After the Divorce, the Whole World is Waiting for Us to Get Back Together - Chapter 19.1

Chapter 19.1

Feeling the gazes of everyone around her along with the camera lenses converging on her, Cheng Xi’s heart was a tangled mess.

She looked at the card in Yu Tong’s hand and felt a sudden urge to destroy the evidence, along with everyone else in the room.

After the previous back-and-forth where she had insisted on the rules, there was no way Meng Zhijin could refuse this “Truth or Dare” challenge, which Yu Tong was now executing strictly by the book.

Moreover, this was a romance reality show—the only place where one could be openly and legally ambiguous with the person beside them under the watchful eye of the camera.

Cheng Xi remembered binge-watching the previous season just a few days ago; she couldn’t help but let out a “shipper’s grin” (auntie smile) when she saw the top CP hugging and kissing. Most “CP fans” fell hard into the fandom after those high-sugar moments, and she was no exception.

Under the light, red lips were pressed slightly, glistening with a faint, moist luster. Cheng Xi’s gaze darkened as a contradictory psychology warred within her.

It’s a CP, right? If they don’t provide “candy,” how can people ship them?

Besides, in her cooperation agreement with Meng Zhijin, there was no clause prohibiting kissing. But this was only their first day being a “CP” in the eyes of the show and the audience. Without a foundation of emotional buildup, would a kiss seem too abrupt or forced to the viewers?

“Teacher Meng, I’m ready to start the timer.” Yu Tong pulled up the stopwatch on her phone and placed it on the table with a grin. “The ‘detox mission’ can start anytime.”

Whether it was due to her professional ethics as an actress or some other reason, Meng Zhijin’s reaction was exceptionally calm. She gave Yu Tong a polite nod. “Okay.”

The lights spilled evenly across the space. Cheng Xi felt Meng Zhijin’s gaze shift toward her. Those dark eyes were as calm as ever, only her lips—stained with a trace of wine—glimmered under the light.

It was just like what Cheng Xi had seen in the attic. The real sensations of their past touches reloaded in her mind like jagged fragments, delayed yet vivid.

The messy thoughts in her head were ultimately just weeds obscuring her true conflict. What Cheng Xi feared wasn’t that others would find it forced; she was afraid that Meng Zhijin really wanted to kiss her.

And she was also looking forward to it.

The destined proximity had long been anticipated. Time seemed to slow down infinitely, like frames of an old film rotating through a projector, playing out one by one in Cheng Xi’s vision. She watched as Meng Zhijin leaned in closer and closer, the light in her field of vision eclipsed by a falling shadow.

The usually free-spirited “Fox” seemed to have lost her voice; she couldn’t utter a word of rejection or withdrawal, nor could she make a move to push Meng Zhijin away.

As the two people, who were once incredibly intimate, drew close again, the familiar scent was identifiable with just one breath. Meng Zhijin’s scent reached Cheng Xi’s territory before its owner did, landing on the tip of her nose, invading, occupying, and staining the air with an excessive level of ambiguity.

Thump, thump.

Cheng Xi heard the sound of her own heartbeat. And that heart, having once tasted the “marrow,” was now stirring restlessly.

The entire living and dining area was deathly quiet. Everyone and every camera was waiting for that kiss to land—

Half a second later, the hand Cheng Xi had used to prop herself up was pulled up by Meng Zhijin.

The contrast between warm breath and cool fingers was stark as they both fell into Cheng Xi’s palm. Together with the lips that were about to touch bottom.

The executive director staring at the monitors instantly understood Meng Zhijin’s intention. Yu Tong hadn’t specified how the kiss should happen; everyone had simply assumed it would be on the lips.

Cunning! So cunning!

The director wailed inwardly over losing a massive highlight, but in the next second, his entire attention was captured by the screen.

Meng Zhijin’s kiss didn’t land on Cheng Xi’s lips, but on her palm. It was unexpected, and because of that, it struck hard against her defenseless heart.

Unlike the drowning, lost desire of lips meeting, Cheng Xi could now clearly feel the softness of Meng Zhijin’s lips. And her eyelashes, which were brushing against her palm with a phantom itch.

