I Heard That I am a HeartBreaker - Chapter 82

After Qiu Shuang finished speaking, she fell into silence. In this world, only sincerity is the most difficult to obtain and the most precious, yet it is also the most rarely seen.

Sometimes, Qiu Shuang didn’t understand—was it because an experience was unforgettable that sincerity was born, or was it that the heavens were blind, stubbornly refusing to let one sincere heart meet another?

All the answers, along with that voice that would never wait under the dim yellow streetlight, the belated apologies, the fragile gazes, and the guilt felt during nightly fantasies, would never see the light of day again.

Qi Sijiao was not a child, nor was she illiterate or unable to understand human speech. How could she not know what sincerity was? But could she actually obtain it?

As it turned out, Qi Sijiao couldn’t do it. She couldn’t even find where her own heart was, so how could she take it out and give it to someone else?

What should one do if they truly didn’t have it? Bow one’s head and admit fault? It wasn’t impossible, but how could Qi Sijiao simply lower her head?

Even though in her heart she liked Qiu Shuang and was willing to put her on a pedestal, it didn’t mean Qi Sijiao was willing to yield. In a relationship, the person who is willing to yield is always the one who bears an excessive amount of guilt.

Qi Sijiao didn’t want to be that person. Humans have an innate potential to avoid risk and a stress response to match; no one is willing to inherit such a loathsome identity, and no one is willing to admit defeat.

Yet, she was forced to inherit this identity, because only by doing so did Qi Sijiao have even a glimmer of a possibility of winning the other person over.

A sliver of fantasy had once arisen in her heart, because she always felt that a person as gentle as water must surely be willing to yield and tolerate others.

She thought that if they were really together in the future, Qiu Shuang would probably indulge her in every way. But reality proved that even if a fierce storm blew, Qiu Shuang was never a person willing to lower her head, nor would she ever bend her waist because of any tactic or scheme.

If the other person had stayed like that forever, how wonderful would that have been? Qi Sijiao didn’t understand what was so good about Chen Wanjun. Why did it have to be her?

Chen Wanjun had seen the way Qiu Shuang truly bent her waist, whereas Qi Sijiao had not even heard the other woman’s stories.

However, simply from the fact that Qiu Shuang did not visibly show displeasure or cut ties when Chen Wanjun pestered her again after being rejected, Qi Sijiao understood the so-called pain of true sincerity.

If only Qiu Shuang didn’t like Chen Wanjun, Qi Sijiao would rather the other person be cold and violent and cut ties directly; she wouldn’t care if she herself became the heir to that kind of identity or possibility.

She simply wished for Qiu Shuang to sever ties with everyone and only have a connection with her. But Qi Sijiao also couldn’t change the fact that if Qiu Shuang were truly that kind of person, she would have had no chance at all long ago.

Those who are attracted by something are destined to be trapped by it. Qi Sijiao was grateful for the other’s tolerance, yet she also hated it.

She disliked this painful feeling, but this was the path she had chosen for herself. If she didn’t walk it this way, she would never reach the end. Qi Sijiao deluded herself into thinking she could change the other person, but the other person was like a monolith.

So, she could only change herself. She didn’t know if this was good or right; judging by her past feelings, Qi Sijiao now felt like a dog begging for food, praying that the other person would give her a sliver of warmth and sustenance.

Yet the other person’s occasional coldness reminded her of the true reality.

If she chose to be a dog, then she could only be a dog. A dog will not become a lover, will not become a romantic partner, and will not become a life companion. It can only be a pet for leisure or a loyal comrade. Qi Sijiao didn’t want that kind of relationship, but it seemed being a dog was all she could do.

A loyal dog must understand its position, stay in its place, and occasionally act cute to get what it wants.

But she couldn’t help but jump around. Qi Sijiao wanted to scream: I am a person! I am a person pursuing you! An equal person just like you! Why do you look at me this way? But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t scream it out, because she was the one who had bent her own waist. She wanted to make the other person bow, to domesticate the other person, but in the end, the only one domesticated was herself.

All of this was her own doing. She had thrown herself into a so-called jar of honey, when in reality, it was just cold glue.

“What is sincerity? I don’t think I have any.”

Qi Sijiao thought about her apprehensive mood as she stood at Qiu Shuang’s door. She was somewhat terrified because she was an unacknowledged dog. She longed for the other person to put a collar on her and show her off to the whole world, but she knew she had nothing. She could only shamelessly wag her tail and press close, as if by sticking intimately to the other person’s side, she would be recognized as a “house pet.”

Like the first time she went to the other person’s house and saw a Qiu Shuang whose domain and demeanor were completely different from usual. Qi Sijiao wanted to touch that sliver of warmth, yet feared being completely pushed away.

She could no longer see clearly what she wanted. To her, the other person seemed like the high, untouchable moon in the sky, and also like a doll in a glass display case she had longed for as a child.

What happens after scooping for the moon in the water and catching only a reflection? What happens after buying the exquisite doll and bringing it home? Either one becomes a lunatic, or the other is discarded.

