After the Divorce, the Whole World is Waiting for Us to Get Back Together - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Midsummer had not yet arrived; the May sunlight was bright and gentle, not yet scorching. It illuminated the world with a generous glow, making everything look particularly lovely. Even Director Wang, usually meticulous and stern, had a face full of smiles.

As the saying goes, “Good fortune brings a refreshed spirit.” Seeing Cheng Xi and Meng Zhijin sign the contract simultaneously, Director Wang felt a surge of secret ecstasy beneath his professional demeanor. The heart that had been dangling in suspense for days finally settled.

Though he didn’t know why Meng Zhijin had ultimately passed on Chen Zhuoying, he didn’t care as long as she was on board. Moreover, Cheng Xi’s “high-impact” beauty—the kind that didn’t rely on atmosphere or filters—was a rare find. Paired with the ethereal, transcendent Meng Zhijin, the visual chemistry was far superior to the stiff, haughty presence Chen Zhuoying would have brought.

The sunlight slanted through the window, unreservedly enveloping the two women sitting in the center of the sofa. Cheng Xi’s seaweed-like long curls cascaded down one side of her face. With her upturned eyes and bold yet elegant red lips, she looked like the “femme fatale” Director Wang had caught a glimpse of once before.

Meng Zhijin, however, seemed entirely unmoved by the enchanting fox beside her. Her back remained perfectly straight, her eyes lowered as she focused on the contract. The hand holding the pen was as white and smooth as jade, signing her name with a calm, unhurried grace.

These two—one in red, one in white. One looked like a flickering flame, the other like cold, forbidden ice. Just sitting together, their “CP feel” (couple chemistry) was off the charts.

“Director Wang, it’s done.”

The assistant’s voice pulled Wang back to reality. He nodded quickly. “Thank you both for coming in person today. We will coordinate with you shortly regarding the poster shoot before formal filming begins. I look forward to our collaboration.”

“Likewise,” Cheng Xi replied with rare politeness, nodding alongside Meng Zhijin.

After signing, the group prepared to leave. The elevators had been held in advance. As the doors opened, Cheng Xi looked at Meng Zhijin’s security detail and realized she couldn’t fit into the same elevator as them. She headed toward the one not directly facing the group.

Surprisingly, just as she stepped inside, Meng Zhijin followed her in. Her movements were steady and decisive, as if she hadn’t even considered the other elevator specifically opened for her.

Cheng Xi found it strange. “You’re ditching your bodyguards?”

“I don’t need to be in the same car as them,” Meng Zhijin replied faintly, standing unhurriedly beside Cheng Xi.

Normally, if Cheng Xi heard such a “cool” or slightly pretentious statement, she would have rolled her eyes. But this time, she just gave a crisp “Oh” and watched the floor numbers skip.

The elevator lights were soft and bright, highlighting their expressions in the spacious cabin. Meng Zhijin stole a glance at Cheng Xi and asked, “In a good mood?”

“Yeah,” Cheng Xi didn’t hide it, her smile widening. “Something annoying didn’t show up, so of course I’m happy.”

Cheng Xi felt the heavens must have seen her shift in attitude and decided to favor her. Just two days ago, she thought Chen Zhuoying would sabotage her again, yet the production team stuck with her. And the “mad dog” who usually wouldn’t let go after one failed attempt hadn’t reappeared. She wondered which kind soul or powerful deity had stepped in to muzzle that dog for her.

The thought made her feel triumphant. In the mirrored walls of the elevator, her reflection looked like a vibrant, blooming trumpet creeper—dazzling and impossible to look away from.

Cheng Xi remembered from high school physics that light paths are reversible. For a fleeting second, she thought she saw a hint of amusement in the corner of Meng Zhijin’s eyes in the reflection. She blinked, doubting her discovery. She was happy because she avoided Chen Zhuoying, but what did Meng Zhijin have to be happy about?

“You’re in a good mood too?” Cheng Xi asked, mimicking Meng Zhijin’s earlier question.

The amusement in Meng Zhijin’s eyes vanished like a mirage. She returned to her distant self. “It’s alright.”

“That’s not right,” Cheng Xi countered, her eyes turning toward Meng Zhijin as if she’d seen through her. “You should be happy.”

Perhaps it was the weightlessness of the descending elevator, but Meng Zhijin’s pupils flickered with a brief turbulence. Before she could recover, she heard Cheng Xi’s slightly mischievous voice.

Cheng Xi’s dark eyes curved into crescents. She playfully patted Meng Zhijin’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Teacher Meng. No one will laugh at you for admitting you’re happy because you didn’t have to work with an ‘ugly monster’.”

The elevator reached the first floor, and the weightlessness vanished. A sliver of light broke through the opening doors. In that moment, the Cheng Xi in Meng Zhijin’s vision overlapped with the young girl in the ballet tutu who used to hop around the set with reckless abandon.

Meng Zhijin didn’t deny it. It was a silent admission.

In the entertainment industry, hype rises and falls like waves. The production team didn’t want to waste Meng Zhijin’s momentum, so pre-production moved rapidly. The solo and couple posters were scheduled for this week, with the first episode set to film next Tuesday.

