After the Divorce, the Whole World is Waiting for Us to Get Back Together - Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The next morning was clear and bright.

A few sparrows perched leisurely on shaded branches, chirping and chatting away. Cotton-like clouds drifted heavily across the azure sky, softening the sun behind them.

The gentle morning light passed through the skylight and spilled into the top-floor attic. Long strands of hair scattered across two pillows were intertwined, and the camera captured two sleeping profiles facing each other. The scene was exceptionally beautiful—as if, even if the world outside were storming, they could remain nestled together in this peaceful moment forever.

Suddenly, someone’s brow twitched in the frame. The sparrows outside hadn’t flown away yet; their continuous chatter woke Cheng Xi. She frowned and opened her eyes, wanting to see which sparrows were disturbing her dreams so early.

But in the next second, the annoyance in her gaze vanished.

Meng Zhijin’s profile unexpectedly entered Cheng Xi’s line of sight, her gentle breath falling softly on the tip of Cheng Xi’s nose. Because she wore no makeup, everything visible was her most authentic self behind the lens. Her thick eyelashes curled slightly, seemingly forming a natural, fine eyeliner at the roots that delicately outlined the contours of her eyes. Without the moisture of lipstick, her slightly parted thin lips were, as always, pale.

Cheng Xi felt that not only had she herself not changed, but Meng Zhijin looked exactly as she did two years ago. However, there was a deeper sense of fatigue under her eyes, and her collarbone, peeking out from her loose pajamas, looked lean and delicate.

Last night, after dealing with Blackberry Entertainment’s midnight “sneak attack,” they had simply gone to sleep. They hadn’t discussed what kind of state to display for the cameras this morning. Cheng Xi hadn’t expected to wake up to such a scene.

It was both strange and familiar. It was like a habit they had discarded but kept hidden in their bodies, resurfacing in the dead of night when they met again. It surfaced at just the right time, yet felt entirely out of place.

Cheng Xi’s gaze shifted slightly. At that moment, Meng Zhijin opened her eyes.

Bright morning light flooded her vision, along with Cheng Xi, who had woken up at some point and was watching her while resting on her arm. Meng Zhijin’s mind went blank for a second. Before she could process anything, Cheng Xi tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curving into an exceptionally beautiful arc: “Good morning, Teacher Meng.”

She looked bright and passionate, like a perfect lover.

A flash of emotion crossed Meng Zhijin’s eyes before vanishing. She met Cheng Xi’s gaze and replied calmly, “Good morning.”

“Were you woken up by those sparrows outside too?” Cheng Xi asked casually, lying flat and looking up at the skylight.

“No,” Meng Zhijin answered simply. She didn’t have the habit of lounging in bed, so she sat up as she spoke.

The right side of Cheng Xi’s vision went empty. She turned her head, but all that remained in her peripheral vision was a cold, distant back. It was like an actor who, having provided enough footage for the camera, suddenly stepped out of character.

Actually, Meng Zhijin has always been an actress, Cheng Xi thought. She lazily brushed back her long hair, a smile flickering behind the falling strands. She turned toward the camera above the bed, waved to the future audience saying “Time to get up,” and then sat up herself.

The events of last night had fermented in the early hours. Although they had been clarified by the joint efforts of Su Jing and Qi Ming, a series of positive hashtags like #ChengXiMengZhijin, #MengZhijinStopsSasaeng, #YouCanAlwaysTrustTeacherMeng, and #Sasaeng remained on the trending lists.

As Cheng Xi followed Meng Zhijin downstairs, she saw Yu Tong and the others sitting in the living room, looking at them with various expressions.

“Sister Cheng Xi, Teacher Meng.” Yu Tong’s eyes were full of heartache; she didn’t know how to begin comforting them.

Sun Ran stepped forward with concern: “What time did you sleep? we thought you wouldn’t be able to get up at this hour, so we didn’t call you. You must have been exhausted last night.”

Gao Mingtai, seemingly to liven the mood, joked: “Teacher Sun, your words are ambiguous.”

Sun Ran squinted and looked at him: “Teacher Gao, you’re the one being ambiguous.”

The two locked eyes, looking a bit like bickering rivals. Cheng Xi laughed and poked fun at herself: “Ambiguous or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that a worker must have a serious attitude toward their job.”

