After the Breakup, the Crazy Movie Queen Clings to Me Every Day (GL) - Chapter 35.1

“You’ll love me?” Lan Jingli staggered back two steps into the corner, hearing yet another absurd joke.

“Yes, I’ve said it before. I’ll give you everything you want. I’ll work hard to be a good lover.” Over the phone, Tan You repeated patiently, her voice so gentle it could melt the hardest ice in the world.

“A good lover,” Lan Jingli murmured absently, her gaze drifting to the moss growing in the corner.

“Li Li, I’ll love you. If you want a lifetime of love, I’ll love you for a lifetime.” Tan You spoke softly, generously, even with a hint of cat-like cleverness. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me now. I can wait, I can stay by your side, until the day you change your mind.”

“Tan You,” Lan Jingli suddenly looked up at the vast night sky. “Do you even know what I truly want?”

How could someone be so arrogant? To think an apology and a promise could win back someone’s heart.

The woman on the phone was silent for a moment. In times like these, she had one virtue: honesty.

“I truly don’t know what you want.”

“We don’t understand each other, Tan You. I don’t love you, and you don’t love me.”

“But we still have the rest of our lives. A lifetime is long enough for us to truly understand each other, body and soul.”

Though the woman’s voice was exquisitely gentle, as if it could soothe the very depths of one’s heart, Lan Jingli felt a chill run down her spine. It was as if she were wandering alone through haunted mountains, pursued by a bewitching ghost who had already marked her as prey, no matter how far she fled.

Ridiculous and absurd, she could only voice her true thoughts. “I never knew you were so good at sweet-talking. Have you been taking lessons these past few months?”

Hearing Lan Jingli’s dejected words, Tan You’s mind, clouded by passion, cleared for a moment, the clarity so sharp it sent a clear, piercing pain through her heart. Interpreting this as a sign of losing control, she suppressed it with all her might, as she always did.

“I was wrong before. You were just being stubborn, and you had every right to be angry with me. Come back with me, and I’ll apologize to you every day. I’ll keep coaxing you until you forgive me.”

Tan You’s tenderness flowed like water, seeping into Lan Jingli’s very bones, carrying with it an unsettling, subtly inhuman quality. It was as if a siren were singing a song to bewitch humanity, blurring the lines between past and future. Under heaven, no one should have been able to resist such allure.

Lan Jingli should have been no exception, but she had already tasted the bitterness of heartbreak. Like a virus, heartbreak spreads. Once it takes hold, it’s nearly impossible to control. Perhaps a computer reboot could cure it, or perhaps one could never return to the untainted environment of the past.

Tan You was her toxic environment.

Tragically, Lan Jingli had stayed until the poison took full effect, her heart shattered, before finally realizing that Tan You’s tenderness was a deadly poison, a thirst-quenching draught that burned through her intestines.

“Tan You, go flatter someone else. I can’t bear it anymore.” She made another futile attempt to resist, knowing it was pointless, yet still compelled to struggle.

Who could face annihilation once and still summon the courage to try again?

“No, I only want you,” Tan You replied, her voice measured and regal, as if Lan Jingli’s desperate struggles couldn’t shake her unwavering, obsessive desire.

And the more Lan Jingli resisted, the more she rejected, the more Tan You insisted on giving.

*******

The night was thick, the distant sea pitch-black, punctuated only by the occasional flicker of ship lights and bioluminescent plankton. Lan Jingli hadn’t slept all night, and the emotional turmoil made her vision swim with dark spots. Even her icy voice had softened considerably.

“Stop playing with me. Is this some kind of joke? I don’t love you anymore. I’ll never love you, not in this lifetime or any other. Do you understand?”

“I’m not playing with you, Li Li. Don’t let your imagination run wild. I’m serious. From the very beginning, I never considered abandoning you.” So how could you leave me?

Tan You’s expression was both obsessive and gentle, though she kept the last part of her thought unspoken. Her tone remained patient, as if coaxing a child who refused to drink milk.

Lan Jingli silently gazed at the bioluminescent glow on the distant sea. She had never noticed how beautiful the view outside the company building was—so beautiful it made her want to dive in and swim freely.

“Tan You, I get tired too. I don’t want to keep playing this game with you. Why don’t you find some rich, idle socialite who can afford to indulge you?”

For so long, she had endured, endured, endured, because Wei Yixi had kept telling her, Just let it go, let it go, let it go.

That’s right. For someone like her, who had finally experienced a heaven-sent love only to have it snatched away and lost, what else could she do? Throw a hysterical tantrum, wail to the heavens, and storm the gates of heaven, battling a hundred thousand celestial soldiers and generals?

All that remained was to let it go.

She was just a lump of mud, fortunate enough to glimpse the bright moon through the clouds. She had foolishly reached for it, only to have her eyes burned and her heart shattered into dust. She had already suffered the punishment of a thousand arrows piercing her heart. What more could be demanded of her?

She knew she had been wrong. From now on, she would understand the importance of “knowing her place”. The common wisdom of looking in the mirror and recognizing her own limitations. She would never again covet what was beyond her reach. Why couldn’t she be left in peace?

Could she at least be given a chance to live?

Sometimes, she still felt resentment, even though she knew she had brought this suffering upon herself. She had fallen in love with Tan You without permission, and this outcome was her just deserts. She couldn’t blame anyone else.

Yet that bitter mix of sorrow and resentment refused to be suppressed.

If only I had never met Tan You.

If only I hadn’t foolishly rushed to greet her when we reunited.

