I Heard That I am a HeartBreaker - Chapter 64

Qiu Shuang felt that recently had truly been a “season of many troubles.” Before she could even adjust back to a good state of mind, Song Ya gave her another massive shock.

“Anyway, that’s how things are.”

Listening to how a tiny piece of clothing had entangled so many people—even involving a so-called “real and fake heiress” plot—Qiu Shuang felt her head throbbing for a moment.

“Then what should be done? Are they going to bring the person over? But…”

Qiu Shuang didn’t finish her sentence, but her meaning was clear. If they were young, it would be fine, but both daughters were already adults. What about the years of pulling and pushing in between? What about the alliances between the corporate groups?

Song Ya didn’t want to deal with this pile of mess at all. What happened to the Gu family had nothing to do with her. If things went well, she wouldn’t get a share; if things went badly, she’d still be blamed.

“I really didn’t expect that for the sake of a so-called ‘First Place,’ she was prepared to pit both of us…”

Hearing Song Ya say this, Qiu Shuang felt a wave of disgust. She looked down most on people like that—those who used sickening tactics because they lacked genuine strength.

Limbs are vital to a dancer. For the opponent to be that ruthless… fortunately, an accident had occurred in the middle, or else the consequences would have been unthinkable.

Regarding Tang Yulin, Qiu Shuang only knew a little—mostly that she was an orphan who had worked her way up to this point. She couldn’t help but feel deeply moved.

“How should this matter be handled? Luckily, Junior Bu Ping has a good personality and gave a timely warning. Otherwise, the trouble would have been immense.”

Qiu Shuang couldn’t imagine the scene if headlines like “Bourgeoisie Oppressing the Commoners” or “Wealthy Scions Playing Power Games” started trending.

“Who knows what she’s thinking? I don’t know if the Gu family will protect her or not, but I, Song Ya, am going to fight Gu Xue to the bitter end. I’ll make her realize the price of provoking me…”

In the café, Qiu Shuang frowned as she listened to Song Ya’s passionate venting while “eating melons” (gossiping). Although the gossip became more interesting as it went on, a sliver of irritation stirred in her heart. How could Song Ya’s luck be this good? She was wealthy before, and now, she had become even wealthier.

Qiu Shuang was truly fed up.

In a dark corner not far away, a pair of eyes watched the two of them intently. Xin Zhu watched them talk incessantly and fell into silence. It seemed her Senior sister enjoyed gossip; she noted this down. Next time, she would find similar interesting things to chat about with Qiu Shuang.

As for Song Ya—that idiot with an upstart’s brain—Xin Zhu didn’t care about her at all. And Gu Lingxi was essentially finished; she had self-destructed after being lightly provoked.

Xin Zhu didn’t believe her Senior sister could maintain a good friendship with a woman who harbored “unseemly” thoughts toward her.

Qi Sijiao was even less worth mentioning—she had played herself into a corner. It was laughable, really, using suicide to threaten the Senior sister. Xin Zhu truly wanted to crack open the other woman’s head to see what was inside.

That tactic isn’t that effective. Xin Zhu had long ago dug up Chen Wanjun’s medical records from the infirmary. Chen was the “First Love/White Moonlight”; using that move might squeeze out a bit of guilt from the Senior sister. But when a psychopath like Qi Sijiao used it, it would only make the Senior sister view her as a freak.

Xin Zhu snapped photos while contemplating. She needed to update her persona. That way, the Senior sister would realize that she was the best choice.

Xin Zhu knew she might be inferior to them in certain aspects, but what real difference was there between them? They were all the same.

Beyond the warmth of romance and the physical affection of flesh and blood, they were all equally low-class wretches. Therefore, they should either fight for her together or die together.

Xin Zhu would never allow them to have Qiu Shuang. The one who remained until the very end would definitely be her…

Along with her studies, the semester was drawing to a close. Qiu Shuang didn’t know how the aftermath developed; she only knew that the trending searches online were constant.

She checked them briefly and felt relieved only when she saw that the Gu Group’s stock price hadn’t plummeted.

Facing Gu Lingxi’s renewed invitation for an internship, Qiu Shuang sighed and eventually declined politely.

On one hand, she had to go home for the New Year; on the other hand, in terms of interest and benefit, Qiu Shuang truly had nothing left to give. Constantly owing the other person would eventually lead to disaster, so it was better to refuse directly.

Qiu Shuang bid farewell to Gu Lingxi’s attempts to make her stay and finally met Song Ya at the airport before returning to her hometown. On the way home, Qiu Shuang lowered her head and sighed. She hated the New Year. She hated those annoying relatives. She hated those so-called secular decisions.

People often say that a child who returns home for a few days is a treasure, but a child who stays for a few months is a weed. Qiu Shuang agreed with this.

Sometimes, people discuss their families and complain about them, saying they love them—yet every single one of them places demands on you, even pushing you to the point of collapse.

When Qiu Shuang was first hurt and ran home, her hands were all scraped and raw. She was worried about “death” while simultaneously fearing ridicule. She went to her mother in a state of wretchedness, only to be met with:

“If there wasn’t something wrong with you, why wouldn’t she hit someone else? Why doesn’t she bully the other kids?”

