I Heard That I am a HeartBreaker - Chapter 68

Sometimes Lu Chen didn’t understand why human emotions were always so complicated. It was just as she perceived it: the relationship between Qiu Shuang and her mother was strained, yet they always yearned to embrace one another, only to end up bloodied and bruised by each other’s thorns.

Looking at Qiu Shuang’s pale face, Lu Chen didn’t know what to say. Should she tell her, Yes, she loves you very much and cares about you deeply? But she couldn’t say it. Such words were as light as feathers, yet they could weigh on a person’s heart like Mount Tai.

Would that be equivalent to accusing the other person of being insensitive?

“Lu Chen, why do you think people love in such strange ways? They can’t even hate sincerely; they can only exist in a gray, awkward middle ground, torturing each other until the day they die.”

“Shuangshuang, I don’t know why either.”

Lu Chen didn’t have the answer. If she did, she thought she could be like those bold people who stand before their beloved and pour out the love in their hearts. But Lu Chen couldn’t.

Perhaps she was even less capable than Chen Wanjun. Even if what Chen Wanjun received wasn’t necessarily good, at least she had the courage to take that step. Lu Chen, however, was afraid.

Two cowardly, timid people shrinking into their shells.

Lu Chen didn’t understand why she was so strange. Just as she used to wonder why people couldn’t simply love boldly, it wasn’t until later that she understood.

She could clearly stand by the other person’s side, help her, and be her friend, yet she didn’t dare speak of the most crucial thing.

From start to finish, Qiu Shuang only ever saw her as a friend, didn’t she? If she were to confess now, in the other’s eyes, it would likely just be adding to the chaos.

Qiu Shuang was trapped deep in the vortex of so-called love. If Lu Chen—the one who occupied the “superior” position in their friendship, the one who always provided value and was the “creditor” of favors—suddenly said she was in love with her, she imagined Qiu Shuang wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Because as friends, they were more or less equals. But once emotion transformed into romantic love, the dynamic between them would inevitably lead to conflict.

Lu Chen felt she might not be a “sincere” lover because she didn’t fully understand everything about Qiu Shuang’s past. She only knew a little bit of her, but perhaps that little bit was enough to help her, to let her do the things she wanted to do as much as possible.

Qiu Shuang was only suited for two types of people. One type was as passionate as fire, someone who could forcibly clear away everything around them. Chen Wanjun was that kind of person, which was why Qiu Shuang would like someone like that. But the tragedy was that the other party didn’t want to participate in this adventure.

And Qiu Shuang had only been brave this one time in her life.

But the result didn’t seem to be a good one. Lu Chen was not someone skilled at making people like her; she simply wanted to be someone the other could lean on. Whether Qiu Shuang’s reliance on her was love or just simple dependency didn’t matter anymore. As long as she could stay by her side, it was enough.

“I don’t understand. Why am I liked? Is it because of my face?”

Growing up, Qiu Shuang knew she was a beautiful girl. This realization had begun in her childhood, starting with the inexplicable malice and the equally inexplicable kindness she received.

Beauty is a poison. Qiu Shuang had been betrayed and she had been celebrated. It might sound cruel to say, but people who are average in everything simply become invisible “wallflowers.”

Qiu Shuang didn’t like her face; she didn’t like those so-called gifts. Sometimes she thought that perhaps she was just too “melodramatic,” which made it impossible for her to accept the random adoration of others.

Qiu Shuang feared that the other person only liked this beautiful shell and didn’t like the real her. She knew all too well that beneath the beautiful skin was a terrifying, empty, and cold person.

She was sensitive and suspicious, always harboring dark thoughts. A fickle person like her would surely be abandoned again once others got to know her, right? Qiu Shuang truly couldn’t handle being abandoned again. She craved for someone to choose her steadfastly, but at the same time, she held an even more terrifying viewpoint: Can I stay beautiful forever?

Qiu Shuang thought she couldn’t do it at all. No one can stay beautiful forever. Those who compete for favor based on appearance will eventually age.

Would the remaining essence attract anyone else? Qiu Shuang felt she couldn’t do that either. Perhaps it was the long-term “suppression education” or the despair of one sudden blow after another.

Qiu Shuang felt she wasn’t someone who could make people stay. It was just like in junior high and high school—those who had inexplicably just become her friends would inexplicably distance themselves from her.

She was far from being the one who gets to choose. As soon as she revealed a tiny bit of her inner self to someone, they would turn and leave.

She really was a terrible person.

Actually, no one had ever truly asked her about it. Thinking of this, Qiu Shuang felt like she was about to lose her breath.

She wanted to cry, but she felt she was being too dramatic. Why was she always crying? Could tears solve any problems?

They solved nothing. They only invited frequent irritation. Just as the past had passed, she was hurt again and again; what lay in the middle wasn’t a warm embrace, but accusation after accusation.

