The Young Miss Refuse To Love-Chapter 132: Is it so wrong... to want to return home?

"Don’t worry, everything went well. Wen Renyue received a lot of compliments. They said you truly have a good eye for talent, casting the best person to play the role of Xu Yan." He Zeqing’s deep voice carried an air of calm assurance as it flowed through the phone.

Qi Jianyi lay peacefully on her bed, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. "Of course, I have good eyes! Tsk, they should’ve just trusted me from the beginning instead of rejecting him over some baseless rumors. So annoying," she huffed, though her tone lacked any real irritation.

She was basking in her moment of triumph, enjoying the chance to flaunt her knack for discovering talent.

"Yes, yes, you’re amazing," He Zeqing replied indulgently, a faint chuckle in his voice. "Do you want to visit the filming set?"

Qi Jianyi paused for a moment, considering the idea before shaking her head. "It’s okay. I won’t go for the time being."

"That’s fine," he replied without objection. "By the way, I heard from Director Tang that Wen Renyue wants to meet you personally."

"He wants to meet me? Why?" she asked, puzzled by the sudden request.

"He feels that he got this role thanks to you and wants to thank you for clearing his name," He Zeqing explained.

Qi Jianyi chuckled softly and shook her head, even though no one could see her. "He got the role because of his own talent. I’m just someone who wants to maximize my profit. And as for clearing his name, all the credit goes to you, cousin."

She spoke casually, but her words were laced with appreciation. While Wen Renyue might think the author of His Last Mission was behind his redemption, the truth lay elsewhere. It was He Zeqing who personally visited an old friend, reopening wounds that had never fully healed, all because his little cousin wanted Wen Renyue for the role.

If anyone owed gratitude, it was Qi Jianyi herself. After hearing the full story behind He Zeqing and Su Yunfei’s broken friendship from Song Chengfeng, she understood the depth of the favor she had asked. Her seemingly harmless request had rekindled an old fire that had been buried but never extinguished.

"Cousin, I’m sorry," she said softly, her voice tinged with guilt. "I didn’t know you and Su Yunfei shared such a painful past—"

"It’s fine," He Zeqing interrupted, his tone steady and reassuring. "Don’t apologize. I made that choice myself. You didn’t do anything wrong."

"But—"

"Jianyi," he cut her off again, his voice warm yet firm, "it’s me who should be thanking you."

"Hm?" Qi Jianyi raised her eyebrows in confusion.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, she thought the call had disconnected. But the faint sound of his steady breathing reassured her that he was still there.

"Because of your favor," He Zeqing finally said, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability, "I found the courage to face him again. To dissolve the misunderstandings we’ve been carrying for years. Thank you."

He paused briefly before continuing, his tone filled with quiet reflection. "I realized that keeping the truth from him only caused more pain. Su Yunfei couldn’t move on because he didn’t know what really happened. He was wasting the life his sister sacrificed for him by hating me. Because of your small favor, we were finally able to untangle the knots in our hearts. Now, he can live for himself—and for her."

Qi Jianyi’s eyes softened as she listened. Lowering her eyelids, she felt a pang of bittersweet emotion. What she had thought was a simple request had ended up mending wounds she hadn’t even known existed.

And He Zeqing’s words—keeping the truth from him only caused more pain—struck Qi Jianyi’s heart like an arrow. It resonated with a deep part of her she’d been trying to suppress, forcing her to confront the secret she was hiding.

She realized, with a pang of unease, that those words weren’t just meant for Su Yunfei; they applied to her as well.

Under different circumstances, the secret she was keeping weighed heavily on her. She had chosen to conceal something from Song Chengfeng, the truth about her weakened state and her discovery to return to her world. She thought it was for his sake, to protect him from pain.

But now, a question gnawed at her mind: Was I wrong?

Would hiding the truth truly spare him? Or was she unwittingly planting the seeds of greater heartbreak?

She tried to justify her silence, telling herself that revealing it might change things between them—things she wasn’t ready to risk. Yet, as He Zeqing’s words echoed in her thoughts, a sense of doubt began to creep in.

Maybe hiding it doesn’t protect him at all, she thought. Maybe hiding it only causes pain.

Qi Jianyi let out a heavy sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling as her emotions churned. A faint whisper of fear threaded through her thoughts, but it was accompanied by an equally persistent question:

What will hurt him more—knowing the truth or living a lie?

Her chest tightened as she struggled with the choice she knew she’d eventually have to make. In her mind, Song Chengfeng’s warm smile surfaced, followed by the depth of his unwavering devotion.

She closed her eyes, conflicted. For the first time, she wondered if she was underestimating his strength—or overestimating her own ability to protect him. But in the end, she pushed all the thoughts away and replied to He Zeqing.

"Cousin," she whispered after a moment, "I’m glad it all worked out. Truly."

He Zeqing hummed in agreement, his voice lightening. "It did. And it’s all thanks to you, Jianyi." The call ended on a quiet but heartfelt note, leaving Qi Jianyi staring at her ceiling, not knowing how she felt.

Unfortunately, before Qi Jianyi could fully process her swirling thoughts, a sharp, stabbing pain erupted in her head, causing her to frown deeply. The intensity of it felt like needles piercing her brain, making her wince as she instinctively pressed her fingers against her temples in an attempt to ease the discomfort.

