The White Moonlight is So Scheming - Chapter 38

“Shen Juexia? Shen Juexia!”

He called her name several times.

But Shen Juexia didn’t respond.

Anxiously gripping her shoulders, Ji Zhijie’s fingertips trembled. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t scare me on purpose!”

The call was still connected. The phone, lying on the ground, displayed the call duration—the numbers still ticking upward.

Hearing the shouts from the other end of the line, Shen Tinghan’s composed demeanor shattered instantly. He reflexively stood up. “Xia Xia? What’s wrong?”

Yao Qingyan seemed to understand, yet also didn’t.

“Oh, so what’s it called? Transgender?”

“No, that’s a different thing.”

“Huh?” Yao Qingyan’s jaw dropped exaggeratedly.

“What I mean is, gender isn’t important to me,” Shen Juexia said, her words speeding up rapidly. “I’ve considered whether I might be genderfluid, but that doesn’t seem to fit either.”

Yao Qingyan’s expression grew increasingly blank, as if she had given up trying to follow the conversation. After a long pause, she murmured, “‘Really obey’ what?”

Shen Juexia frowned, racking her brain for the right words but coming up empty.

She let out an awkward laugh and then said, “It’s kind of like the spectrum between blue and red in sunlight. There’s no clear dividing line, just many small, continuous shades in between. Just replace blue and red with male and female.”

“Huh?” Yao Qingyan remained utterly bewildered.

“I just feel that when looking at a person, gender isn’t important. So when I think about myself or others, I don’t start from their gender but from other things about them.” Shen Juexia felt increasingly unable to express herself clearly, her words growing muddled and her voice softer.

Yao Qingyan gave up entirely. “Okay, okay.”

Shen Juexia knew she was being brushed off, but she also knew she couldn’t blame her. Her own language and ability to articulate weren’t strong enough. Getting the other person to understand was too much to hope for. So she abandoned further explanations and focused on finishing the remaining food on her plate.

Yao Qingyan set down her chopsticks and pulled out a tissue to wipe her mouth. “I’m done.”

Shen Juexia was surprised.

“You’re done?” The plate was practically untouched. It looked like it had just been served.

“I can’t finish it.”

“Then why did you take so much?” Shen Juexia thought of recent news about children in Syria and remote mountainous regions, and her heart ached. Besides, she couldn’t even bring herself to order two meat dishes and one vegetable dish.

“Anyway, I’m spending my own money,” Yao Qingyan said dismissively. “Hurry up and eat.”

Shen Juexia finished the last bite of rice, her stomach uncomfortably full. She had cleared her plate, though she had only ordered two vegetable dishes to begin with.

Yao Qingyan shifted in her seat, glancing down at her legs and pinching them with a sigh. “Besides, I’ve been trying to lose weight lately.”

Shen Juexia was stunned. “You’re already so thin. Why lose more?”

Hearing this, Yao Qingyan brightened and giggled. “Really? I’m almost over a hundred pounds.”

“If you were in the UK, people would call you ‘skinny,'” Shen Juexia said earnestly. “I wish I could gain a little weight myself. Because of certain reasons, I can’t eat much.”

She didn’t want to bring up depression or medication. It would sound like she was fishing for sympathy so she glossed over it with a stiff “certain reasons.”

Yao Qingyan’s smile vanished instantly. “Huh? You’re so thin and still not satisfied?”

“Normally I have no energy, and my stomach isn’t great either. I really wish I could gain some weight.” Shen Juexia hated her bony frame. Every time she stepped out of the shower and looked in the mirror, she would frown at her clearly visible ribs.

“What a humblebrag!” Yao Qingyan nearly gritted her teeth. “Your figure could be a model. So many people envy it, and here you are talking about wanting to gain weight?”

“Humblebrag?” Shen Juexia hadn’t heard the term before but caught the irritation in the other’s tone.

“Ah, it’s just…”

Yao Qingyan realized the meme was hard to explain and simply shut her mouth, picking up the tray and walking away. Shen Juexia silently followed.

Lunch break arrived. The heavy curtains were drawn, and all the lively energy temporarily sank into the depths like the ocean.