Meng Zhijin had a small face; a single hand could almost cover it entirely. Her bridge of her nose landed in Cheng Xi’s hand along with the kiss, her heavy, warm breath brushing through the gaps of Cheng Xi’s fingers, filling her palm without omission.

It was like a ball of fire rushing straight to Cheng Xi’s brain. The earlobes hidden beneath her long hair flushed a deep crimson.

The executive director stared unblinkingly. He had never seen anyone kiss a palm with such piety and deep affection.

Meng Zhijin’s crow-feather lashes were lowered. Her gaze, which always appeared gentle yet distant in front of the camera, was now infused with genuine tenderness. A sense of “forbidden offense” rose from her lowered profile; though they weren’t engaging in intense intimacy, the image was filled with a lingering, poetic sentiment, as beautiful as a painting.

This restraint emanating from Meng Zhijin made a phrase pop into the director’s head: “Arising from passion, but stopping at ritual.”

He stared fixedly at the scene, gesturing for the cameraman to push for a closer shot. He was certain that once this segment aired, the “Meng-Cheng” CP would absolutely explode in popularity.

“Is that enough?”

After an unknown amount of time, Meng Zhijin the protagonist of the moment—ended the kiss and turned to look at Yu Tong, who was in charge of the timer.

Yu Tong’s dazed eyes snapped back to reality. Seeing that the timer on the table had long since passed one minute, she guiltily tucked her phone away. “It’s enough, it’s enough…”

The warmth in Cheng Xi’s palm had come without warning, and it left without notice. The restraint on her wrist was released, and the warmth vanished, leaving behind a sudden, uncomfortable chill.

Cheng Xi could still hear her heart beating out of rhythm. She instinctively looked up. Meng Zhijin, however, had already sat back in her chair with a calm expression.

Ambiguity was her; cold detachment was also her. It felt like she could never see through what this person was thinking.

The “thorn” lodged in Cheng Xi’s heart was nudged. Seeing Meng Zhijin’s indifferent attitude, she also feigned a relaxed tone and said to Yu Tong, “So, does that mean we’re saved?”

“Yes, yes!” Yu Tong nodded, quickly slipping back into the game persona. “Oh, my unfortunate Teacher Meng and Sister Cheng Xi, you have now escaped the Miasma Mushroom trap! The miasma poison in your bodies has been neutralized by Teacher Meng’s selfless sacrifice!”

Yu Tong’s voice took on the dubbed tone of an old foreign film, making one’s skin crawl. Cheng Xi shook her shoulders as if shivering and complained, “Taro (Yu Tong’s nickname), you’re a female celebrity after all, have some ‘idol baggage’ (keep up your image).”

Yu Tong disagreed, finding it extremely amusing. “Oh, my Sister Cheng Xi, don’t you think it’s interesting when I talk like this?”

Following the principle of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Cheng Xi mimicked her tone: “Oh, my dear Taro, I don’t think so at all.”

As the two went back and forth, the atmosphere in the dining area became cheerful. The dice rolled across the map. The constant cold air from the central AC snaked under the table, unnoticed, feasting on the warmth between fingers. Someone’s palm, resting loosely on their knee, was quietly clenched, holding onto the lingering scent that had been plundered.

Knock, knock, knock.

Just as Cheng Xi and Yu Tong were having fun with their “translation-ese,” the front door was knocked. A sharply dressed man and woman entered the “Romantic House” under the gaze of the following cameras.

If this were the final aired version, a glowing introduction would definitely appear beneath them: Host: Sun Ran (Poetry Grand Prize, Masked Guess Guess Guess, Ambush from Ten Sides). Singer: Gao Mingtai (31st Golden Music Awards Best Newcomer, 32nd, 33rd, and 34th Best Male Vocalist).

Cheng Xi had previously found it hard to imagine the chemistry between a serious host and a rock singer as a couple, but seeing them now, the vibe wasn’t jarring at all.

After the two greeted everyone, the staff brought the remaining two envelopes to them. Gao Mingtai and Sun Ran didn’t seem very familiar yet, politely deferring to each other about choosing a room. Sun Ran didn’t refuse; she looked at the two envelopes and picked the one on the left.

