Chapter 1
They say a person dies three times in their life: the first is the physical end marked by a death certificate, the second is the societal end when they are laid to rest, and the final one occurs when the last person who remembers them passes away. But Julian Carter was different. Before he even grasped the reality of his last breath, he had swiftly completed the remaining two types of death. When Julian first died, he had no regrets, no grand wishes to fulfill. However, upon entering the afterlife, he found himself yearning for something—anything—that would allow him to haunt the bedroom of Quentin Ashford at midnight, having a heart-to-heart about dreams and life. And of course, he wanted to uncover the mystery of the elusive ‘white moonlight’ that had held Quentin’s heart for a decade. Then, in an unexpected twist of fate, Julian Carter woke up on his wedding day, alive and full of determination. Without a moment's hesitation, he gave Quentin a swift kick, sending him tumbling out of bed, and boldly tossed a divorce agreement into the air. Seeing Quentin Ashford’s trembling fingertips almost unable to grasp the pen, Julian's face broke into a smirk as he declared, "Surprised? Did you really think I’d keep chasing you for another decade?" Julian knew all too well that Quentin had health issues, but he never anticipated that the shock of a divorce would send the man into a dizzy spell—so much so that he passed out right before Julian’s eyes. What followed was even more astonishing—Quentin woke up with blank memories, appearing to recognize only Julian. He continued to carry his smug coldness in public but couldn’t help but cling to Julian behind closed doors, refusing to let go even in sleep. Julian couldn’t help but think, *Is this guy mistaking me for his lost love?* Reflecting on the pent-up frustrations from his previous life, Julian burst out laughing. “You must be out of your mind, Quentin Ashford. Life’s just flipped the script!” Embracing his newfound freedom, Julian decided to shake things up instead of playing the obedient partner. No more pretending—he was ready to turn up the heat, demanding what was rightfully his return on the investments he made over the years. The man Julian had spent a decade longing for was now treating him like a prized possession: he would feign exhaustion from a night of partying until he fell asleep, only to be hoisted into Quentin’s arms on the way home. Milking Quentin’s name for all it was worth, Julian brazenly shut down any betraying gossip and social climbers, with Quentin right there backing him up. He even managed to reserve entire venues for their escapades, letting Julian call the shots. And to top it off, Quentin donned cartoon-themed aprons to cook for him, making Julian almost forget that this man was the untouchable magnate of the business world. Julian had initially planned to wait until Quentin recovered his memory, relishing the sight of Quentin getting furious at being played. However, as time passed, the anticipated realization never came. That was until one fateful day when Julian stumbled across a revelation—Quentin had not only regained his memory, but he too had been reincarnated. The most shocking discovery, however, was that he, Julian Carter, was indeed Quentin Ashford’s ‘white moonlight.’ **Character Dynamics:** - **Quentin Ashford:** The aloof yet deeply possessive mogul, always enigmatic like a wolf lurking in the shadows. - **Julian Carter:** Initially tough on the outside but soft-hearted, he’s a proud and lively young master caught in a chaotic dance of desire and ambition. **Theme Label:** Second chances in love, entertainment industry, rebirth, bittersweet romance. As Julian pondered, a grin spread across his face. "Did I get that divorce certificate today, or what? Time to reclaim what’s mine!"
Chapter 2
He was still grappling with the idea that perhaps he could still be saved when the media outside the emergency room was racing to break the news: “Julian Carter, the second son of the Carter family, is suspected to have committed suicide by jumping into the ocean yesterday due to overwhelming debt. Efforts to save him were unsuccessful.” “Family bankruptcy and a troubled marriage, there may be more to the story of Julian Carter's tragic end; exclusive insights into rumored marital strife.” Even when Julian Carter was a struggling artist, no one paid him any attention, but within the realm of the dramatic scandals of the rich and powerful, he was undoubtedly the star everyone was watching. What should have been a solemn funeral turned out to be superficial and rushed. The chapel was full of guests, and those who didn’t know the truth might have mistaken Julian Carter for a person of great popularity in life— Young influencers posed for selfies in front of the memorial, while guests whispered and laughed about the family in turmoil: “I heard that Julian’s marriage was practically a sham; I thought it was just gossip until Mr. Ashford didn’t show up today.” “Yeah, the Carters are done for. Instead of living it up as a wealthy heir, he was left taking care of others... Did he know his family would go bankrupt and try to find a backup plan?” “Not even bankruptcy could keep them afloat; the Carters had overreached. Julian must never have guessed that Mr. Ashford would turn his back when the family fell apart. What a year’s worth of bad luck.” … The funeral that should have been heavy with grief had become a spectacle of ridiculousness. Julian seemed to float above the chaos, arms crossed and heart heavy, thinking to himself, you really aren’t scared of me haunting your dreams, are you? As the minutes ticked by, the ceremony wrapped up, and Quentin Ashford, his so-called spouse, never made an appearance. Julian couldn’t help but smile bitterly; Mr. Ashford was just as ruthless in business as he was heartless in private. Not even a final goodbye or a smidge of respect—just a room full of guests witnessing his downfall. Three years into their marriage, whether he had tried to soften his once spoiled demeanor or whether he had screamed and cried in frustration over Quentin’s coldness, not even death could elicit a glance from Quentin Ashford. Then, after his demise, Julian learned an even more infuriating truth— Quentin Ashford had long since moved on to someone else, and he had possibly been a mere stand-in for three years. If it hadn't been for his invisible ghostly return to The Manor last night, he wouldn’t have believed his eyes: Quentin Ashford, usually composed and collected, was slumped on the floor, head bowed, lost in thought, surrounded by a sea of empty bottles. His face was pale, his lips devoid of color; disheveled hair fell over his forehead, partially obscuring his handsome yet sharp features. His typically crisp dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the faint outline of his collarbone and chest, giving off a vibe of deep despair. Julian floated there, stunned, wondering how he had never seen this side of Quentin, even after a decade of knowing him.
