Adopting Myself from the Young Heiress - Chapter 6

The end of the first semester of her freshman year.

An Chixu held her report card, the stark sharps and flats piercing her heart like daggers.

Her mothers were in the midst of a divorce, and no one cared about her feelings. The two adults bombarded her with daily trivialities, turning her mind into a chaotic battlefield.

An Chixu crumpled the report card, tearing it to shreds. No one but her would ever see it anyway.

She stuffed the scraps into her pocket and wandered aimlessly around the campus. Her eyes met another pair—a girl standing alone.

“An Chixu,” Yan Ciwei called out, taking a few steps toward her.

At that time, they weren’t close, having only been in the same group for half a semester.

The group had six members. Most of the time, An Chixu only spoke to her closest friend, while the other three revolved around Yan Ciwei.

“Where are your parents?” Yan Ciwei asked, wearing the standard school uniform. Sweat glistened on her face from running, or perhaps it was just the stray strands of hair.

Sunlight shimmered across her face, dazzling An Chixu from afar. The glare was so intense it stung her eyes, blurring her vision.

“They’re coming,” An Chixu replied, keeping her family situation hidden.

How could she explain? The two people closest to her didn’t even care about her.

“It’s about to start. Shall we go upstairs?” Yan Ciwei linked her arm through An Chixu’s, her touch warm and familiar.

Yan Ciwei’s casual and natural demeanor made An Chixu’s nervousness feel utterly exposed, as if it were about to explode, only to be flattened by Yan Ciwei’s nonchalant remark.

“Okay,” An Chixu replied, falling into step beside Yan Ciwei. Their linked arms subtly shifted into clasped hands.

Yan Ciwei’s palm was slightly damp, perhaps from exercising with friends earlier. The clammy, uncomfortable grip gradually loosened.

An Chixu tugged at the corner of Yan Ciwei’s sleeve, as if trying to hold onto a lingering scent of jasmine.

When the parent-teacher conference began, An Chixu was the only student in the class whose parents hadn’t attended. Some students even had two or three family members present—mothers or their sisters, all eager to attend their child’s first high school conference.

An Chixu sat alone at her desk, head bowed to avoid the teacher’s gaze.

But she was still called up.

Her worst subject was physics, and the physics teacher, known for her fierce demeanor, was feared by the entire class.

“Look at you,” the teacher said, holding up a stack of grade books. They contained records of all major and minor test scores, as well as grades for daily class exercises.

An Chixu’s row was marked with a continuous red line.

“Your grades have plummeted this semester. And your parents didn’t even bother to show up. Afraid they’d see how badly you’re doing, huh? You know you bombed the tests, don’t you? Thought you could avoid getting scolded by not having your parents here? Well, you’re wrong.” The physics teacher’s words were always harsh.

An Chixu’s head hung low, her neck nearly bent double. The loosely tied ponytail she’d hastily arranged had come undone, and stray strands of hair obscured her vision.

She stared at her feet, which seemed to swell and shrink in her dizzy state. She desperately tried to ignore the stinging sensation in her nose.

She knew that even if she asked, her parents wouldn’t come.

They had long stopped treating her like a child, using her as a mere trigger for their endless arguments.

She didn’t want to fail the exam either. She just…

The physics teacher’s scolding drifted over her in sparse bursts, and An Chixu drifted through what felt like an eternity in a daze.

Until a breeze brushed the stray hairs away from her ear.

A hand gripped her shoulder.

The hand was soft, slightly sticky with sweat, still retaining the warmth from their earlier touch, and carrying the faint fragrance of white jasmine.

It landed on An Chixu’s slender shoulder, its grip loosening her bones.

“Teacher, aren’t you being a bit harsh? An Chixu wants to do well on the exam too,” Yan Ciwei said, stepping in front of her to shield An Chixu behind her.

“As her group leader, I’ve seen her studying physics diligently every day. She’s been working very hard.” With these words, Yan Ciwei lifted An Chixu’s heavy head.

“What if her family can’t come for a valid reason? You could have asked about the situation first before scolding her.”

Frame by frame, An Chixu raised her head, catching sight of Yan Ciwei’s wind-tossed hair.

The strands were bathed in the setting sun, glowing even brighter than that fleeting glimpse on the sports field.

The jasmine scent An Chixu had smelled back then was Yan Ciwei’s original shampoo scent—faint, barely detectable unless you were close.