“Looking at you, I can tell you’re in good shape,” Sun Ran patted Cheng Xi’s shoulder.

“Sister Cheng Xi, that sasaeng was a bit too terrifying. Are you okay?” Yu Tong asked caringly.

With hidden cameras all around, Cheng Xi knew that when this episode aired, the production team would turn this into a topic. What she said now could become a great tool to guide public opinion or gain sympathy.

But she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to use her misfortune to sell a “misery” narrative for traffic. Her self-respect wouldn’t allow it.

The lights highlighted her straight back as she sat on the sofa. Cheng Xi shook her head: “I’m fine.”

“That person had followed my car before, but never went this far. It was our oversight; we underestimated the malice of a bad person.” Cheng Xi’s gaze darkened on the last sentence. She wasn’t just referring to that nauseating sasaeng man, but without evidence, there was nothing she could do right now.

“I actually feel that sasaengs can’t be counted as fans at all. They’ve crossed the boundary between idol and fan; it’s criminal behavior,” Xu Changyan said, her disgust no less than Cheng Xi’s.

He Chen, speaking from experience, nodded: “Once when I was on an assignment, someone knocked on my hotel door in the middle of the night. Honestly, that kind of behavior is terrifying to look back on.”

“Yeah, yeah.” As if wanting to join the topic, Su Miaomiao nodded repeatedly. “When I first debuted, I received those kinds of packages. It was so scary.”

The group, all of whom had suffered harassment, discussed their views on sasaengs. Sun Ran listened and then gestured for Meng Zhijin to follow her. Meng Zhijin saw the signal and followed her to the bar counter without a word.

“Blackberry has a good relationship with Chen Zhuoying. I heard there was some unpleasantness with Chen Zhuoying at Old Lu’s luncheon?” Sun Ran didn’t dodge the issue. She was close with both Meng Zhijin and her mother, so she asked directly.

Meng Zhijin nodded and said flatly, “A small disagreement, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Sun Ran was displeased. She had felt something was wrong when she saw the trending searches this morning. As a host, she had a sharp intuition and quickly deduced the ins and outs of the situation. Her blood pressure nearly spiked.

As the kettle began to steam, Sun Ran skillfully took it off. The sound of water pouring into a glass masked her warning: “Zhijin, you haven’t been in this circle for the past two years, so you don’t know. Chen Zhuoying has seniority, and since she won Best Actress, her company has become a dominant force. You’ve just returned; it’s better not to have a conflict with someone like her.”

“Better to settle a feud than to start one. Some accounts can be settled later.” Sun Ran pushed the glass toward Meng Zhijin.

Meng Zhijin took the glass with both hands and replied softly, “Thank you, Sister Sun Ran.”

But just as Sun Ran was about to nod in relief, she heard Meng Zhijin’s tone shift. Even the warm water couldn’t melt the ice in her eyes: “However, my studio’s lawyers already sued Blackberry last night.”

Sun Ran broke into a sweat over this decision. She was about to persuade her further when she heard Cheng Xi’s confused voice from behind: “Why is the fridge empty?”

“Sister Cheng Xi, look at this.” Yu Tong handed her an opened envelope from the table.

“Dear members of the Romantic Cabin, hello. Today is our first official day. To better experience the ‘Starlight over the Wilderness,’ the Romantic Cabin store will not provide ingredients for today or tomorrow. Everything is up to the members to create.

Points are awarded as follows: Meat: 3 points per kg. Vegetables/Fruits: 1 point per kg. The dating location for ‘Romantic Starlight’ will be allocated in two days based on your point rankings.

We wish all members find their desired wilderness under the stars.”

Cheng Xi frowned as she read: “They want us to go into survival mode for two days?”

Sun Ran explained, “When Teacher Gao and I went for a walk this morning, we checked the vegetable garden prepared by the crew. There’s quite a variety, but it’s a bit far and the plants are sparse. Along the way, there are wild fruit trees—dates, peaches, and such.”

Gao Mingtai added, “We also asked the locals. The fish in the river are quite plentiful and fat right now, but you have to find the right spot to see which river is the ‘lucky’ one.”

“Should we discuss the division of labor for these two days?” Yu Tong asked.

“How about we split into two groups? One group handles meat today, the other handles produce, and we swap tomorrow. That way, everyone has a fair chance to earn points,” Xu Changyan proposed.

