Adopting Myself from the Young Heiress - Chapter 30

“Good morning, Orange,” An Chixu murmured, opening her eyes to see the kitten kneading her chest. A hint of tenderness softened her weary expression.

The intern Tian Ming had two dogs at home. A few days ago, during a casual conversation, He Yuyan mentioned she kept a parrot, while Mu Feng was planning to get a cat.

An Chixu was beginning to understand why everyone loved keeping pets.

This tiny cat had nowhere else to go but to stay by her side.

And by staying close, it found happiness—a mutual exchange. You didn’t need to give it much—just a bite of food or a pat on the head—and it would give you all its love in return.

Orange pressed against An Chixu’s blanket, kneading rhythmically. They were already well-acquainted; for the past few nights, Orange had been sleeping in An Chixu’s room, greeting her the moment she opened her eyes.

Stroking the kitten’s fluffy head, An Chixu pushed aside the torment of her insomnia, mustered her energy, and went to refill its food bowl and clean its litter box.

How miraculous. With just these two simple actions, An Chixu rediscovered her sense of belonging in the world.

She had formed a connection with Orange, but they weren’t yet deeply attached to each other. It was too early to even discuss whether they loved each other.

Once she returned Orange to its owner, An Chixu would seriously consider getting a cat of her own.

“Two more months,” An Chixu murmured, gradually calming down. The morning palpitations that had plagued her earlier subsided.

She sat beside Orange, watching it eat its cat food for a while before grabbing her breakfast and heading out.

Today was the day before filming began for Yang Xu’s show. An Chixu’s schedule was far more packed than Shen Jibai’s, so the fact that they could meet a day early to finalize details was already a stroke of luck.

An Chixu’s team had submitted their proposal on the deadline set by Yang Xu, so today’s meeting wouldn’t take too long.

After entering the office, An Chixu gathered her team members and assigned the tasks due that day.

She wasn’t particularly skilled at planning and coordination, having lacked practice in making detailed plans during her upbringing. As a result, she preferred to break down each task into very small, manageable steps, focusing on completing just one step each day.

So far, her team members hadn’t objected to this approach. Everyone was working hard for overtime pay and project bonuses.

After Yang Xu’s show ended, Shen Jibai had a group announcement to attend. Following that, the survival reality show Storm Camp was scheduled to hold a meeting to finalize the overall theme and plans for the first episode.

An Chixu adjusted her schedule and took a taxi to the meeting.

Since Yang Xu had specifically requested her presence, she couldn’t bring anyone else along.

During the ride, An Chixu received a message from Pei Yuxi.

This was quite rare.

Lately, their communication had been limited to sending photos and memes. After all, An Chixu had grown accustomed to caring for Orange, and Pei Yuxi was busy preparing for her final exams. As virtual strangers, it was only natural they had little to say.

[ Sister, my family suddenly wants me to send Orange back to them on July 1st. I know this is sudden, and you’re very attached to him, so I’ll compensate you for the remaining two months of boarding fees! ] Pei Yuxi sent the message from her main account.

She seemed quite embarrassed, as the money transfer arrived the very next second.

An Chixu’s hand paused.

July 1st… An Chixu glanced at the calendar. Today was already June 29th.

So, it wasn’t two months after all.

An Chixu didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she tapped into her chat with Pei Yuxi’s alternate account and scrolled through all the photos and videos of Orange from the beginning.

Watching the little cat she had briefly cared for gradually warm up to her, An Chixu finally let out a sigh.

[ It’s okay, you don’t need to send me money. I didn’t really help much in June anyway, and you even had to come pick him up once. Orange is a good boy; his supplies don’t cost much. ] An Chixu refunded the transfer.

Pei Yuxi had dared to send her 15,000 yuan, but An Chixu couldn’t bring herself to accept it.

[ Should I bring Orange to you, or will your family come pick him up? ] She wanted to get home early today and cuddle the little cat.

[ My family will come pick him up. Don’t trouble yourself with another trip. No need to be polite—we agreed from the start that I was only fostering him because you liked cats and wanted to try raising one. Now that you couldn’t keep him, I feel a bit guilty. ] Pei Yuxi sent another transfer.

An Chixu only asked for time and didn’t reply further.

The car stopped.

