Making Three Heartless Woman Go Crazy for Me - Chapter 17

Qi Lanshi felt that entrusting this task to the Troublemaker was the perfect move. Gu Jingshu would undoubtedly carry it out flawlessly.

Are you so sure she’ll listen to you? the System asked, puzzled. According to the 설정, Gu Jingshu and Luan Hua have been close friends since childhood. Given Luan Hua’s capabilities and family background, Gu Jingshu has gone to great lengths to maintain their relationship. She wouldn’t jeopardize it for you.

“The very fact that she needs to ‘maintain’ the relationship proves it’s not genuine,” Qi Lanshi countered, leaning back against the headboard. She explained to the System and the livestream viewers, “In Gu Jingshu and Luan Hua’s dynamic, it’s clear that Gu Jingshu has to lower herself to curry favor with Luan Hua. Such a relationship can never last. Their so-called friendship is merely a transactional arrangement, maintained out of necessity.”

“Moreover, it’s entirely one-sided. Luan Hua has no intention of reciprocating. You’ve made her character too perfect, too perpetually aloof and superior.”

“Apart from her secretary, who earns a hefty salary from her, it’s hard to imagine anyone in the world not harboring some resentment toward her, right?”

“Especially someone like Gu Jingshu, who was once a proud heiress herself.”

“Gu Jingshu wouldn’t jeopardize her relationship with Luan Hua over me, of course. But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy seeing Luan Hua discomfited.”

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m just a little toy she can use to poke at Luan Hua and watch the drama unfold.”

Sure enough, as Qi Lanshi finished speaking, her phone vibrated with a screenshot of a chat from Gu Jingshu.

Gu Jingshu: How long will you be away on this business trip?

Luan Hua: ?

Luan Hua: Is something wrong?

Gu Jingshu: Would you consider gossip a serious matter?

Gu Jingshu: I thought having a little substitute might make you settle down and stay home more often. But you’re still a workaholic.

Luan Hua: If you’re so bored, go find a job.

The conversation ended there, but Qi Lanshi had already achieved her goal.

Luan Hua’s business trips were routine, but her itineraries were never publicly disclosed. The fact that Gu Jingshu knew about this one without asking meant someone had told her in advance.

As for who that someone was, that was for Luan Hua to figure out.

After all, Gu Jingshu was just a troublemaker. Everything she said and did was perfectly plausible. Her deliberate ambiguity left the best kind of room for speculation.

Qi Lanshi replied with a simple “1” to acknowledge the message. On Gu Jingshu’s end, a question mark slowly appeared.

Gu Jingshu: You’re being incredibly cold and heartless. You weren’t this way when you needed my help just now.

Qi Lanshi: Remember to periodically clear our chat history. Goodbye.

Her attitude was sharp and dismissive. After sending the message, she deleted the chat history herself and waited for news from Luan Hua amidst the endless cacophony.

She marveled at the servants’ composure. For an entire day, their noise had followed her everywhere, relentlessly trying to make her miserable.

While the noise was indeed irritating, wouldn’t the servants at the source of the racket be suffering even more? Was this scorched-earth strategy—harming themselves more than their target—truly worth it?

The din persisted throughout the day. Luan Hua proved more patient than Qi Lanshi had anticipated. Her wait stretched from daylight into evening, until she was nearly falling asleep.

“Could my calculations have been wrong? That shouldn’t be possible,” Qi Lanshi muttered to herself.

Mentally calculating when her alarm would ring again, she realized her break was almost over and it was time to sleep.

She exchanged goodnights with the System in her mind, rubbed her eyes, and yawned widely before climbing into bed. Just then, she heard the sound of a car engine.

Luan Hua had returned.

Qi Lanshi now understood why Luan Hua hadn’t messaged her. The woman had flown back directly, likely hoping to catch her off guard.

I thought I’d miscalculated, but it turns out I underestimated her, Qi Lanshi clicked her tongue inwardly. No wonder she’d go to such lengths for a White Moonlight she hadn’t even seen in years. She’s a hopeless romantic.

Glancing out the window, Qi Lanshi checked her reflection in the glass, nodding in satisfaction at her appearance:

Fragile, delicate, with eyes bloodshot from exhaustion and tear-streaked, their corners glistening with unshed tears—the effect was perfect.

No one could play the victim better than her.

While others might feign weakness for petty gains, essentially no different from a child begging for candy, Qi Lanshi was different.

For her, survival was paramount. Living was an absolute necessity.

Before Luan Hua could come upstairs, Qi Lanshi hurried to the balcony. She stood there, letting the cold wind whip around her, tilting her head at a 45-degree angle to ensure Luan Hua would see her sharp jawline.

As footsteps approached behind her, she turned, meeting Luan Hua’s gaze. She didn’t say a word, but she clearly saw Luan Hua freeze for a moment before falling silent.

Luan Hua couldn’t understand herself. Why did such a trivial matter ignite her anger, only to have it extinguished the moment she saw Qi Lanshi? She couldn’t muster any anger at all.

It was Qi Lanshi who had been disobedient and dishonest. The moment Luan Hua left, the woman had entangled herself with Gu Jingshu, yet now she acted as if she were the one who had suffered some great injustice.

