches at the Chi house, too. They both got so into it that they dragged Chi Yi to the game room simulator to play a few rounds of virtual tennis before finally calling it a night.

By 9 p.m., the sky held just a few faint stars, their light swallowed by the bright full moon. A cool breeze passed through, bringing some relief from the day’s warmth.

On the second floor of the Chi home, the sunroom—usually used as Chi Yi’s art studio—was completely opened up. The ceiling and walls had adjustable panels for light control, now fully retracted. Song Yan lay sprawled on a lounge chair without a care in the world, eyes drifting toward Chi Yi, who was once again checking work updates. She reached over and pressed Chi Yi’s phone down.

“Alright, enough. Take a break for once and stop thinking about your bridge.”

Chi Yi blinked. She had been checking the progress on the project. But fine—she leaned back and lay down beside her.

Across from them were two or three easels holding several landscape paintings. Song Yan sipped her wine but couldn’t take her eyes off the canvases.
“That’s Qianping Peak in Xiji… Lu Yi River… and this one—Yundian’s Zhi Hai Coastline. And…”

“When did you go to all these places? Your painting’s pretty good.”

There were both domestic and overseas scenes. Song Yan’s praise carried real admiration.

She had caught a glimpse of these paintings before—tucked into a sketchbook—but only now realized they were clearly drawn from real locations.

Hearing those place names stirred something in Chi Yi. They felt strangely familiar, but she couldn’t place them.
“They’re not mine,” she said. “I put them up to copy and practice.”

Song Yan didn’t question it. She looked back up at the moon, her voice turning a little wistful.
“I wish I could take Tan Jin on a spontaneous trip somewhere. But my vacation days are pathetic, and she’s even busier at the design institute.”

“You two are together?” Chi Yi turned her head sharply, surprised—only to see a hint of bitterness on her friend’s face.

“I wish we were.”
Just a breath away. One word away.

“We’re this close. But I just… don’t have the guts. I keep thinking maybe if I got a chance to charm her, a trip like that would do the trick. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

Chi Yi hummed vaguely in response, still gazing at the paintings, lost in thought.

“Forget it,” Song Yan muttered. She tipped her wineglass back and emptied it, then flopped face-down on the chair. She stared at Chi Yi, eyes gleaming with mischief.
“So… what’s it like working at your ex-wife’s company?”

Her skirt had bunched casually at mid-thigh, highlighting her curves. Chi Yi looked away, deadpan.
“Feels like… work. What do you expect me to say?”

“How should I know what ‘work’ feels like to you?” Song Yan rolled her eyes at the bland response, clearly unimpressed. “I’m just trying to show some concern, okay? What if that bad woman lifts a finger and you fall for it—next thing you know, you’re sold off and still counting her money for her.”

Chi Yi froze.

Bad woman… Wen Ranqing?

That woman wasn’t just about curling a finger.

She could seduce with a glance. She teased without even knowing it. Every time, Chi Yi barely managed to hold herself back. And the worst part? Wen Ranqing was always so obedient afterward. That made her really dangerous.

The memory hit her hard—Wen Ranqing, flushed and softly meowing with a hickey on her neck. Chi Yi closed her eyes. Her heart wavered all over again.

No wonder she’d snapped earlier. She was guilty and flustered. Song Yan didn’t know their divorce had been more intense than their marriage—and Chi Yi had no intention of explaining. Instead, she stood up and poured another glass of wine, as a silent peace offering.

She offered a few gentle words of explanation, and they kept chatting late into the night.

Afterward, Song Yan, now tipsy and too lazy to leave, decided to sleep in the guest room. She took a shower while Chi Yi quietly gathered the empty glasses and bottles from the table.

Pausing for a moment, Chi Yi walked over to the easels and took down the paintings, carefully slipping them back into her sketchbook.

Even though the divorce hadn’t really left her with any strong feelings, Chi Yi leaned back and sighed.

And yet—at this moment—she found herself missing her.

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