But her efforts were futile. Instead of subsiding, the pain grew sharper, sending a wave of agony rippling through her skull, forcing a pained gasp from her lips.

She knew this feeling all too well. It was a cruel precursor to what was coming next. Sure enough, just as she braced herself, a deep sting radiated from her chest, constricting her lungs and making it hard to breathe.

The sharp pain clawed at her heart, and her throat tightened involuntarily. She choked, her breath catching, and moments later, the harsh, racking coughs began.

"Cough... cough..." The sound echoed in the quiet room, sharp and relentless, as the burning sensation in her throat grew unbearable. Each cough scraped at her lungs, as though she were being torn apart from the inside. The fire raging in her chest spread upward, making it harder to focus on anything else.

Qi Jianyi couldn’t take it anymore. She hastily climbed off her bed, her legs shaky beneath her, and sprinted toward the bathroom. Every step felt heavier than the last, as though her body was betraying her in the moment she needed it most.

She stumbled, nearly collapsing to the floor, but she forced herself onward, her sheer willpower driving her forward.

Reaching the bathroom, she leaned heavily against the sink, her knuckles white as she gripped its edge to steady herself. Her breaths were shallow and labored, coming out in ragged gasps between fits of coughing.

The burning in her throat intensified, and with each agonizing cough, she felt the unmistakable warmth of blood forcing its way up.

As the moments stretched on, the taste of iron filled her mouth, and she spat violently, watching as streaks of dark red splattered into the sink. She couldn’t stop it—the relentless tide of pain and blood overwhelmed her, each cough wracking her body until she thought she might collapse then and there.

Finally, she raised her head, trembling, and gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

The sight that greeted her made her stomach drop.

In front of her stood a young woman, one who should have been glowing with the vitality of youth. But this woman looked anything but vibrant. Her usually neat, glossy hair hung in disarray, tangled and lifeless. Her skin, which once held a soft, healthy glow, was ghostly pale, almost translucent, as though life had been drained from it. Her lips—normally a soft pink—were painted an alarming shade of red, stark against her colorless complexion. It wasn’t lipstick, it was blood.

Her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy from pain, locked onto her reflection. There was something hollow in the way she looked at herself, a silent recognition of the truth she’d been trying to avoid.

She looked terrifying.

But what truly terrified her wasn’t the disheveled, bloodied woman staring back at her. It was the dawning realization that she was correct: She was dying.

A shiver ran through her as her grip on the sink tightened. And though Qi Jianyi had comforted herself with theories, with the vague hope that maybe death in this world would mean returning to her original one, the fear still consumed her.

Because no matter how much she tried to rationalize it, no matter how much she prepared herself for the possibility, dying was terrifying.

The thought of standing at the edge of that unknown abyss, staring into it without any guarantee of what lay on the other side, sent a chill through her already trembling body.

She swallowed hard, her throat raw and stinging from the coughing, and whispered hoarsely to herself, "Why do I have to suffer this pain?"

Her reflection didn’t answer her. It only stared back, silently bearing witness to her crumbling composure.

"It hurts... it hurts so much," Qi Jianyi whispered, her voice trembling and weak, barely audible against the silence of the bathroom. Her words were soft, almost a plea, as though she were begging someone—anyone—to hear her. But who was she begging? The question lingered in the air, unanswered. Even Qi Jianyi herself didn’t know.

Her vision blurred, and she shut her eyes tightly, pressing her hands against the cool surface of the sink to anchor herself. She felt like she was drifting, lost in an endless sea of pain, and she didn’t know where to turn or how to stop the waves from crashing over her.

All she knew was that she wanted the pain to stop. Desperately. Fiercely. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, each breath shallow and strained, as though her lungs were collapsing under the weight of her suffering.

"I just want it to stop," she choked out, her voice quivering. "Please..."

Her mind spiraled, thoughts racing as the pain clawed at her body and soul. I want to go back home... The words echoed in her head like a mantra, a prayer. She longed for the comfort of her world, the place she truly belonged. She longed for the familiar sights and sounds, for the life she had left behind.

But then the doubt crept in, insidious and cold. Was it wrong of her to wish for that? Was it selfish to yearn for her old world, to want to leave this place behind?

And then another thought took hold, sharp and unrelenting: Is this why I’m suffering?

Was this unrelenting pain—this weakness, this unbearable headache, and the endless coughing that stole the very breath from her lungs—the price she had to pay for wanting to return?

The question gnawed at her, sinking its teeth deep into her already fragile psyche. Was the universe punishing her for her desires? For daring to wish for a way out?

Her hands trembled as she gripped the sink tighter, her knuckles white from the effort. Blood still stained her lips, a crimson reminder of her body’s betrayal. Her reflection in the mirror seemed to mock her, a ghost of who she once was, a reminder of how far she had fallen.

Tears welled in her eyes, sliding silently down her pale cheeks. She didn’t try to wipe them away. What was the point? There was no one here to see her cry, no one to comfort her.

"Why?" she whispered to her reflection, her voice cracking under the weight of her despair. "Why am I being punished for wanting to go back? Is it so wrong... to want to return home?"

The woman in the mirror offered no answers, only staring back with the same haunted, broken look that Qi Jianyi felt in the depths of her soul.

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