“Oh, a Chinese-style bedroom!” Sun Ran said happily, showing her card to Gao Mingtai behind her.

“Not bad.” Gao Mingtai leaned in, and the two became a bit more familiar.

“Hey, so does the remaining envelope contain the most ‘special’ room in the Romantic House this time?” Sun Ran’s professional habit as a host kicked in as she began to ask about the situation.

The executive director shook his head and gestured. “Ran-jie, the special room you’re talking about belongs to Teacher Meng and Miss Cheng.”

“Zhijin?” Sun Ran was clearly surprised.

“Bad luck with the draw,” Meng Zhijin said softly, without complaint.

“You’ve probably used up your luck where it counts,” Sun Ran smiled with some sentiment. “It’s been about two years since we last saw each other. I didn’t expect to meet under these circumstances.”

Meng Zhijin nodded slightly and proactively introduced, “This is Cheng Xi.”

Cool fingers rested on Cheng Xi’s wrist. Cheng Xi was led by Meng Zhijin to stand before Sun Ran, naturally, as if Meng Zhijin was personally bringing Cheng Xi into her social circle.

Sun Ran wasn’t dismissive. She looked at Cheng Xi as if remembering something and said thoughtfully, “I remember you. Did you collaborate with Zhijin on Daylight? And you played Liao Ning in The Forgotten Girl?”

“Yes,” Cheng Xi nodded, a beautiful and polite smile on her face—vivid and striking enough to mask the flash of disappointment in her eyes.

She had been debuted for four years, yet the works she could show for it were still from two years ago.

Cheng Xi hid it well, so Sun Ran naturally didn’t notice the subtle shift. She was very fond of Cheng Xi’s appearance; she hadn’t seen such a “strong-featured” beauty in the industry for a long time, and her tone became more affectionate: “A very good kid. You can learn a lot being with your Teacher Meng.”

“Just one thing—don’t go abroad without a word like her, staying away for two years with no news at all, as if she didn’t know how much people back home missed her.”

As she spoke, Sun Ran looked at Meng Zhijin with a hint of dissatisfaction.

Meng Zhijin maintained her polite and humble demeanor—calm and courteous, yet stubbornly refusing to admit she was wrong. No one knew why she had left for all those years. She never spoke of what she had seen or experienced.

Sun Ran knew she couldn’t do anything about Meng Zhijin, and she certainly wouldn’t expose these matters on camera. She pursed her lips at Meng Zhijin, then acted as if her attention had been drawn to the board game on the table. “Hey, I saw you all sitting together when I walked in. What are you playing?”

“Adventure Island,” Meng Zhijin explained. “A newly released board game.”

To maintain her breadth of knowledge as a host, Sun Ran dabbled in everything. Hearing Meng Zhijin, she became genuinely curious. “A board game? Can the four of you really make it work?”

“We’re missing someone with a ‘God’s eye’ view to host the next part of the story,” Yu Tong said. “I was just worrying. We’re about to enter a ‘Werewolf-style’ script, and I wouldn’t know what to do when it’s time to tell the werewolves to open their eyes.”

“Isn’t that right up my alley?” Sun Ran laughed, picking up the game manual. “Let me see…”

“The script this time is about a wandering princess who escapes a country controlled by her uncle and comes to this island to find a sword that can save the Queen. Meanwhile, the current wicked King has also heard the legend and sent someone to follow the princess to find the sword, with the intent to kill her the moment she gets it, seize the sword, and stabilize his rule.”

As Sun Ran spoke, she heard the sound of guitar strings being strummed nearby. The eerie melody really did create an atmosphere of shifting winds and clouds.

Gao Mingtai, who had been listening for a while, couldn’t hold back. Holding his guitar, he volunteered, “I’ll add some atmosphere, if that’s okay?”

“Welcome, welcome!” Yu Tong was ecstatic. “Having Teacher Gao provide accompaniment it’s the honor of a lifetime!”

The lights shone in the living room, and the camera framed all six of them. The strumming of strings combined with the game’s progress made the whole scene look remarkably natural, just like the name of the house.

“Now, everyone is preparing to head to the center of the island. As the mist clears, everyone’s true identity will be revealed.”

