Making Three Heartless Woman Go Crazy for Me - Chapter 13

At that moment, Qi Lanshi experienced the joy of getting something for free.

Though she still wouldn’t let Luan Hua freeload off her.

After hanging up, she turned off her phone. When she’d turn it back on depended entirely on when Luan Hua managed to find her.

She believed that since Luan Hua was set up as the CEO, she must have some exceptional qualities beyond her beauty and… well, being done.

Thinking of this, she couldn’t help but say to the System, “I said earlier that your game only has amazing art, but that’s not true. The real-life experience is also incredibly impressive.”

So impressive that she sometimes wondered if this game could even be released legally.

The System asked, Is that all you feel about this game? Don’t you like Luan Hua at all?

“No, that’s not it. I do like her quite a bit,” Qi Lanshi replied logically. “Her face is definitely my type. Otherwise, why wouldn’t I have pursued Gu Jingshu’s route, since she was so willing?”

I’m not talking about that aspect, the System clarified. I mean emotionally, and as a person…

Before the System could finish, Qi Lanshi burst out laughing, genuinely amused.

She shook her head with a laugh. “You’re so funny. Luan Hua? A person? With emotions?”

The words sounded like an insult, but she was speaking the truth.

No one would ever treat a game NPC as a real person. Some might get carried away, projecting feelings onto these paper-thin characters, but no one would mistake the two-dimensional world of games for their actual life and reality.

Even though Qi Lanshi’s real life was a mess, she understood this perfectly.

 But…  The System tried to interject, but Qi Lanshi suddenly shushed it.

She pressed a finger to her lips and whispered, “Don’t interrupt me. Whether I can get a carefree, effortless gaming life depends on this one move today.”

Qi Lanshi had chosen the perfect spot: a scenic riverside location where a gentle breeze brushed against her. She turned her head, the lighting just right, sunlight bathing her in a golden glow that made even the strands of her hair shimmer.

She was acutely aware of her beauty and knew exactly how to use it—the lighting, angles, shadows, atmosphere—she manipulated every element to perfection.

Now, facing the approaching Luan Hua, she projected an image of restrained vulnerability, fragile yet hauntingly beautiful, as if she might vanish with the next gust of wind.

During the performance, Qi Lanshi couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: Who would have thought I’d have to resort to crying and making a scene twice in just two days?

Life is truly full of unexpected twists.

“What do you want?” Qi Lanshi asked, tilting her head. “Did you come here to look down on me and enjoy my misery?”

Her composure and sharp retort made Luan Hua swallow the words she had been about to say.

On her way to confront Qi Lanshi, Luan Hua had felt deeply irritated. As a substitute, Qi Lanshi had already cost her too much time and energy. The woman had caused endless complications and problems, which Luan Hua found infuriating.

Or rather, anything that deviated from her carefully laid plans and expectations made her restless, driving her to want to eliminate it.

Faced with someone like Qi Lanshi, Luan Hua saw only two options: abandon the substitute entirely or completely strip away Qi Lanshi’s freedom, forcing her to accept her true position and reality.

Qi Lanshi’s actions had made it clear: she would never submit.

For someone like Luan Hua, abandoning Qi Lanshi would have been the most logical choice. After all, she had only been using this substitute for a few days.

Although Qi Lanshi resembled Luan Hua’s beloved, with enough money, finding someone similar wouldn’t be impossible. Only the White Moonlight was truly irreplaceable; Qi Lanshi was merely a counterfeit.

But when Luan Hua actually saw Qi Lanshi, her mind went blank for a moment.

Barefoot, Qi Lanshi stood by the riverbank, the wind whipping through her hair. Her indifferent eyes, devoid of emotion, gazed at Luan Hua from a distance, showing no trace of resentment.

The river wind carried a dampness that thickened the air, making the atmosphere feel heavy and humid.

The scene before Luan Hua gradually shifted, as if she were reliving that day in her memory. The girl she cherished stood at the airport, watching her from afar, before finally smiling and turning away.

Qi Lanshi’s current appearance was almost identical to how her beloved had looked when they parted ways.

Luan Hua felt a sense of disorientation. Even when she had sought a substitute, her demands for Qi Lanshi had been limited to physical appearance. She never imagined that this insignificant trinket she had never truly valued could resemble her White Moonlight so closely as to leave her in awe.

“It wasn’t me,” Luan Hua blurted out instinctively.

“What are you referring to? Are you saying Qi Feng’s situation has nothing to do with you, or that you didn’t orchestrate the online smear campaign?”

Before Luan Hua could respond, she continued, “But either way, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

What difference does it make whether you commit one wrong or two? The moment Luan Hua made her decision, everything was set in stone.

Qi Lanshi had handed her the blame, and she would have to bear it.

Luan Hua realized this too, and fell silent.

“I’ll handle it,” she said. “Qi Feng will never appear before you again, and I’ll take care of the online rumors. Your life will return to normal.”

Qi Lanshi thought to herself, ……

As expected, CEOs are a different species entirely. Their words and actions defy comprehension.

She retorted, “What do you mean by ‘normal’? Do you mean going back to my miserable life, being bled dry by my gambling-addicted father, or continuing to be your mistress, using myself as a vessel for your affections?”

“The online rumors… fundamentally, they weren’t wrong. Even if you delete them all, what’s the point?”

