After the Breakup, the Crazy Movie Queen Clings to Me Every Day (GL) - Chapter 30.1

Having never been blocked or deleted before, Tan You didn’t immediately realize what was happening. Instead, she tentatively sent another emoji.

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A red exclamation mark reappeared at the bottom of the screen, accompanied by cold, impersonal text.

Tan You was bewildered. Hadn’t Lan Jingli sworn she would never be angry with her?

Hadn’t she promised that no matter how far apart they were, Lan Jingli would rush to her side if she sent that emoji?

Why had she broken her solemn vow so easily?

The anger in Tan You’s heart burned hotter, threatening to consume her reason.

For reasons unknown, the woman’s breathing quickened as she frantically tapped the emoji of a waving magic wand. But no matter how many times she sent it, the screen stubbornly displayed that she and Lan Jingli were no longer friends.

Frustrated, she clicked on Lan Jingli’s profile picture, only to find that the girl had replaced her usual koi avatar with one of a kitten eating a fish.

Could it be a couple’s avatar?

Tan You’s gaze darkened as she used the internal phone to summon her administrative assistant to the office.

“Chairman Tan, what can I do for you?” The assistant, a recent college graduate, felt a sense of awe and trepidation toward Tan You’s solemn, composed, and aloof demeanor.

She had made a few mistakes at work before. Though Tan You had only offered a few brief corrections, the assistant couldn’t shake her fear. Adding to her anxiety was Tan You’s meticulous approach to work and her habit of working overtime even when there was no pressing need.

“My WeChat account has been blocked. Is there any way to get unblocked?”

Hearing such a question from the usually austere and reserved woman left the assistant dumbfounded. Who dared to delete Chairman Tan as a friend?

Who had the audacity to resist her charm? I want to worship them.

“Chairman Tan, if you’ve been blocked, the only way to reconnect is to resend a friend request. Perhaps the other party accidentally blocked you. You could try calling them to ask.”

Tan You lowered her gaze awkwardly. “Accidentally?”

“The steps are a bit complicated,” the assistant stammered, feeling the woman’s oppressive aura and growing increasingly nervous. “But it’s not impossible. People sometimes do impulsive things.”

After saying that, she saw Tan You fall into deep thought, unable to discern whether the woman intended to make the call or not.

Just as she was about to excuse herself to get back to work, Tan You suddenly looked up and stopped her.

“Could you come here for a moment?”

The administrative assistant, enduring the woman’s icy aura, silently moved to stand beside Tan You.

“Chairman Tan,” she asked, her voice filled with a rare glimmer of hope, “is this about work?”

Tan You’s gaze was like mist as she pointed to the cat eating a fish head profile picture on her phone screen. “Do you think this could be a couple’s profile picture?” she asked mildly.

The administrative assistant: “……”

What kind of bizarre question is this? Does Chairman Tan really think I’m some kind of expert on identifying couple’s profile pictures?

Before the assistant could reply, Tan You seemed to snap out of a daze. “Never mind,” she said gently. “Go back to work. Just forget about this.”

“Yes, Chairman Tan,” the assistant replied, relieved but also worried.

How could anyone possibly forget something like this? Chairman Tan, who always seems so aloof, refined, and indifferent to worldly desires, asking about something like this?

Tan You’s slender, pale fingers gently traced Lan Jingli’s WeChat profile picture repeatedly.

Lan Jingli had been the one to suggest matching profile pictures. At the time, she had acted like a child, carefully selecting two relatively mature-looking images and cautiously asking if Tan You would agree to change hers.

Driven by a vague sense of unease, Tan You had convinced herself that she didn’t love Lan Jingli—at most, she was simply used to her. Used to having her around, used to the adoring, infatuated gaze in her eyes, used to their weekly Saturdays spent in intimate, tender embrace.

She was merely accustomed to Lan Jingli’s warmth, accustomed to her constant presence by her side.

Moreover, she couldn’t allow Lan Jingli to break her promises again and again. It would make her look foolish beyond measure, and she would despise herself for it.

Yes, she absolutely wouldn’t let it happen again.

The last time had been etched too deeply into her memory.

With half an hour until the work meeting began, she rose and headed to the shower, wanting to cleanse away the lingering heat of her momentary loss of control.

After changing into a more formal suit, Tan You swallowed three emergency pain-suppressing pills to manage her addiction withdrawal symptoms and calmly joined the executive meeting.

Knowing her unwavering focus during work and her aversion to interruptions, her secretary thoughtfully drew the curtains and dimmed the lights.

Through her Bluetooth earpiece, the executive in South America reported at a measured pace, while the quarterly data charts synchronized on the conference screen.

Tan You listened intently, her expression clear and serious.

Out of habit, she reached into her pocket for her white porcelain candy box, only to find it empty.

Normally, she rationed herself three mints a week, never exceeding that limit. Now, it was only Tuesday, and she was already tempted to break her rule.

A flicker of annoyance crossed her usually cold, dark eyes, but her expression froze completely when her fingers brushed against another hard object inside the box.