Shen Juexia had never bought a pillow. As usual, she folded her down jacket and rested her cheek on it. She wasn’t sleepy but didn’t want to join the rowdy boys in the study room either, so she lay there half-awake, lost in thought.

In that drowsy state, the earlier incident in the cafeteria replayed in her mind. Social interactions were such a hassle.

The lingering loneliness in her memories twisted tightly around her heart. Shen Juexia clearly remembered every dim, gloomy day she was terrified of a life without a single friend.

Though most things could be said to herself in solitude, there were still words she occasionally wanted to share with someone else.

Her gaze drifted to the left, near the window. It had unknowingly become a habit. Shen Tinghan wasn’t out studying today but was instead fast asleep at her desk.

Why could this person maintain good relationships with everyone?

Why had this person never upset anyone?

Why did this person’s face never show any emotion, not even a flicker of joy or anger even her smile was always the same?

…

Why did this person never seem tired?

All her questions were directed at Shen Tinghan.

She had never had so many questions about one person before.

For the rest of lunch break, Shen Juexia’s gaze, separated by an empty seat, was entirely devoted to the sleeping Shen Tinghan watching her smooth, pale cheeks, her steady breathing, the long lashes of her glasses-free face.

Only when the preparatory bell shattered the silence, and Shen Tinghan opened her eyes, did Shen Juexia hurriedly shut her own and pretend to sleep.

–

The next morning, Shen Juexia found a love letter in her desk drawer.

She pulled out the ambiguous pink envelope, and the scent of bygone days washed over her, making her feel like she was in a TV drama.

It wasn’t even seven yet. Aside from her and Shen Tinghan, both of whom lived close to school—the classroom was empty.

Shen Tinghan was organizing yesterday’s homework, sorting and arranging everything neatly. As if she had OCD, she wiped everything from her desk to her pencil case with alcohol wipes every morning.

Shen Juexia’s heart skipped a beat. A certain possibility crossed her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

“Shen Tinghan?”

Shen Tinghan looked up. “Hmm?”

“Did anyone come into our classroom this morning?”

“No.” Shen Tinghan noticed the envelope in Shen Juexia’s hand and understood. “Oh, that. A student from another class asked Zhong Xiaoxiao to give it to you yesterday evening.”

“Oh.” Shen Juexia lowered her head, and the letter in her hand suddenly felt weightless.

She hesitated for a long time, still unable to believe it was for her. Finally, she mustered the courage to open it, only to be dazzled by the sprawling five or six hundred words inside.

Her name was indeed written on it, but the person described in the letter seemed like someone else entirely—vibrant personality, serene demeanor, a cool and composed aura.

As she read on, Shen Juexia blinked more and more frequently in confusion. The neater and more earnest the handwriting became, the more guilt accumulated in her heart.

Finally, the name of the letter’s author appeared at the end: Du Yuting.

Shen Juexia had no recollection of this person.

Everything in China was a first for her, including receiving a love letter from a complete stranger. Another first in her life.

Yang Ke walked into the classroom and placed the freshly printed quiz on the teacher’s desk.

She took her seat in the second row near the right wall, turned her head, and waved at Shen Tinghan across the diagonal of the classroom.

“Morning, Class Rep!”

“Morning,” Shen Tinghan smiled back at her.

Shen Juexia silently tucked the letter away, utterly distressed. She wasn’t disdainful, nor did she find it ridiculous. She just thought the person who wrote the letter had acted too impulsively.

Write a reply?

Not a good option. Her handwriting was a mess, and she couldn’t bear the embarrassment, let alone risk being misunderstood as dismissive. Besides, the love letter was so eloquently written that she’d already lost before even picking up a pen.

Talk to them in person?

But the main issue was, Shen Juexia had no idea which class Du Yuting was in. She didn’t even know which floor to go to between classes. She couldn’t just ask around about who this “Du Yuting” was either. It would be too hurtful to imply she didn’t remember them at all.

Then it hit her. Her best friend was practically a celebrity in their grade, greeting all sorts of unfamiliar faces in the hallway every day. She must know this person.