During that close encounter in high school, the jasmine scent had mingled with the warmth of sunlight, creating a piercingly tender sensation.

Now, as Yan Ciwei stepped out of the shadows, the pale light from the hallway lamp illuminated only the tips of her hair, rendering the jasmine scent utterly bland.

She didn’t need to raise a hand. A decade had passed, and she no longer required superfluous gestures.

Simply enveloping An Chixu in her shadow, or even just taking a single step forward and uttering her name, was enough to convey her intent.

“The subway’s stopped too,” Yan Ciwei said, her voice almost a sigh.

She was pleading with An Chixu to accept her invitation.

Frozen in Yan Ciwei’s shadow, An Chixu’s breathing softened in response to her plea.

She avoided Yan Ciwei’s gaze, her eyes drifting past her shoulder, through the strands of her hair, and settling on Pei Luochen.

Pei Luochen’s pine-green hair had stiffened.

Clearly, she hadn’t anticipated that her “backing” would overlook her crimson eyes and instead shield the subordinate she was about to attack.

Her lips trembled, words caught in her throat, pupils shrinking rapidly.

Even her breathing seemed to freeze, unable to penetrate Yan Ciwei’s presence and reach An Chixu’s senses.

An Chixu didn’t look at Pei Luochen again, even though the woman had her favorite pair of eyes and hair dyed the perfect shade of pine green.

She turned to Shen Jibai, who was still in shock.

“It’s okay, Jibai,” An Chixu said, patting the younger girl’s head.

Shen Jibai looked up at the gesture, her eyes brimming with a familiar emotion.

“This has nothing to do with you. I’ll come find you in a couple of days after the announcement. Focus on preparing for now,” An Chixu said, hoping Shen Jibai would seize this opportunity.

Shen Jibai had excellent looks, was skilled in both singing and dancing, and her persona had been crafted by An Chixu herself. An Chixu had full confidence in her.

The only problem was that Pei Luochen had always overshadowed her, and she lacked the resources to break through.

“Sister An…” Shen Jibai watched An Chixu step forward, disappearing completely into Yan Ciwei’s shadow. She felt an inexplicable urge to stop her, as if An Chixu were being swallowed by some terrifying monster.

An Chixu’s grip on her wrist tightened painfully, forcing her to step aside.

Yan Ciwei watched their interaction with cold eyes, her icy gaze concealing complex emotions.

An Chixu walked forward.

Yan Ciwei tried to reach for her, but it was too late. She couldn’t even grasp the hem of An Chixu’s skirt and had to hurry to catch up.

The corridor lights flickered.

For the first time, Yan Ciwei realized how far her office was from the elevator.

She had to walk quickly to keep up with An Chixu.

She wondered when that timid little thing who used to trail behind her had developed such a brisk pace.

This was the third time they’d been alone in the elevator this week.

Each time had been different.

Now, An Chixu stood beside her, neither arrogant nor subservient, her head tilted slightly upward as she watched the floor numbers change. She wasn’t overly distant, nor was she meekly trailing behind.

Not strangers, not friends.

An Chixu was her ex-girlfriend.

Yan Ciwei repeated the words a thousand times in her mind, yet still struggled to say them aloud.

Their teeth could clash in anger, but their lips, once pressed together, refused to part.

She bit her lip, feigning nonchalance, and took a step closer to An Chixu.

An Chixu lifted her almond-shaped eyes to meet Yan Ciwei’s gaze.

“Did you come looking for me?” Yan Ciwei’s smile was peculiar—deliberate yet tinged with genuine emotion, as if her facial muscles had lost control and couldn’t form the expression she intended.

Standing beside An Chixu, she leaned slightly forward, looking up at her with a slightly tilted gaze.

An Chixu’s gaze flickered with the strand of hair that had fallen across Yan Ciwei’s cheek.

“To thank you,” An Chixu replied. She didn’t move an inch, nor did she belittle Yan Ciwei’s cautious, unnatural behavior.

Her words were strikingly direct.

“Tonight’s events… moving the chair or canceling a month’s activities. Wasn’t it all for me?” An Chixu said, her face devoid of emotion.

Her gaze toward Yan Ciwei was equally calm, like the clear sky after a rain.

Yan Ciwei’s eyelashes fluttered slowly, then she curled her lips into a smile and stood up.

An Chixu herself didn’t realize she was mimicking Yan Ciwei.

