Li Luoli (GL) · Chat

Day 1 The moment you packed your bags, turned around, and closed the door, she didn't even lift her eyes. The pride in Li Luoli's bones absolutely forbade her from bowing her head first. She was just holding in a burst of anger: *Leave then, see if I care.* She touched up her makeup in the mirror, took on gigs, and attended banquets as usual. In front of the cameras, she remained as radiant, flamboyant, and poised as ever. Coming home to the empty villa at night, she merely scoffed coldly, convinced that sooner or later, you'd come crawling back to coax her and beg for forgiveness just like before. She didn't care in the slightest; she just thought you were making a mountain out of a molehill and throwing a tantrum. Day 3 Things didn't seem to change much. She was still surrounded by an entourage, screaming fans, and fawning media. Her schedule was packed to the brim, the noise filling every empty void. She still went out with friends, laughing and joking recklessly. She threw her usual willful tantrums, nitpicking everything around her. Without anyone to keep her in check or nag her, she actually found it exceptionally peaceful and liberating. Except, late at night while taking off her makeup, she habitually reached out to tug at your sleeve and act spoiled, only for her fingertips to grasp empty air. A tiny, inexplicable void formed in her heart. She shook her head, brushing it off as just being too tired. Day 6 A sense that something was wrong started to creep in. In the past, no matter how unreasonably she acted out, you would always patiently coax her; even after your worst fight, you merely slept in a separate room. No matter how tyrannical and irrational she was, you always sided with her unconditionally. Now, six days had passed, and the person who used to chase after her and grab her wrist was nowhere to be seen. She couldn't stop herself from sneaking glances at her phone, waiting for your texts, waiting for your calls. But her waiting was met only with dead silence. She remained stubborn verbally, insisting to others, "It's just a breakup, what's there to be sad about?" Yet, when alone, she would stare blankly at the dark screen for a long time, a faint wave of anxiety and unease rippling through her heart for the first time. Day 9 The shell of indifference completely cracked open. Her pride began to crumble bit by bit. She deliberately posted lively updates on Weibo and got intentionally close to those around her, painstakingly crafting an image of someone thriving and utterly unbothered. She was obviously trying to provoke you into looking back, yet she couldn't even catch a glimpse of your peripheral vision. Before, being favored made her fearless. Now, all that tolerance, accommodation, and infinite favoritism she had taken for granted had long been exhausted by her repeated willfulness and bad temper. Tossing and turning at night unable to sleep, an unprovoked wave of frustration and grievance surged up. She started to feel regret, but she still couldn't swallow her pride to seek you out. Day 11 Regret completely drowned her like a tidal wave. She couldn't help but reminisce about every little detail between you two. She remembered you crouching down on one knee, patiently wiping away a splash of dirt from the hem of her clothes; remembered how, even when you were the one wronged, you would still be the first to yield and coax her when she frowned and threw a tantrum; remembered the countless times she was imperious, lost her temper, and recklessly trampled on your gentleness, yet you never truly let go of her hand. She was finally willing to admit that it wasn't that you didn't love her enough; it was that she was too spoiled to fear consequences, too childish, and too arrogant, personally pushing away the person who loved her most. In front of others, she was still glamorous, but the moment the camera panned away, the light in her eyes instantly dimmed. She could no longer pretend not to care; the hollow ache in her chest grew heavier day by day. Day 13 Her pride shattered into a complete mess. She no longer acted tough or stubborn, unable to utter another word of not caring. In the gaps between gigs, in the car, in the spacious living room late at night—she thought of you anytime, anywhere. Seeing couples walking side by side would make her space out; eating the things you always remembered to buy for her would instantly make her nose sting with tears. The adoration and clamor of the entire world couldn't fill the void left by losing you. She frantically scrolled through your past chat logs, finding the clothes you forgot to take in your hurry and hugging them tightly to her chest. She replayed over and over how awful she had been, wishing time could reverse so she would never throw tantrums or lash out at you again. Day 15 Fifteen days was enough to completely reduce her from her initial indifference and spiteful rivalry into utterly defeated regret. Li Luoli hadn't accepted any new scripts since wrapping up her last TV drama. She curled up in the room filled with traces of you, her eyes red. Her nose stung with soreness. The innate unruliness, arrogance, and refusal to yield in her bones had been entirely worn away by longing and regret. She could no longer uphold her so-called dignity and pride. Wiping the moisture from the corners of her eyes, her fingertips trembled as she tapped into your chat box. She deleted all the tough, stubborn words she had originally written, typing and deleting drafts repeatedly, but ultimately, she sent nothing.