Lin Weiwei's mind felt like a ball of yarn tangled by a cat, utterly incapable of coherent thought.
Su Qingyu's breath still lingered on her lips, carrying a cool fragrance and a trace of unfamiliar warmth. Those words—"Then I won't pretend anymore"—echoed like a thunderclap within her chaotic skull.
Pretend what? What was she not pretending anymore?!
In the original story, wasn't Su Qingyu the delicate, resilient white flower deeply in love with Gu Chen? Even if she turned dark later, that was only after being pushed to the edge! The plot had barely begun—how could she... just kiss her? Kiss this "evil female supporting character" of hers?
The information overload caused her brain to short-circuit.
Su Qingyu watched her frozen expression, a faint, almost amused glint flickering in her usually icy eyes. She released her grip on Lin Weiwei's jaw, straightened up, and looked down at the girl still sitting on the floor, her mind completely gone.
"Clean up this mess." She gestured toward the scattered mahjong tiles and hotpot remains on the floor, her tone returning to its usual coldness. Yet, if one listened closely, a hint of unusual, almost relaxed ease could be detected. "I'll come see you again tomorrow."
With that, she didn't spare Lin Weiwei another glance. Turning, she walked steadily out of the hospital room, her steps steady beneath the elegant stiletto heels.
The heavy iron door slammed shut once more, the click of the lock jolting Lin Weiwei back to reality.
She gasped sharply, as if she'd forgotten to breathe all along. Her hand fluttered to her lips—still numb and swollen—a stark reminder that what had just happened wasn't a hallucination.
"This world has gone mad... or maybe I have..." she murmured, struggling to her feet with trembling legs. She surveyed the room's chaos—scattered mahjong tiles, a cold hotpot, an empty takeout box.
Su Qingyu said she wasn't pretending anymore.
What did that mean?
A preposterous, heart-pounding suspicion slowly took shape in her mind. Could it be that Su Qingyu...
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
The following days passed with such eerie calm that Lin Weiwei grew uneasy.
She remained confined to her single room at Qing Shan Psychiatric Hospital, yet her treatment underwent a dramatic transformation. Her mattress was replaced with a soft, comfortable latex pad. Meals were no longer bland and watery but evolved into elaborate stir-fries with varied flavors, even accompanied by afternoon tea and pastries daily. The attendants treated her with far more deference, their eyes no longer filled with scrutiny or contempt.
It was as if she were not an incarcerated mental patient, but a VIP guest here for recuperation.
All these changes clearly stemmed from Su Qingyu's arrival that night and that earth-shattering kiss.
Lin Weiwei tried to pry information from the meal-delivery nurse, but the nurse remained tight-lipped, only saying it was an order from above.
She felt like a resident waiting for the other shoe to drop, restless in her increasingly comfortable cage. She lost interest in mahjong and hotpot, her mind consumed by Su Qingyu's words, "No more pretending," and that forceful kiss.
Finally, on the afternoon of the fourth day, the iron door swung open again.
It wasn't the meal attendant who entered, but Su Qingyu.
She wore casual attire today—a simple white shirt and light-colored jeans, her long hair casually tied back. She seemed less aggressive, more refreshing. Yet the gaze she directed at Lin Weiwei was even more direct than that night, more... piercing.
Lin Weiwei had been sitting cross-legged on the soft new mattress, lost in thought. At the sight of her, she sprang up like a startled rabbit, instinctively taking half a step back until her back pressed against the cold wall.
Su Qingyu took in her reaction, a barely perceptible curve playing at the corner of her mouth. She closed the door behind her with her back hand, but didn't lock it—another subtle shift.
"Seems you've been doing quite well these past few days." Su Qingyu walked to the desk, pulled out the chair fixed to the floor, and sat down, her posture relaxed as if she were in her own home.
Lin Weiwei swallowed nervously, forcing herself to stay calm. "Thanks to you."
Su Qingyu lifted her eyes to look at her, her gaze slowly scanning Lin Weiwei's face as if admiring an intriguing collectible. "Thinking about what I said that day?" "
Lin Weiwei pressed her lips together, remaining silent. She admitted it.
Su Qingyu chuckled softly, a laugh light yet tinged with the certainty of one who sees through everything. "Lin Weiwei, or should I say... how should I address you? The soul from another world?"
Lin Weiwei's pupils contracted sharply, her last shred of hope shattered completely. She really knew!