By abruptly exposing the truth during their confrontation, An Chixu had become the Yan Ciwei of half an hour ago.

“Tuantuan,” Yan Ciwei said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She desperately wanted to praise her.

You’ve learned so well. She knew An Chixu was her best student.

An Chixu merely scoffed and turned away, refusing to meet her gaze this time.

Yan Ciwei’s gaze faltered, as if she had been slapped by An Chixu.

She forced herself to maintain that strained smile.

Straightening her back, she leaned against the wall, watching Tuantuan from behind.

Her chest tightened and loosened in waves.

Even now, she couldn’t understand An Chixu’s intentions, forced to proceed one step at a time.

An Chixu was her best student, the person in the world who understood her best, the one most like her.

She had guided An Chixu throughout her adolescence, and for seven years, An Chixu had never left her side.

…Yet An Chixu remained the most inscrutable person she knew.

They were both the same.

An Chixu used to lose sleep over a single word from her. Now, she simply didn’t care about her anymore.

An Chixu watched Yan Ciwei’s movements out of the corner of her eye, noticing her smile—fragile as a shattered porcelain vase.

Though broken, Yan Ciwei still maintained a facade of dignity and beauty. If An Chixu were to turn her around, she would surely see the scars covering her body.

But what difference would it make?

The elevator doors opened, and An Chixu stepped forward.

Yan Ciwei, shattered on the floor, could only pick herself up, haphazardly piecing herself back together into a unique kind of beauty.

It was like that night they broke up, when she had fallen in the muddy ground, and An Chixu had turned back to see only the glint of tears in her eyes.

Yan Ciwei had always reserved her best for An Chixu.

But An Chixu had grown weary of accepting her boundless goodwill.

An Chixu turned toward Yan Ciwei’s car. Yan Ciwei quickened her pace, forcing a smile.

By the time she opened the car door, An Chixu was already sitting in the passenger seat.

Yan Ciwei didn’t know what to think. An Chixu remembered her car, opened the door with practiced ease, and even sat in the passenger seat—

The seat Yan Ciwei had reserved exclusively for An Chixu. No one had sat there since their breakup. Now, with An Chixu back in it, not even the seat adjustments needed to be changed. The backrest perfectly conformed to An Chixu’s posture, her legs fit comfortably, and the rearview mirror’s reflection caught her eye.

It was as if they had never parted.

Yan Ciwei subconsciously slid into the driver’s seat, leaned over, and reached for the passenger seat’s seatbelt.

Their eyes accidentally met in the periphery. Yan Ciwei lowered her breathing, terrified of shattering the fragile Tuantuan beside her.

But those cold, desolate eyes starkly reminded Yan Ciwei of the cruel reality.

Her frozen breath, tightened grip, stiff shoulders, and trembling hair… all betrayed her cowardice.

In that moment, she had become eerily similar to An Chixu.

She wanted to praise her Tuantuan for her current pride and independence, but every word felt like bl00d in her mouth, a lump in her throat choking back the words.

An Chixu didn’t stop Yan Ciwei’s instinctive gesture.

She too had inadvertently fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole, back to the past.

Back then, Yan Ciwei had just gotten her driver’s license, and every time they went out, this was their routine.

An Chixu would sit in the passenger seat, her heart pounding as she waited for Yan Ciwei to fasten her seatbelt.

It had been their little game, their private intimacy. Now, it was a needle, piercing Yan Ciwei with brutal clarity.

An Chixu saw the clear tears welling in Yan Ciwei’s eyes.

The phrase “peach blossom eyes shimmering like autumn waters” was merely a euphemism for a beauty on the verge of tears.

At that moment, Yan Ciwei truly found herself in a subordinate position to An Chixu.

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she clenched her jaw, her gaze vacant. She blinked through the stinging restraint, letting the tears fall.

Even before meeting An Chixu’s gaze, she was already in agony, her entire being pierced by the past, the newly healed cracks tearing open once more.

An Chixu spoke, her voice as light as willow branches swaying in the breeze.

“…Do you miss me so much?”

But Yan Ciwei had brought this upon herself.

Yan Ciwei raised her head, gazing up at the lover she could never touch again. A single tear slid down her cheek.

She was a mess, both wretched and beautiful, now shattered by An Chixu’s own hand.

“Don’t think of me,” An Chixu said, lifting her hand to gently wipe away the tear’s luminous trail.

Outside the window, a sudden downpour began.