Luan Hua was nearly speechless.

Until now, she had never truly acknowledged Qi Lanshi’s suffering. But once she began to pay attention… everything became impossible to ignore.

Luan Hua couldn’t even understand where this feeling came from.

But Qi Lanshi understood perfectly.

She had studied White Moonlight’s background and character profile. Though only a few lines, she quickly realized this was the type she excelled at playing. Throughout middle and high school, she had dominated everyone—men and women alike—by cultivating this very persona.

Now, she was merely revisiting familiar territory.

The reason Luan Hua couldn’t bring herself to be harsh with Qi Lanshi was simple: they were too similar. Physical resemblance was easy to overlook, but the soul-deep similarity was what truly tormented her.

The current Qi Lanshi constantly reminded Luan Hua of her own heart’s bright moon.

Luan Hua couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if White Moonlight had faced the same terrible start and life as Qi Lanshi.

She would begin to see that Qi Lanshi’s life had been a dead end from the moment she was born to such a father—that she and White Moonlight were two sides of the same coin.

The thought that Qi Lanshi might represent White Moonlight’s alternate life became unbearable for Luan Hua.

And when she realized that Qi Lanshi had once had a chance to rise above her circumstances, only for Luan Hua herself to destroy it, she might even lose her mind.

“Don’t worry, CEO Luan,” Qi Lanshi said with a smile. “A poor person’s life is cheap. Your money won’t be wasted.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the familiar ringtone suddenly sounded in her ear, signaling the end of her one precious day off.

The game was fun, but a working stiff like her had to get back to work. Faced with the choice between devising a way to get rid of Luan Hua or simply logging off, Qi Lanshi chose… to use three Time Freeze Cards, freezing Luan Hua in place for a minute and a half while she made her escape.

Nothing was more important than work. She was a dedicated working stiff, after all.

Before exiting the game, she paused. In the end, she didn’t log out of her account, merely leaving the Holographic Pod.

When exiting the game, she could choose to pause time or not. If she didn’t manually pause it, time would continue to flow in the game, albeit at a much slower rate.

For example, the last time she logged out, by the time she returned, Luan Hua had already been asleep for quite a while.

Based on this pattern, if she simply left the game without any further action, everything within the game would continue as usual, except… she would be gone.

“Work hard, play hard,” Qi Lanshi muttered, wiping her face as she checked her phone for messages.

First, she opened her comment section, which had already been overrun. Initially, people were asking why she hadn’t streamed the next day, but most now suspected she was indulging in immersive adult content, so addicted to virtual women that she refused to log out.

Qi Lanshi chuckled, then selected a few comments to reply to, explaining that she was still unfamiliar with holographic games and had lost track of time, spending the entire day inside. She promised to make up for the missed stream during her next day off.

Glancing at the time, she realized she still had enough time. She quickly edited the game recording, first removing the adult content, then fast-forwarding through her class sessions, leaving only her two headshot kills. The final shot lingered on her standing by the riverbank, looking as if she might drift away with the wind.

“Perfect, absolutely perfect,” Qi Lanshi affirmed to herself. “So that’s what I looked like from Luan Hua’s perspective. How could she not be captivated?”

She clicked “post” and didn’t bother checking the video again, turning her attention to work matters.

Things were fine at the factory; she wasn’t a crucial employee, so her absence didn’t cause any issues. However, her part-time flyer distribution job had been sending her numerous messages, and when she didn’t reply, they had to find someone else.

Qi Lanshi didn’t personally toil under the scorching sun distributing flyers. She operated as a middleman, profiting from the price difference. She regularly compiled promotional materials from various businesses, organizing them into booklets based on location and type. Then, she hired university students to distribute the flyers at strategic locations targeting specific demographics.

These bundled flyers were more likely to be kept than those randomly handed out on the street. Since the costs were shared among multiple businesses, each advertiser paid less, and the students only needed to follow her planned routes.

It was a win-win: businesses saved money, students saved time, and Qi Lanshi simply profited.

But now, all her side income had vanished because of a game.

Qi Lanshi sighed softly, thinking, “Getting involved in adult content really makes you degenerate.”

After briefly explaining the situation to her clients, it was almost time for work. As she was about to put her phone away, a friend request popped up.

The profile picture was a black square, and the username simply read “Dong.” It was obvious who it was.

Qi Lanshi slowly rolled her eyes, declined the friend request, and continued to work.

As she stood up, she paused, a flicker of unease crossing her face. She realized she was actually starting to feel uncomfortable walking with a limp.

The holographic game had given her a healthy body, almost making her believe she was a normal person.

Her factory job was monotonous and mechanical, which many would find tedious. But for Qi Lanshi, it was perfect. She needed work that required no thought, exhausted her completely, and paid well.

During her lunch break, she opened the video’s comment section to gauge the public’s reaction. Her editing skills were crude, and if people didn’t like it, she wouldn’t bother next time.

However, the comments seemed utterly indifferent to her editing quality. Instead, everyone was fixated on how captivating she looked when landing headshots.

The comment section had been overrun with “sizzling” and “huffing” emojis, with users clamoring, “Sister, hit me!”

The most upvoted comment read: “Sister, you’re so hot! Would you be my Master? (shy)”

Qi Lanshi replied flatly: “No, because the new society has no slaves! We are all our own masters!“