I Heard That I am a HeartBreaker - Chapter 53

“Yes, after all, who can ever truly explain something like feelings?”

Qiu Shuang gazed at the meat on her plate—vividly tender now that it had been cut open—and smiled. Perhaps, to a certain extent, she was just like this piece of meat in the eyes of these people.

It was strange; if one were to call it respect, it wasn’t particularly respectful. Yet, if it were disrespect, there was a baffling sort of cautiousness involved—as if they were terrified that tearing off their masks would expose the disgusting, filthy things underneath.

Qiu Shuang did not want to be the meat on the plate, nor did she want to be sliced open.

Gu Lingxi fell into silence upon hearing Qiu Shuang’s words. The Qiu Shuang sitting before her at this moment felt utterly like a stranger.

She watched as the other woman picked up her knife and drew it across the succulent steak. The sound of the blade scraping against the dinnerware was piercing and harsh. It was odd; under normal circumstances, Qiu Shuang would never behave so rudely. So, what was it?

Gu Lingxi couldn’t figure it out. Was it something she had done to upset her, or was Qiu Shuang trying to tell her something?

Qiu Shuang smiled. She poked a cut piece of steak into her mouth and stared directly at Gu Lingxi while she chewed.

Gu Lingxi didn’t know why the other’s attitude had shifted so rapidly. It seemed that ever since that junior student had entered, the atmosphere had become somewhat “off.”

She watched as a pink tongue swept the meat into the mouth. For some reason, Gu Lingxi felt as though she were receiving a subtle hint from this action, yet she hoped she wasn’t just projecting those kinds of thoughts.

Privately, Gu Lingxi believed Qiu Shuang to be pure and flawless—just like the records she had inadvertently flipped through: thin and sparse.

The girl’s life was so pitiable that there wasn’t even a single record of a hotel stay. In every sense of the word, she was a very “honest and dutiful” girl.

Gu Lingxi knew she shouldn’t think that way or pass judgment, but regardless, she found she couldn’t control these strange fantasies.

What did someone so pure and white, someone who had never been tainted, actually look like? As for the ex-girlfriend the girl once had, Gu Lingxi had essentially erased that from her mind.

After all, she considered Qiu Shuang to be old-fashioned and conservative—the type of girl who certainly wouldn’t do that sort of thing in a dormitory. Since there were no records, it was proof enough of her purity.

Gu Lingxi couldn’t distinguish what was happening to her. Was this possessiveness, a desire for conquest, or some primitive degradation—a vulgar complex?

“I…”

Gu Lingxi felt as though she were about to be cooked through. She stammered, staring straight at the other woman, unsure of what to do. She felt as though she had regressed to an ignorant state from years ago, knowing nothing at all.

The woman across from her wasn’t actually doing anything; she was merely sitting there eating, yet it triggered Gu Lingxi’s boundless imagination.

“Senior, the food is going to get cold.”

Qiu Shuang’s sentence pulled Gu Lingxi back to reality. This wasn’t an ambiguous candlelit dinner for two, nor was it a display of tender affection between lovers. It was merely a dinner between a senior and a junior—two ordinary friends.

Qiu Shuang did not miss the momentary daze in the other’s eyes. She watched with some interest as Gu Lingxi’s ears turned inexplicably red, which surprised her slightly.

In Qiu Shuang’s perception, how could someone like this still be capable of such “pure” reactions? To her, it felt like a joke.

She didn’t need to guess to know that everything about her had likely been investigated thoroughly by this woman. So-called “privacy rights” were probably an insignificant issue to someone like Gu Lingxi.

Qiu Shuang certainly knew she was beautiful. She wasn’t a fool who considered herself an eyesore. More importantly, she firmly believed one thing:

If it weren’t for this face of hers, given her stubborn personality, her relationship with Song Ya wouldn’t be this distorted connection—she would have been beaten up by the other woman long ago.

Everything was a double-edged sword. Though Qiu Shuang hated to admit it, a beautiful exterior ultimately granted certain privileges in this society, but it also attracted certain filthy things.

Look at her—restless, likely thinking of something foul.

Reminded by Qiu Shuang, Gu Lingxi suddenly realized the meat on her plate had indeed cooled, though it still retained some warmth. She placed a piece in her mouth.

She thought this might be the most miraculous moment of her life. This was truly different from before. Gu Lingxi had long been accustomed to environments of “green wine and red lights”—those vivid, young, beautiful, and green girls dancing before her.

Gu Lingxi had seen so many provocative and bold scenes, yet at this moment, none of those had the impact of sitting in an ordinary restaurant across a distant table from Qiu Shuang, simply eating a meal.

She thought that perhaps she really was “fallen.” She didn’t want to let go; she wanted to possess her.

Gu Lingxi had briefly “loved” many girls—most were smart, beautiful, or glamorous. She liked beautiful faces, gentle voices, and being treated with flattery. But now, all of that seemed tawdry and beneath notice in front of the woman before her.

If it had been anyone else who made her travel thousands of miles just to have a meal, Gu Lingxi felt she would have lost her temper long ago. But because it was Qiu Shuang, she would rush over no matter what the request was.

