She's Crazy, I Love Her - Chapter 31

The last message was from a week ago, when she finalized her contract termination with Ji Mei Entertainment, with Wenhui Media paying the breach of contract fees in a lump sum.

Chi Yue thanked Qi You, who replied simply, “Okay.”

Scrolling further up, after their video call, Chi Yue would proactively send greetings during meal times or breaks, occasionally sharing a couple of behind-the-scenes photos from the set.

Qi You’s replies were sparse, just a few words here and there.

Eventually, it seemed as if she had forgotten about Chi Yue entirely.

But now, Qi You’s message was at the top: “What are you doing?”

The status bar also showed a missed call.

Chi Yue placed her phone on the table and stared at it, a premonition settling in her gut—a feeling that made her uneasy.

She returned the call. After a few seconds, Qi You answered.

“President Qi.”

“Are you done with work?”

The woman’s voice, cold and distant, traveled through the electromagnetic waves to Chi Yue’s ear. Even after more than a month, hearing that voice still conjured the image of Qi You’s piercing gaze.

“Yes,” Chi Yue replied.

“Do you have any free time in the next couple of days?”

Chi Yue’s heart tightened, and her voice followed suit. “I—I have filming. It might be difficult.”

A slight pause on the other end of the line. After a moment, “Is that so?”

Chi Yue bit her lip, remaining silent.

“I’ll get you a leave of absence,” the voice said.

Just as I thought.

Not long after the call ended, a knock came at the dressing room door. Tai Ying entered and said, “Yueyue, Director Zeng wants to see you.”

Chi Yue murmured an acknowledgment but didn’t move.

Tai Ying waved a hand in front of her eyes, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

Chi Yue snapped out of her daze and looked up. “What did you say?”

Tai Ying repeated herself, “Director Zeng wants to see you.”

Chi Yue nodded and stood up.

Director Zeng was eating an ice pop while reviewing storyboards on the monitor. When he saw Chi Yue approach, his expression remained neutral. He spoke first, “It’s fortunate your scenes are scattered these days. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have let you go.”

Chi Yue’s face paled slightly. She apologized softly, “I’m sorry for causing you trouble—”

Director Zeng sighed and waved his hand. “Enough. He’s the boss, and I can’t be too strict. Giving you two days off a month to rest is perfectly reasonable.”

Chi Yue was the undisputed leading actress on set, her screen time exceeding that of both male leads combined. As a newcomer, her influence was limited, so whenever she was in Hengdian, she was often shuttled between A and B units, working tirelessly every day.

Director Zeng flipped through the script, his head bent low. “In that case, let’s shoot extra scenes tonight to catch up. No problem, right?”

Chi Yue clenched her fists. “No problem at all, Director. Thank you for your hard work.”

Director Zeng waved dismissively.

Because the female lead had requested leave, they worked late into the night, nearly pulling an all-nighter.

Chi Yue caught the earliest flight out, boarding as dawn broke.

Unable to sleep on the plane, she stared blankly at the clouds on the horizon. The sun gradually rose, its yolk-yellow orb leaping above the horizon in mere minutes, painting the pristine white clouds with the soft hues of dawn.

Two hours later, the plane landed. Here, the sky was overcast, the sun hidden behind a cotton-like layer of dark clouds.

At the exit, she spotted Qi You.

With her long, straight hair, two Australian South Sea pearls adorning her earlobes, and a linen shirt and wide-legged pants in matching neutral tones, Qi You stood tall and striking amidst the crowd.

The moment Chi Yue saw her, it felt like hearing her mental defenses crumbling, like the thunderous roar of a plane taking off.

Suddenly, she was afraid to approach.

Sensing her hesitation, Qi You put away her phone and waved Chi Yue over.

Chi Yue took a deep breath and walked over, her voice barely steady. “President Qi.”

Qi You hummed in acknowledgment, her gaze sweeping Chi Yue from head to toe before reaching for the luggage. “Let’s go.”

The suitcase was the same bright yellow, 18-inch one from last time, small enough to carry on the plane and avoid baggage claim.