It seemed there were only these two tragic endings, and looking at the current situation, which one had Qi Sijiao obtained? Clearly the former. She desperately tried to scoop up that sliver of a reflection, only to fall headfirst into a hopeless pool and eventually drown. Such was the fate of a stray dog.

In the end, what the loudly proclaimed “sweet love” desired was nothing more than the power to control someone else. Qi Sijiao wanted to control the other, and the other didn’t want to be controlled, so they couldn’t be together. She changed her strategy and wanted Qiu Shuang to control her, but the other person didn’t want that either; hence, this was the result.

Yet in true love, there aren’t so many distinctions of who is on top or bottom, left or right. It is nothing more than equal interaction, the touching of souls, and tears of moved emotion.

Those who make problems increasingly complex are destined to be unable to walk a path to its end. She would have to turn many corners on this road, might even be overtaken by others, or break down and cry.

But she could only keep moving forward. Only when she let go of this obsession could she sail back to her own heart.

“I have no way to explain these things to you. So-called sincerity is what you yourself want, what you expect to get; if you want the other person to give it to you, then you have to give it back yourself.”

This was Qiu Shuang’s philosophy. There isn’t that much fairness and equality in human emotions because it isn’t as simple and crude as selling goods—money and goods cleared.

Sometimes what you give the other person isn’t what they want. The logic of $1 + 1 = 2$ never applies.

Sometimes people have to feel their way through many times before finding the final end. In the past, when Qiu Shuang was with Chen Wanjun, she also took many detours, but those detours weren’t pure, because the two of them weren’t very pure at that time either.

Qiu Shuang believed she wasn’t actually a good person. Her desire to be with Chen Wanjun was actually just a matter of physical attraction combined with a tiny bit of touched emotion and supportive strength—as if having a goal would allow her to endure a very painful and difficult period.

As it turned out, she really succeeded. After Qiu Shuang thought and acted this way, things did seem a bit lighter.

When people cannot save themselves, they always look for external strength. But the one who can truly make you stand up is always yourself.

Those so-called hands outside might also be the ones to press you down again.

She indulged in those false sweetnesses, treating violent gazes and coldness as sweet traps, as if she could coax herself through those difficult days that way.

But what she sought was what she hated. Perhaps Qiu Shuang couldn’t see herself clearly or was addicted to it; she was ill herself.

The so-called “harbor of love” was actually a straitjacket, binding her tightly there. The focus of her illness was always screaming in fragility, seemingly longing to see the light of day again, but the illness itself was an error, and the line between love and hate was only natural.

“Is that so? Then I hope I can possess sincerity as well.”

After hearing Qi Sijiao’s answer, Qiu Shuang didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to advise the other person to stop this helpless behavior, because the other person’s current situation was just like her own—except Qiu Shuang thought the other person was far less clever than her and far less brave than Chen Wanjun. An “in-between” result only leads to pain.

Qiu Shuang thought she should change the subject and direct the other person’s attention to something else; that way, she might not be so sad.

“It might sound a bit funny, but in years past, I always felt I was an unattractive and unlikable person. Now that I think about it, why did I waste so much time thinking about such useless things?”

“I think if a person can speak bloody and ugly words, their inner heart must be as cold as their speech. There might be a discrepancy between the inside and outside, but at least the horror on the surface cannot be hidden.”

After saying this, Qiu Shuang’s mood became somewhat unpleasant. She thought of a certain someone and the events of her current life again. Sometimes these things were truly incomprehensible.

Qiu Shuang sometimes wondered if the heavens were working against her. The things she wanted, she couldn’t get; the things she wanted to do, she couldn’t continue.

She had to look for new opportunities. Thinking of this, Qiu Shuang’s eyes darkened.

New opportunities would come again. She wouldn’t give up easily. No matter what, she had to resolve all these matters before graduation.

Qi Sijiao had been sinking into a bad mood, but hearing Qiu Shuang say this, she quickly picked up the conversation.

She knew what the other person was doing—trying to change the subject to make her a bit happier. Regardless, Qi Sijiao thought the other person was truly a gentle soul, and she was very grateful to Qiu Shuang.

At least, from beginning to end, the other person hadn’t completely torn away her dignity; she even helped her save face, occasionally redeeming Qi Sijiao’s scarce honor.

“Yes, sometimes people cannot hide their essence. Despite ten thousand disguises, there are always flaws in speech and behavior. And those who aren’t even willing to disguise their speech and behavior are often even worse than what they show.”

Qi Sijiao felt a bit embarrassed after saying this. She didn’t dare say more because she was subtly taking a jab at Xin Zhu.

After all, among these people, no one could beat her when it came to surface-level politeness. Xin Zhu’s “tea-infused” words and so-called hospitable, passionate, and decent etiquette were a combination punch that no one could withstand.

Hearing her words, Qiu Shuang couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, you two really leave me scratching my head.”

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