Adopting Myself from the Young Heiress - Chapter 10

Yan Ciwei’s birthday fell in early April, about half a year before An Chixu’s.

Intelligent and precocious, An Chixu quickly came to see Yan Ciwei as an older sister after they became close.

During the spring semester of their senior year, at the most stressful time of the year, Yan Ciwei invited An Chixu to her secret birthday party.

She didn’t tell anyone else, not even her other three or five close friends. An Chixu was the only one to receive the uniquely crafted invitation.

Though they were no longer in the same study group, Yan Ciwei still visited An Chixu between classes.

An Chixu’s deskmate, ever discreet, would leave as soon as class ended, a routine they had grown accustomed to.

Yan Ciwei secretly slipped the handwritten invitation into An Chixu’s desk.

“What’s this mysterious thing?” An Chixu asked, still seated.

She beamed at Yan Ciwei’s arrival, ready to lean in close.

Yan Ciwei reached out, but before An Chixu could grasp her hand, she withdrew it.

An Chixu’s rosy cheeks now bore question marks, waiting for Yan Ciwei to explain.

“It’s a secret,” Yan Ciwei winked mischievously. Her other eye sparkled with mischief, instantly captivating An Chixu’s heart.

“Tuantuan,” Yan Ciwei whispered into An Chixu’s ear.

“Did you get me a gift?” She couldn’t resist revealing the surprise early.

An Chixu instantly understood what it was.

“Definitely! I started preparing last year,” An Chixu said, glancing at the calendar.

April 9th was a Saturday. Her mind had already wandered, causing her to lose focus during class and while working on assignments.

During a break in evening self-study, An Chixu secretly opened Yan Ciwei’s invitation.

Having already obtained permission from the dormitory supervisor, she followed Yan Ciwei back to her rented apartment on Saturday night.

“Tuantuan, I only invited you,” Yan Ciwei said, linking arms with An Chixu.

The campus was bustling with noise on Friday night, but as they walked along the dimly lit path, all the clamor faded behind them.

“I’m so happy,” the seventeen-year-old An Chixu murmured, not yet understanding the true nature of this joy.

She instinctively leaned closer to Yan Ciwei, who caught her in her arms.

Seeing her like this, Yan Ciwei hummed a cheerful tune.

An Chixu kicked small pebbles to keep time with the melody. The ten-minute walk seemed to vanish in an instant.

Entering the apartment, An Chixu’s body and mind completely relaxed.

The morning’s mock exam scores, the unfinished test paper, the memorization and transcription she needed to catch up on—all vanished without a trace.

It was as if the dormitory wasn’t her true home; Yan Ciwei’s rented apartment felt more like her real home.

They watched a horror movie together and ate the birthday cake Yan Ciwei had prepared in advance.

At midnight, the alarm hidden in the cream rang.

An Chixu threw herself into Yan Ciwei’s arms, pressing the scarf she had been knitting for over half a year into her embrace.

There was also a handwritten birthday card, paper-folded flowers…

An Chixu’s family didn’t care about her, depositing her living expenses onto her meal card each semester.

She had no spare money to buy gifts for the person she loved, offering only her sincere heart.

Yan Ciwei understood this perfectly.

She had never cared about An Chixu’s money; in fact, An Chixu’s lack of wealth was precisely what mattered most.

“Tuantuan, you’re so sweet,” Yan Ciwei said, unfazed by the spring heat and unbothered that the scarf was made from An Chixu’s old clothes. She wrapped it around her neck.

The vibrant red unexpectedly suited her, her skin glowing with a joyful flush.

“Didn’t they get you any gifts?” An Chixu asked, adjusting the scarf for Yan Ciwei. After only a moment, she was beaming again.

“Nope. Only my Tuantuan is this thoughtful,” Yan Ciwei replied, turning her head slightly.

Half a head taller than An Chixu, Yan Ciwei’s profile blocked the dim light from the living room.

They had kept the lights low for ambiance, and the room grew even darker as night deepened.

With Yan Ciwei blocking the only light source, the small nightlight flickering behind her cast her silhouette in stark relief, making her appear cold and menacing.

Her towering figure loomed ominously, like the ghost they had just seen.

Yet An Chixu could only see the smile in Yan Ciwei’s eyes.

