She's Crazy, I Love Her - Chapter 6

Qi You knew everything about Chi Yue.

She knew her background, education, hobbies, dreams, and even her embarrassing, shameful, and unspeakable secrets.

If not for Qi You’s expressionless face, He Wen would have almost thought the heiress was indulging in some kind of secret crush fantasy.

He compiled the information Qi You had given him, supplemented it with online research, printed out the relevant documents, and placed them on his desk. He casually tucked the unlimited black card into his drawer.

There was another assistant in the office—young, tall, and handsome—also specially transferred from another department to “keep the crown prince company,” and a fellow alumnus of Qi You’s.

Compared to the seemingly ordinary He Wen, this male assistant was clearly more shrewd and ambitious.

“Miss Qi assigned you work?” The moment He Wen sat down, the male assistant slid over, leaned an arm on the desk, and nodded toward the Deputy General Manager’s office.

“Mm-hmm,” He Wen replied, tapping the papers without suspicion. “President Qi has taken an interest in Chi Yue and wants me to find a way to sign her to the company. I’m still figuring out how to approach it.”

“Chi Yue?” The male assistant picked up the documents and flipped through them. “Impressive. You’ve done a thorough background check.”

He Wen smiled modestly.

“Chi Yue came from a talent show, right? Why would Miss Qi take an interest in her?” the male assistant asked casually, glancing at her. “Could she be related to the Qi Family?”

He Wen shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe Miss Qi just likes her.”

The assistant remained noncommittal, but his hand holding the documents didn’t lower.

He Wen said, “Lin Yadong, since you’re free right now, why don’t you help me figure out who would be the best manager for her? I’ll treat you to coffee later.”

Lin Yadong grinned, showing all his teeth. “Sure!”

Before noon, the head of the talent management department came to gauge Qi You’s intentions.

Wenhui was an established media company specializing in film and television production. Their roster primarily consisted of veteran actors and young professionals from prestigious arts schools, with few pure “traffic” idols.

Of course, since Qi You had made the request, her subordinates would comply. The only question was how far they needed to go.

Qi You’s attitude, however, was puzzling. She suggested Zhang Mu, the department’s star manager, for Chi Yue, yet showed no patience for listening to Zhang Mu’s proposed plans. In less than five minutes, she dismissed him, instructing him to direct all further inquiries to He Wen.

Qi You didn’t leave her office for lunch. Her male assistant thoughtfully ordered a meal and had it delivered.

At first, Qi You only drank the soup. But after a moment’s thought, she forced herself to take a few bites of each dish. She had previously taken medication that damaged her digestive system, leaving her with a long-standing aversion to food. Now, everything was back to square one—her body was healthy and intact, and her emotional state hadn’t yet manifested any physical ailments. She reminded herself to cherish this.

Just as she finished her lunch, Zhou Wei called right on time.

Even though Qi You knew there was nothing urgent, she still answered.

Zhou Wei clearly had just woken up. Her opening line was the same old three questions: “Where are you? Anything up? Wanna hang out?”

As childhood best friends and fellow third-generation heirs, Zhou Wei was also a privileged second-generation wastrel. But she had it “better” than Qi You, with an older sister and brother above her. As the youngest daughter of the family, she could indulge in leisure without any pressure.

“I’m at the office,” Qi You replied.

“At the office?! You’re working?! What kind of work?”

Qi You remained silent for two seconds. As expected, Zhou Wei suddenly remembered and exclaimed, “Oh, right! You’re President Qi now!”

Qi You showed no reaction to her teasing tone. Instead, she nodded at her male assistant, who immediately lowered his head and came over to clear the lunch boxes from the desk.

Zhou Wei asked Qi You for the names of several celebrities over the phone. Upon learning that none of them were under her company’s management, her interest immediately waned. After a few more perfunctory remarks, she hung up.

Qi You tossed her phone onto the desk.

In her memory, Zhou Wei’s life had been severely impacted by Qi You twice.

The first time was when Qi You, following the plot’s demands, kidnapped Chi Yue. Zhou Wei was implicated as an accomplice, though she ultimately avoided imprisonment like Qi You. Instead, she was forced to flee the country and never return.

The second time was an accident—a car crash that left one dead and another permanently disabled.

In her first life, Qi You would have never believed Zhou Wei was entirely innocent. But now, she had grown numb to the notion of karmic justice, finding it even laughable.

Qi You’s role at the company was minimal. Despite holding the title of “Vice,” it was understood that she could trouble others, but they couldn’t trouble her. Even spending a full day at the office without incident was considered a rare sight.

At six o’clock, Qi You shut down her computer and left work.

She drove straight home, where, as expected, only Zheng Yue was present.

The living room was brightly lit. The young girl, dressed in loose-fitting pajamas, was sprawled on the carpet playing with LEGOs. Hearing the noise, she looked up, her dark, round eyes widening gradually.

Aunt Qian, who was watching over Zheng Yue, was surprised to see Qi You home so early. She hurried over, greeting her, “Xiao You, you’re back!”