“No objections,” Sun Ran nodded. “Fine with me,” He Chen added.

Seeing everyone agree, Yu Tong turned to Cheng Xi: “Sister Cheng Xi…”

Before she could finish, Su Miaomiao cut her off: “Teacher Meng, can I be in your group?”

Su Miaomiao spoke sincerely, her eyes blinking with blatant expectation, like a fan looking at an idol. But who didn’t understand that being in a group with Meng Zhijin meant more screen time when the show aired?

Despite having been rejected and lectured by Meng Zhijin before, Su Miaomiao immediately put on her usual “cute brat” persona: “Teacher Meng, can you give me a chance? I really like you.” Her voice was soft and wheedling, like a child accustomed to getting their way.

The room fell quiet, everyone’s expressions varying. Some were annoyed; some looked thoughtful. Others leaned against the fridge door, waiting for “Teacher Meng” to nod.

But Meng Zhijin had no special reaction. She took a small sip of water and looked up at Cheng Xi: “What do you think?”

“Me?” Cheng Xi was surprised that Meng Zhijin handed her the choice.

Whether Meng Zhijin was smoothly avoiding being the “bad guy” or simply respecting her opinion, Cheng Xi was happy to do the work for her. Being “smooth” at the cost of ignoring friends was something Cheng Xi could never learn.

Within a second, she unhesitatingly beckoned Yu Tong, who had been interrupted by Su Miaomiao: “Are you coming over or not?”

“Coming!” Yu Tong’s anxious heart immediately brightened, and she skipped over to Cheng Xi’s side.

“Then we’ll group up with Xiao He and the others,” Sun Ran said, glancing at Su Miaomiao’s slightly sour face and accepting the grouping naturally.

He Chen was polite: “Miaomiao and I have no experience, so we’ll be relying on Teacher Sun and Teacher Gao.”

The early summer sun filtered through lush leaves, casting dappled shadows over the group. The quartet led by Cheng Xi was carrying the equipment provided by the crew, trekking through the shade.

“Where should we go?” Yu Tong felt the trip was a bit aimless. “Sister Cheng Xi, you filmed here before. Do you know which river has more fish?”

Cheng Xi stopped by a mound of earth at the roadside, her memories flowing back: “I only know of one river, but I don’t know if it’s still there…”

Seeing Cheng Xi hesitate, Xu Changyan suggested: “Why don’t we go check? Where there’s a river, there’s a village. If we can’t catch fish, we can do some farm work for the villagers to trade for meat.” Her voice was serious, giving Cheng Xi a dignified excuse to see if the river still existed.

Cheng Xi tapped the net in her hand with her red-painted fingernails. She tilted her head slightly and turned to look at the person who had said “I don’t remember” on the way here yesterday: “What does Teacher Meng think?”

“We can go,” Meng Zhijin didn’t object. Under the green shade, her expression remained as usual.

Cheng Xi shrugged: “Then, let’s go.”

The sun climbed toward the zenith, its not-yet-scorching light falling on their nets. Cheng Xi felt she had a good sense of direction, but she couldn’t seem to reach that river she had secretly visited countless times.

As expected… is it gone?

A sense of loss began to take hold in Cheng Xi’s heart, like an exquisite candy discovered in a corner after a long delay—covered in dust and melted, its taste no longer accessible. The early summer sun was a bit roasting, and the group grew tired after walking for a long time.

Looking at the orderly landscaping, so different from the withered winter scenery of her memories, Cheng Xi pursed her lips. The word “give up” was on the tip of her tongue. Forget it, I shouldn’t have held onto the fantasy of seeing it again.

But before she could speak, the voice of the cameraman came through: “Teacher Cheng, there seems to be a river up ahead.”

Cheng Xi was stunned. Driven by an inexplicable urge, she walked quickly forward. And there, hidden behind the green leaves of the riverbank, the river she hadn’t expected to find flowed slowly into her view.

Sparkling ripples reflected in Cheng Xi’s eyes. The sunlight slanted, causing their shadows to overlap. Then, a voice murmured right by her ear.

Meng Zhijin stood just behind and to the side of Cheng Xi, stating the fact in a voice only they could hear:

“Kid, it’s still here.”

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