If Yan Ciwei were a terrifying ghost, she would surely give An Chixu a hug.

That was how deeply An Chixu loved her then, clinging to Yan Ciwei’s kind words even in the pitch dark.

She didn’t know that Yan Ciwei valued her privacy and had never told anyone her birthday.

So, no matter the year or month, only An Chixu would give her gifts.

That night, An Chixu slept deeply.

Yan Ciwei, restless, woke several times, tossing and turning until she slipped into An Chixu’s dreams.

In her dream, An Chixu saw two months later, then five months later.

Their high school days were coming to an end. Would they still be this close in the future?

The next morning, An Chixu grabbed Yan Ciwei’s arm, stopping her from making breakfast.

“What’s wrong, Tuantuan?” Yan Ciwei asked, lying back down.

She blinked her tear-filled eyes, her movements a little stiff.

Anxious, An Chixu didn’t notice her odd behavior.

“We’re going to college soon,” An Chixu said, her voice hoarse.

“Yeah. The college entrance exams are in just two months,” Yan Ciwei replied, pulling her closer.

As they embraced tightly, Yan Ciwei lowered her lashes.

Just like in the dream… so soft.

“Don’t want to be apart from me?” Yan Ciwei always did this.

She could see through An Chixu’s anxiety with a single glance, gently lifting the fragile veil she struggled to maintain.

An Chixu only smelled Yan Ciwei’s jasmine scent. There was no pain in the process of shedding her mask.

She didn’t need to speak. Yan Ciwei would say everything she was thinking for her.

All she had to do was hold Yan Ciwei close, tilt her head back, and look at her with teary, reddened eyes.

Yan Ciwei gently stroked An Chixu’s head.

“Then we can apply to the same school.”

She tenderly caressed the frightened little cat, showing no mockery toward her vulnerability.

Understanding An Chixu’s fear, Yan Ciwei acted like a mature older sister, patiently coaxing her to voice her thoughts and arrive at a mutually beneficial conclusion.

“Same school, same major. We’ll likely be in the same class. Even if we’re not in the same dorm, we can move off-campus together.” Yan Ciwei lowered her head to gaze at her Tuantuan.

Like an elder sister, like a mother.

She was always the guiding light.

An Chixu was too embarrassed to tell her that she had once written an essay describing Yan Ciwei as her mother, calling her her eternal lighthouse, a fluorescent guiding thread.

An Chixu’s eyes curved into a smile.

When she was in tenth grade, her target university was within the province.

She wanted to study computer science there, having heard about its excellent job prospects.

Unable to rely on anyone else, she had to research everything herself: job opportunities, future development forecasts…

No one could guarantee her a secure future. This gnawing anxiety had become a dull ache, seeping into An Chixu’s veins and becoming her growing pains.

Now, she no longer needed to worry.

She had a sister to shoulder her burdens.

All she had to do was follow her sister’s instructions.

“I know our Tuantuan will definitely get in,” Yan Ciwei said softly, referring to An Chixu’s dream university.

Yan Ciwei had been tutoring An Chixu for over two years.

In the last mock exam, An Chixu’s performance had been nearly on par with Yan Ciwei’s. There was no reason she shouldn’t succeed.

“But if, by some chance, I don’t get in… let’s make dolls of each other,” the tense little cat relaxed slightly, her mind drifting toward pessimism.

Yan Ciwei had guided her from the lower-middle ranks to the upper-middle, even reaching tenth in the grade once.

Yet An Chixu knew that deep down, she remained that timid, lost, and pitiful girl, always needing to prepare for the worst.

Yan Ciwei’s expression twitched for a moment. She refused to entertain any possibility of An Chixu failing.

“…What kind of dolls?” she finally asked, suppressing her irritation.

With An Chixu, maintaining her gentle persona was crucial; she couldn’t let it crumble.

“Ones that look like you and me,” An Chixu replied, tracing the outline of the dolls on Yan Ciwei’s palm.

“Otherwise, I’ll miss you terribly.” Without Yan Ciwei, she doubted she’d ever meet someone so wonderful again.

The seventeen-year-old An Chixu gazed at her beloved through misty eyes, her youthful innocence shining brightly.

“I miss you so much…”

Under the heavy night sky, Yan Ciwei sat by the bed, her breath catching in her throat. Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, her longing almost solidifying into frost.