Chi Yue released her grip and followed Qi You to the parking lot. After getting into the car, she lowered her head to buckle her seatbelt.

The car didn’t start immediately. Chi Yue could feel Qi You’s gaze lingering on her, but she didn’t return the look, nor did she speak.

After a moment, Qi You suddenly reached out to touch Chi Yue’s face. Chi Yue instinctively flinched back.

“Your mask,” Qi You reminded her.

Chi Yue snapped out of her daze, realizing she hadn’t taken off her mask.

Qi You had already used her index finger to unhook the mask’s ear loop, her fingertip brushing lightly against Chi Yue’s cheek.

Chi Yue removed her mask and held it in her hand.

Qi You looked at her. “Not happy?”

“No,” Chi Yue said, clearing the lump in her throat. “Just exhausted.”

Qi You gently touched the corners of her reddened eyes, his gaze questioning.

Chi Yue pressed her lips together. “It’s from staying up late.”

A transparent attempt to conceal the truth.

Qi You didn’t call her out on it, withdrawing his hand to rest it on the steering wheel.

As the car pulled away, Qi You asked, “Have you had breakfast?”

Chi Yue leaned back against the seat, her delicate, pale face reflected in the car window.

She gazed out at the passing scenery. “Not really hungry.”

“Then let’s grab something light,” Qi You suggested.

“Okay,” Chi Yue agreed.

The drive from the airport into the city took some time. Qi You said, “If you’re tired, get some sleep.”

Chi Yue hummed in agreement and closed her eyes.

At first, she wasn’t sleepy, closing her eyes simply to avoid talking to Qi You. But his driving was smooth and steady, without any sudden stops or jolts. Combined with her exhaustion, her consciousness soon drifted away, and she fell into a hazy slumber.

When she woke up, she felt disoriented, unsure of the time or place.

Qi You was sitting in the driver’s seat, playing on his phone.

Chi Yue’s first instinct was to touch the corner of her mouth.

Qi You turned his head.

Chi Yue began, “I…”

“We just got here,” Qi You said. “I haven’t finished my game yet.”

Chi Yue slowly regained her composure and sat up straight.

Qi You finished her game, and Chi Yue wiped her face with a wet tissue.

The Cantonese dim sum restaurant was upstairs. After they sat down, Chi Yue ordered as usual.

She wasn’t really hungry—her hunger had passed long ago—but the sight of crystal shrimp dumplings and red rice rolls made her stomach rumble involuntarily.

Her stomach, intestines, and even her heart were all so weak-willed.

Feeling a bit frustrated, Chi Yue buried her head in her food.

“Is it good?” Qi You asked.

Chi Yue didn’t want to badmouth the restaurant, so she honestly replied, “It’s very fresh.”

Qi You picked up her chopsticks again and took a few more bites.

Chi Yue stirred her seafood congee with a spoon. “Where are we going after this?”

Qi You sipped her water, looked at her, and said, “To my place.”

Whether it was because she was finally full and had regained her strength, or because her nerves had become more sensitive, Chi Yue felt a slight tingle down her spine after hearing those words.

She didn’t ask any more questions.

As they left the restaurant, it finally started to rain—a light, drizzling rain that hurried pedestrians along the streets.

Chi Yue suddenly felt drowsy, an overwhelming fatigue seeping from her bones. Her eyelids grew heavy, and by the time they reached the elevator, she couldn’t resist a small yawn that made her eyes water. Her head even bumped against Qi You’s shoulder.

Qi You smoothly stroked Chi Yue’s back, asking, “How long has it been since you slept?”

“I didn’t sleep yesterday,” Chi Yue paused, then continued, “And the day before, and the day before that… I’ve been pulling all-nighters for days.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Qi You said.

Chi Yue glanced at her, her lips pressed together, her frustration almost palpable.

Qi You patted her head. “Then you should rest for a while. I’ll take you out tonight.”

Chi Yue perked up slightly. “Where are we going?”

Qi You didn’t answer. “We’ll talk about it later.”

