After the Breakup, the Crazy Movie Queen Clings to Me Every Day (GL) - Chapter 32.1

Lan Jingli, still recovering from a severe illness and exhausted from a high-intensity live performance, was too weak to react in time. The bar’s psychedelic lights and throbbing music hadn’t yet penetrated the quiet corner they occupied.

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With a powerful shove, Lan Jingli and the woman crashed against the dark, wallpapered wall. The woman, standing on tiptoe and gripping Lan Jingli’s head, caused her fingers to slam heavily against the plaster with a dull thud. The pain seemed unbearable; even the fragrant woman couldn’t suppress a low groan that escaped her lips. In the sudden stillness, the sound carried an unexpected, spark-igniting allure.

Yet the woman showed no sign of faltering. Her movements remained aggressively possessive. She lowered her gaze, deepening the kiss with lingering tenderness. Her fingers traced the fullness of Lan Jingli’s lips, her mouth lingering there, her body softening with passion, as if she wished to surrender her entire being, offering herself completely to be taken.

The force of their movements brought a faint, metallic tang of bl00d to their tongues, igniting a primal hunger within the woman. Their entwined kiss gradually devolved into a bloody, teasing assault. The taste of bl00d surged between their lips like spring water rippling in the sunlight.

A second later, Lan Jingli snapped back to her senses and frantically tried to push the woman away. But to her surprise, the woman withdrew on her own.

“Tan You?”

A sliver of light from the corridor lamp pierced through the emergency exit, finally revealing the woman’s face.

Tan You’s lips were a vivid crimson, glistening with moisture. Her usually pale complexion was flushed a delicate pink, and her cool, composed features couldn’t quite conceal a hint of satisfied allure. Yet her expression remained nonchalant, making the kiss seem less like a passionate exchange and more like some ritualistic marking of prey by a seductive phantom.

This Tan You was strikingly different from the woman Lan Jingli knew. She wore a long, double-breasted black coat, buttoned all the way up to her throat, exuding an air of restrained elegance. But the heavy scent of alcohol clung to her, and her eyes were rimmed with a damp, rosy flush, betraying her half-drunken state.

“Who did you think it was?” Tan You asked, her voice strained as she struggled to control her racing heart and spiraling thoughts. “Or perhaps, who were you hoping it would be?”

Lan Jingli smirked, her bloodied lip curling slightly as she wiped the corner of her mouth with her slender, bony fingers. “At least it wasn’t you.”

The uncontrollable craving surged through her with unprecedented intensity. Tan You struggled to suppress her inner rage, striving to maintain an elegant and composed demeanor. To quell the overwhelming desire, she instinctively reached for a mint candy from a porcelain box, hoping its refreshing coolness would clear her mind.

“I’m sorry, I just… I’m really sorry,” the woman murmured, her breath warm against Lan Jingli’s shoulder. Her apologetic tone was detached, leaving it unclear whether she genuinely felt remorse or simply regarded this as an amusing game of manipulating hearts.

Her gaze scrutinized Lan Jingli, searching for signs of pleasure or anger on her face. Strands of damp hair framed the girl’s forehead, clinging to her temples. Even her eyes were moist, yet they remained remarkably calm, showing no trace of emotion at Tan You’s sudden appearance. Lan Jingli barely registered the stinging pain of her bitten lip, her mind consumed by astonishment.

“You’ve been drinking?”

Tan You didn’t argue, her dark, beautiful eyes gleaming like snow. “Yes, I lost my composure. I apologize.”

Lan Jingli’s proximity had snapped her back to a semblance of reason, reminding her of her long-held belief against forcing others. Everything, she believed, should be done willingly and consciously. It’s just the alcohol, she insisted to herself. It has nothing to do with any particular person or event that made me act so out of character.

“It’s fine,” Lan Jingli said with a dismissive smile, as if Tan You were of no consequence. “I’ll just pretend I got bitten by a mosquito.”

