After the Divorce, the Whole World is Waiting for Us to Get Back Together - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The rain had completely retreated, leaving behind a bright and sunny sky. Shadows on the wall mirrored the movements of their owner—rising and falling—while the frame of the skylight captured Cheng Xi’s silhouette as she leaned on one side.

It was, in a way, inexplicable.

Meng Zhijin lay there on the bed. You could interpret her closed eyes as sleep, or simply as a momentary rest. But Cheng Xi just knew: Meng Zhijin was asleep. And she was sleeping without a single layer of defense. It was exactly the same look Cheng Xi used to see every morning when she woke up in the past.

The milk candy was quietly melting in Cheng Xi’s mouth; only a small shard remained. The cameras set up in the room became both a tension and an excuse. Having watched the show, Cheng Xi knew exactly what the audience wanted to see, and she knew what her current “assumed relationship” with Meng Zhijin was.

They were a couple. A couple who could hold hands and be intimate without restraint in front of the lens. This was a “CP” show, after all. Weren’t they supposed to hug and kiss to provide the audience with their dose of “sugar”?

But reality wasn’t that simple. A cloud drifted across the sun, stealing half its brilliance. The room dimmed, and Cheng Xi reached out, idly twirling a strand of Meng Zhijin’s long hair.

Meng Zhijin was a light sleeper; the slightest noise could startle her. Sensing her hair being toyed with, she seemed to dream of something terrifying and snapped her eyes open. But before that cold, unwelcoming sharp look could dominate her pupils, it was met with a wave of warmth. The cloud softened the sunlight pouring in from the skylight, pulling the reality of the present back into focus.

“Oh, you really were asleep?”

The familiar voice came from beside her. Meng Zhijin was dazed for a moment. She looked up to see her hair wrapped around Cheng Xi’s finger. The other woman didn’t seem to notice the flicker of panic that had just crossed her face; her curving eyes looked like those of a mischievous fox.

“Mm.” Meng Zhijin reclaimed her consciousness, imperceptibly suppressing the lingering palpitations in her chest.

“What time did you sleep last night?” Cheng Xi asked casually, still playing with the hair.

“Two in the morning,” Meng Zhijin replied honestly.

“That late? No wonder you fell asleep the moment you hit the bed. You really went all out to dodge the paparazzi.” Cheng Xi let go of the hair. The black strand, which had been coiled around her finger, instantly sprang back into its original straight line.

Meng Zhijin watched Cheng Xi’s back as she sat up. She looked as if she had something to say, but she ultimately buried it deep in her eyes.

Cheng Xi, acting as if she were dodging something herself, didn’t pursue the topic. She climbed off the bed. “Everyone’s gathering today, but there are no tasks yet. You keep sleeping. I’m going down to find some ‘grass’ to eat. It’s already noon.”

“Grass?” Meng Zhijin was puzzled.

“Yeah.” Cheng Xi stopped and turned back. She tilted her neck slightly, her neatly trimmed nails lightly grazing her fair skin with a mix of frankness and pride. “Didn’t someone just imply I’m getting fat?”

“I have to maintain my figure. Otherwise, if people say I’m not a match for you, I’ll be heartbroken, Teacher Meng.”

The camera made a tiny whirring sound, swiveling to stop on Cheng Xi. Her fox-like eyes were full of mock grievance and helplessness, though her pursed lips held a trace of genuine worry.

Meng Zhijin frowned slightly, a movement so subtle no one else noticed.

“Good afternoon, Teacher Meng.”

Without waiting for a reaction, Cheng Xi flashed her trademark smile and left the attic.

The door opened and closed. The eyes that had held so much emotion in front of the camera dimmed as she entered the poorly lit hallway. As she walked down the wooden stairs, the rhythmic tap-tap of her steps echoed. She suddenly found herself hating the idiom: “To taste the marrow and know the flavor”—to be addicted after a taste of something good.

Even though the cameras were small and transparent, they felt like a string of beads blindfolding her, building a dreamlike world based on a script while excluding all reality. In this dream, they weren’t divorced yet, and the morning light on the bed was still gentle and warm.

As she reached the final step, the production crew’s cameras in the living room pulled her out of the dream like a wake-up call.

After the “sasaeng” fan incident, her manager Qi Ming had started looking for a new apartment for her. Even if Qi Ming never said it, Cheng Xi knew that high-end, secure housing was incredibly expensive. Her home and her career were essentially riding on this one show. She didn’t have the luxury to mess around.

Cheng Xi, you need to show the quality of a professional actress. Get into character, but don’t lose yourself. Don’t feel emotions you shouldn’t feel. Don’t fall for someone you shouldn’t fall for.

She walked into the kitchen. The fridge was stocked with fresh vegetables. She picked a nice head of lettuce, some cherry tomatoes, and hard-boiled eggs for a simple salad.

Nearby, a wine cabinet glowed under the light. Realizing the show had spared no expense—brandy, whiskey, vodka—she decided wine was more appropriate for her mood than salad. She dropped a spherical ice cube into a glass, the clink echoing. The faint scent of alcohol helped numb her thoughts.

“Make one for me too.”

The cool voice startled her. She turned to find Meng Zhijin had come down from the attic.

“I thought you were resting. Why are you down here?”

“I’m hungry,” Meng Zhijin said simply, opening the fridge.

“Oh.”

Some habits are preserved in memory, only to resurface at the most (in)appropriate times. Cheng Xi熟练ly (familiarly) took a lemon intended for her salad and squeezed a few drops into the drink she had prepared.

“Taste it.” Cheng Xi leaned against the counter and handed the glass to Meng Zhijin.

Meng Zhijin took it. The transparent liquid barely covered her lips. A sharp, aggressive bite of brandy hit her tongue, followed by the fizz of sparkling water and the familiar sourness of lemon.

Meng Zhijin lowered her lashes. “Brandy,” she whispered in recognition.

Cheng Xi’s lips curved into a proud smile. The natural sunlight from the window mingled with the artificial kitchen lights. The staff watching nearby felt a sense of “quiet years” (domestic bliss) and wished the scene would last forever.

But the peace was shattered. The front door burst open.

“Sister Cheng Xi!” a young girl in a sailor-style dress shouted excitedly toward the kitchen.

Cheng Xi paused. When she saw who it was, her face lit up. “You’re here so early, Taro!”

The second arrival was Yu Tong, a popular young actress who had worked with Cheng Xi two months ago. Because people said her name too fast it sounded like “Taro” (Yutou), Cheng Xi had adopted the nickname once they became close.

Yu Tong giggled and leaned in close to Cheng Xi. “I came early because I didn’t want to draw the worst room.” Then, she slumped. “But I didn’t expect you to be even earlier. My chances of getting the worst room just went up…”

“You won’t get the worst room,” Cheng Xi said, patting her shoulder.

“Huh?” Yu Tong was confused, then realization dawned on her face.

Cheng Xi nodded. “Yep.”

Relieved that the “worst room” was off the table, Yu Tong patted Cheng Xi back comfortingly. “It’s okay, Sister Cheng Xi. If you can’t get used to it, you can come squeeze in with us.”

Looking at Yu Tong’s baby face, Cheng Xi knew the girl was being scatterbrained again. They were on a dating show. You can’t just abandon your partner to go sleep with someone else.

Before Cheng Xi could decline, Meng Zhijin’s voice came from behind. A pot had been placed on the stove, and a savory aroma was beginning to waft out.

Meng Zhijin looked over her shoulder, her eyes catching Cheng Xi’s. She crooked a finger.

“Kid, come over here and help me taste this.”

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