If only she had left sooner, much sooner. She could have lived a good life, her secret crush fading like a breeze. But Tan You had allowed it to take root and sprout, only to burn it all away with a wildfire, leaving her now to drift like a lost soul.

That day when Chen Jiayang jokingly suggested she try dating someone else, Lan Jingli had actually considered other possibilities. If Wen Fei or Chen Jiayang—or even some random person—had been the one to tell her to look to the future, things might have turned out differently. But her eyes were fixed on Tan You, and everything went wrong.

And so, everything had gone so terribly wrong.

“Li Li, say whatever you want. Punish me if you like,” the sick woman pleaded, clutching the thin blanket, her flushed face leaning against the headboard. The gnawing desire, faint as a mosquito’s bite yet relentless, wasn’t intense but persistent. “Just… just get rid of your anger.”

Lan Jingli remained silent. She took a deep breath, as if trying to exhale the resentment festering in her heart.

“Come back tonight, okay? I miss you so much,” Tan You imagined Lan Jingli beside her, those long, slender fingers plunging into her without restraint, breaking her, driving her mad with pleasure.

*******

Using Lan Jingli’s voice, the woman’s mind overflowed with sensual thoughts, like the warm water swirling beneath her. She couldn’t help but clench her thighs, knowing she was ill, hopelessly ill. Only Lan Jingli could be her cure.

In the empty room, Tan You desperately suppressed the soft moans escaping her lips. Her limbs felt weak, pleasure and pain simultaneously drowning her in an endless sea of desire. If Lan Jingli were to return now, a single glance would reveal this exquisite scene in its entirety.

“I have something tonight.”

Even detecting the unusual tone in Tan You’s voice, Lan Jingli offered no further reaction, simply stating the fact.

“Then let me hear your voice more,” the woman said, her breath coming in short gasps, the infatuation in her voice barely concealed. “It’s so cold without you here.”

“Is the heater off?”

Tan You felt a moment of frustration, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the overwhelming desire Lan Jingli ignited within her.

“But I want you to hold me.”

Lan Jingli exhaled softly, feeling as if the damp moss in the corner had grown even thicker than before.

“Alright, but I need to stay at the studio tonight to record a new song. Can you pick me up at the studio entrance tomorrow morning?”

Tan You had expected Lan Jingli to be as stubborn and unyielding as she had been the previous night. She was surprised by how quickly the woman had softened. A surge of irrepressible joy flickered through her heart, but she swiftly suppressed it, determined to let the feeling pass.

She also wanted to temporarily quell the sexual craving that had been building to a fever pitch. More importantly, she wanted reason to regain control of her body, leaving no room for excessive loss of control.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning,” Tan You said, her crimson lips moving slightly, her eyelashes lifting. A bewitching smile bloomed across her pale, sickly face, her starry eyes hazy with an alluring, almost dangerous charm.

“Mm, don’t come too early. Keep it low-key—we don’t want to disturb your colleagues’ rest.”

Tan You readily agreed, adding with genuine concern, “What would you like for breakfast tomorrow? I’ll bring it.”

“Anything is fine. You know I’m not picky.”

“Okay,” Tan You replied, her voice softening like fine snow falling. She truly adored Lan Jingli’s docile demeanor. “Whatever you want.”

“Mm, thank you. I’m hanging up now.” Lan Jingli’s gaze remained calm, though her mind was already racing with thoughts.

“Wait… I want to hear you say it again…”

Lan Jingli’s tone was cool and detached. “Is there anything else?”

Tan You remained unfazed by Lan Jingli’s coldness, chuckling softly, her voice honeyed with persuasion. “No, it’s nothing. Even if you’re recording, remember to take breaks. Don’t exhaust yourself.”

She keenly realized she wanted to keep talking to Lan Jingli, even just to hear her voice again. It was like a craving that could be temporarily satisfied. She even considered canceling her upcoming work meeting—a dangerous sign. I shouldn’t be like this, she thought, biting her lip in a desperate attempt to regain control.

“Mm,” Lan Jingli replied, hanging up and returning the phone to the “bodyguard” member waiting at a distance, who had been dutifully watching over her.

As the bodyguard dispersed around her, their presence was subtle yet inescapable, forming a tight perimeter. To the casual observer, they might seem unremarkable, but Lan Jingli felt their watchful eyes like thorns in her back.

“Wait for me outside. I don’t want anyone else to notice. I’m sure your boss wouldn’t want to make a scene either.”

The four bodyguards stood motionless, as if deaf to her words, guarding her like stone statues.

“Chairman Tan instructed us to ensure Miss Lan’s safety, without leaving your side.”

“I’ve already told Chairman Tan to pick me up tomorrow. If she’s not worried about me running away, why do you need to be here?”

“In this situation, we’ll call the boss for further instructions. Miss Lan, please be patient; I’ll be right back.”

The four guards exchanged uncertain glances, hesitant to defy Lan Jingli’s orders completely. After all, Tan You had instructed them to attend to her every need, no matter how trivial, as long as she didn’t try to escape.

After some deliberation, one of them stepped out to make a call. Upon returning, he nodded to the others, and they all withdrew in unison.

“Miss Lan, please stay comfortably in the company. Chairman Tan will pick you up tomorrow as scheduled. We’ll be guarding outside, so we won’t disturb you.”

Lan Jingli watched them leave silently, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips before her expression returned to its usual impassivity. She turned and ascended the stairs toward the practice room where she usually trained.

The company corridors were eerily quiet. At this late hour, few artists remained. Most were either out on assignments or attending social gatherings. It was unlikely anyone would still be at the office. The only people likely still around were senior executives working late.