I Heard That I am a HeartBreaker - Chapter 62

Chen Wanjun felt like she was going insane. She wanted to travel back to the past, to reverse everything; but there is no such thing as time travel in this world, nor is there such a thing as time that can be altered.

The only thing Chen Wanjun could do was offer atonement, but the other party had absolutely no need for anything she did. So, what was she supposed to do?

She was destined never to receive the answer she craved. Thus, she could only linger, day after day, in the ruminating mist of pain until the day of total destruction. She felt as though something inside her was about to break, or rather, she felt she needed to do something.

After exhaustive deliberation, Qi Sijiao finally contacted Chen Wanjun. As a clumsy imitator, when she encountered a difficult problem, she felt the need to discuss it with the “Grandmaster.”

After parting ways with Qiu Shuang, Chen Wanjun had intended to return to her dormitory. Upon receiving the invitation, she fell silent for a moment. Thinking of the other’s actions, she ultimately decided to go and see what this clumsy imitator wanted.

Chen Wanjun thought that, perhaps aside from Song Ya, this was the first time she was having such a formal communication with a so-called love rival—especially one who seemed to be following her own playbook.

At this thought, Chen Wanjun looked at her. Qi Sijiao’s looks were clearly not in the same league as hers, and a sense of disdain rose in her heart.

A person inferior to me in every way—with neither the physical beauty nor the depth of sentiment—dares to learn my methods? She’s truly not afraid of falling to her death.

Qi Sijiao had made preparations. To be honest, this was also her first time quietly observing her opponent. The more she looked, the more a hint of jealousy inevitably grew in her heart. No wonder the senior still had lingering ties with this fool, despite all the things she had done.

Having a face like that was indeed a trump card. This made Qi Sijiao even angrier; such a trump card hadn’t been played as part of a winning combo, but had instead been completely botched. Chen Wanjun clearly had no brains.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but sometimes I feel like I’m truly going crazy. I’m not in the Senior’s world, and she can’t accept a Qi Sijiao who is this twisted. I feel like I’m sick. I want to possess her, yet I can’t help but want to lock her away.”

Since childhood, Qi Sijiao knew her possessiveness was exceptionally strong. She would even go as far as completely destroying her toys just because someone else touched them.

At that time, she thought this was a manifestation of powerful aggression, so she never took it to heart. But now, Qi Sijiao was silent—or rather, she was terrified. She did not want the Senior to become like one of those pitiful dolls.

“But love… should be about making the other person better, making them happy. If I really did those things, would the Senior actually be happy? That would only be my own happiness. I would be trapping her in a miserable situation just to satisfy myself. I can’t do that.”

Qi Sijiao looked at the other woman as she spoke. She expected a different answer from the person in front of her. Perhaps it sounded a bit “glass-hearted,” but at least for Qi Sijiao, she truly didn’t have any friends worth confiding in.

Most were fair-weather friends. Unsurprisingly, even though Qi Sijiao considered Chen Wanjun a fool, Chen Wanjun was indeed the smartest person she could get close to in the short term.

“Exactly. You are sick. We are bastards. I’ve been hurting Qiu Shuang all along, yet I greedily and selfishly believe she should forgive me. Just as I always took her kindness for granted, knowing it full well and never expressing it… I am a bad seed.”

Chen Wanjun felt she didn’t need to defend the kind of person she was. She was just that selfish and cowardly. In a journey of a hundred steps, she didn’t need the other person to walk ninety-nine; what Chen Wanjun wanted was for the other person to walk toward her with an unwavering will until she had no room left to retreat.

Hearing Chen Wanjun say this, Qi Sijiao fell instantly silent. One could only say the Grandmaster was indeed the Grandmaster; she was already crystal clear about her own terrible qualities and could even state them calmly. Qi Sijiao felt her own “cultivation” was perhaps not yet deep enough.

“…I think I should go see a psychiatrist. I want to be with the Senior forever, I hope for her happiness, but she seems very miserable being with me.”

“Tell me, what should I do with her? Or rather, what method should I use to solve this? I am truly sad and in pain…”

If this were in the past, Qi Sijiao would never have imagined that she would one day be troubled by love, let alone be so pathetic as to run to a love rival to vent her grievances.

In the past, she truly never thought people could suffer over such things. It wasn’t that Qi Sijiao was proud, but rather that the word “love” had never existed in her dictionary.

Qi Sijiao had never had a so-called girlfriend. Though the “dazzling world” was full of temptations, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen it; in the arena of vanity, what kind of social butterflies hadn’t swarmed around her? But she thought there would likely never be anyone like Qiu Shuang again.

In this world, such a good person, such a special person—the only one who could make her heart race and make her toss and turn at night—was that one person.

Perhaps that was why the one thing that kept Qi Sijiao happy was that although Qiu Shuang had rejected her, she hadn’t agreed to be with anyone else either. Perhaps she still had a chance. At this thought, Qi Sijiao almost laughed. She felt she was very pathetic, even losing her sense of self.

