After the Divorce, the Whole World is Waiting for Us to Get Back Together - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The night was still, the stars scattered by the clicking shutters of cameras, while neon lights flickered across the land below. A red carpet stretched long across the steps, making the world tonight look like a vanity fair of staggering wealth and glamour.

The host’s witty banter drifted from the main stage of the awards ceremony, and the giant screen behind reflected the faces of those currently waiting for the results to be announced. Four square frames held four distinct faces. The woman being teased by the host tilted her red lips in a polite smile, cooperating with the banter, yet the fine lines around her eyes betrayed a nervousness that Cheng Xi could see right through.

The next award to be presented was the Best Actress at this year’s Golden Chord Awards in Country Y.

Founded at the end of the last century, the Golden Chord Awards held a pivotal position in the film industry. Along with China’s Jade Awards, Country G’s Silver O Awards, and Country F’s Golden Cypress Awards, they were known as the “Four International Film Awards”—the lifelong dream of every actor.

When one is only a step away from the summit of the acting world, it is impossible not to feel desire. Even the most composed acting cannot fully mask that tension.

Except for the woman seated in the bottom-left frame.

—Meng Zhijin.

It was unclear if her acting had truly reached a state of divine perfection, or if she truly had zero desire for the upcoming award. Her pitch-black eyes followed the host’s words with a polite, slight curve, her composure as rippleless as a still pond.

Even though this wasn’t the first time Cheng Xi had seen Meng Zhijin’s indifference at an awards ceremony, she still admired this level of tranquility.

“Didn’t I teach you? Reduce your expectations. Build your reputation on your work.”

A cold voice cut through the host’s overly loud speech, landing in Cheng Xi’s ear with a trace of chilliness. She whipped her head toward the sound, only to realize that the person sitting right beside her was Meng Zhijin.

Their eyes met. In that instant, everything around them began to turn ethereal. The host’s voice became a muffled hum; in Cheng Xi’s world, only Meng Zhijin remained.

Before Cheng Xi could react, Meng Zhijin’s well-defined, slightly cool fingers brushed against her jaw. Her gaze was identical to the indifferent, aloof look projected on the screen, yet it held something indescribable—something that belonged only to Cheng Xi.

“Don’t you want the Best Actress award?”

Perhaps because they were still at the venue, Meng Zhijin’s voice was pressed very low. That whispered murmur carried a magnetic pull, and the warm breath brushed against the curve of Cheng Xi’s ear, making her heart skip two very real, heavy beats.

The gown Meng Zhijin wore for the ceremony had no complex design; the pure white dress draped elegantly along her silhouette, revealing a sliver of cool, pale skin at her waist. It was subtle, yet impossible to look away from.

With practiced ease, Cheng Xi reached out and wrapped her arm around Meng Zhijin’s waist. Clearly, this woman’s gaze always carried an unreachable frost, yet the skin where they touched was scorching, the familiar delicacy of it kneading into Cheng Xi’s palm.

The textured fabric of the gown crumpled between her fingers. First came a kiss on the neck, then the corner of the lips. Finally, Cheng Xi moved to the earlobe hidden behind her long hair.

With a gentle nip of her teeth, the fragile skin turned a flush of red.

Only then did Cheng Xi offer a belated response: “I do.”

Then, Cheng Xi heard Meng Zhijin’s voice: “Xiao Xi… Xiao Xi…”

She was pleading. She wanted her to be gentler, yet she wasn’t willing to let her stop.

Just like every time they had held each other in the past, Meng Zhijin’s hand slowly climbed up Cheng Xi’s arm. The ring on her ring finger, as it always did, grazed the back of Cheng Xi’s hand.

Suddenly, Cheng Xi’s clouded brain felt a jolt of electricity.

The ring… there shouldn’t be a ring.

That single thought made Cheng Xi’s head buzz. She snapped her eyes open.

The poorly drawn curtains couldn’t block the piercing sunlight, which fought to rush into Cheng Xi’s eyes. She sat up in bed, realizing with a start that the strange, vivid experience was just a dream.

Her thin shoulders couldn’t hold up the loose strap of her nightgown, which slipped down silently. The sudden awakening didn’t disperse the sleepiness in her eyes, but those beautiful, fox-like eyes held more than just fatigue—they were clouded with irritability.

How strange. Why would she have a dream like that?

