The White Moonlight is So Scheming - Chapter 34

“So it was her.” Holding the apple, Ji Wan’s gaze softened. “Did you thank her for me? After I’m discharged, invite her over for dinner. I’ll cook myself.”

 

“Okay,” Ji Zhijie replied softly.

 

Picking up her phone from the bedside table, Ji Zhijie opened a message, her smile deepening. “I’m at the hospital. I was just helping Mom peel an apple.”

 

Upon receiving the message, Shen Juexia pouted in dissatisfaction and replied, “Hmm? Isn’t the caregiver there? Didn’t we agree at noon that she’d start helping out today?”

 

Even through text, Ji Zhijie could vividly imagine her expression. She patiently explained, “Aunt Chen told me in advance she had something to take care of at home this afternoon and won’t be able to come until later.”

 

“Huh? And after that?”

 

“Just for today. She’ll stick to the agreed schedule from tomorrow onward.”

 

The first spring rain arrived without warning.

 

During Chinese class, Shen Juexia stared blankly at the classical phrases written on the blackboard. The raindrops pattering against the window, crisp and rhythmic, jolted her drowsy mind awake.

 

Shen Juexia widened her eyes slightly. “Your English…”

 

“Did I mispronounce something?” Shen Tinghan’s dark pupils fixed directly on her.

 

Her heart skipped a beat, and her words tumbled out quickly, “No, no! It’s super, super standard. I almost thought you must’ve studied in the UK before too.”

 

Shen Tinghan studied her for a moment before something inexplicably amused him, and the perpetual ice in his expression finally cracked into a faint smile.

 

“I attended a private bilingual elementary school. Classes were taught in English until sixth grade.”

 

“Oh…” That explained it. Shen Juexia exhaled in relief. “You don’t agree with Maugham?”

 

Shen Tinghan pressed his lips together. “There are blind people in this world, and those with damaged spines who can only lie down to see the moon. If they can’t afford treatment, even looking up won’t let them see it.”

 

Shen Juexia weakly countered, “That’s a metaphor.” She didn’t know the Chinese word for it.

 

“So was mine,” Shen Tinghan replied with a pale smile.

 

After a brief moment of surprise, Shen Juexia lowered her gaze, her throat tightening with an inexplicable sourness. She envied Shen Tinghan’s intuition. She couldn’t quite define it, only that it felt profound and piercing.

 

Paired with the sweet cherry fragrance lingering around him, her mind went completely blank.

 

As they reached the intersection, Shen Tinghan pointed in the opposite direction. “I’m taking the subway to my aunt’s place.”

 

“See you,” Shen Juexia said, trying hard not to let her disappointment show.

 

On the way home, gazing out the bus window, Shen Juexia replayed Shen Tinghan’s words in her mind. The noise on the bus drowned out the music in her headphones, leaving only the violin melody from earlier echoing in her thoughts.

 

When she stepped through the front door, the aroma of food greeted her. Shen Juexia rushed to her instant noodles, only to find them bloated and congealed, the fork unable to separate the clump.

 

Guess I’ll just eat cold leftovers?

 

She had been craving the pancake from the stall downstairs for ages, tempted every day on her way home from school.

 

Today was the sixth day of the Lunar New Year. She got to hear a violin performance and would finally have that pancake. What more could she ask for to celebrate?

 

Stretching lazily, her phone buzzed softly. She glanced at the screen:

 

[Yao Qingyan: ? At least reply if you’re rejecting me]

 

She hadn’t meant to ignore the message, she’d just gotten distracted and forgotten.

 

Shen Juexia stared at the screen for a long moment before sheepishly typing out a reply.

 

S City was located inland, with dry air that often went months without rain. Without slathering on layers of moisturizer, the skin would crack.

 

Late at night.

 

Shen Tinghan took off her glasses, stopping her fingers just as they brushed her eyelids. She pulled open the drawer at the corner of her desk, took out the eye drops, and with practiced restraint, let just two drops fall.

 

The workload had noticeably increased since the start of the second semester of tenth grade. The last time she went to Teacher Jiang’s house for lessons, her wrist trembled so much she could barely hold the bow.

 

During the final days of winter break, she played the violin every day at the Wanda Plaza, but still, Shen Juexia never appeared.

 

She had forgotten many things, yet remembered many others.

 

For instance, she remembered their last encounter by the statue very clearly: sensing a familiar presence lingering nearby, she had cracked her eyes open slightly, piercing through the clamorous sunlight to meet those gray-blue eyes brimming with melancholy and focus.

 

Countless people hurried past, pausing briefly to record a short video before moving on, their laughter and chatter turning her music into mere background noise.

 

Only Shen Juexia listened from beginning to end.