Love always seems to be like this: it can make even the most arrogant and self-satisfied people lose themselves in this terrifying subject. This is because it isn’t fair like a transaction, nor self-reflective like studying; it simply judges everyone equally.

Only through fairness and observing everything will the final answer eventually be reached.

Qi Sijiao now felt that love was more like something ethereal or a punishment from heaven. No one knows how it descends or what the criteria are; people just happen to meet someone.

Perhaps you fall in love with the other person’s voice, their eyes, or some of their words.

From then on, you sink into this pathetic abyss, hunted by them, until after untold hardships you fall into this life—perhaps to be destroyed at a certain point, or perhaps to stay together forever.

“Tell me, what should I do? Or rather, what am I supposed to do?”

Chen Wanjun looked at the pretender across from her and truly didn’t know what to say. The other person seemed even more pained than she was.

Sometimes, Chen Wanjun also pondered certain questions. She felt that her hypocrisy or greed weighed more. Her love seemed unable to manifest in actions. Could cutting herself with a knife really prove anything?

Chen Wanjun wasn’t sure what psychological mechanism was at play—was it so-called possessiveness, or the “sunk cost” of her thinking?

Or perhaps she was just too confident, always feeling that because the other person had liked her in the past, they would soon be able to accept her again.

Perhaps such people do exist in this world, but Qiu Shuang would never be one of them. She only needed to make such a foolish mistake once.

Qiu Shuang, who had already returned to her dormitory to rest, had no idea that these two were already “exchanging symptoms.” She was simply reflecting on some matters.

Sometimes Qiu Shuang felt that a “sincere heart” is something one can only possess a few times in a lifetime. In the past, she had cut open her own heart and offered it to the other, only to receive total destruction—though even then, that heart probably didn’t have much truth left in it.

And now? She now found it very difficult to have the courage to find such a person again, to be as proud as her younger self, to express her love in such a way and present it to someone.

Who would have thought that the people who once loathed her would suddenly and inexplicably fall in love with her? At this thought, Qiu Shuang laughed.

The world is just one giant joke.

It seemed like so many people loved Qiu Shuang now. How strange; in the years past, she was a person of few words whom not many people bothered with.

Sometimes, she felt she was cruel and heartless. She was like a supreme pretender or a judge, watching everyone’s decisions.

Is Qiu Shuang God? Can she arbitrarily judge everyone’s rules? She didn’t know, but she did it anyway. She enjoyed the possessiveness others felt for her. She liked being controlled, and similarly hoped to remain in a passive stage; this was the “base color” life had given her.

Qiu Shuang was more accustomed to being commanded and demanded of. Instead, inexplicable care and respect made her feel utterly terrified.

Song Ya hadn’t contacted her during this time. The other woman seemed to be caught in some trouble—supposedly a chain reaction from the loss of that piece of clothing earlier. Qiu Shuang thought about it but didn’t care much; after all, her own current affairs were already quite a mess.

Finally, she looked at the empty bed opposite her, said nothing, and closed her eyes, hoping that things would become better later.

Everyone was busy with their own affairs. Gu Su, after looking at the general cause and effect, fell into silence. Who would have thought that the fuse for everything originated from a so-called “True and False Heiress” situation.

The Gu family was very traditionally patrilineal in the past—this couldn’t be denied, as the early belittling of women hadn’t been erased until it reached Gu Su, where it was finally completely overturned.

To put it nicely, the destruction caused by male dominance was enough to make a fortune and plunder everything during a period of “savage transition”; but after the baptism of civilization, all development was quietly hidden beneath the surface.

Gu Su’s father was a businessman in the traditional sense. Her grandparents were very wise physicians. But transitioning to her aunt, the woman was unlearned and very rebellious.

The aunt’s rebellion mostly consisted of not studying. Up to that point, things were still controllable. But soon they discovered she was “rotten wood that cannot be carved”—she wouldn’t study finance, wouldn’t take over the company, and failed at everything she tried.

Ultimately, for the sake of their daughter, the Gu family set up a trust so she could live on a fixed monthly allowance.

They also found a match of equal social status and background for an alliance. The two (the grandparents) then left this world hand-in-hand. But soon, the aunt’s troublemaking nature intensified after leaving the Gu family’s direct control. To make matters worse, the man she married wasn’t any good either; the two of them essentially fueled each other’s fires.

Since childhood, what Gu Su saw most often were arguments between her parents. Her mother accused her father of always cleaning up his sister’s messes.

Gu Su knew many people looked down on this aunt. But she felt it was nothing; the aunt wasn’t a lecher, didn’t harm other women, and didn’t break the law—at most, she just loved spending money.

She was a thousand times better than those playboys who did evil deeds. But it seemed this society was always stricter in its views of women.

Until, time and again, everyone’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Finally, they discovered that this aunt, who was always causing trouble, was not a biological child of their family—she had been swapped at birth.

At this thought, Gu Su pressed her hand to her forehead and sighed.

“Damn ‘heredity theory’.”

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