She pulled it out—a beautiful, whimsical necklace featuring a small koi carved from black opal, its chubby form utterly endearing.

This was the only gift she had ever given in her life, and the only one that had been returned.

So many of her first experiences had been with Lan Jingli. How… utterly fascinating.

In her Bluetooth earpiece, the report had concluded, and the executives waited in silence for her questions. Little did they know that Tan You, the woman who was usually laser-focused on work, was currently distracted, her thoughts in disarray.

Tan You gripped the necklace tightly, her eyes narrowing slightly as the craving for sugar surged to another peak, making it a struggle to resist.

“Chairman Tan, Chairman Tan, are you alright?” the meeting facilitator called out through the earpiece.

“I’m fine. Continue,” Tan You replied after a few seconds of hesitation, finally forcing herself to regain composure.

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Lan Jingli had been shuttling between cities these past few days, juggling live performances, music variety shows, and preparing for her university’s final exams. She was completely swamped.

That day when she walked Shu Su home, she got caught in a light rain. Whether it was the rain or her pent-up emotions, the combination left her physically and mentally exhausted. She hadn’t felt quite right since yesterday.

By the time she landed and returned to her dorm today, her head was throbbing. After showering and eating, she collapsed onto the sofa, drifting off to sleep.

When she woke up, her body was burning hot, her throat felt tight, and her nose was completely blocked. She touched her forehead, unsure if it was actually feverish or just her imagination.

“Jingli, I ordered a large plate of chicken takeout and put some cola in the fridge,” Wei Yixi said, drying her damp hair as she emerged from the bathroom. She settled into an armchair and started scrolling through her phone.

Lan Jingli groggily sat up, poured herself a cup of hot water, and quietly listened to Wei Yixi’s idle chatter.

“You go ahead and eat first. I’m not really hungry.”

“Um, I wanted to tell you something,” Wei Yixi said cautiously. “The manager confirmed that Wei Xueyin is officially leaving Syzygy Band. You… won’t have to see her anymore.”

Holding the warm glass, Lan Jingli reacted slowly, lowering her gaze and smiling after a moment.

“It’s fine. It’s better with just the two of us. With her engagement and wedding, she definitely won’t have time for the band.”

Wei Yixi scoffed. She knew exactly what Wei Xueyin was thinking—she just wanted to act in movies, walk the same path as Tan You, and ideally play Tan You’s on-screen lover, flaunting their romance in front of the public.

How shameless.

Moreover, Wei Yixi had heard from other trainees that since confirming her engagement to Tan You, Wei Xueyin had completely abandoned her previous gentle demeanor, becoming arrogant and even trying to use her connections to steal roles from others.

In the end, Shu Su had to intervene and persuade Wei Xueyin. Wei Yixi wondered if the woman would secretly run to Tan You and complain.

Thank goodness President Shu and Tan You are close friends, or we’d all be in trouble.

Wei Yixi had initially thought Tan You, with her stunning looks and aloof, intellectual aura, would never be the type to discard someone after using them.

Now she understood the saying “You can know a person’s face but not their heart.” Someone so beautiful could be so heartless—a venomous beauty with no conscience.

Seriously, mark my words: those who betray true affection deserve to swallow a thousand needles.

A thousand more times to swallow!

“Jingli, are you really okay? Don’t bottle things up. Talking about it will help. If you want to curse Tan You, go ahead. I’ll back you up all the way.”

“Focusing on Tan You will only deepen her imprint in my memory, and Wei Xueyin too. That would have even worse consequences.”

Wei Yixi was stunned. “Who told you that? It actually makes sense.”

“I read some psychology books at the school library.”

“Wow, you’re amazing! You’re so busy you’re practically spinning in circles, and you still find time for academic reading?”

Lan Jingli’s heart felt barren and helpless, but she smiled reassuringly at her friend, pretending she was fine.

The pain of seeing herself in wedding photos, the engagement ring digging into her wrist—the pain lingered.

It made her feel like a weightless ghost, drifting aimlessly through the air.

Sometimes she’d recall Tan You’s smile, her gentle words, her beautiful, indifferent presence among the flowers, and the endless, rambling conversations they’d shared.

She tried to salvage some shred of self-respect from their meager interactions, but Tan You always remained just beyond the edge of her understanding.

Trying to remember, understand, or chase after the past was a foolish endeavor, something only the hopelessly lost would pursue.

But the more she thought about it, the more indifferent she became.

Let’s be honest: so many people in this world didn’t love Lan Jingli. Who was Tan You to be any different?

“I just happened to flip through it while studying,” she said, a hint of relief in her smile, as if she’d finally found the courage to accept being unloved.

Wei Yixi returned with a large takeout platter, unwrapping it as she spoke.

“Oh, by the way, I found an old shop that sells chargers for your MP3 player. You know, the kind where transferring data is such a pain…”

Lan Jingli suddenly looked up, her voice light and airy, as if it had no anchor.

“Xi Xi, don’t bother.”