"You... How could you..." Her voice cracked.
"How do I know?" Su Qingyu took up her thread, leaning forward slightly. Her elbows rested on her knees, fingers interlaced beneath her chin. This posture softened her distance slightly, yet sharpened her intensity. "Because the original Lin Weiwei had a mole on her neck, couldn't handle spicy food, and was allergic to sesame seeds. But you—" Her gaze swept over the smooth skin at Lin Weiwei's neck, then flickered to the sesame-sprinkled sesame crackers still sitting untouched on the table beside them. "You have none of those sensitivities."
Lin Weiwei: "..." The devil's in the details!
"More importantly," Su Qingyu continued, her eyes deepening, "the original one looked at me with nothing but jealousy and malice. But you..." She paused, as if searching for the right words. "In your eyes, there's curiosity, resignation, apathy... and even... a tiny bit of pity for me?"
Lin Weiwei was speechless. She'd thought her performance was flawless, but before the true scriptwriter (?), her act crumbled.
"So," Lin Weiwei took a deep breath, deciding to go all in, "what are you going to do? Hand this 'wandering ghost' over to a Taoist priest? Or keep me locked up here?"
Su Qingyu didn't answer directly. Instead, she countered, "You know this is a book?"
Lin Weiwei nodded.
"Then you should know the fate of 'Lin Weiwei'." Su Qingyu's tone was calm, as if discussing the weather.
"Kidney harvesting... heart extraction..." Lin Weiwei's voice trembled slightly.
"Correct." Su Qingyu confirmed. She rose and walked to the window, gazing at the sky sliced by iron bars. "According to the 'plot,' I should hate you, torment you, and ultimately take everything you possess—including your life."
Her back was straight and lonely.
Lin Weiwei watched her back, feeling an inexplicable tightness in her chest. She recalled how, when reading novels, she'd once felt heart-wrenching sympathy for the heroine's suffering and cheered for her revenge. Yet now, she herself had become the target of that "revenge."
"But—" Su Qingyu suddenly turned, her gaze burning intensely as she fixed it on Lin Weiwei. Within those eyes burned an emotion Lin Weiwei had never seen before—fierce and raw. "I'm tired of it."
"Tired?"
"Tired of following a predetermined script. Tired of playing the fool who's hopelessly devoted to Gu Chen, enduring everything with stoic strength. Tired of this so-called 'tortured love'!" Su Qingyu's voice carried a long-suppressed release. "Why should my joys and sorrows, my entire life, be dictated by some inexplicable book? "
Lin Weiwei stared at her in shock. So... Su Qingyu was conscious? She knew she was living inside a book?
"You... you always knew?"
Su Qingyu stepped closer until Lin Weiwei could see the tiny glints in her eyes. "Not always. Just occasional strange flashes, like premonitions. Until that night, after I brought you in, a flood of 'storylines' suddenly poured into my mind." She fixed her gaze on Lin Weiwei. "Then I noticed how different you were. Someone who should have been screaming in terror, cursing me to hell, was instead... eating hotpot and playing mahjong in the hospital room."
Her tone carried a hint of absurd amusement.
"Your 'plot deviation' was like a stone shattering the glass separating me from the real world." Su Qingyu reached out, gently brushing Lin Weiwei's cheek with a strange, cherishing touch. "You broke the rules. So why should I keep obeying them?"
Lin Weiwei's heart pounded wildly as a bolder conjecture slipped out: "So... you tore up the script? Then what about me..."
Su Qingyu's fingers paused at her ear, her voice low and unwavering: "You are my first choice in defying control, and the only variable I desire."
She met Lin Weiwei's eyes, enunciating each word:
"I don't care who you are or where you came from. I only want you to stay—stay in this world, stay by my side."
"As for Gu Chen, as for the plot..." Su Qingyu's lips curved into a cold, captivating smile, radiating absolute mastery. "Let them all go to hell."
Lin Weiwei stared at the face mere inches from hers—cold yet fatally alluring—as she listened to this shocking declaration. It felt as though the worldview she'd built over twenty years was collapsing completely in this moment, only to begin reassembling in a bizarre, surreal way.
Su Qingyu, the original female lead of this story... seemed... truly different now.
And she, this butterfly that had unexpectedly fluttered into this world, seemed to have stirred up a storm far beyond what anyone could have anticipated.