An Chixu arrived at Yang Xu’s personal studio. When she was led inside, Yang Xu was live-streaming.

The female lead of the hit drama was also in the live stream, and the two were doing after-sales service for their CP fans.

After waiting a while, An Chixu unintentionally spotted Yang Xu’s previous character design planner.

“Didn’t you resign?” An Chixu raised an eyebrow, meeting her gaze.

The planner shook her head and sighed, pressing her temples. “She insisted I come, saying it was my last project. What could I do?”

“Just a heads-up: she’s not easy to work with.” With the livestream finally over, the agent nodded. The former planner grabbed her bag and left without looking back, leaving only those words behind.

Exploiting a former employee who had already resigned wasn’t exactly friendly.

An Chixu waited for Yang Xu to exit the livestream room, thinking she must have witnessed just how unfriendly Yang Xu could be.

When Yang Xu summoned her to another office, Yang Xu was removing her makeup, preparing for the next round of styling.

“Sister Yang, you’ve worked hard,” An Chixu greeted politely.

Yang Xu waved her hand dismissively. Perhaps because they had laid all their cards on the table during Yan Ciwei’s visit, she didn’t bother with any pretense with An Chixu.

“I’ve memorized your proposal. Tomorrow’s show isn’t that important, so I’m willing to take a gamble.”

Her tone was much more direct now, a far cry from when they first met and she had insisted on discussing matters privately with An Chixu.

“Betting on whether my plan will make for good TV?” An Chixu smoothly picked up the thread of conversation.

“Tsk, look at you, so clever,” Yang Xu said, clearly displeased by An Chixu’s interruption, and rolled her eyes.

“Yes. I just wanted to know if your bold style would actually work,” Yang Xu emphasized the word “bold.”

An Chixu straightened her posture slightly. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Yang Xu glanced at her.

“Our team members deserve credit too,” An Chixu said, feigning meekness like a quail, her ponytail neatly combed, indistinguishable from a model student.

It was then that Yang Xu noticed the faint freckles scattered across An Chixu’s face.

Perhaps because An Chixu usually kept such a low profile, people’s impression of her had been reduced to a symbol: the diligent student with a ponytail. They rarely paid attention to such details.

Today’s private meeting seemed to have drawn out some of her sharpness, finally prompting others to notice her appearance.

Yet even after a few glances, Yang Xu struggled to recall her features clearly. When she looked down again, all she could remember was the ponytail and the sparse freckles.

“As if I don’t know you’re entirely responsible for Shen Jibai’s persona,” Yang Xu snapped, glaring at An Chixu. “This style is remarkably similar to Shen Jibai’s recent work. You don’t need to embellish your team members’ contributions.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Absolutely not. Tang Shu may be shameless, but I’m not,” An Chixu retorted, pointing to the three names listed at the top of the document.

An Chixu wasn’t wrong.

This plan wasn’t entirely her own work. She had only established the key element of “contrast” and sent the character outlines she’d compiled to her two team members.

She provided the skeleton; the team members fleshed it out.

Of course, she also made revisions.

The mockery and amusement faded from Yang Xu’s face. She opened the document An Chixu had sent, noting several points she needed to clarify with her.

“This guest is notoriously difficult to work with, known for her blunt and straightforward public persona. Don’t you think my approach might overlap with hers? What if people accuse me of being a copycat?” Yang Xu’s professionalism far surpassed Shen Jibai’s.

Shen Jibai simply memorized whatever An Chixu gave her, relying on him to adjust the material to fit her.

In contrast, Yang Xu had her own insights and a more accurate grasp of potential audience reactions.

“You should have noticed the keyword I emphasized: contrast. Tomorrow, you’re not playing a ‘genuine’ version of yourself. Instead, you should showcase as many unique facets of ‘you’ as possible, rather than sticking to a pre-defined persona,” An Chixu explained.

“Then if I’m supposed to just be ‘myself,’ what’s the point of having a character strategist like you?” Yang Xu’s question carried a hint of probing.

She was beginning to understand An Chixu’s vision, but she hesitated to fully embrace it, afraid to experiment. She only dared to gamble on this low-stakes show, where failure wouldn’t matter much anyway, since the program had minimal viewership.

If people could be liked for their true selves, no one would choose to wear a mask.