Cheng Xi was relatively free, so her schedule was coordinated between Qi Ming and Meng Zhijin’s team. Their joint poster shoot was set for the very last day of the week, separate from the other couples. This left Xiao Wu, who was dying to gossip about the other pairs, feeling quite dejected.

“Why so sad just because you can’t see the other groups?” Cheng Xi sat before the vanity mirror, reaching out to pinch Xiao Wu’s cheek.

“It’s not that,” Xiao Wu mumbled. “I heard Miss Yu is also on Our Romantic World. You’re close with her, Xi-jie, so you’ll definitely get more screen time. I’m just curious what her partner looks like—I heard he’s a model.”

Cheng Xi laughed. “You’re underestimating your Teacher Meng. With her around, we won’t lack screen time. She’s the ratings guarantee for this show.”

Xiao Wu nodded, realizing she had forgotten that Meng Zhijin was in a different league entirely.

A staff member brought over some fresh mango juice and placed it in front of Cheng Xi. Xiao Wu, whose professional skills had improved vastly under Qi Ming’s guidance, immediately smelled the mango and stopped the girl. “Wait, sorry, Xi-jie is allergic to mangoes.”

The girl quickly withdrew the juice, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, Miss Cheng! We didn’t know. We’ll change it for you right away. Are there any other fruits or foods you avoid?”

Cheng Xi didn’t expect anyone to remember her specific needs as a “faded” actress. She waved her hand casually. “It’s fine. Anything except mango is okay.”

Xiao Wu watched the staff member leave and mused aloud, “Xi-jie, do you think Teacher Meng knows you’re allergic to mangoes?”

Cheng Xi froze. “What? What are you thinking now?”

“Nothing much,” Xiao Wu said, emboldened to share her theory. “I just remembered that day at the magazine shoot when they brought out those mango cakes. Before I could say anything, Teacher Meng suddenly said she had a stomach ache and couldn’t eat cake, so she had them all taken away.”

“I mean, if she couldn’t eat it, why take yours away too? Unless she’s the type who can’t stand watching others eat what she can’t? But she doesn’t seem like that…”

Xiao Wu’s wandering thoughts hit Cheng Xi’s guilty conscience square on. Under the makeup artist’s instruction, Cheng Xi tilted her chin up, her lowered eyes hiding her thoughts. “Kid, you have quite the imagination. Connecting things that have nothing to do with each other.”

“I’m just saying it’s a coincidence,” Xiao Wu protested. “You’re allergic, and she has them swapped for Longjing tea pastries…”

“Don’t overthink it. It’s just a coincidence,” Cheng Xi said, looking back at her reflection. She said it to Xiao Wu, but she was really saying it to herself. Don’t overthink it.

The makeup was finished quickly. Since Meng Zhijin hadn’t arrived yet, Cheng Xi did her solo shots first. The setup was simple: large spotlights against a white backdrop with a few geometric props on the floor.

Even though she was an actress used to cameras, Cheng Xi’s expressive power was unique. The photographer, who usually took time to warm up with a model, realized after two shots that Cheng Xi’s lazy, seductive aura was enough for the final print.

“Miss Cheng, do you model for magazines often? Your versatility is incredible,” the photographer praised.

“I barely have work; how could I model often?” Cheng Xi joked.

“How could you not have work!” The photographer was more outgoing than the previous one Cheng Xi had met. He immediately took out his business card. “With your expression and long limbs, you’d be a natural as a print model. You have a huge advantage.”

Cheng Xi saw the sincerity in his eyes and found him interesting. Without thinking much, she reached out to take the card.

Before her fingers could touch it, another hand intercepted the card. The hand was slender, with bones clearly defined under skin that glowed like jade. She held the black card, creating a sharp contrast between the black and her cold, white skin.

A shadow fell over Cheng Xi’s left shoulder. Meng Zhijin had entered the studio and was standing right beside them. She looked down at the man’s card in her hand and asked in a flat voice:

“What is ‘fine’?”

The photographer explained casually, “I was joking with Miss Cheng, saying if she’s ever out of work, she should come to me to be a print model…”

He didn’t get to finish. Meng Zhijin interrupted: “If it’s a joke, it’s better not to tell it during work hours.”

Her face was expressionless, her voice tinged with a cold lack of humor. She was already in her costume—a white, mid-sleeve vintage dress. Her loose hair gave her a soft yet unapproachable look. A chill seemed to brush the photographer’s arm, making him grip his camera tighter. “Right. Sorry, Teacher Meng.”

“Miss Cheng’s solo shots are done. Shall we move on to the couple shots?” the photographer suggested, sticking to the plan.

“Okay,” Cheng Xi nodded, wanting to finish early.

Meng Zhijin handed the card to her assistant, Xiao Qi, and walked toward the set.

“Please sit on the floor, Miss Cheng and Teacher Meng,” the photographer directed while framing the shot.

Though it wasn’t the first time they had stood together before a camera, the air felt delicate. They had once touched each other’s bodies more intimately than any real couple, yet they had reunited as “strangers” and colleagues. Sometimes, being too familiar made it harder to relax.

The studio’s air conditioning couldn’t offset the heat of the spotlights. Cheng Xi sat down beside Meng Zhijin as directed, their shoulders brushing ever so slightly.

At that moment, the photographer’s voice came again: “Now, Teacher Meng, please rest your head on Miss Cheng’s lap.”

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