Under the accompaniment of the minor tune, Sun Ran summarized the current state. She paused and looked at the four of them with a skeptical gaze. “So, the people you teamed up with earlier might not be your teammates in the next stage. The real princess is hidden among you four wanderers.”

Another strum of the guitar, bringing a sense of impending tension. Cheng Xi looked at the layout of the map. Her gaze subtly swept over the two people opposite her, as well as her teammate beside her, Meng Zhijin. The card beneath her hand was slightly tilted, revealing a red ruby on a princess’s crown.

Once the situation and game phase were clear, Sun Ran began hosting. “Please take turns rolling the dice to choose your river-crossing method.”

The dice were thrown, clattering sharply on the table. The four people’s dice stopped on different numbers. As the dust settled, Sun Ran said, “Zhijin’s luck isn’t great… she got the worst boat and has to skip a turn.”

“Everyone else’s boats are roughly equal.”

“The current is swift. Everyone, please close your eyes.”

As she spoke, Sun Ran played the role of a competent ferryman, reminding everyone to close their eyes. With Gao Mingtai’s guitar music, it felt as if they were truly being led across a river.

Cheng Xi closed her eyes. For some reason, the command to close her eyes felt suspicious, but she didn’t detect anything else in Sun Ran’s words. She paused but didn’t violate the order by opening her eyes.

Because of this, bad news arrived: “Everyone has entered the cavern where the treasure is hidden. Please open your eyes.”

“Unfortunately, Princess, while crossing the river, the ‘Black Side’ has successfully met up.”

As expected, they had joined forces. Cheng Xi looked at the people around her whose eyes also showed wariness. Her gaze was heavy, as if she had locked onto something.

Sun Ran held the script and read vividly: “Wanderers who have come to explore, the sword is just ahead! Please roll the dice of fate and cross this row of stone pillars. However, these pillars are fragile. If you don’t arrive within three attempts, you will fall into the piranha-infested river and die without a grave.”

The goddess of luck didn’t seem to favor Cheng Xi; her luck today was truly abysmal. She rolled the dice three times, and every single time it was a ‘1’.

Cheng Xi frowned. The blue-painted squares really did look like they had piranhas lurking. The destination at the end radiated the temptation of a treasure chest. To have come this far and fail because of bad luck was truly frustrating.

If the Princess died, wouldn’t the Black Side win? Or perhaps…

Just as Cheng Xi was forming another theory, she heard Meng Zhijin’s voice in her ear: “Using a ‘Teammate Assistance Card’ to help Cheng Xi cross the river.”

Meng Zhijin’s voice was still faint, calm, and without a ripple, but the card she pushed forward sparked with hope. Cheng Xi looked up at Meng Zhijin, her knitted brows relaxing slightly.

Before Cheng Xi could express her gratitude, Sun Ran spoke again: “The assistance card requires a test of the two people’s tacit understanding. Both must answer a ‘Truth’ question simultaneously. If the answers are the same, it takes effect. Xiao Xi, Zhijin, do you accept?”

Without hesitation, Cheng Xi agreed: “Accept.”

Sun Ran curled her lips in satisfaction and drew a card from the ‘Truth’ pile. “The question is… before Zhijin went abroad, when was the last time you two met?”

This was not a good question. Meng Zhijin clearly noticed Sun Ran’s slight hesitation. “You changed the question.”

Sun Ran wasn’t like Yu Tong; she wasn’t Meng Zhijin’s junior and didn’t mind being held accountable. She gave Meng Zhijin a blatant nod and said with her chin slightly raised, “This ‘God’ has the authority to modify the question.”

“Ten seconds countdown.”

Sun Ran gave Meng Zhijin no room for negotiation and began counting down: “10, 9, 8…”

The countdown created a sense of urgency in the room. Combined with Gao Mingtai’s perfectly timed accompaniment, it felt like a whirlpool stirring people’s hearts, dragging memories back in time.

Cheng Xi gripped the cards in her hand. Perhaps out of a competitive drive, the story of the past began playing uncontrollably in her mind.

The needle of time froze on a summer night with only a full moon. Cicadas chirped, and the cold moon was silent. These two different atmospheres collided in the sweltering heat of midsummer, full of discord.