She went up to the teacher’s desk to grab a quiz, working on it while she waited.

Today’s quiz was on history. Shen Juexia skimmed through the questions, finishing half of the twenty multiple-choice questions in under ten minutes.

Though she had never studied Chinese history back in the UK, she had relied on her strong memory to memorize all the historical materials from last semester’s syllabus during winter break.

Yao Qingyan, for once, wasn’t late. At 7:20, she strode into the classroom with her head held high, tossed her phone into the bag on the teacher’s desk with a flourish, flashed smiles here and whispered words there as if the whole world were her stage.

Shen Juexia went up to hand in her homework and stopped by Yao Qingyan’s seat on her way back, whispering, “Who’s ‘Du Yuting’?”

Zhong Xiaoxiao, sitting behind them, pursed her lips and silently chuckled.

Yao Qingyan gave her a strange look. “Why do you care?”

Shen Juexia vaguely replied, “I have something to talk to her about.” It was a very private matter. She had to protect the other person’s privacy.

Zhong Xiaoxiao tapped Yao Qingyan’s shoulder with her pen and raised an eyebrow. “The little dark-skinned princess confessed to her.” Her tone carried a hint of smugness, though it was unclear what this had to do with her.

Shen Juexia froze.

Yao Qingyan’s expression darkened as she glared at Shen Juexia. “You could’ve just told me directly instead of beating around the bush. Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not something I can just say, it’s not just about me.” Shen Juexia’s thick eyebrows pressed down over her eyes, casting shadows over her large, gray-blue irises. Zhong Xiaoxiao gulped and quietly retreated to her seat.

A few boys in the back looked up with grins, watching the unfolding drama.

“What, do you like her or something?” Yao Qingyan asked sourly.

Shen Juexia sighed. “I don’t even know her.” This was absurd.

“The girl from Class 8 with really small eyes, a bit chubby, hair about this long, always wearing a butterfly hairpin,” Yao Qingyan gestured as she spoke. “Now you know her?”

Shen Juexia suddenly remembered.

Earlier, that girl in the hallway was carrying a towering stack of homework, her face flushed red with effort. Unable to just stand by, I instinctively helped her carry part of it to the math office.

“No way, do you actually like her?” Yao Qingyan’s delicate voice grew even sharper.

“I was just trying to remember where I’d seen her before,” Shen Juexia frowned.

Just then, the teacher supervising morning study hall walked into the classroom, and all extracurricular distractions vanished. Shen Juexia quietly exhaled in relief and returned to her seat.

That afternoon, during the long break, Shen Juexia finished using the restroom and turned up the stairs instead of heading back.

She didn’t like leaving the classroom, much less venturing to unfamiliar floors, but today was an exception. It concerned her sense of responsibility.

As a rare visitor to the fourth floor, the moment Shen Juexia stepped into the hallway, she was met with countless curious gazes lining the corridor like a red carpet.

Those by the windows stopped looking outside to stare at her instead; classmates walking toward her paused their chatter to do the same; and from classrooms on either side, more people emerged, all eyes fixed on her.

Shen Juexia stopped in front of Class 8, Grade 10 and called out to the nearest girl by the door, “Excuse me, sorry to bother you. I’m looking for Du Yuting.”

Still unfamiliar with the nuances of Chinese etiquette, she’d rather err on the side of excessive politeness than risk being rude.

The girl’s face lit up with surprise. “It’s you!”

“Uh, you know me?” Shen Juexia questioned her life choices once again.

“No, but you’re so handsome.”

“……”

Seizing the moment, Shen Juexia quickly stood up.

But the instant her backside left the sofa, a soft, fragrant warmth toppled forward, firmly pinning her beneath.

Their bodies pressed flush against each other.

The familiar scent of iris filled her nose.

At this near-zero distance, Shen Juexia couldn’t tell whose frantic heartbeat pounding like a drum was echoing between them.

Stunned for several seconds, Shen Juexia finally pushed lightly at her shoulders, her voice slightly muffled, “Jiejie…”

Before she could finish speaking, Shen Juexia her ears burning suddenly realized:

The heat radiating from her sister’s body was scalding.