Did the Tsundere Miss Get Slapped in the Face Again Today? - Chapter 72

Chapter 72: “It’s Completely Over Between Us.”

Watching the person enter, Jiang Zhi’s pupils contracted slightly, her eyes filled with surprise and disbelief.

In contrast, Lin Anran sat down with calm composure, looking at her steadily. “Miss Jiang, are you planning to stand and talk to me, or are you going to sit?”

During their eye contact, the air seemed to solidify for two seconds.

Jiang Zhi took a breath, forcibly suppressing the stormy waves inside her, and slowly sat down.

Only yesterday, Anran had stood before her spitting harsh words, wishing they would never meet again. Why was she appearing here now of her own accord?

Judging by Lin Anran’s current reaction, she didn’t seem to have just found out; this didn’t look like a coincidence. It looked as though she had known from the very beginning that the person behind “Raising Cats in the Countryside” was Jiang Zhi.

If she knew, then why did she call her here to sign a contract? If she wanted to continue being in contact, why did she say those final, decisive things yesterday?

Jiang Zhi couldn’t see through the person in front of her. She had no idea what Anran wanted or what her purpose was.

Is she looking for revenge?

Jiang Zhi tried to guess the process. It probably went like this: The ex-girlfriend left disgracefully without a word, dumping her. Anran was furious. She happened to scroll past the ex’s video account online. Even though Jiang Zhi didn’t show her face, Anran was sharp enough to recognize her through other details.

Once she identified her, she planned a way to contact Jiang Zhi, coaxing her into a legal contract, with the ultimate goal of subjecting her to extreme humiliation to satisfy her old resentment.

Was that it? Was that Lin Anran’s goal?

A media company of ZAR’s scale usually signed famous influencers. There was no logical reason to scout an obscure, small blogger like her. It couldn’t be that they truly saw “potential”—Jiang Zhi knew better than anyone that she was just an ordinary person who got lucky.

ZAR’s insistence on signing her, their persistence when she hesitated… all the irrationalities suddenly had an answer.

Because Lin Anran wanted to punish her.

A bitter smile touched Jiang Zhi’s lips. Why bother? Someone like her wasn’t even worth the effort of a revenge plot.

Lin Anran seemed not to notice her shifting emotions, asking flatly, “Miss Jiang, what was the original inspiration for your countryside lifestyle videos?”

When she received no answer for a long time, Lin Anran’s finger tapped the table rhythmically.

“Miss Jiang, you keep spacing out. It’s quite rude to take so long to answer a simple question,” Lin Anran sneered. “I think your account is decent, but not to the point where you can play the big shot in front of me. One shouldn’t be so impolite, don’t you agree?”

One shouldn’t be so impolite…

Jiang Zhi remembered how she used to “educate” Lin Anran. She would gently nudge her when Anran rolled her eyes at people: “What’s with that face? You can’t be rude.” She would pat her head when Anran snapped at people: “Speak nicely, don’t be rude.”

The memories flashed by, but time had passed, and everything had changed.

Seeing Jiang Zhi spacing out again, Lin Anran’s brow furrowed. She tapped the table again with a sharp clack.

“Miss Jiang, how unprofessional,” Anran said impatiently. “I asked you: what was your original inspiration?”

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Zhi gathered her thoughts. “The initial inspiration is hard to explain specifically. Perhaps I was tired of the city’s hustle and bustle. It made me feel lost, exhausted… even numb.”

Lin Anran’s eyes swept over her. “True. Some people really do live very numb, boring lives. Isn’t that right, Miss Jiang?”

Jiang Zhi opened her mouth but couldn’t find a reply. She sighed inwardly. She knew Anran was being sarcastic and biting; perhaps this was the revenge Anran wanted—to belittle her with words, to make her feel painful, ashamed, and regretful until she was crushed into the dust.

If that was what Anran wanted, Jiang Zhi would play along, as long as it helped Anran vent her anger. Afterward, they could return to being strangers.

Jiang Zhi forced a smile. “You’re right. Some people are indeed numb and boring. Like me—my life is stagnant. I’m a complete failure.”

She thought agreeing would satisfy Anran’s desire for revenge, but the moment the words left her mouth, Anran’s expression collapsed into a cold stare.

A quiet, eerie silence lasted for nearly a minute.

Feeling uncomfortable under the gaze, Jiang Zhi broke the stalemate by lowering her posture. “Did I say something wrong?”

Lin Anran stared at her. “I thought your inspiration would be something special. I didn’t expect it to be so cliché. It’s quite boring to hear.”

Jiang Zhi looked at her, then quickly looked away.