Tan You’s composure, which had just returned, cracked again for a moment. The alcohol-fueled lust burned through her veins like fire, her skin trembling involuntarily as she yearned to press closer to the woman before her. She had initially felt a pang of guilt for her earlier impulsive act of coercion. But Lan Jingli’s nonchalant reaction instantly extinguished what little rationality remained.

“Li Li, how have you been lately?” Tan You asked softly, her detached gaze sweeping over Lan Jingli’s body inch by inch, as if greeting an old friend she hadn’t seen in ages.

Lan Jingli had already dealt with Wei Xueyin earlier that day, and now she had to face Tan You. The day felt like an absolute disaster, leaving her utterly speechless. What’s with these two fiancées? she wondered. Do they have some weird habit of getting drunk and coming here to spout nonsense?

“I’m fine,” Lan Jingli said. “If you’re looking for Wei Xueyin, she’s probably still waiting outside for you. She has a lot she wants to say.”

“I’ll talk to her later,” Tan You replied coolly.

Lan Jingli’s limbs felt weak, her chest tight with anxiety, and a faint ache welled up behind her eyes. “Then, Chairman Tan, if there’s nothing else, I should get back. My friends are waiting for me.”

“Can’t even spare a moment to chat with me?” Tan You’s fox-like eyes, usually cold and aloof, lowered, blending a frail, pitiful vulnerability with an imperious detachment. The strange combination gave her an indescribable, mad beauty.

“There’s nothing for us to discuss,” Lan Jingli said, her voice growing weaker. “I won’t go back to being some nameless… mistress? Lover? Or whatever you want to call it.”

She desperately wanted to say, I’ve already withdrawn. What more do you want from me? Stop invading my world with yours. It’s a dimension that only brings me misery. Just let me stay in my little world with my friends, peacefully and completely forget Tan You, and start over. Is that too much to ask? Even if a demon no longer wishes to do evil, must it still be suppressed?

Tan You frowned slightly, her voice remaining measured and regal. “Then what is it you want?”

“I want to leave now and find my friends. Please let me pass. Thank you,” Lan Jingli said, her head bowed. The prolonged physical exertion made her smile appear weary and bitter.

“Friends? Is she truly just a friend to you?” Tan You’s expression darkened.

In just a month or two, this person seemed to have completely forgotten her, forming connections with others—acquaintanceships, deeper bonds, even emotional entanglements she knew nothing about—all without her consent. Recalling Lan Jingli’s earlier claims of having few friends and no romantic experience, Tan You nearly convinced herself it had all been a façade.

How else could she have changed so drastically in such a short time? How could she have become so indifferent to me? And the results of my investigation into Lan Jingli might not be reliable. At least, I heard her say on the show that she’d been in five relationships. How did Lan Jingli become such a liar? Such a flirt? So… promiscuous? I won’t allow it. I won’t let someone who used to have eyes only for me just walk away.

“Who are you asking?” Lan Jingli leaned against the wall, her gaze cold as she stared at Tan You. This is ridiculous. What right does Tan You have to question me like this? She’s meddling way too much.

The woman’s breathing was deliberately slow and deep, barely suppressing her agitation. Several names flashed through her mind, but for the first time ever, she lacked the courage to speak them aloud. It’s like a prophecy—if I say it, it’ll come true and catch me off guard.

Lan Jingli glanced at her phone. Several WeChat messages from Wei Yixi showed photos of food, asking where she wanted to eat. It’s like a sudden surge of strength, enough to piece back together the shattered fragments of myself.

“My friends are waiting for me. This is truly the end between us. You can go ahead and get married without worry, and I’ll start my new life. I promised I wouldn’t bother you, and I absolutely won’t.”

“So you’re saying you’re going to love someone else?” Tan You stared directly at Lan Jingli, her radiant eyes icy cold.

Lan Jingli responded with a silent smile, brushing past Tan You with the same urgency she had shown when they first met—only this time, she was hurrying to leave.