Chapter 3
In this world, what could possibly happen that even Mr. Ashford, with all his influence, cannot resolve? It seems that the only thing left is to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Julian Carter suddenly saw the word "death" flash through his mind like a thunderbolt illuminating a pitch-black night, causing his heart to race in an instant—could it be because of my own demise? As he thought this, he saw Quentin Ashford stumble, trying to get up. Julian knew that Quentin was getting up too quickly and would undoubtedly feel dizzy, so he instinctively stepped forward to help him. But their worlds were tragically separated; no matter what Julian did, it was futile. Quentin staggered and fell heavily to the ground with a thud. To Julian’s shock, Quentin seemed to feel no pain. He murmured, “Turn on the light…” His voice was hoarse and slightly trembling, creating the illusion that he might be choking back tears. No, it wasn’t an illusion. Julian stared in disbelief at this typically cold and distant man shedding tears. Tears fell silently onto the ground, and Quentin, clearly intoxicated, continued, “He’s afraid of the dark; it’s too dark in here…” The surrounding silence weighed heavily on Julian, each word reverberating painfully in his ears. At first, Julian was stunned, but then a heavy realization sank in. He had always been bold, nonchalantly wandering around the hospital’s morgue post-mortem— So, who was “he”? The excitement he felt just moments ago vanished in an instant. Clenching his fists, Julian remembered that on the second day after their marriage, he had noticed that the hallway lights were perpetually on at night. He was aware that Quentin had mild night blindness, and he never dared to think that even if Quentin were to get up at night, there was no need for him to turn on the lights in the corridor on the second floor. He didn’t dare to imagine what lay behind the locked door at the end of the corridor, comforting himself with the thought that he should respect his partner’s privacy. Most painfully, he didn’t dare to consider who had given Quentin that jade pendant, that adorably clumsy little fox design mismatched with his elegant demeanor, or what special significance it had. Julian couldn’t help but feel ridiculous; what was he to Quentin? It seemed that even the coldest of hearts could hold such hidden romantic sentiments, yet this profound connection had never been shared with an outsider like him. No matter how many years he poured into love and passion, he could not warm Quentin Ashford’s heart even a fraction. After three years of indifference, observing the Carter Family’s financial ruin from the sidelines, Julian finally understood in death—the truth was that Quentin already had someone else in his heart. As his thoughts drifted back, the funeral reached its final stage. Julian watched as his own remains were consumed by fierce flames, and he thought, if there were a next life, he would make sure Quentin Ashford, that dog of a man, would never cross paths with him again. No, he would first beat him senseless and then walk away without looking back. — With a sudden whirl, Julian opened his eyes and found no bridge to the afterlife nor the temptress Meng Po offering a bowl of forgetfulness soup; instead, the river felt like the aroma of coffee. Sunlight flooded the room, wrapping him in a warm, soft embrace, and he realized he was lying in a comfortable bed. The aroma of rich, freshly brewed coffee wafted in from the hallway. The room had a pristine but lifeless quality—this was his most familiar yet utterly strange place—Quentin Ashford’s room.