Qi You hummed in acknowledgment. “Have you eaten?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Aunt Qian replied, helping her with her coat. She glanced at Qi You’s complexion and quickly explained, “Dinner’s ready, but Yueyue wanted to finish building her Lego tower first. Since there were only a few pieces left, I didn’t rush her.”

Qi You looked over.

Zheng Yue had already scrambled to her feet, her face showing a hint of nervousness.

Aunt Qian turned to her. “Yueyue, go wash your hands.”

But Zheng Yue didn’t move. Instead, she shifted her feet, positioning her body protectively in front of her Lego creation.

Children are often more sensitive to changes in adult emotions than adults themselves. Even though Qi You hadn’t frowned or shown any outward signs of anger, Zheng Yue could already sense danger.

Qi You hesitated inwardly. According to the System Mission she hadn’t forgotten, Miss Qi’s character was supposed to walk over and kick down the child’s painstakingly constructed tower.

She had done this several times before, and each time Zheng Yue would burst into tears, furiously grabbing Lego pieces and throwing them at her.

“Xiao You, you don’t look well. Did you catch a cold?” Aunt Qian interjected, her voice full of concern. “They say the flu is going around. You should be careful.”

“I’m fine,” Qi You said, averting her gaze.

That evening, only Qi You and Zheng Yue sat at the dinner table. Their long-standing animosity filled the air, neither uttering a word throughout the meal.

As they neared the end, Zheng Yue couldn’t help but steal glances at Qi You, clearly puzzled.

Qi You raised her glass, took a sip of water, and asked, “What are you looking at?”

Zheng Yue reacted instinctively, snapping back, “How would you know I was looking at you if you weren’t looking at me too?!”

Qi You set her glass down and met Zheng Yue’s gaze evenly.

Zheng Yue shrank back, pretending to focus on her food, and showed Qi You the crown of her head.

Chi Yue, Zheng Yue.

Qi You no longer marveled at fate’s mysterious hand, but she couldn’t deny that despite being half-sisters, they shared striking similarities: jet-black, soft hair and skin inherited from their mother, Zheng Qing.

Yet Qi You felt no sisterly affection for the younger girl. From the time Zheng Yue turned six, Qi You had bullied her relentlessly, kicking over her toys countless times.

In fact, whenever Qi You and Zheng Yue were in the same room, tears and tantrums were inevitable.

Zheng Qing was at her wit’s end. Her demanding job kept her away from home most of the year, leaving Aunt Qian to constantly supervise the girls and strictly forbid them from fighting. Qi You, naturally mischievous, had no qualms about bullying her younger sister. Zheng Yue, though small, was remarkably perceptive, quickly realizing that the adults favored her because of her age. By two years old, she was already tattling, and her accusations always hit their mark.

Zheng Yue pretended to take a few bites of her meal, then couldn’t resist glancing up to gauge Qi You’s reaction.

Zheng Yue was strikingly beautiful, with a palm-sized face, delicate nose and mouth, and large, expressive eyes framed by lashes like tiny fans. Her pupils resembled glistening black grapes, and when she wasn’t speaking, she looked as exquisite as a porcelain doll, captivating anyone who laid eyes on her.

In the past, Qi You had found amusement in teasing her. Now, however, even the urge to play with the child had vanished. She dabbed her lips with a napkin, rose from her chair, and pushed it back.

Before she could leave the dining room, she overheard Zheng Yue whispering behind her, “Auntie, Qi You is acting so strange today…”

Aunt Qian coughed softly, lowering her voice to remind her, “Don’t call her by her name. Call her ‘Sister.'”

“Hmph! She’s not my sister!” Zheng Yue retorted.

Zheng Yue’s refusal to call Qi You “Sister” stemmed not from knowing the truth, but simply from disliking her.

Yet Qi You had long known she wasn’t Zheng Yue’s real sister. She wasn’t Zheng Qing’s daughter, nor was she Qi Shouye’s.

She was a cuckoo chick, usurping the nest of another.

This was the deepest secret buried in her heart, a venomous serpent coiled within her soul. Day and night, it bared its fangs, spewing venom, tormenting her with relentless unease and driving her to despair.

She hated Zheng Yue, her legitimate younger sister.

She also hated Qi Shouye and Zheng Qing, hating them for not being her biological parents, for failing to protect their child back then, leading to such a disgusting outcome.

Yet at the same time, she was terrified. She feared Zheng Yue would win her parents’ favor, feared the secret of her bloodline would be exposed, and she would be cast out of the Qi Family. Her fear kept her rooted to the spot, unable to even consider studying abroad.

She had saved up some pocket money, but would suddenly squander it all in a single day, living in a drunken haze, indulging in fleeting pleasures.

One year, she had studied relentlessly, hoping to arm herself with knowledge and experience. But she felt lost when faced with the reality that even graduates from the world’s top universities could only fawn over her.

Ultimately, she was too young to believe, like ordinary people, that education could improve one’s fate. After all, to someone raised in her kind of family, talent was merely another commodity in the cabinet—tradeable, not essential.

She knew she wasn’t a genius. Or rather, even if she were, she could never earn a hundred billion yuan.

Yet that hundred billion yuan rightfully belonged to her.

Why?

Why did Chi Yue have to exist?