The elevator opened directly into the apartment—a sprawling, two-story penthouse overlooking the river. The interior, furnished like a luxury real estate advertisement, was opulent, spacious, and spotless, yet utterly devoid of warmth.

This was Chi Yue’s first time here, and she couldn’t help but look around. “Do you usually live here?”

“I usually stay at Little Tantan Mountain,” Qi You replied.

Chi Yue nodded, unsurprised, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows to gaze outside.

The rain hadn’t intensified, but the dark clouds had thinned, making the sky brighter than before. The city seemed enveloped in a vast, misty veil, cleansed and refreshed by the downpour.

Qi You asked from behind, “Do you like it?”

Chi Yue turned her head. “Hmm?”

“If you like it, you can live here later,” Qi You said.

Chi Yue paused, her mind racing, before finally responding, “Zhang Mu has already arranged a new place for me.”

Long before the film crew resumed production, Chi Yue had moved out of the Ji Mei Entertainment dormitory. However, she had been constantly filming and hadn’t had a chance to move in.

Qi You caught her unspoken meaning. “Don’t you like this place?” she asked.

Chi Yue didn’t answer directly, her gaze fixed on the water droplets trickling down the glass. After a long silence, she finally looked up. “Will you be living here too?”

Qi You countered, “Do you want me to?”

She tossed the question back at Chi Yue.

Chi Yue lowered her eyes, murmuring, “What I say doesn’t matter.”

Qi You smiled faintly and gently brushed her cheek with her fingertip.

The conversation drifted to an end, neither pressing the other for answers.

The rest area was on the second floor. After traveling between two locations, Chi Yue, dusty and weary, opened her suitcase and went to the bathroom to wash up and take a shower.

As she dried her hair, Qi You leaned against the doorframe, watching her.

What was that look in her eyes?

It was like watching a small animal voluntarily clean itself, dry its fur, and deliver itself to the hunter’s mouth, ready to be devoured.

The patron and the gilded cage.

Chi Yue felt dazed. If their relationship were described in workplace terms, Qi You’s actions could be considered exemplary. She had helped Chi Yue arrange hospital care and find doctors for her grandmother, resolved her company’s troubles, and even improved her resources, granting her ample leniency in their contract.

In exchange, they slept together.

Not even frequently—once a month, or every two months.

And Qi You was still beautiful.

It was Chi Yue herself who seemed to be failing in her duties, driven by greed.

The hot, roaring wind mixed with intense shame nearly drowned her.

She pressed the power button, and the wind stopped.

Qi You walked over and kissed her.

Her fingers slid into Chi Yue’s still-warm, damp hair, gripping the slender nape of her neck like holding a cat.

Chi Yue forced herself to relax, but her body continued to tremble uncontrollably.

She didn’t resist, obediently parting her lips, but couldn’t help retreating until her back pressed against the sink.

She gripped the cold, hard countertop with both hands, desperately trying to suppress her trembling.

Qi You lifted her onto the sink, cupping her face as she kissed her deeply, her lips sucking against Chi Yue’s while her other hand untied the sash of Chi Yue’s bathrobe.

Chi Yue was wearing only the robe, its soft sash easily undone with a gentle tug.

Chi Yue began to cry.

Qi You’s palm glided over her soft body, leaving a trail of warmth and slickness. Beneath her hand, Chi Yue’s heart pounded rapidly, a vibrant rhythm: thump-thump-thump.

Chi Yue clutched at her chest, trying to calm her racing heart, but it was futile.

Qi You licked away her tears, her voice low and slightly hoarse. “Why are you crying?”

Chi Yue couldn’t speak. She wrapped her arms around Qi You’s neck, sobbing into her shoulder.

Her tears were so obvious, her distress so palpable, that the deep kiss gradually softened into a comforting embrace.

In the end, they didn’t go further. Qi You carried her back to bed and tucked her under the covers.

The sheets were cool and soft, untouched by sleep, carrying only the clean, subtle scent of detergent—a pure, soothing fragrance that invited slumber.

Chi Yue curled up, burying her face in the pillow, and almost immediately sank into a deep, dark dream.