A foreign object in her pocket nagged at her, preventing her from even completing her moment of yearning.

She pulled it out.

It was the cloth doll she had sewn earlier that day.

An Chixu had even seen it.

How embarrassing.

Yan Ciwei tore off the doll’s head, stared at it coldly for three seconds, then tossed it into the trash can.

Inside the trash can, amidst crumpled paper, lay another identical doll, tattered and pierced with knife wounds, its cotton stuffing spilling across the floor.

The crude craftsmanship marked it as a mass-produced item, utterly unlike the one An Chixu held.

Yet its features were unmistakable.

Both dolls had ebony-black hair, slightly curled and long, cascading in disarray.

A conspicuous red mole marked the corner of each eye—the very spot that should have been cherished, yet had been pierced so many times by knives that its original form was unrecognizable.

Below the head was the doll’s short, stout body, the only feature that didn’t resemble Yan Ciwei. Two red moles had been deliberately embroidered there.

This was a cloth doll Yan Ciwei had made in her own likeness.

The one she had just destroyed was her ninety-eighth.

In the days since parting with An Chixu, Yan Ciwei had killed herself ninety-eight times.

Each time, she had been drenched in bl00d, tears, sweat, and utter humiliation.

And still, she had not received her lover’s kiss.

Yan Ciwei pulled out the IV needle, turned off the light, and collapsed onto the desk, letting the fever consume her as she drifted into a fitful sleep.

Her phone, left on the bedside table, flickered to life.

Sister, why haven’t you replied? Have you been too busy with work these past few days?

An Chixu received Pei Yuxi’s message, her head swimming with question marks.

She checked Pei Yuxi’s alternate account but found no new messages. However, the videos she had sent over the past few days remained unanswered.

An Chixu screenshotted the chat and sent it back.

Pei Yuxi replied with her own screenshot.

The two left a trail of question marks in their main account chat.

[ It must have been swallowed by the system, ] An Chixu thought, not giving it much thought. This wasn’t the first time it had happened; she had experienced message swallowing before.

But back then, the only person she texted would hold her close and listen to her in person.

Now that messages were being swallowed, they wouldn’t even notice unless they compared accounts.

True. Sister, are you free these next few days? I want to spend a few more days with Orange before…

Pei Yuxi vowed to rescue her precious kitten from this fake cat lover!

How could there be such a clueless cat owner who doesn’t even understand when a cat is purring?

Pei Yuxi grumbled to herself on the other side of the screen.

An Chixu couldn’t hear her inner thoughts, nor did she realize how many unintentional misunderstandings she’d caused while relaying messages. Seeing Pei Yuxi’s eagerness to see Orange, she readily agreed.

[ I’m free this afternoon. You can come pick him up. I can charge you by the day this month. ] An Chixu even offered to reduce the fee.

Pei Yuxi was touched by this gesture and silently revised her impression of An Chixu.

Even though she doesn’t know how to care for cats, she seems like a decent person.

Maybe I’ll reluctantly let her pet Orange for two minutes sometime.

After work, An Chixu left under Shen Jibai’s lingering, hesitant gaze.

After she left, Shen Jibai stood there, a little lost, her hair disheveled like strands after a rain shower.

“Rehearsal time, Jibai,” a teammate called out, forcing Shen Jibai to turn and walk away.

Clutching her phone tightly, she made up her mind.

Another weekend arrived. Shen Jibai sent an invitation to treat An Chixu to dinner.

An Chixu had seen Orange off on Friday and was now staring at the cat tree, missing her feline companion. Reluctantly, she opened her chat with Shen Jibai.

Shen Jibai’s viral video had indeed gone viral. Her manager, recognizing her potential, had recently scheduled her for numerous events.

Shen Jibai attributed this success to An Chixu and wanted to treat her as a gesture of gratitude.

An Chixu knew she shouldn’t be meeting privately with the idol she managed.

Moreover, she suspected Shen Jibai had something she wanted to say.

Yet she couldn’t refuse. Shen Jibai had asked repeatedly.

If she didn’t agree soon, the young star would become too famous, and they’d never get to have dinner together.

An Chixu arrived punctually at the private room Shen Jibai had reserved.

Five minutes after she closed the door, Yan Ciwei hurried to the location and glanced at the room number.