I Heard That I am a HeartBreaker - Chapter 77

The moment Qi Sijiao realized exactly what her Senior (Xuejie) was implying, she felt like she was genuinely going to faint. How could she and that woman ever be together? Their “types” clashed completely. Even if that weren’t a dealbreaker, Qi Sijiao had no intention of dating a literal psychopath.

It seemed that between women, not much was strictly required, but in terms of romance, there always seemed to be a need to determine who was more dominant. At least, that was how Qi Sijiao saw it.

The mere thought of being with the other party made Qi Sijiao feel physically nauseous. That so-called “cute girl” who used a sweet face to deceive everyone—she was utterly hypocritical.

Who knew how many women had been tricked by her, only to end up wanting to die when the breakup inevitably came.

This was actually Xin Zhu’s specialty. Qi Sijiao had to admit that much, even if she despised it. In Qi Sijiao’s world, a relationship required a beginning and an end; it shouldn’t involve deception, and breakups should be dignified—even if her own track record was currently zero.

Still, Qi Sijiao felt she was “higher level” than the other girl. She would never cause someone to lose their will to live, nor would she ever engage in messy, lingering attachments.

“Senior, it really hurts my heart to hear you say that. To be honest, just thinking about being with Xin Zhu makes me want to puke. It’s absolutely impossible for us to be together. Besides, her wanting to be with you is just to get back at me. When the time comes, she’ll treat you terribly just so she can brag to me that she’s better than I am.”

As she spoke, Qi Sijiao began to reflect on how the bad blood between them had started in the first place. They had attended the same high school. Although there wasn’t a cliché “School Beauty” or “School Prince” title, everyone knew who the influential figures in each grade were.

Only the most excellent, the most unique, or the most foolish people became known by the whole school. Qi Sijiao was glad she wasn’t the latter.

With her flamboyant personality and her distinct “short-haired girl” aesthetic, she was practically a household name in high school.

As for Xin Zhu, people naturally knew of her because of her excellent grades. Qi Sijiao had heard of her—a supposedly cute little girl—but back then, she hadn’t thought much of it.

After all, not everyone goes around viewing high achievers as their prey. The only thing that had piqued her curiosity was hearing that the other girl shared her orientation.

Humans are social creatures. While orientation isn’t a disease, it still wasn’t widely accepted by the public. When Qi Sijiao found out, she was thrilled, thinking she’d found a “kindred spirit” she could talk to. Instead, Xin Zhu had told her to get lost.

“I’m not familiar with you. If you come any closer, I’ll report you to the teacher for distracting me from my studies.”

To this day, Qi Sijiao didn’t understand what she had done wrong. She simply wanted to make a like-minded friend. Why was the other girl so hostile? However, Qi Sijiao was thick-skinned enough not to take it to heart.

She had happily gone off to do other things, ignoring the icy glare following her.

Xin Zhu was born knowing she was a jealous person. She envied many things: she envied how the other girl was healthier, more energetic, and better at attracting attention.

In contrast, all she seemed to have was a smart brain—aside from that, she felt like nothing. She hated her youthful face; though it wasn’t ugly (it was actually quite pretty), she hated it.

She hated being treated like a child, receiving strange favoritism, and having her opportunities to show her true self taken away. She hated everything.

Just like now—even if Xin Zhu liked a certain girl, she couldn’t say it. Because of her overly youthful face, people would always form a preconceived notion and treat her like a younger sister.

Indeed, many people were attracted to Xin Zhu, but they happened to be the “same type” as her, and she didn’t want anyone encroaching on her territory.

More importantly, those people might not have liked her at all; they just thought she looked like a child and sought a taboo thrill in “playing” with her.

Xin Zhu hated it all—hated everyone—especially her. She truly envied Qi Sijiao, and she was jealous of her. Why did that girl have the nerve to approach her? Was she trying to use Xin Zhu as a “green leaf” to make herself look better? Or did she have some filthy thoughts about her? That was even more disgusting.

The more Qi Sijiao thought about it, the less she understood. She couldn’t grasp the reason behind it, nor the targeted harassment that followed. During the latter half of high school, many girls had confessed their feelings to Qi Sijiao.

She had rejected them all, one by one, feeling the timing wasn’t right. Qi Sijiao didn’t want a partner who was shallow and only liked her face—even though she herself was a visual person.

Then, things started getting weird. Those girls she rejected were somehow attracted to the other party. At first, Qi Sijiao didn’t care, but soon, there were more and more heartbroken girls.

Consequently, Qi Sijiao observed the other girl for a while. Xin Zhu did have certain advantages; her face made it easy to lure people into her trap, tame them, and then heartlessly toss them aside.

Every girl who had ever liked Qi Sijiao was snatched away by her. Qi Sijiao just thought the girl was sick, but she didn’t say much; after all, they wouldn’t necessarily end up at the same university.