But this was the industry standard. Using character designers had proven to be a viable strategy, so newcomers rushed to imitate it, afraid to be themselves.

“Then work hard and try to get me fired soon,” An Chixu retorted, refusing to show weakness and avoiding direct confrontation.

This was her first original idea, born from her experience with Shen Jibai. It had a degree of feasibility, and she had already succeeded once.

She would pursue it relentlessly, even if it cost her job.

That would be fine. She could return to her hometown and escape Yan Ciwei’s entanglement and the pain of their fleeting encounters.

“Do you talk to Shen Jibai like that too?” Yang Xu finally smiled, her face layered with fresh foundation after wiping off the old. This time, her smile reached her eyes.

“Maybe?” An Chixu propped her head on her hand and circled a few areas on Yang Xu’s tablet.

Yang Xu glanced at the screen and waved her hand again, this time signaling An Chixu to leave.

“Go prepare for your variety show. You’ll find out tomorrow.”

As An Chixu walked out of the studio, clutching her bag, she thought, No wonder she’s a rising star—she knows so much! She even knows our team is working on the Storm Camp show.

Perhaps this information could be used to her advantage.

After finishing Shen Jibai’s arrangements, An Chixu dove headfirst into the survival reality show proposal, working until six in the afternoon.

She finally remembered she needed to submit Yan Ciwei’s overtime request. Grabbing the form she’d prepared days ago, she sat at her desk for two minutes before getting up.

As the elevator display jumped from 17 to 23, An Chixu’s heart pounded harder.

She hadn’t seen even a glimpse of Yan Ciwei in nearly a week.

Since Yan Ciwei had been transferred to her department as director, they had never been separated for so long.

Yan Ciwei had always tirelessly sought her out, pleaded with her, loved her—as if it were an unspoken agreement.

Perhaps Yan Ciwei was truly angry and had given up.

I can only wish her well.

An Chixu took a deep breath and stepped onto the 23rd floor, slowly shuffling toward Yan Ciwei’s office.

Her pace was so slow, it rivaled the speed of high school students jogging downstairs for morning exercises.

Finally reaching Yan Ciwei’s door, An Chixu clenched her fist and knocked.

“Come in.” Yan Ciwei’s voice was hoarse, likely not expecting who it was.

The office was so quiet that the sound of An Chixu pushing open the door startled even the dust motes.

She carefully pushed open a corner of the door, slipped into the office, and gently closed it behind her.

Her gaze fell upon the bandage wrapped around the back of Yan Ciwei’s hand.

Her footsteps froze.

Yan Ciwei finally realized she was being watched and slowly looked up, hastily hiding her hand as if caught stealing.

But it was too late.

An Chixu frowned and rushed to her side, seizing her hand and tearing off the bandage.

“Don’t…” Yan Ciwei struggled weakly, trying to pull back, but she couldn’t overcome An Chixu’s stubborn grip.

The bandage fell away, revealing bruises from a struggle, a few scratches, and needle marks.

An Chixu couldn’t tell which injuries were from the medication Yan Ciwei had taken and which were from something else.

“Tuantuan, I’m fine,” Yan Ciwei said quickly, pulling her hand back as soon as An Chixu released it and covering it with her sleeve.

“How did this happen?” An Chixu asked, her expression blank as she stood before Yan Ciwei, her face shadowed like a statue.

Yan Ciwei rarely failed to read An Chixu’s emotions.

Her Tuantuan always radiated vitality and warmth when facing her. That usually expressionless face would light up with a smile, bright and dewy-eyed, flushed with healthy color.

Her eyes were no longer bright and lively, but instead filled with a dark, brooding intensity, as black as ink.

She was becoming more like herself, yet increasingly unfamiliar.

Yan Ciwei shivered slightly, unable to tell if she felt joy or fear.

“I got into a fight with Zhaoyin.” She had managed to avoid detection last time. Yan Ciwei turned her head away, trying to hide.

“You settle power disputes through fighting?” An Chixu was different from others.

Unlike her mother or her other mother, she wouldn’t mock Yan Ciwei in this situation. Her questions were delivered in a calm, neutral tone, yet carried an undeniable weight.

“That’s not exactly…” Fighting was the least of her troubles. But these injuries weren’t just from fighting.