The moonlight caught Meng Zhijin’s eyelashes, coating them in a layer of crystalline purity. At that moment, she was calmer than she had ever been with Cheng Xi, yet it felt like something had silently shattered.

There was a faint sound of breathing in the air. Meng Zhijin tucked her hands into non-existent pockets, her voice slightly low: “Silence starts preparation next month. On the 22nd, at 3 PM, I fly to Moscow.”

Cheng Xi’s lowered head never once lifted. A feeling of awkwardness was like a stick lodged in her body, stirring restlessly, threatening to twist her whole being. The summer wind was parched; even the night couldn’t soothe this unbearable feeling.

The wind ruffled the stray hairs by Meng Zhijin’s temples, as if segmenting her gaze into broken pieces.

“Goodbye.” She looked at Cheng Xi and said those words.

And that “goodbye” turned into an absence of nearly two years.

“5, 4, 3…” Sun Ran’s countdown continued.

Almost in unison, Cheng Xi and Meng Zhijin spoke: “August 14, 2035…”

“Tuesday.”

The cameras exposed them all under the spotlights. The overlapping voices rang in Cheng Xi’s ears, both real and illusory. It felt as if a puzzle piece had fluttered down from the sky, accurately landing on an old, yellowed jigsaw puzzle fitting perfectly, yet strangely filling that gap.

The gap she didn’t want to recall…

Even friends as close as Su Jing and Qi Ming didn’t know the chasm that lay between them, and Sun Ran had no way of knowing. Hearing their simultaneous answer, she couldn’t help but exclaim, “Wow, in unison! How do you both remember so clearly?”

“Because it was the last time,” Cheng Xi said with a smile, looking as if she didn’t care much.

However, her hand hidden under the table couldn’t lie. The palm that had once been kissed by Meng Zhijin clenched slightly as old emotions surged with an obscure bitterness. It made her nose sting.

She seemed to have grown up; she quickly suppressed the bitterness in her eyes. She had never felt so clear-headed—clear-headed enough to know that Meng Zhijin’s current address for her was merely adhering to the show’s setting, and clear-headed enough to understand that past events shouldn’t be entangled with work.

Gao Mingtai’s guitar music became lighthearted following their synchronized answer, and the tense atmosphere seemed to relax.

“Excellent. Now Xiao Xi has also successfully reached the center island,” Sun Ran summarized and issued the next command. “Night has fallen. Everyone, please close your eyes. Princess, open your eyes, insert the key, and take the sword.”

Cheng Xi followed the instructions, carefully handing the key to Sun Ran without making a sound. Sun Ran took the key, nodded, and asked, “Does the Princess sense the presence of the Black Side?”

Cheng Xi looked at the three people around her, then nodded.

Sun Ran understood and continued: “Do you wish to use the sword to assassinate the ‘Black Servant’ in your heart? Reminder: if you kill your own teammate, the Black Side wins immediately.”

This sentence sounded a bit intimidating. If one wasn’t 100% sure, it would truly cause hesitation. But Cheng Xi didn’t waver; she was very certain.

Sun Ran admired the conviction Cheng Xi displayed. She followed Cheng Xi’s choice and flipped over one of the character cards on the table, saying to everyone, “It’s morning, please open your eyes.”

“The wandering Persian girl has been executed by the Princess. Taro is out. Only one person remains on the Black Side.”

The wandering Persian girl was none other than Yu Tong. She couldn’t believe she had been caught and was both shocked and aggrieved. “I…!”

Unfortunately, “God” didn’t give her a chance to speak. Sun Ran shook her head at Yu Tong and reminded her, “Poor Taro, dead people can’t talk.”

Seeing Yu Tong with a mouth full of words she couldn’t say, Cheng Xi couldn’t help but crinkle her eyes. Her hand propped up her cheek, her red fingernails tapping her face one by one, looking “sickly” beautiful.

“Returning to the route, everyone please roll the dice to cross the river,” Sun Ran continued hosting.

This time, everyone’s luck was decent, and they began their return trip across the river. But the remaining member of the Black Side was destined not to let the return be smooth. Cheng Xi closed her eyes as instructed by Sun Ran and heard the words “Black Side, open your eyes.”