“Senior, I feel like sometimes you are really similar to a friend of mine.”

The moment Qiu Shuang said this, alarm bells rang in Gu Lingxi’s brain.

Her intuition told her that this “friend” was exactly the person she suspected. Yet Gu Lingxi couldn’t help but probe, because her heart hoped this person wouldn’t turn out to be the one Qiu Shuang frequently mentioned.

“Is that so? Which one?”

Qiu Shuang looked a bit surprised. She didn’t actually have many friends; in fact, she had almost none. Compared to socializing, Qiu Shuang preferred being alone.

Though, in most cases, these people didn’t allow her to be alone.

“Song Ya. Do you have no impression of her at all? She said she was going to visit you. Did she not go?”

Hearing that name, Gu Lingxi felt a flare of nameless anger. It matched the person she had imagined perfectly.

What could she say? That the girl didn’t go? Not only did she go, she walked right through the front door and “vividly” became part of the family.

Gritting her teeth, Gu Lingxi wanted to retort, but ultimately remained silent. After all, speaking ill of others behind their backs was an unrefined thing to do.

Moreover, this person had effectively become her relative. There was no point in saying more, but Gu Lingxi still secretly hoped that Qiu Shuang would choose between the two of them.

Even though Gu Lingxi knew it was a pipe dream. Regardless of anything, Song Ya was a friend who had accompanied her for many years.

Meanwhile, no matter how much she helped Qiu Shuang, it was always with her own motives, and they had only known each other for a short time.

“Yes… she did come to visit…”

Gu Lingxi stopped halfway. She knew very well that Qiu Shuang would not press for details or ask about the specifics. Since the other was treating her with polite distance, she naturally had to reciprocate with politeness. This was the silent tacit understanding between them.

Qiu Shuang wasn’t surprised by receiving only half a sentence. She knew that no matter what she did, she could at most confuse the other person for a while, but the confusion wouldn’t last long. See?

The other had quickly regained her composure. However, Qiu Shuang was somewhat curious as to why that composure was so hard to read—after all, it was Gu Lingxi who had been staring at her with that strange gaze just a moment ago.

Qiu Shuang never questioned Gu Lingxi’s level of fickleness or the extent of her imagination. One didn’t even need a deep investigation to know how flighty she was; one only had to ask around to see her self-confidence and her blatant lack of concealment.

More importantly, that half-sentence seemed to carry a hint of covering for Song Ya. Qiu Shuang was truly curious about what had happened between those two privately that they were now covering for each other. It was fascinating.

Thinking about Song Ya’s personality and appearance, a slightly “perverted” thought even crossed Qiu Shuang’s mind: Could this woman have fallen for Song Ya?

After all, a strange person like herself might trigger a high desire for conquest, but a stubborn person like Song Ya would likely evoke the same feeling—especially since the other also belonged to the upper class; it would probably be even more “stimulating” to mess with her.

Well, as soon as the thought appeared, Qiu Shuang just smiled. She knew it was a fantasy. The other was fickle but not stupid; messing with wealthy people wasn’t worth it, so she came to play with a “commoner” like her instead.

The thought of this absurdity made Qiu Shuang want to laugh. Gu Lingxi didn’t understand the laugh; she didn’t know if it was because Qiu Shuang was dissatisfied with her answer.

Gu Lingxi wanted to say something, but then felt that such a posture was far too “low-ranking” and lacked dignity. However, seeing the other smile like that, she was at a loss for what to do.

“Did you think of something happy, Junior?”

As soon as Gu Lingxi asked the question, she smiled helplessly. At this moment, she suddenly found it equally funny. A year ago—or even half a year ago—Gu Lingxi could never have imagined that she would one day become so “understanding.”

She was even taking the initiative to care about someone else’s emotions. If she could travel through time and tell her past self, she would probably laugh herself to death.

Qiu Shuang was surprised by the other’s cautiousness. She didn’t understand why this woman was treating her this way. If it was a matter of power, the attitude was far too pitiable.

If it was a “fair pursuit,” it was also somewhat disreputable. Qiu Shuang didn’t know what to call it, but clearly, this woman wanted to play the game of so-called “invincible true love” with her.

Qiu Shuang found it laughable. How long could this woman’s “true love” last? Who knew? This whole “soul-stirring” act seemed to have only moved the woman herself.

Qiu Shuang simply accepted it all, because in the game of love, there is never such a thing as fair trade or equal exchange.

It always comes down to who falls first, who loves more—that person will always be the one at a disadvantage. Though it sounds sad, it is reality.

“I am very happy. I’m happy to have met you, Senior, and happy that so many things happened during school. Don’t you think life has become much more interesting since coming to university?”

Qiu Shuang looked directly at her, waiting for an answer. What would she say? Would she continue to follow her lead? That would be too hypocritical.

When would this hypocritical skin be torn off? Qiu Shuang felt as if she had waited through a century of silence.

“It’s alright. I am very happy to have met you.”

The moment Gu Lingxi said those words, Qiu Shuang’s smile grew even more radiant. So that’s how it was. No wonder she had pondered for so long; after all the twists and turns, that was the answer.

A disgusting “Performative Personality Disorder.”

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