Who knew fate would have it this way? She had just barely made the cut to get into the same university as the other girl.

Maybe this was just competition between women? That was the only way Qi Sijiao could rationalize it. After all, she had noticed that the market for “cute girls” (femmes/0s) was actually quite small; she figured the other girl was using a “masquerading as a 1 (top) to trick people” method.

And short-haired girls were indeed more popular in the market. But that was just a fixed label. Qi Sijiao cut her hair short simply because she thought it looked good, not to achieve a specific effect.

It was hard to explain the phenomenon—almost like a biological drive or common human nature. As two people of the same gender and “type,” their different appearances naturally attracted different people.

Someone like Xin Zhu, who lacked a height advantage and had a “disadvantageous” face, naturally couldn’t attract people who were even more “submissive” than her. After all, from start to finish, she already looked like the perfect candidate for a vulnerable group.

“Hmm. So? Don’t tell me you two are competitors.”

Qiu Shuang truly didn’t understand. She couldn’t imagine things from Qi Sijiao’s perspective. For one, although she had been a lesbian for a long time, she had never interacted with the “market.” For another, in Qiu Shuang’s world, she probably didn’t understand why some people looked at labels first and the person they liked second, rather than finding the person they liked and then figuring the rest out.

“Well, Senior, you can understand it that way. In the mainstream market, I’m more popular than she is. Maybe that’s why she’s always targeted me.”

“She’s already hurt so many people. I don’t want you to become a name on her hunting list or a trophy for her to brag about later.”

After listening, Qiu Shuang still didn’t quite get it, but she had a rough idea of what was going on. In her mind, Xin Zhu was the “ceiling” for cute girls; her bright and enthusiastic personality was also very attractive. Why would she feel the need to steal from others?

Of course, she didn’t understand—because for some people, things only taste good if they are stolen. As for how to handle the “prize” once it’s won, or whether it’s worth keeping, that’s not something they bother thinking about.

“I think you have a logical fallacy in your thinking, Qi Sijiao. Even if she and I were ‘real,’ why does it have to be me who is her trophy? Why can’t she be mine?”

Qiu Shuang didn’t understand the words coming out of the other girl’s mouth, nor did she understand this mode of dating. She had once downloaded certain social apps, but once she realized she wasn’t on the same wavelength as the people there, she deleted them immediately and never logged back in.

She could grasp what Qi Sijiao was saying, but she simply didn’t accept or understand the concept. If Xin Zhu was a “player” with an extensive dating history, why would Qiu Shuang be “at a loss” or be considered a “trophy” if they were together?

Why couldn’t it be the other way around? Just because Qiu Shuang’s romantic history was simple and clean, did that mean she was destined to be the one who lost out? There were no rules stating that.

Qiu Shuang really couldn’t wrap her head around it. This was already a same-sex romance; why were people still copying and pasting the fixed templates of heterosexual relationships?

From Qi Sijiao’s attitude and their conversation, she could roughly guess what was happening. From the beginning, Qi Sijiao and Gu Lingxi were the same type of person. They both viewed themselves as the “male side” in a male-female romance model, completely overlooking the fact that the essence of this relationship was between people of the same gender.

And in love, there is no “you should do this” and “I should do that.” It should be about what “we” do together.

“Senior, I understand what you mean, but I won’t do that.”

Qi Sijiao understood Qiu Shuang’s point—she wanted a win-win, completely equal, and mutually caring relationship. But Qi Sijiao didn’t want that.

She wanted to take care of the other person with her whole heart. This relationship was something she was “begging” for; regardless of whether they ended up together, she felt she should be the one putting in more effort.

The human heart has a scale. Different people deserve different treatment. It’s like shopping: there are some things you are willing to buy at an expensive price, and other things you insist on haggling over repeatedly.

People are the same. If it were anyone else, Qi Sijiao would accept that theory. But with Qiu Shuang, she wouldn’t accept it at all. She felt the other woman deserved the absolute best—she deserved to be held in the palm of her hand and pampered.

Qiu Shuang looked at her, not knowing what to say. Her intention was to discourage her, to let her go back to her own life and pursue someone else, or do whatever she wanted.

Why had things turned out like this? Instead of being deterred, the other girl had evolved from a “pursuer” into something bordering on a “backup” or a “simp.”

Sometimes, Qiu Shuang really wanted to call the police.

“I hope we can be normal. Let’s just be ordinary friends and roommates, okay?”

Qi Sijiao felt the other woman was being far too cruel. How could she ask someone who was completely, hopelessly in love with her to be “just a friend”? That was too mean. Even though Qiu Shuang had emphasized it and rejected her already.

But Qi Sijiao always held onto unrealistic delusions. After all, the fact that Qiu Shuang didn’t have anyone else by her side proved she was pushing everyone away, not just her. They were all at the same starting line—why couldn’t she be the one to win?

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