“…The stored data could get corrupted… Wait, what? That MP3 was your most prized possession! You never let anyone else touch it. You used to wipe it down three times a day and keep it in a velvet pouch.”

“I’m not listening to it anymore. It’s broken. I decided to throw it away a few days ago,” Lan Jingli said earnestly. “I won’t need to listen to it again.”

“Can you even sleep without listening to that MP3 before bed?” Wei Yixi asked, her voice both suspicious and hesitant.

“I’ll get used to it,” Lan Jingli replied.

“Wait, your face is getting redder. What’s going on? Are you sick?”

After chatting for a while, Wei Yixi noticed Lan Jingli’s unusually flushed cheeks and grabbed a thermometer.

38.9 degrees Celsius.

“We need to get you to the hospital right away. We don’t have any fever reducers in the dorm, and if it’s viral, it could turn into pneumonia,” Wei Yixi said, shaking her head. “Honestly, you never even notice when you’re sick. It’s so worrying.”

Lan Jingli, already sluggish from the fever, took ages to get dressed before finally following Wei Yixi out the door.

Anxious about being recognized, they disguised themselves from head to toe, wearing bucket hats and masks that left only their eyes visible.

At the hospital, the diagnosis was viral influenza requiring intravenous fluids. Fortunately, a quiet, high-end private room was available.

Wei Yixi preemptively shut down Lan Jingli’s attempt to save money. “Are you really worried about being recognized and having to sign autographs while you’re getting an IV?”

Lan Jingli: “……”

“Right?” Wei Yixi patted Lan Jingli’s shoulder, urging her to sit down. “I’ll go get you some food, a power bank, and some heat packs.”

“Get some oden you like, and use my money,” Lan Jingli said weakly, transferring funds to Wei Yixi via WeChat. Her dark lashes drooped, casting fan-shaped shadows on her flushed cheeks.

Recognizing this as Lan Jingli’s way of expressing gratitude, Wei Yixi chuckled softly. “Well, at least you have a conscience. You’ll cook for me when you’re better.”

“Okay.”

After a flurry of activity, it was nearly 3 or 4 a.m. A nurse came to start Lan Jingli’s IV drip. The hospital was far from comfortable, and it took all her persuasion to convince Wei Yixi to return to her dorm.

“I can come back on my own after the drip tomorrow,” Lan Jingli said, her voice hoarse and her nose stuffed up.

“No way. I’m calling someone to come with me,” Wei Yixi declared firmly. “Wen Fei and Chen Jiayang are free anyway. I’ll invite them, and you can treat us all to dinner.”

Truthfully, Wei Yixi had her own ulterior motive: she wanted Lan Jingli to move on quickly and not let the shadow of heartbreak linger too long. Even if she started dating someone else right away, meeting new people couldn’t hurt.

Lan Jingli laughed weakly, quickly protesting, “Don’t bother them! You haven’t even checked if they’re free. That’s too presumptuous.”

Wei Yixi scoffed. “What do you mean she’s busy? Wen Fei goes to the same school as you and has been admiring you for ages.”

The fever made Lan Jingli feel drowsy. She dismissed Wei Yixi’s words as just her usual teasing.

“Look, she replied to my WeChat message right away,” Wei Yixi said with a chuckle. “They both replied at the same time, like they’re telepathic. They both said they want to visit you and take you out to have fun once you’re better.”

“Do they live together?” Lan Jingli asked, finding the situation a bit odd. “Like we do in the dorms?”

“I’m not sure, but I once overheard Wen Fei inviting Chen Jiayang to dinner at her place. She said, ‘My parents miss you.’ Chen Jiayang turned her down, half-jokingly, half-annoyed.”

“Oh, I see,” Lan Jingli replied, not thinking much of it. She sat down weakly, waiting for the nurse to come and start her IV drip.

Wei Yixi remained glued to her phone screen, asking without looking up, “They want to know where you want to go once you’re feeling better.”

Lan Jingli pondered for a moment. “An amusement park, I guess.”

“Such a kid,” Wei Yixi teased with a laugh. “Tell me your favorite ride.”

“The carousel.”

“So childish. Why?” Wei Yixi asked. “I thought someone like you would prefer roller coasters or something.”

“No particular reason…” Lan Jingli suddenly remembered Tan You telling her about carousels. The music, the bright, warm lights at night, and… the person waiting nearby.

Perhaps Tan You had described carousels too beautifully, or perhaps the woman’s voice in the darkness had sounded too hopeful for someone waiting nearby.

It made Lan Jingli want to see a carousel too, to be that person waiting nearby for Tan You.

Looking back, it seemed absurd. How could Tan You ever have hoped for someone to wait for her? Even if she had, that person would never have been Lan Jingli.

But carousels were innocent. The music and lights sounded like the kind of paradise her younger self would have yearned for.

“Alright, they’ll probably come see you early tomorrow. I’m going to get some things.”

A nurse came in to start Lan Jingli’s IV drip. Hearing Wei Yixi’s words, she weakly replied, “Okay,” and slowly drifted off to sleep.

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