She and Meng Zhijin had been divorced for nearly two years. They hadn’t had a single bit of contact since the split. Why would she suddenly dream of her so vividly, as if she had actually been at the Golden Chord Awards?

Though, with her current standing…

Cheng Xi’s lips twitched into a self-mocking smirk. She couldn’t even get a “First Lead” role anymore.

Summer had just begun a few days ago, and the room already showed signs of heat. Her mind was racing, and after a dream like that, she couldn’t go back to sleep. Cheng Xi sat on the bed for a long while to calm the restlessness in her chest. Once those unwanted thoughts were suppressed, she turned on her phone.

8:23 AM.

One hour and seven minutes before her manager, Qi Ming, was scheduled to pick her up.

The first time she’d woken up early in ages.

With nothing to do, Cheng Xi was about to log into her “finsta” account to browse Weibo when a push notification popped up.

“Meng Zhijin Wins Best Actress at the Golden Chord Awards. At the ceremony that concluded last night, Meng Zhijin, playing the role of ‘A-Fang’ in “Silence,” became the second Chinese actor in 18 years to win Best Actress at the Y Country Golden Chord Awards…”

Cheng Xi stared at the line of text, her eyes narrowing. The news was already several days old, yet the app kept pushing it.

She only had that dream because she had seen too much news about this person lately. Deflecting the blame, she clicked into Weibo—the root of all evil.

The marketing accounts were still tirelessly reposting videos of Meng Zhijin. The hashtag #MengZhijinFilmQueen was still trending, not even dropping out of the top three. Inevitably, Cheng Xi saw the photo from the ceremony that fans and casual netizens had dubbed a “God-tier image.”

Compared to the other actresses vying for attention, Meng Zhijin’s look that day had been exceptionally simple. A silver-white diamond hairclip tucked her smooth hair behind her ear, cleanly revealing her entire face. Unlike the deep, extroverted features of Westerners, her bone structure possessed a fluid, reserved refinement. From the corner of her eyes to the bridge of her nose, the “white space” of her features gave her an ethereal, detached aura.

The Actors’ Guild of Country Y had described the new Film Queen as “God becoming a sculptor and pouring His life’s blood into a masterpiece.” For a Chinese actor to receive such praise from a mainstream international guild was rare. Such an honor, such a breakthrough—it certainly deserved the overwhelming media coverage.

Who knew when the next Golden Chord Best Actress would appear? Another eighteen years?

Cheng Xi thought calmly, but the memories hidden in the corner of her mind began to stir. She sat upright, but her shoulders slumped.

She once… she once also…

The sunlight slanted through the gap in the curtains, suddenly washing out the scenery around her, just like in the dream. But this time, the light drew a golden, glittering chasm in front of her, separating her even further from Meng Zhijin.

Buzz— Buzz—

The colorful Weibo interface was replaced by an incoming call. The vibration shook away the hazy light in Cheng Xi’s eyes. Looking at the name “Qi Ming” jumping on the screen, she immediately put on her usual smiling mask. “Sister Ming.”

The person on the other end was efficient. “Are you up?”

Cheng Xi replied, “I’m awake.”

Qi Ming pursed her lips, dissatisfied. She was used to Cheng Xi’s non-standard answers. “Hurry up and get ready. I’ll be at your place in half an hour. We’re meeting the production team today, don’t be late.”

“Got it,” Cheng Xi drawled, reaching out to open her wardrobe. “I’ll make sure the team is satisfied.”

Today, Cheng Xi was going to discuss a dating reality show called Our Romantic World. Actually, it wasn’t a discussion; she was going there to sign the contract.

Our Romantic World had already aired one successful season. The hottest “CP” in the domestic industry had come from that show. Their co-starred drama had just aired a few days ago, and their heat was still high, sitting right under the #MengZhijinFilmQueen tag. Regardless of whether it was “bundled marketing” or deliberate fan-service, the high-end resources and collaborations with famous directors they received after the show were enough to make anyone envious.

Making money wasn’t shameful. Especially for a starlet on the verge of being “washed up”—she should be grateful for any work at all.

“Heh.”

A playful, soft laugh sounded inside the van. The lips reflected in the window glass curled slightly. The bright red lipstick adhered delicately to them, and her feather-like lashes lowered, hiding the ambiguous smile in her eyes.

Outside, the cityscape of high-rises retreated constantly as the sunlight flickered. Cheng Xi propped her chin in her palm, her slightly long pinky nail pressing unintentionally against her parted red lips—an enchanting, almost demonic sight.