Chapter 4
Julian Carter froze as he realized he was wrapped in someone's arms. He slowly turned his head, his heart pounding, to find none other than Quentin Ashford sleeping beside him. The handsome features made him seem more distant, the intensity he often exuded in his waking moments muted in slumber. Unable to help himself, Julian lifted his hand to trace the outline of Quentin's brow and eyes. There was just something about that face—it was almost unfairly captivating. From the first time he saw the teenage Quentin, Julian had been drawn in, hopelessly ensnared by his looks. But that moment was fleeting. Julian’s hand halted in mid-air as he took a deep breath, then, without hesitation, he kicked Quentin hard. Quentin, already precariously perched at the edge of the bed because of Julian’s awful sleeping habits, was sent tumbling off with a surprised grunt as Julian's foot connected. Yet, Quentin had always been a light sleeper; the moment Julian's toes brushed against him, he jolted awake. In one swift motion, Quentin grabbed Julian by the ankle and yanked him off the bed, pulling them both crashing down onto the floor together. Julian found himself landing in Quentin's arms with a thud, the force startling Quentin into a low groan. To Julian's surprise, whether by intention or chance, Quentin’s arms wrapped around him, ensuring he was cushioned and unharmed. They ended up tangled in the sheets on the floor, and as Julian tried to push himself up, he quickly realized something was off—it felt like his body had turned into jelly. Especially in a certain area... it was as if they had crossed a line he had never intended to. The more he struggled, the tighter the sheets seemed to bind him, making the situation even more suggestive. Julian thought, “What on earth…” Caught in the awkward moment, he lost track of whether he should move at all. Quentin remained unusually still, just lying there, gazing up at the ceiling. But as Julian looked closely, he noticed a flicker of shock and disbelief in Quentin’s typically impassive black eyes, the warmth of his gaze locking onto Julian’s as if he were trying to pierce through him. Feeling exposed under that scrutiny, Julian blinked, completely unprepared to see this look on Quentin’s face. But holding onto his principle of never backing down, Julian glared back defiantly— Wait, why can he see me? Didn’t I just die? Tentatively, Julian stretched out a finger and wiggled it in front of Quentin. In an instant, Quentin seized his wrist with surprising strength, awakening as if from a dream. His voice, thick with sleep yet carrying a surprising gentleness, murmured, “Julian, I…” Julian’s eyes widened in disbelief. While he had experienced Quentin’s usual icy demeanor, the fact that he'd never been called by his first name felt like a revelation. The rich tone tugged at him, adding weight to the moment as memories of his past flooded back—images and feelings that felt electric.
Chapter 5
Julian Carter's heart sank. Was Quentin Ashford still half-asleep, calling out for “him”? “Let go.” Julian yanked his hand away without hesitation. As he spoke, his phone rang, and he was taken aback by the ringtone—one he had set three years ago. This was the very melody he had joyfully composed for his wedding, and he certainly wasn’t mistaken about it. Everything felt surreal; how had this happened? He stood up to answer the call, and on the other end, his frustratingly familiar agent, Gideon Mercer, spoke. “Julian, you know the Kingston International Film Festival is coming up at the end of the month, and I—” The film festival. Julian halted in his thoughts. He had heard this talk before, and he remembered it vividly as the very festival that had caused him a public downfall and a media scandal. The truth dawned upon him, and his eyes widened—he had somehow returned to the first day of his marriage to Quentin Ashford. After dealing with a series of personal disasters, Julian had developed a strong acceptance of the absurd. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and rapidly accepted the reality of his rebirth. But Quentin Ashford was still on the floor, staring blankly at Julian as if he were lost in a dream. Around Quentin's neck hung a deep brown braided cord featuring a pendant—a whimsical little jade fox. Julian glanced down at the fox and, after a brief moment, a cold smile crept onto his face. Damn. That dog of a man had already belonged to someone else at the time of their marriage, yet he had been too blinded to consider this possibility before. It was almost as if fate were being kind, granting him a second chance to step back at this pivotal moment—to prevent further emotional damage. Julian replied coolly, “Quentin Ashford, let’s get a divorce.” In his previous life, he trembled at the very thought of these words, but now, uttering them brought an unexpected relief. There was mutual disdain—Quentin already had someone else in his heart. Julian had expected Quentin to apathetically respond with a “Fine,” or perhaps even take delight in the fact that his clingy partner was finally letting go. But instead, Quentin's expression changed suddenly. The complexity of emotions flickered in his eyes, and after a long silence, he hoarsely asked, “...Why?” Julian raised an eyebrow, wanting to flip the question back to him. But upon seeing that glaring pendant, Julian felt a wave of disillusionment wash over him. He was too fatigued to say anything more, and he didn’t care to understand what was wrong with Quentin’s bizarre reaction. Julian shrugged nonchalantly and smiled casually, “No reason. Just tried it out last night and realized we aren’t compatible—your performance was subpar, and I’d like to return the merchandise.” As if mocking the situation, he added, “Life’s too short for bad choices.”
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