I Heard That I am a HeartBreaker - Chapter 89

Qiu Shuang clenched her fists. She was reflecting on every moment of the past, wondering: Why?

Why was this person Lu Chen? Would anyone else not have been better? Even if it were Chen Wanjun or Song Ya—no matter who it was, Qiu Shuang could have accepted it.

But she felt as if something inside her heart had shattered. She had regarded him as the most upright person in her life. He was the one who had led her out of her confusion and built up her love for learning, always helping her without a second thought.

Qiu Shuang had felt that Lu Chen was the best person in the world, that no one could be better than him, as he always appeared exactly when she needed help the most.

Thinking about it now, the fact that Lu Chen could always show up at her moments of greatest need was likely not just a matter of simple fate. What he had done in the dark corners was, for now, unknown.

“Alright, and then? Is there anything else sensational?”

Xin Zhu was somewhat shocked to see Qiu Shuang regain her composure so quickly after a brief lapse. She then began to search for dirt on the others; the more she looked, the more laughable she found these people to be.

“Wow. If I hadn’t looked for this myself, I probably wouldn’t have known they were doing so much behind your back, Senior. The company where you interned belongs to the Club President. He used that as an excuse to live with you. You rented together, but the house is actually under Gu Lingxi’s name.”

“It seems the President really put in a lot of effort back then to cohabitate with you. And your most important best friend seems to have close ties with others, wanting to form an alliance with your first love to lock you up. As for Gu Lingxi, she bought a lot of bad things online—Senior, you definitely wouldn’t want to know what they are.”

Xin Zhu spoke while observing Qiu Shuang’s expression. She expected her to break down, but Qiu Shuang maintained a look of cold indifference.

“Senior, your psychological resilience is better than I imagined. I thought you would be very angry. Those people deceived you, and their motives toward you seem very impure.”

Qiu Shuang interrupted her “spellcasting.”

“So, what else do you want to say? I’ve known for a long time that you are all bastards. I just didn’t expect you could play it to this extent. I don’t understand what you all like about me. Is there something about me so worth liking? Why are every single one of you like this? I’ve tried so hard to avoid crowds.”

Qiu Shuang closed her eyes.

“And yet you all still latch onto me. I always thought you wanted to be my friends, but sometimes it’s a mysterious kind of ‘love.’ Is your love sincere or worthy? Not at all. I think it’s just to prove your own charm.”

Qiu Shuang spoke these words flatly. To be honest, she thought she would cry. She felt as though tears were falling, but it was just sweat. In reality, when encountering such things, Qiu Shuang still couldn’t help but feel sad. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with her; she treated everyone genuinely and helped everyone enthusiastically. So what exactly did she do wrong?

Others liked Qiu Shuang because they said she was a good person, and she accepted that reason. But why pursue her in this manner?

She imagined no one would want to be pursued like this. Now, she was trapped in a room by this person, who was smugly recounting those disgusting crimes.

And Qiu Shuang already knew they were all bastards. Just because the world was full of bastards, did she have to pick one from among them?

“Is your plan fun? I won’t choose a ‘one-point’ person just because the world is full of ‘zeroes.’ I will always want that 100-point person, otherwise, I’d rather have nothing at all.”

“I didn’t say all this to make you think highly of me, Senior. I admit I’m a bastard, but so are they. I just want you to understand what kind of people are surrounding you. As for the 100 points—thanks, but perhaps what I’m about to say is a bit desperate: Do you really think you’ll meet anyone better than them? Or rather, do you think they would allow anyone else to enter this circle of encirclement?”

“You can observe carefully. Aside from the first love who studied with you, everyone else has a decent status—except me. I seem to be an ordinary person, but Senior, don’t forget, I am alone. I can pay any price.”

“If you don’t want to choose from among us and choose someone else instead, I will kill them.”

Qiu Shuang knew Xin Zhu was a pervert, but she truly hadn’t expected the extent of it to far exceed her imagination. She looked at the other person in disbelief.

“Crazy… you are all simply lunatics!”

Xin Zhu watched Qiu Shuang hit her with a pillow and smiled. Indeed, she was kind-hearted; even to this extent, she didn’t think of killing her. At least in Xin Zhu’s perception, that was just how Qiu Shuang was.

What a pity. If a person isn’t ruthless, they will always be the one eaten. So, Senior is this soft, waiting to be eaten by me.

Xin Zhu leaned in, gazing at Qiu Shuang, and then devoutly left a kiss on her hand.

“This is the promise between us, Senior. I will never let you go. You can think of me as a pervert. I hope you will come to me of your own accord. As for what specific method I’ll use, you don’t need to guess—in short, it won’t be a pleasant one.”

