The White Moonlight is So Scheming - Chapter 40

Hearing those words, the smile on Shen Juexia’s lips instantly faded. Her gaze wavered as she muttered, “Didn’t I already apologize just now.”

“Tomorrow at noon, accompany me back to the old house.”

Fiddling with the diamonds on her bracelet, Shen Juexia reluctantly nodded. “Fine, but…”

Before she could finish, Shen Tinghan cut her off. “Mm. After we return tomorrow afternoon, how about we visit your deskmate’s mother in the hospital together?”

Her nerves spiked.

Every hair on her body stood on end.

Forcing an ingratiating smile, Shen Juexia stammered, “Sister, you’re so busy and finally have two days off. Won’t this be too exhausting for you?”

“It’s fine. Don’t I have you with me?” Shen Tinghan’s phoenix eyes narrowed slightly as she strode upstairs on her long legs.

Once that figure disappeared around the corner of the shopping center, Shen Juexia stared blankly at the bark of the large locust tree, counting the grooves one by one.

Days passed slowly. Shen Juexia attended the school’s sports training three times a week. Gradually, even as she ran on the once-dizzying red track, she could spare a glance at the scenery flashing by.

Shen Tinghan didn’t come every time. She took turns with two other female P.E. monitors from different classes, each responsible for one training session per week.

On days when Shen Tinghan wasn’t there, no matter what they were practicing, Shen Juexia would involuntarily imagine Shen Tinghan leading the training instead.

The other two P.E. monitors always barked orders loudly, criticizing this and that, acting high and mighty. If someone couldn’t master the arm swing for the long jump after two attempts, they’d simply give up on them.

After finishing a round of duck walks, a short-haired girl stared dazedly at the sky, panting and sighing, “Day three without the Great Demon Queen. I miss her.”

“You’re even more of a simp than her dog,” the braided girl scoffed, shooting her a sidelong glance.

During core training, Shen Juexia had barely done a few sit-ups when the day’s “taskmaster” pulled her up to chat.

It was the P.E. monitor from Class Six, a sturdy girl with a glowing tan complexion, who did everything like a whirlwind. But her whirlwind mercilessly flattened everything in its path, leaving no survivors.

“Is it true British men start balding in their twenties?” the Class Six monitor asked with a teasing grin.

“…Not necessarily.”

“Is your food really that bad?”

“Well, it’s not great.”

“Are all British people’s eyebrows like yours? So pretty.”

While the other students worked on their abs on the mats, Shen Juexia stood there awkwardly, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

“I haven’t finished yet.”

“Relax, passing is enough,” the Class Six monitor said dismissively.

“I don’t want to just pass.” Shen Juexia’s voice was soft and hesitant. She knew that for her current self, every point beyond passing was a luxury.

A few girls who had just finished their sets exchanged glances and raised their eyebrows in unison.

The Class Six monitor pursed her lips and waved impatiently. “Ugh, can’t even appreciate lighter standards. You’re pale as a ghost from training.”

“My skin is naturally pale,” Shen Juexia retorted, wiping sweat from her temple with the back of her hand.

The short-haired girl, mid-leg raises, panted between words, “Yeah, yeah, we know. You’re that shade, glow-in-the-dark white.”

Two nearby girls snickered.

“Well, that’s why they’re called Caucasians,” the braided girl said, adjusting her glasses. “Genetic privilege.”

“Racial superiority” should have been a positive term, yet whenever Shen Juexia heard it, she always felt an odd discomfort.

In England, she felt more Chinese; back in China, her classmates always called her British.

It was strange.

When Shen Tinghan was around, those classmates would suddenly watch their words, as if an invisible barrier suppressed their biting remarks.

The punch blocked by the workbook was the same.

As Shen Juexia did her leg raises, her mind wandered through the memories of the past few months. In every fragment of recollection,
Shen Tinghan stood like a towering tree, and she curled up beneath its shade.

Was Shen Tinghan a cherry tree?

She always carried the scent of cherries, like a cherry tree swaying gently in the summer breeze, its branches heavy with crimson fruit.

No, no.

Cherry trees were territorial, their roots deep and sprawling, making it hard for other trees to survive within ten meters. That was why her grandmother’s yard had only that one fruit tree.

Shen Tinghan was a mutated cherry tree, one whose roots peacefully intertwined with its neighboring trees.

“Hey, pretty sis, how many have you done?” the short-haired girl suddenly asked.

Shen Juexia snapped back to reality, realizing she hadn’t been counting. She often spaced out but thanks to that, she hadn’t noticed the burning ache in her abs.

“Time to roll up the mats! Stop daydreaming!” the P.E. monitor from Class Six bellowed.

Shen Juexia pushed herself up from the mat, folded it neatly, and returned it with the others to the corner of the gym.

She missed the cherry tree in her grandmother’s yard.

It should be bearing fruit soon.

After passing the makeup fitness test, her father and Lan Qiuchi held a small wedding. Shen Juexia attended out of obligation.

She never put much stock in romance, least of all adult romance.

She figured Lan’s son, who had just started college, probably didn’t believe in it either or outright disapproved of the marriage, since he didn’t show up at all.