When Qiu Shuang didn’t know what to say, she decided to stay silent. In the eyes of others, she had actually received a lot. After all, regarding her mother back then, no matter when or where, all she got was nagging and complaining—wasn’t that “good” enough?

She could only blame herself. Blame herself for not being strong enough, blame herself for having no ability, and blame herself for being unable to keep anyone.

“Lu Chen, am I a very bad person?”

“Qiu Shuang, you are a very good person. That’s why we’ve always stayed by your side, isn’t it?”

“It’s not. Everyone who becomes my friend eventually distances themselves from me for no reason. Only you guys are still here because you are very tolerant and patient with me, aren’t you?”

“Why would you say that?”

Lu Chen didn’t understand why Qiu Shuang said that. When she first met her in high school, she respected the other’s talent and sincerely thought she was very beautiful.

When it came to making friends, Lu Chen never thought too much about it. Perhaps it was her own talent?

She felt that having a few friends was enough; other classmates could just be nodding acquaintances.

After all, those attracted by the “beauty” and “top student” aura would soon forget the other person because of her lack of initiative—even though they should understand that since they were the ones who sought her out, they should be the more proactive ones.

Lu Chen thought she should contact those two people she didn’t like very much and ask what exactly had happened to Qiu Shuang in private during their high school days.

Qiu Shuang used to hate everyone who got close to her because they would all leave. As for Song Ya’s words, she wanted to ignore those questions, but Song Ya would tell her over and over again:

“Qiu Shuang, you’re too strange. I’m the only one who can put up with you.”

Only Song Ya and Chen Wanjun? Maybe it was because they were the ones with problems.

“Weak and incompetent, it’s like it’s your very nature.”

The other party’s repeated comments were like a secondary solidification for Qiu Shuang. She accepted the evaluation, or rather, her world was so narrow that she could only hear that one voice.

And others never cared that this beautiful flower was being kept in a cage and was on the verge of collapse.

But Qiu Shuang had never been weary of it. Although to others those words sounded hurtful, to her, that person was the only one who responded to her dying plea for help.

Even if the person responding wasn’t that gentle or kind—even if she was a cold, “spoiled rich girl”—at least in the long nights, she finally heard a voice.

There wasn’t much to do in the small county town. After confirming that Qiu Shuang had checked out of the hotel, Lu Chen, still worried, took her to the hospital.

Qiu Shuang was glad that although her mind wasn’t very clear, she at least remembered to bring her ID and other essentials.

After the hospital check-up, the doctor determined it might be due to staying up late or other reasons, leading to malnutrition and a drop in immunity, which caused a bacterial infection and a high fever.

It was almost the New Year, and the hospital looked quite empty. Most patients in the inpatient department had gone home for the holidays. Qiu Shuang sat on the bench; it had been a long time since she had been to a hospital.

The only thing that made her happy was that her body was “healthy.” Even though she occasionally suffered from anorexia and vomiting, total exhaustion, and an inability to function, she had never cared.

After all, saying this out loud was a bit sad—or perhaps a bit of a joke to those with mental illness—but sometimes it really is painful.

Qiu Shuang couldn’t tell if she was suffering because her body was sick or because her mind was sick.

Was this pain a new illness, or was it the somatization and side effects of her mental health issues? She could never distinguish between them, so she just categorized everything under “mental illness.”

At least that way she could save on medicine, avoid going to the hospital, and save a bit of money. Qiu Shuang’s “little treasury” was actually not small at all, but she still desperately tried to accumulate more.

She didn’t have any desires or things she wanted to buy, so she wanted to save the money to prepare for postgraduate entrance exams. Although her family was happy she got into university, they weren’t supportive of graduate school.

In their eyes, if a girl studies for a master’s degree after graduation, she is “delaying” herself. Once a person gets older, they are no longer “valuable.”

Qiu Shuang had already saved over 10,000 yuan. She had to keep working hard to save, striving for the prep period and to get into a good university. With a goal, perhaps things would get better.

“There are major issues with your diet. You need to eat regularly, otherwise your stomach problems will flare up again.”

Hearing the doctor say this, Qiu Shuang wasn’t surprised. In high school, for the sake of convenience, she would often eat breakfast haphazardly. Lunch and dinner were even worse; because there wasn’t enough break time, she would rush back and forth for a few minutes and grab a few bites. Her stomach had always been bad.

And often at those times, after she got home, her parents would supervise her eating. So, sometimes Qiu Shuang really couldn’t handle this “perverted” kind of fragmentation.

She would rather her family always be bad to her, or always be good to her, rather than this. Whenever it happened, she would comfort herself: It’s okay, it’ll be over soon.

“Why don’t you eat properly?”

Lu Chen wanted the answer even more than Qiu Shuang did. Although she knew she didn’t really have the standing to ask, in the end, based on their friendship, she posed this “soul-searching” question to the other.

And all Qiu Shuang could give her was silence, or perhaps she was contemplating a lie.

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