After saying this, Xin Zhu turned and left. In the empty room, only Qiu Shuang remained in a daze. How could she escape from the pursuit of this pack of perverted lunatics?

Thinking of this, Qiu Shuang smiled. Her adaptability was seemingly very strong. She thought she would collapse or scream, but once that anger flowed out, it didn’t seem like a very big deal.

She was always like this—deeply sad one moment, and withdrawing from that emotion the next. Qiu Shuang knew this was also a type of illness, and doctors did not recommend letting it persist. But Qiu Shuang felt this was fine; it saved her from being sad forever.

“What should I do?”

Qiu Shuang hugged her legs and began to think seriously. Song Ya seemed easier to deal with; after all, she had done those things to her, so she must feel enough guilt. Chen Wanjun’s side seemed a bit abnormal, but with some effort, she could be maneuvered. Thinking of this, Qiu Shuang felt a sense of panic in her heart.

What she had to do was maneuver between these people, escape, and seek a new life. She must not stay with them; she had to leave this so-called “suffocating love.”

“Lu Chen… why did you treat me like this?”

Though Qiu Shuang didn’t want to admit it, the fact remained: there was always a special place in her heart for him. She regarded him as a soulmate, her most important friend. She always felt they could maintain this bond for a lifetime. And now? This “good friend” had been very quick to play tricks on her.

Qiu Shuang smiled. She should have guessed it long ago—his uncontrollable gaze. A relationship of secret unrequited love is like fire; could the person beside it really not feel the warmth?

But perhaps all of this was the result of Qiu Shuang’s own development. She seemed to have already fallen in love with this feeling of self-torment. Sinking deep into the vortex of emotional sorrow, the feeling of pain allowed her to feel alive.

Thinking of this, Qiu Shuang raised her arm and unfastened her watch. On her wrist was a shallow scar. The scar wasn’t very long, but it was very lethal; it was a lingering, old wound stretching across her heart.

From a very young age, Qiu Shuang had understood a simple truth: she might have been born a lunatic.

Qiu Shuang matured very early. While other children were forming cliques, she always wandered alone. It might sound excessive to say, but she felt she had a devil’s soul and an overly tender heart. When competing with other children, Qiu Shuang would always wonder how delightful it would feel to tear open their skin.

The first time she fell and was injured, she didn’t feel pain, but excitement. Blood is such a beautiful color in this world, but once it dries, it becomes incredibly ugly. If fresh blood could truly suppress the flow of madness, what a wonderful thing that would be. Qiu Shuang knew then: here, she was broken.

During her middle school years, under intense pressure, Qiu Shuang desperately thought of death. Someone like her, who was meaningless to society and constantly fantasized about terrible things, should just die.

Qiu Shuang succeeded, but only halfway.

After seeing the devastated looks in her parents’ eyes, she knew she had been saved. From then on, Qiu Shuang smiled again and distanced herself from people. She was jealous, craving for everyone to fix their eyes on her; she wanted everyone to become her nourishment, but that was impossible.

Qiu Shuang was practicing restraint. It was her human nature—like once she made a friend and sensed she was relying on them, or couldn’t help but relax and hand over the softest part of her inner self to them, she knew she had erred again. She should look for the next person, like a machine always waiting for formatting to arrive.

Because she was attached to certain things, she gave them up. Because she liked walking with people, she chose to travel. Because she loved talking with people, she chose to shut her mouth.

She was working hard to domesticate herself, twisting herself until she no longer resembled a human, all to carry the weight of those past pains. In truth, Qiu Shuang could feel her soul dying while her physical body was also perishing; the small spark of her soul’s prosperity made her choose the former.

Qiu Shuang would never know which would reach the end of her life first: sudden death and disease, or bright, radiant beauty.

No one likes a bad child, and no one likes a lunatic; that is human nature.

Qiu Shuang felt that the most glorious thing she had ever done was imitating. She was very good at immersing herself in an environment, like a chameleon. She made herself kind, gentle, and generous. When others mentioned her, she might be insignificant, but everyone knew who she was and could say that although she was reclusive, she was a decent person.

Qiu Shuang had no interest in seeing a doctor or getting a diagnosis. After all, once a label like that was placed on someone like her, she feared she would never be able to turn her life around in this lifetime.

To be honest, Qiu Shuang didn’t know what was going on in the minds of these perverts, nor did she understand why they were obsessed with her. She even felt a sense of gleeful anticipation: when those who allegedly loved her “gentle and generous” self discovered the secrets deep in her heart, would they still love her? Or would they feel they had met their match?

Thinking of this, Qiu Shuang raised her hand. Even without windows, under the light on the desk, the glow could penetrate her flesh to reveal the faint outline of her veins. Qiu Shuang loved this the most.

“If that’s the case, then let us all be destroyed together.”

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