Her inspiration was never about being tired of the city or embracing tranquility. Her inspiration was Lin Anran. It had always been her. When she was lost, Anran was the one who helped her find something she loved; Anran was the one who helped her find a career direction.

The reason she started this account and became a vlogger was entirely because of Lin Anran.

But Jiang Zhi didn’t dare say the truth. She had to use a substitute reason, even if it sounded ordinary and dull.

“Was that really your original inspiration?” Lin Anran looked into her eyes.

Jiang Zhi’s hands rested on her knees, her fingers unconsciously bunching up the fabric of her trousers. Why did Anran keep pressing her? Was she trying to humiliate her, or was there… lingering affection?

The thought made Jiang Zhi’s heart skip a beat. But when she met Anran’s mocking, cold eyes, the rhythm instantly went cold.

Lin Anran curled her lip in a sneer, losing interest. She stood up. “Fine. You can go, Miss Jiang. I originally wanted to talk details about your account, but it seems there’s no point in continuing this conversation.”

Jiang Zhi lowered her head in silence.

Knock, knock.

The door to the meeting room opened. “Come in,” Lin Anran said.

A woman wearing a pale green qipao appeared at the door. Her ink-black hair was held up simply by a jade hairpin. She had a gentle, classical aura, like a traditional ink wash painting.

Jiang Zhi looked at the newcomer. She was stunning, yet there was something familiar about her, as if Jiang Zhi had seen her somewhere before. But she dismissed the thought—someone this beautiful would surely be remembered if met in person.

“Anran, are you still busy? I brought you lunch.” The beauty held up a tiered food box.

Lin Anran’s tightly knit brows instantly smoothed out, and a faint smile appeared in her eyes.

“Why did you come? I told you that you didn’t need to bring me food. You’re busy every day too,” Anran said, her voice intimate and soft. “What did you bring today?”

Hearing that intimate tone, Jiang Zhi’s expression froze. She looked at Anran, then at the woman in the qipao, her gaze flickering with unspoken thoughts.

The woman laughed softly. “Everything you like.”

“Beer Duck?” Anran guessed.

“Didn’t you just have that yesterday? Not today. It’s not good to eat such heavy, salty food every day.”

“Okay, I’ll listen to you. Let’s go eat in the office.”

The woman hummed in agreement, then noticed there was someone else in the room. She gave Jiang Zhi a polite nod as a greeting. Jiang Zhi forced a stiff smile and nodded back.

“Do you still have work to finish?” the woman asked Anran, her gaze tender. “Then you two continue. I’ll wait for you in the office.”

Lin Anran took the woman’s hand. “No need. I have nothing left to say to her. We are completely finished. Let’s go.”

Lin Anran didn’t give Jiang Zhi another glance. She led the woman out of the meeting room, hand in hand.

Jiang Zhi stood there, paralyzed. Her heart felt as if it had been torn into eight pieces, bleeding profusely. Her mind was filled with images of them holding hands, looking at each other—their intimacy and chemistry.

Anran’s words echoed in her ears: “I have nothing left to say to her. We are completely finished.”

Right. Completely finished.

Lin Anran had met someone new and started a new life. They looked like a perfect match. Unlike her, who never seemed to fit properly by Anran’s side.

It was good. Really.

Jiang Zhi lowered her head, and a single tear struck the black conference table, blossoming into a wet, dark flower. She looked at the tear and laughed at herself, her shoulders shaking.

Why did I ever think she still had feelings for me?

Who would love someone so cowardly and ordinary? No one. Even Jiang Zhi didn’t like Jiang Zhi, so how could she expect love from others?

Lin Anran had found a better place. She hoped she would be happy—happy forever.

Jiang Zhi reached out and wiped the tear from the table with her bare hand, erasing the last shred of hope from her heart. Perhaps Anran had wanted revenge before, but after one conversation, she realized Jiang Zhi wasn’t even worth the effort.

Jiang Zhi felt hollow, as if something had been violently carved out of her.

She left the meeting room like a walking corpse. Passing through the hallway, she glanced at the open window of the General Manager’s office. The two beautiful women were sitting cross-legged on the sofa, eating and laughing together.

The light hit them from above, like a perfect ending shot in a movie. The protagonists get their happy ending, while the passerby, Jiang Zhi, exits into the shadows, unworthy of the screen.

Jiang Zhi didn’t dare look again. She lowered her head and hurried away.

It started as a fast walk, then a jog, and finally a full-out sprint. This place felt like a purgatory she had to escape. She thought that if she just ran out, she could breathe again, and the blood in her chest would stop flowing.

She was just like she was two years ago—hiding and running from her problems. She loathed this about herself. But it didn’t matter now; Lin Anran loathed this version of Jiang Zhi, too.

They were strangers now.

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