Luan Hua was utterly exasperated by Qi Lanshi’s fragile demeanor, as if she might be swept away by the slightest breeze. How could she have mustered the strength to study diligently and gain admission to a prestigious university while living under the roof of a beast like Qi Feng, yet act so unwilling to do the same by Luan Hua’s side?

“What are you doing now?” Luan Hua demanded. “Is ‘cry, make a scene, threaten suicide’ your only tactic? Can’t you come up with something new?”

To this, Qi Lanshi could only think: Sometimes, it’s not about having many tricks, but about having the right one.

After all, she had realized that Luan Hua was precisely the type to fall for this act.

She didn’t even need to genuinely threaten suicide; her feigned fragility was a persona Luan Hua couldn’t resist.

“I’m not threatening suicide,” Qi Lanshi explained. “I’ve told you, my life is tough. I’m not ready to die. I just came out for some fresh air. I was bored, that’s all.”

The word “bored” instantly reminded Luan Hua of her reason for rushing back. Her eyes turned cold as she strode forward, yanked Qi Lanshi down, and retorted, “Bored? You seem quite adept at finding entertainment. Weren’t you having a lively conversation with someone else?”

Qi Lanshi frowned, her face a mask of disdain and barely suppressed impatience. “Don’t be unreasonable,” she said. “But… fine, believe whatever you want.”

Resigning herself, she unlocked her phone and shoved it into Luan Hua’s hand. “Did you come back just to check up on me? Go ahead, look through it. In this house, I’m just a maid—no freedom, no dignity, and certainly no privacy.”

Qi Lanshi’s attitude was eerily reminiscent of a scumbag caught red-handed, who then turns the tables by accusing his partner of distrust. This crude tactic only served to infuriate Luan Hua further.

Luan Hua stared at the blank chat history between Qi Lanshi and Gu Jingshu, her anger intensifying.

If Qi Lanshi were truly as innocent as she claimed, why would she have deleted all their messages?

And now she stood on the rooftop, feigning victimhood and humiliation? It was laughable.

“Qi Lanshi,” Luan Hua said, her voice growing colder as her anger rose. “You really know how to make me furious.”

Qi Lanshi let out a silent sigh of relief.

In a typical CEO romance, the male lead would have swept the female lead off her feet, tossed her onto the bed, and then… well, you know. A double dose of physical and emotional progress.

But this was a Lily story, and Luan Hua was still a “pillow princess.” The initiative for what came next rested entirely with Qi Lanshi.

Luan Hua’s kiss descended. Qi Lanshi tilted her head slightly but didn’t evade it, forced to passively endure. The grinding of lips and teeth against skin became an agonizing torment. Every subtle expression of resistance and restraint was like a slap across Luan Hua’s face.

Luan Hua gripped Qi Lanshi’s chin, her face cold as she retorted, “So unwilling? What, think you’ve found a new sugar daddy and want to play the virtuous martyr now? Don’t you even know what you are…?”

The word “commodity” hung unspoken on Luan Hua’s tongue.

The single tear that escaped the corner of Qi Lanshi’s eye was enough to silence her.

Qi Lanshi desperately suppressed a yawn, successfully squeezing out a teary-eyed, red-rimmed expression.

She was genuinely exhausted, her performance clearly lacking. When she was in better spirits, she could cry on command like a sentient faucet, controlling both the volume and size of her tears.

“I’m just tired,” Qi Lanshi said. “I’m so sleepy. I need to rest. My head hurts so much, like it’s about to explode. Please let me rest properly, okay?”

This was the first time Qi Lanshi had ever asked Luan Hua for anything. The first time, she had demanded Qi Feng’s gambling hands. The second time, all she wanted was to rest.

Luan Hua’s hand, which had been pinching Qi Lanshi’s cheek, paused before releasing her. “What happened?” she asked. “Did someone upset you?”

“No, not at all,” Qi Lanshi replied. “I’m just genuinely tired. That’s all.”

As she spoke, Qi Lanshi felt like a lousy, technically inept man who blamed everything on being “tired.”

A silent wave of goosebumps prickled her arm.

Luan Hua paused, then slowly withdrew her hand.

Qi Lanshi was truly exhausted. She collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep almost immediately, her body heavy and her breathing even and deep.

With only the bedside lamp lit, Qi Lanshi’s peaceful slumber created an atmosphere of serene tranquility. Luan Hua brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek, unconsciously stroking her skin.

Suddenly, Qi Lanshi murmured something unintelligible. Luan Hua leaned closer to listen, their breaths mingling for a fleeting moment. Qi Lanshi turned over, her crimson lips brushing against Luan Hua’s cheek, leaving behind a fleeting trace of warmth.

Luan Hua froze, her ears flushing crimson in an instant. By the time she realized it, the blush had already spread to her cheeks.

She tried to get up and leave, but as soon as she moved, she realized Qi Lanshi’s fingers were hooked around hers.

Qi Lanshi’s grip seemed unconscious, yet when Luan Hua tried to pull away, she tightened her hold, as if desperate to retain that tiny bit of warmth at her fingertips.

It was only then that Luan Hua truly sensed Qi Lanshi’s dependence on her.

In her hazy state, Qi Lanshi’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze lingering for a moment before finally focusing on Luan Hua, who was so close.

With just one glance, she closed her eyes again, turning her face toward the wall and facing away from Luan Hua.

Her hand withdrew without hesitation, revealing that her earlier apparent clinginess had been nothing more than a dream-induced illusion.