At first, she couldn’t understand why someone as well-off as Lan would take an interest in her father. But after observing their dynamic, it made sense.

Her father, usually lazy and sloppy, put on quite the act around Lan.

And it wasn’t just family bias. Her father was objectively better-looking than Lan. Shen Juexia didn’t like judging appearances, but her first impression of the two together was: This woman must be loaded.

Adults knew romance was useless.

Lan’s first wedding must have been far grander, Shen Juexia thought. At least 999 roses instead of 99, given her usual extravagance.

As the wedding wound down, unfamiliar guests were either drunk or rowdy, the noise giving her a headache.

Standing in a corner, half-empty wine glass in hand, Shen Juexia felt her mind and soul burning with a feverish intensity.

At some point, Lan Qiuchi approached, clad in a red embroidered banquet dress, her makeup as garish as ever.

Her perfume was overpowering high-end, Shen Juexia could tell, either Jo Malone or Chanel but the intensity made her nose sting.

“When are you two moving in? That dump you’re renting just ditch it already, it’s painful to look at,” Lan said, her laughter creasing her powdered face, sending flecks of makeup into the air.

“That depends on my dad.” Shen Juexia didn’t dislike her, but she wasn’t ready to talk to her either.

Lan Qiuchi grabbed Shen Juexia’s hand, gently stroking it, her crescent-moon eyes fixed intently on her stepdaughter’s gray-blue irises.

Shen Juexia had never been comfortable with physical contact. She struggled to control herself, barely resisting the reflex to pull her hand away.

Lan Qiuchi curled her crimson lips, her gaze rippling like autumn water: “I’ve missed you so much. You should talk to your dad too.
Come live with Auntie sooner.”

“Okay.” The perfume scent at her nose grew increasingly overpowering.

Lan Qiuchi’s fingers slid down to the base of Shen Juexia’s palm, her nails grazing the inside of her wrist before flicking lightly.

“Be good, hm? Your dad told me how pitiful you’ve been. Once you’re
here, I’ll take good care of you.”

Shen Juexia couldn’t shake an indescribable sense of unease.

She never considered herself someone elders would naturally like.

Maybe her luck had finally turned, and she had somehow stumbled
upon the secret to making others favor her.

Finally, on an afternoon when the sky couldn’t decide whether to be overcast or not, Shen Juexia packed box after box and began moving to Cézanne Estates.

Every moving day seemed to have gloomy weather, as murky as her view of the future’s end.

True to its reputation as a high-end community, Cézanne Estates required passing two checkpoints just to enter, and getting into
Building 8, where Auntie Lan lived, meant clearing two more electronic gates.

Was this the world of the wealthy?

The marble tiles alone, polished to a mirror sheen, made Shen Juexia feel like she was in a dream.

She had always lived frugally. Even back in England when her mother was still around, they only bought milk that cost less than a pound per carton. And that was before her father spent most of the year in a semi-unemployed state.

That she had grown this tall. The tallest in her family was practically a minor miracle.

The thought that this was the starting point for some people’s lives made her throat tighten. She knew envy was pointless, but she couldn’t help it.

All she could do was try to turn that envy into pure admiration.

As the weather grew warmer, Shen Juexia’s belongings though not numerous were scattered and miscellaneous, filling six large boxes in total.

She was used to solitude, and by extension, doing everything alone.

After all, no one had ever helped her before.

The last box contained all her workbooks and textbooks, so heavy she could barely lift it. She took two steps, rested, then repeated the process, refusing to ask anyone for assistance.

Accepting help meant owing someone, and she didn’t want to owe anyone anything.

Early summer was already hot, the cicadas already singing.

The community was silent in the afternoon. Clearly, the wealthy were all indoors, relaxing or napping.

Shen Juexia finally managed to push the last box into the hallway lobby, sitting beside it to catch her breath, her mind drifting in her own world.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before footsteps sounded behind her.

Shen Juexia immediately snapped back to attention and resumed working. She had no intention of letting a stranger witness her exhaustion.

The hardest part was the beginning. While she still had some energy left, she might as well start with the heaviest box.

One, two, three—

“What are you doing here?” A familiar voice came from behind.

Too familiar—warm, firm, magnetic. She could tell who it was from the first syllable.

Shen Juexia turned in surprise.

Shen Tinghan stood behind her.

Heat the pan, pour in a little oil.

Tendrils of steam rose from the skillet as she cracked an egg with one hand. The moment the egg white hit the surface, it sizzled crisply. Soon, the aroma of food filled the air.

The first fried egg was flipped, its edges slightly golden brown while the yolk remained soft and runny inside. The second egg wasn’t flipped on purpose, just sprinkled with a bit of black pepper on the surface.

After frying the eggs, the triangular-cut potatoes and sausages were cooked separately. Just as all the steps were completed, the oven let out a “beep” to signal it was ready.

Wearing heat-resistant gloves, she took out the baking tray, picked up two plump croissants, and stuffed them generously with spoonfuls of flaked tuna. Carefully placing the croissants next to the fried eggs, she then neatly arranged the salad, potatoes, and sausages on the plate.

“Aunt Liu, go check on Xia.”

“Big sis, it smells so good!”

The little foodie had already caught the scent and had been watching her eagerly for a while.