“Xi-jie, I think you look so beautiful today,” Cheng Xi’s new assistant, Xiao Wu, said while snapping photos.

Hearing this, Cheng Xi turned her head with a hint of playfulness. “Which day am I not beautiful?”

The girl was about to graduate and was still a “rookie” who didn’t quite know how to talk to celebrities yet. Fortunately, she reacted quickly. “Our Xi-jie is beautiful every day! But today is the most beautiful!”

Cheng Xi smiled and didn’t tease her further.

“But Xi-jie, did you not sleep well? Your eyes look a tiny bit swollen,” Xiao Wu said, editing the photos.

“Yeah, I stayed up until 2:00 AM and woke up before 8:30,” Cheng Xi nodded, leaning back and closing her eyes.

“And you just stayed in bed instead of getting ready? You had to wait until I called at 9:00?” Qi Ming, sitting in the front, was clearly annoyed.

Cheng Xi pursed her lips, her naturally enchanting face showing a bit of a “rogue” expression. “Sister Ming, I had a terrible dream this morning. I had to lie there for a bit to recover.”

Xiao Wu was curious. “What kind of dream, Xi-jie? A nightmare? Did you dream of someone?”

“Mhm, I did…” Cheng Xi watched a cloud through the windshield, paused, and then said, “I dreamed of someone I shouldn’t have.”

Qi Ming’s expression shifted slightly, but Xiao Wu didn’t notice. She began to interpret the dream seriously. “I saw someone say recently that if you dream of someone you haven’t seen in a long time, it’s because they are also thinking of you.”

Cheng Xi frowned. “Isn’t the saying that you dream of them because they are forgetting you?”

“No,” Xiao Wu shook her head. “That blogger said that the ‘forgetting’ happens because you still have a karmic bond, so it has to be consumed in a dream. It’s not forgetting; it’s because the obsession is too strong.”

“If the obsession is deep enough, you will definitely meet again.”

It was as if a thorn stuck in her heart had been accidentally brushed, causing a long-numb wound to ache. Cheng Xi reached out and pinched Xiao Wu’s cheek. “Kid, what kind of sleep-talk are you babbling in broad daylight?”

“It’s not sleep-talk, Xi-jie.” Xiao Wu’s voice was muffled by the pinching. “That blogger is very accurate! Her monthly horoscopes are spot on! I even had a fortune reading from her last month; she said my career would take off, and look, this month I’m by your side!”

Cheng Xi let out a scoff. The casual playfulness in her dark eyes vanished. She let go of the girl’s face, leaned back into her seat, and said lazily, “I suggest you ask for your money back.”

Then she closed her eyes and added enigmatically in the darkness, “How can you have a successful career by following me?”

Cheng Xi’s apartment was far from the city center. They arrived at the production company’s building thirteen minutes before their 11:00 AM appointment. Qi Ming showed her credentials, and the group was led inside by a junior assistant.

As they reached the elevator bank, they found several people already waiting. They seemed to be a group; men in suits formed an impenetrable wall, protecting the person inside. Cheng Xi glanced at them and figured they would take up an entire elevator. She’d just take the next one.

She was no longer the girl who fought for everything or refused to back down. Without a word or a complaint, she turned her heels toward the opposite elevator.

That turn changed her line of sight. The “wall” of bodyguards had a gap, and a tall, slender figure appeared in her view.

The sunlight from the window hit that corner perfectly. Her cool, pale skin looked clean and delicate under the light, trailing down to a refined ankle that formed a smooth line at the Achilles tendon—a picture of quiet elegance.

Very beautiful. And very familiar.

Just as the thought surfaced, Cheng Xi heard the assistant’s voice beside her: “Teacher Meng, what a coincidence…”

The sunlight poured down, coating the simple elevator lobby in a layer of golden light. Meng Zhijin’s dark eyes had shed the hazy, lingering tenderness from Cheng Xi’s dream; they were now thin, cool, and clean as they met Cheng Xi’s gaze, which she hadn’t had time to pull back.

A breeze swept through the lobby, fluttering Cheng Xi’s slip dress. The light fabric caught the wind, brushing tangibly against the skin of her calves.

Realizing this was not a dream, a sentence immediately popped into Cheng Xi’s head:

To hell with ‘obsession.’

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