From then on, a strange sound appeared in Qiu Shuang’s ears. She didn’t dare to interact with others, nor did she dare to have conflicts.

But a coward who only knows how to flee cannot hide the scent of blood from old wounds. Other bullies, smelling that blood, would soon entangle her. Thus, Qiu Shuang fell into a cycle of self-deception and self-loathing over and over again.

If she became friends with others, they would bully her. If she refused to be friends, she would be isolated. Qiu Shuang felt she was living in a terrifying, vicious circle.

Perhaps a girl who is beautiful and has excellent grades wouldn’t be bullied physically, but the cold violence, the patterns of speech, and the fear that perpetually weighed on her body like a devouring force followed her like a wicked curse.

She was almost there. Qiu Shuang watched the scenery outside the window rushing past, much like the things she wanted to discard.

She stopped replying to messages on her phone. This pure, natural time when she was alone was a freedom that allowed no intrusion from strangers.

Yet, she felt she had to maintain a disguise in front of everyone—the “good friend,” the “thoughtful senior or junior.”

But the only thing she truly wanted to do was stay in her room and think of her own whimsical thoughts.

Song Ya, Chen Wanjun, and Lu Chen had more or less accepted and adapted to Qiu Shuang’s habit of not replying to messages.

When they first met Qiu Shuang, everyone thought she was strange. Once you were in contact and together, there were endless topics to discuss. But once things moved back to the digital world, she would return to silence, like a cold stranger.

No one likes such a cold person. So, Qiu Shuang accepted people walking into and out of her life one by one. No one could obtain the key to the deepest, most hidden parts of her heart—except Lu Chen.

The person who could always solve all her problems, who faced her with the most peaceful attitude regardless of the situation.

Between two people, each should walk 100 steps toward the other. But Lu Chen was always willing to walk 100 steps for Qiu Shuang, then 200… she would never stop.

Qiu Shuang had always regarded the other woman as the most important person in her life. If it weren’t for Lu Chen, Qiu Shuang couldn’t imagine what she would be doing now. Perhaps, following her own path of self-abandonment, she would have entered a mediocre school to escape Song Ya forever.

Qiu Shuang also hated people who lied for no reason, hated those inexplicable boys, hated her parents, hated school, and hated this world.

Sometimes, she felt she was truly mad. She searched for any place to lean on, accepting Song Ya’s control and, most importantly, the job.

After all, between friends, one must look at what emotional value is provided. If there are no interests involved, becoming a true friend to someone and receiving more and more affection only plunged her into a very heavy pressure.

Qiu Shuang felt she was so mediocre, so simple, without any merits—how could she bear the weight of so many people’s affection?

She should just live a life of solitude.

Qi Sijiao was relentless, sending messages without fail. Occasionally, Qiu Shuang would reply with one message out of politeness. But by the time the message was sent, Qiu Shuang would fall back into silence. Why must it be like this? She didn’t like the other person; why did she have to please them?

Late at night, Qiu Shuang lay in bed lost in thought. Why were the “normal people” outside so frantic?

Before Qiu Shuang could figure out the answer, the sound of things being smashed came from the living room again—inevitably over some trivial, petty matter.

Qiu Shuang turned over, staring blankly out the window. Without a doubt, someone would be coming in soon.

Before long, her bedroom door was pushed open. It was her mother. Her mother, face covered in tears, helped Qiu Shuang sit up.

It was like this again. The woman began to wail about the unhappiness of her marriage and the exhaustion of all these years. What could Qiu Shuang do?

She had tried advising them to get a divorce thousands of times. Regardless, they would be a “happy and beautiful” couple again the next day.

“Oh.”

Qiu Shuang didn’t want to hear those so-called grievances. She just wanted to sleep now. Or rather, it was hard for her to respond. As expected, her mother, as usual, exploded like a boiling pot.

Even the sharpest, most terrifying things in the world could not describe how she felt right now. No matter how many times this repeated, the next morning they would be a “model couple” again, as if Qiu Shuang, caught in the middle, was the only person in the world who shouldn’t have been born.

But then, who could ask—or who could tell her—if she had ever wished to come into this world?

There was no love between them. They had simply followed their parents’ arrangements and come together. Their completely incompatible personalities and spending habits caused them to clash violently. Or perhaps, maybe they were both good people?

Qiu Shuang knew her mother felt sorry for the elderly grandparents downstairs who scavenged through trash, so she would always bundle up the cardboard and waste at home and leave it where they could find it, just to save them a bit of effort.

They were both very good people; it just so happened that when they were together, everything became terrible.

But it didn’t matter. When the sun rose the next day, everything would return to the starting point. Everyone would carry on as usual, acting as if nothing had happened.

Perhaps Qiu Shuang should feel sad about those rigid remarks. But it didn’t matter. She knew that tomorrow morning, her mother would gently wake her at her door, acting as if nothing from tonight had ever happened, having prepared her favorite dishes and everything she wanted.

“Why be angry? You’ll still be together anyway.”

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