 

She stood there, her slender frame like the gnomon of a sundial, unmoving as time flowed around her, the scenery shifting endlessly by her side.

 

She was there when Shen Tinghan played Princess Mononoke, there during Csárdás, and even during the most tedious rendition of The Swan.

 

Shen Tinghan knew Shen Juexia was the type who lived in her own isolated world neither needing others nor showing interest in them.

 

So, the gaze in those eyes wasn’t born from curiosity about people, but from the purest appreciation of music.

 

Yet, there was always something intangible between them, whether they met in class or outside, whether the sky was overcast or clear.

 

Shen Juexia was right beside her, close enough to touch.

 

But the sky overhead blurred into obscurity the moment she removed her glasses, distant and unreachable.

 

Shen Tinghan closed her eyes and saw only darkness.

 

But when Shen Juexia looked at her, she felt far away; when Shen Juexia looked at the clouds, she felt near.

 

Scarcity breeds value. She had never longed for rain while in England.

 

Everyone, almost instinctively, turned to look out the window. Even the top students weren’t immune to the allure of the season’s first rainfall.

 

The Chinese teacher seized the moment. “‘Do not listen to the rain beating against the trees. Why don’t you slowly walk and chant with ease?’” she quoted. “Let’s randomly pick a lucky student to recite Su Shi’s Calming Wind and Waves perfect for a quick review.”

 

A girl suddenly jumped up and called out toward the back of the classroom, “Dark-skinned little princess, your prince has come for you!”

 

Whether it was a matter of linguistic nuance or not, Shen Juexia found the nickname vaguely insulting.

 

Before long, Du Yuting stepped forward. Spotting Shen Juexia from afar, she nervously lowered her gaze, her hands fidgeting.

 

Eyes from all directions turned toward them. Before she could even speak, Shen Juexia already regretted taking this step.

 

Du Yuting kept her head down, silent, the corners of her eyes tinged red as if on the verge of tears. Her expression seemed to say, You must really despise me, don’t you?

 

This girl carried a faint scent of apples; ordinary and unassuming, unobtrusive to anyone’s olfactory senses.

 

Shen Juexia softened her voice. “Thank you. I’m happy.” Aware of the watching eyes and listening ears around them, she chose her words carefully.

 

Du Yuting looked up, her small eyes wide with surprise. “You don’t think I’m weird? Disgusting?”

 

“Why would I?” Shen Juexia tilted her head in confusion. “Honestly, I’m the one who’s terrible. Those words they don’t describe me at all.”

 

Du Yuting bit her lower lip until it turned pale. “No, every time I look at you, you’re like that.”

 

Shen Juexia gazed at her apologetically. “And I’ve been too busy with studying. I’m falling behind and really need to focus.”

 

Du Yuting lifted her head to meet her eyes, a faint blush visible even on her dark skin.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

The digital clock in the hallway changed another digit; one-minute left before the class bell.

 

As Shen Juexia walked away, she smiled and waved at her.

 

“Let’s hang out sometime!”

 

Everyone’s enthusiasm for the rain vanished instantly.

 

The Chinese teacher scanned the room, her kind and eager gaze settling on the new transfer student with deep-set eyes and high brows.

 

Shen Juexia hurriedly lowered her head.

 

“Give it a try, Shen Juexia,” the teacher encouraged.

 

Shen Juexia stood up.

 

The impromptu recitation caught her completely off guard. Apart from the first two lines the teacher had just mentioned, every word that followed came out with difficulty.

 

“Do not listen to the rain beating against the trees, why not stroll and chant with ease? A bamboo staff and straw sandals are lighter than a horse, who’s afraid? A straw cloak lets me brave life’s storms.”

 

The teacher’s expectant expression never wavered.

 

Shen Juexia paused. “I forgot the middle part. I only remember the last line ‘No wind, no rain, no sun.'”

 

A few classmates chuckled.

 

The teacher laughed too. “It’s ‘Neither wind nor rain nor sun,’ but the meaning is the same. It shows you understood it all.”

 

“Oh.” Only then did Shen Juexia realize why they were laughing.

 

She didn’t want applause, especially when she hadn’t recited the poem perfectly.

 

But adults loved taking matters into their own hands, so she had no choice but to stand there and endure the shower of clapping.

 

Pitter-patter, drip-drop.

 

The rain grew heavier. Occasionally, she glanced at the fogged-up window, where Shen Tinghan sat beside it, posture rigid from neck to spine, eyes flickering between the blackboard and his desk.

 

So diligent! Was he taking notes the whole time?

 

Shen Juexia felt a surge of respect.

 

But then she realized something and looked down at the notebook spread open on his desk. It looked familiar. It was the geography homework assigned just after class.