How laughable that she had once fantasized about oxidizing into dust alongside Tan You. A queen, a princess—how could someone like her ever have a future with someone like that? But she was the one who was unloved, the one without rustproofing. She had resigned herself to fate, acknowledging her utter defeat, and letting herself oxidize. Yes, her body was indeed covered in rust, whistling in the wind. She no longer had the strength to love anyone else. But she would never love Tan You again either.

“Wait,” Tan You suddenly asked, “you’re collaborating with Wen Fei on a film, aren’t you?”

“That’s none of your concern. I have no comment.”

Tan You closed her eyes briefly. “Li Li, when you’ve had enough of your stubbornness, come back to me. I’ll handle everything… Just stay by my side.”

“Sure,” Lan Jingli replied. “I’ll come back to you when the chickens have eaten all the rice, the dogs have licked up all the flour, and the fire has burned through the chains.”

Lan Jingli’s eyes rimmed with red, but she finished the sentence with a smile, marveling at her own composure and humor. She remembered the promise she had made to herself: to live well, to grow, and to see that distant horizon. Now, she had achieved perhaps one percent of that goal. She had reached a distant place—a place without Tan You, a place where she no longer clung to her obsession with Tan You.

She used to believe that only she could make Tan You happy. Who in the world could cherish Tan You more than she did? Others would only cause her beloved pain. Later, she had to admit she was wrong. Others could bring Tan You happiness too, perhaps even greater happiness. Well, isn’t that the truth?

But she gradually discovered that even without Tan You, she could still move forward, even if the path was arduous and bitter, fraught with hardship. No one was destined to be with anyone else. Clinging to unrealistic expectations of being loved was a subtle form of self-inflicted violence. Others might assume her feelings still wandered nightly, but they had long been buried. What lingered was only because she clung to the memory. If she stopped looking back, happiness would gradually return. Yes, she would grow happier with each passing day.

“Li Li, don’t tease me,” Tan You said. Of course she had read Journey to the West, but Lan Jingli’s casual, mocking tone only intensified the anger and lust simmering within her.

“Fighting spirit? Maybe,” Lan Jingli said with a dismissive snort. She was indeed fighting, gambling that she could forget Tan You, forget the past, and escape the shadows.

The emergency exit door creaked open a sliver, letting in a sliver of hallucinatory light. The small wound added a touch of bewitching wickedness to Lan Jingli’s features, making her face appear even more defiant and exquisite. Tan You’s eyes were half-closed, her dark irises deep and still, filled with both order and unpredictability.

“How much longer?”

“What?”

“How much longer will you keep up this charade?” Tan You asked slowly, her voice cool yet gentle.

“A long time.”

“I’ll wait, but don’t make me wait too long.”

“Chairman Tan, don’t be a sore loser.”

In the darkness, Tan You stood motionless, watching Lan Jingli leave with elegant grace. Throughout her twenty-odd years, she had always demanded unwavering self-control, striving for flawless, error-free execution in every aspect of her life—business, personal matters, and affairs of the heart. Now, she had to admit that Lan Jingli was an exception.

Even so, she would find a way to minimize the impact this exception had on her. She knew, and her body knew, that the best way to achieve this was to keep Lan Jingli by her side. She kept Lan Jingli within her sight every moment, every second.

Yet she still hesitated. Was this truly necessary? Did she really need to go to such lengths? Could she truly not live without Lan Jingli? Would she die without Lan Jingli? For the first half of her life, she had lived perfectly well and contentedly without Lan Jingli. Perhaps there was no real need to keep her around.

This was just a temporary adjustment period. Given time, she would naturally return to her former self, unaffected by Lan Jingli’s presence.

Noticing Tan You’s pensive mood, Lan Jingli quickened her pace slightly, leading them away from the dimly lit corridor and back into the bustling crowd. There, she spotted Aunt Wan attending to Wei Xueyin. Tan You must be worried and sent her most trusted aide to care for Wei Xueyin.

How deeply devoted! Lan Jingli thought sarcastically. Having her trusted housekeeper tend to her fiancée while she sneaks off to a dark emergency exit to “pour her heart out” to her former lover.