Sun Ran didn’t speak again. Cheng Xi didn’t know what would happen next, so she tried to sense something through her remaining hearing. The surroundings were quiet, yet not entirely so. The sound of the cameras operating intertwined, interfering with what her ears could capture.

The darkness was cluttered. Cheng Xi tried hard to get something but only smelled the scent belonging to Meng Zhijin in the darkness. It was faint and clear, right by her right hand. It was useless, yet it wasn’t.

Cheng Xi’s mind drifted. For some reason, she thought of the kiss Meng Zhijin had just left in her palm. When coldness was dyed with softness, the palm gained temperature. The delayed reaction somehow overlapped with memories of the past.

“Black Side, close your eyes. Princess, open your eyes.”

At that moment, Sun Ran’s voice rang out. Cheng Xi didn’t have time to gather her emotions; she hurriedly shoved her thoughts into a corner and opened her eyes. Sun Ran didn’t speak but gestured with her eyes to ask if she wanted to assassinate again. She had likely communicated with the assassin the same way.

This time, the probability was fifty-fifty. Cheng Xi’s gaze swept cautiously between Xu Changyan and Meng Zhijin. She didn’t hesitate and nodded.

Sun Ran looked at the card Cheng Xi handed her, her face showing delight. “The narrow river delivers two corpses. The wandering traveler and the wandering knight have left their blood behind. The clear river water is dyed bright red. The girl in tattered clothes finally walks off this man-eating island, clutching the blood-stained sword.”

“Congratulations, Princess, for the counter-kill and the victory!”

“No!” Hearing this news, Yu Tong was devastated and slumped over the table.

“Can I interview the Princess? How did you correctly judge that Zhijin and Taro were on the Black Side?” Sun Ran asked curiously.

Cheng Xi was naturally happy to share her winning logic. Her fox-like eyes curved, and she said with a smile, “First, I was very sure Taro was on the Black Side. I wasn’t sure if she was the assassin with the killing power, so I had to take her out.”

“Why!” Yu Tong felt she had hidden herself well, her face full of grief and confusion.

But she didn’t know she had already given herself away when Sun Ran first arrived.

Cheng Xi tapped her finger on the table, the clicking sound making her look a bit defiant. “Because you reminded me just now. Since you knew about the Black Side joining forces later, if you weren’t on the Black Side, as the substitute host, you shouldn’t have known how to handle the situation.”

Yu Tong froze, then turned to Xu Changyan in defeat. “Was I really that obvious?”

Xu Changyan rubbed Yu Tong’s defeated head. “It was okay.”

As an outsider, Cheng Xi watched Xu Changyan and subtly curled her lips, continuing her reasoning: “Then there’s Changyan and Teacher Meng.”

“To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure about them. But I felt that given Taro’s personality, she wouldn’t want teammates to just be teammates when she dealt the cards, even if she didn’t know if Changyan was the Princess. Also, in the ‘Truth’ segment earlier, she was a bit too merciless toward Changyan, even putting aside their personal grudges.”

“Moreover, when jumping over the stone pillars, only the Black Side would care about the Princess, because if the Princess died, they couldn’t win either.”

At this point, the answer was obvious, but a question seemed to appear on Cheng Xi’s face. “But I have one question. Why didn’t Teacher Meng kill me? You should have known I was the Princess.”

Yu Tong’s reaction was bigger than Cheng Xi’s. “Exactly! Teacher Meng, didn’t I give you the signal?”

“Mm.” Meng Zhijin nodded, indicating she had seen Yu Tong’s signal. But seeing it didn’t mean she would act on it.

“The Knight always stands before the Princess. The kiss in her palm is her oath of loyalty until death.”

As Meng Zhijin spoke, she slowly raised her eyes. Her voice was still calm, but the lowered tone was endowed with a magnetic quality that clicked right into the listener’s heart.

In the final counter-kill, Cheng Xi had thought of many reasons why Meng Zhijin hadn’t eliminated her, but she hadn’t expected such an explanation.

The game’s setting intertwined with the cameras surrounding them. Cheng Xi didn’t know if two negatives always made a positive, but the words Meng Zhijin said using her character’s identity made Cheng Xi’s kissed palm burn hot again.