 

Though their thick accents made it hard to catch every word, the parts she did understand often left her stifling laughter.

 

With strangers, Shen Juexia simply put on her headphones, stared straight ahead, and the world fell silent.

 

But at her father’s relatives’ house, it was unbearable.

 

She looked different from them, spoke differently, had different habits. No matter the reality, the fact that they were blood-related never felt real.

 

“Say something in English for us,” Second Uncle grinned. “I’ve never seen the world. Let me hear it.”

 

His seven-year-old niece, curious, clung to her side, chubby little hands insistently reaching for Shen Juexia’s tall nose. She dodged left and right but couldn’t escape. She really hated the sticky feel of a child’s fingertips.

 

By late January, the festive air of the Lunar New Year thickened. Red lanterns hung from streetlights, shopping malls were plastered with couplets and monkey-themed “fortune” characters even the shabbiest neighborhoods were awash in red.

 

On Little New Year’s Day in the north, her father’s new girlfriend came again. The same unfamiliar woman from last time. She carried bags upon bags, including treats from Daoxiangcun.

 

Shen Juexia told the woman she didn’t like sweets, but the woman wasn’t offended. She simply giggled and teased her a little, asking what Shen Juexia wanted so she could go buy it instead.

 

This earned her quite a bit of goodwill.

 

And so, Shen Juexia also remembered the woman’s name: Lan Qiuchi.

 

A few days later, Shen Juexia was taken by her father to a small county town near S City to visit relatives.

 

The place resembled the familiar Yorkshire village much more. No steel forests blocking the dark clouds, and every morning, she could hear the chirping of insects.

 

Wherever she went, she became the center of attention.

 

Most mixed-race children tend to look more Asian, but she had somehow won the genetic “lottery,” looking nothing like her father or rather, bearing no resemblance to him at all.

 

The moment she stepped into the village; the air buzzed with excitement.

 

“Is that a Xinjiang kid?”

 

“A foreigner?”

 

“Why aren’t her eyes black? Can she even see properly?”

 

“This girl is so tall.”

 

“Is she even a girl? I hear a lot of boys these days are delicate, looking just like girls.”

 

Shen Juexia felt like a monkey in a zoo.

 

“Say something,” Shen Dingguo nudged his daughter. “It’s not like you’ll lose a piece of flesh.”

 

Shen Juexia could only lower her eyes and mutter something random under her breath, prompting the surrounding aunties to clap and laugh merrily.

 

She didn’t understand why speaking English was so amusing, which only made her more uncomfortable.

 

And then there was the worst of it.

 

Aunt Wang repeated several times, “Did your dad pick you up by mistake? Your nose is twice as tall as his, and your dad’s hair isn’t curly either. Your face shapes don’t match; his is so broad, and you’re so pretty.”

 

“No,” Shen Juexia replied expressionlessly.

 

Aunt Wang kept laughing. “Definitely a mix-up.” Her face was all smiles, as if she wouldn’t stop until she got her way.

 

Shen Juexia shot her a glare and deliberately looked away, refusing to speak further.

 

Aunt Wang, feeling slighted, raised her voice at Shen Dingguo, who was busy puffing away on a cigarette. “Your kid’s got quite the temper, huh?”

 

Shen Dingguo grumbled, “So rude! Your aunt was just joking!”

 

But I don’t like this joke.

 

Shen Juexia couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. After holding it in for a long time, she finally muttered, “Then maybe I was picked up by mistake.”

 

Aunt Wang, sensing she wasn’t getting anywhere, mumbled something unintelligible and turned to chat with Second Uncle’s wife instead.

 

That evening, her mother didn’t call not even a single message. It was expected; the UK didn’t celebrate the Lunar New Year, and during past holidays, it had always fallen in the middle of the spring term, with classes still in session.

 

But she couldn’t help holding onto pointless hope.

 

Shen Juexia stood by the window, looking out at the row of self-built bungalows. The view was open, and the fireworks set off at the village entrance were clearly visible—red, yellow, purple. She liked the purple ones best.

 

Just then, her phone vibrated.

 

[Yao Qingyan: Happy Lunar New Year! Hope we’ll still be good friends in the new year.]

 

As fireworks bloomed in the night sky, Shen Juexia smiled and closed her eyes.

 

 

After hanging up the phone.

 

Shen Tinghan’s mind kept replaying the words Xu Qing had just said.

 

Her gaze gradually darkened, her slender, jade-like fingers gripping the armrest beside her so tightly that faint tendons became visible.

 

After that argument.

 

She had thought Xiao Xia had already broken that old habit. But it turned out she was still the same as before sneaking into her bed when no one was looking.