Yan Ciwei didn’t tell the truth. An Chixu saw through her lie.

Without a word, An Chixu pulled up a chair, took out the medicinal cream she carried, and found the bandages Yan Ciwei had carelessly stuffed into a drawer. She began reapplying the ointment.

“Is this all?” An Chixu rolled up Yan Ciwei’s sleeve, revealing only a few scratches on her upper arm. They were nearly healed already, making the reapplication unnecessary.

“Mm-hmm.” As if.

An Chixu didn’t comment on whether she believed Yan Ciwei. She simply continued applying the cream gently.

Yan Ciwei sat stiffly, feeling like she was sitting on pins and needles. Her entire arm burned with heat.

“That’s enough, Tuantuan. I can do it myself…” Yan Ciwei wondered why An Chixu always carried medicine with her.

Yan Ciwei felt a surge of irritation—irritation at An Chixu’s grip on her hand, irritation at the exposed wound.

“The bandage isn’t properly applied, and you didn’t even use the ointment,” An Chixu pointed out.

She refrained from mentioning the dark circles under Yan Ciwei’s eyes, which were nearly as deep as her pupils, or the pimple erupting on her forehead.

Yan Ciwei, who never broke out, had skin so flawless it was the envy of many. As for dark circles, even during their years together when they’d stayed up late every night during vacations, indulging in passion, she’d never looked this haggard.

Something was clearly wrong.

“Sister,” An Chixu softened her tone. “Why aren’t you taking care of yourself properly? You always took such good care of me.” In the decade they’d been together, An Chixu had never seen Yan Ciwei like this.

Back in high school, Yan Ciwei had been like a stray cat on the brink of death. An Chixu had personally nursed her back to health, her fur becoming sleek and glossy. Before their breakup, everyone who saw them remarked on how well Yan Ciwei was doing.

So why couldn’t she extend the same care to herself?

“I can handle it myself,” Yan Ciwei snapped, yanking her hand free. She bit down on the bandage, wrapping it around her wound to prevent An Chixu from continuing.

“Can’t I apply the medicine for you?” An Chixu’s fingertips curled momentarily.

Yan Ciwei didn’t look up or respond, biting down on the bandage as she rewrapped it before tucking her hand back into her pocket.

“Working overtime again?” she asked casually, picking up the documents An Chixu had brought in and began reviewing them.

An Chixu paused, her gaze fixed on Yan Ciwei.

She saw only Yan Ciwei’s usual expression—gentle, slightly cool, her eyes like peach blossoms glistening with dew, hinting at affection.

A wave of weariness washed over An Chixu, dimming the light in her eyes.

Yan Ciwei continued as if she hadn’t noticed. “We’ll pay you triple overtime. If possible, try to leave work early.”

“The deadlines are tight,” An Chixu replied, letting go of the earlier tension.

Yet her heart continued to race, refusing to calm.

The sight of Yan Ciwei had always soothed her anxiety before, but now this familiar remedy had lost its effect.

An Chixu wanted to hug Yan Ciwei’s cat, but the memory of that text message lingered.

In this vast world, with her beloved right before her, she felt utterly alone.

Yan Ciwei said little, stamped the document, and instructed An Chixu to submit it to the finance department.

An Chixu accepted the document and thanked her formally.

As she walked toward the door, she felt her heartbeat quicken again.

“Tuantuan, I might…” A voice, as if from a hallucination, drifted from behind.

An Chixu whipped around, her ponytail flicking up a cloud of dust that made the light tremble.

She saw only Yan Ciwei, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Yan Ciwei’s gaze remained unchanged, her expression unchanged, her hairstyle unchanged, her attire unchanged.

For a fleeting moment, An Chixu was twenty again, convinced that Yan Ciwei would reach out and embrace her.

But Yan Ciwei hadn’t actually said anything to stop her. It was merely An Chixu’s distorted memory.

Her ears burning, An Chixu turned and hurried out of the office.

Yan Ciwei remained, her hand pressed firmly on the documents.

Frustrated, she bit open a fruit-flavored cigarette, propped her head in her hand, and slowly dug her fingernails into her skin.

Tuantuan, I might… not be able to help you.

By 11:30 AM, An Chixu had finished her work and received a message.