The Black Knight, in the end, chose to protect the Princess she had guarded all along.

Cheng Xi’s competitive nature was witnessed by Meng Zhijin.

“Wow, I didn’t expect Zhijin to be quite the smooth talker,” Sun Ran said, not hiding her “shipper” expression, teasing her with a full smile.

Hearing this, Meng Zhijin subtly moved her gaze away from Cheng Xi and placed her two identity cards on the table. Her voice was faint: “That’s what the cards say.”

It was as if she was distancing herself from the person Sun Ran was describing. Suddenly, the oath-like ambiguity was stripped away.

Cheng Xi’s fixed gaze faltered for a moment. She had almost forgotten Meng Zhijin’s “hidden attribute” specifically for her!

Cheng Xi clenched her hand, suddenly feeling a sense of loss. Yet, it felt as if there was nothing worth being disappointed about.

The sunlight shifted, slanting into the room. Cheng Xi’s round fox eyes curved slightly, her cunning hiding all emotions. She turned to the director’s team and asked, “Director, I won. Are there rewards?”

“Rewards?” The executive director paused.

Indeed, such a brilliant adventure game could use a reward to deepen the audience’s impression. So, he unusually relented and said, “How about giving you and Teacher Meng a random mission item tomorrow?”

Cheng Xi disagreed and shook her head. “That wouldn’t be fair to the people coming later, would it? They didn’t participate in the game at all.”

“How about making drinks free for these three days in the house? Can we do that, Director?”

As she spoke, Cheng Xi clasped her hands together toward the camera, putting on a look of expectation. However, her expectation was different from others’ sincerity; it was smiling, showing a blatant attempt to take an inch when given a mile.

Like a fox acting cute to you. Who could refuse a beauty releasing her charm?

Including the staff in charge of the budget, the director’s team one after another chose to defect. The executive director nodded straightforwardly. “Deal!”

“Yay! Long live Sister Cheng Xi!” Yu Tong jumped up from her seat happily and rushed over to hug Cheng Xi.

Click.

The glass was moved in someone’s hand, making a slight, sharp sound. Even though the surroundings were noisy, Cheng Xi instinctively looked at Meng Zhijin beside her.

This person’s fingers were loosely placed on the glass containing only a tiny bit of wine, the bone structure clear beneath her cool white skin. However, that hand didn’t follow up with any more movements; it just rested against the glass wall, looking somewhat exhausted.

“Tired?” Cheng Xi separated from Yu Tong’s hug and turned to ask proactively.

“A little,” Meng Zhijin replied, but her eyes were lowered further than before, making it impossible to see the emotions within.

Cheng Xi recalled Meng Zhijin falling asleep as soon as she hit the bed in the attic earlier and pouted with dissatisfaction. “Your eyes are almost closing, and you say ‘a little’?”

As she spoke, she waved her hand generously at Meng Zhijin, as if she hadn’t yet stepped out of her role in the game, saying with a sense of pride, “Don’t force yourself. Go upstairs and rest. This Princess is still very considerate of her Knight Lady.”

The afternoon sunlight carried a hint of warmth, slanting through the lights. It seemed as if a smile curled at the corners of Meng Zhijin’s lips. Cheng Xi didn’t see it very clearly. She even wondered if it was her own illusion again.

She blinked her eyes, and just as she wanted to confirm it, a hand landed on the top of her head. Cool fingertips pressed lightly into her hair, bringing an indescribable, faint warmth.

Cheng Xi had almost forgotten how long it had been since Meng Zhijin had done this to her.

She gently rubbed Cheng Xi’s head and long hair. Her fatigue no longer seemed hidden, wedged in her slightly low voice: “Yes, your highness.”

The deep tone replaced her usual cool detachment with an itching magnetism, and the standard British pronunciation brushed against Cheng Xi’s ear.

Cheng Xi felt as if her heart skipped a beat, and her newly calmed state of mind instantly became a chaotic mess again.

And in the midst of this chaos, the culprit, Meng Zhijin, withdrew her hand. She seemed not to notice Cheng Xi’s change as she took her unfinished wine and turned to go upstairs.

Who knew who the real “fox” was?