After the Divorce, the Whole World is Waiting for Us to Get Back Together - Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The early summer night was somewhat cool, and whether it was the effect of the alcohol or not, Cheng Xi felt her face was burning.

She could see the starlight reflected in the other’s eyes and the branches swaying against the night sky, but most of her vision was occupied by Meng Zhijin’s fan-like eyelashes, which fluttered slightly, teasing the heart of the young woman before her.

Cheng Xi didn’t know exactly how Meng Zhijin had approached her so quickly, but by the time she reacted, her lips were already covered by a soft, warm petal.

Meng Zhijin’s kiss was similar to the one that had landed on Cheng Xi’s palm a few days ago, yet it was gentler than that time. Her slow breath carried a hint of wine—not enough to sober one up, but enough to leave a scorching heat on her cheeks.

It was hard to tell if it was the alcohol or the kiss that was intoxicating. This feeling, once incredibly familiar to Cheng Xi, swirled into her mind along with memories.

After the Beginning of Autumn, a heavy rain fell, suppressing the arrogant heat of the hottest days of summer.

After her birthday, Cheng Xi continued to immerse herself in the rehearsal schedule for the end-of-term play. Meng Zhijin, though having no summer break, also had work to do. The two returned to their past relationship of chatting online, but that kiss on the palm hadn’t pushed them apart. If anything, they seemed closer.

Cheng Xi managed to get two tickets for the Provincial Ballet Troupe from her childhood friend who had just become the lead dancer. Using the recent cool weather as an excuse, she invited Meng Zhijin to the Provincial Grand Theater in the city center for a weekend performance.

Cheng Xi was exceptionally familiar with the route from school to the theater. She used to come here often as a child. Although she hadn’t visited much lately, finding the main entrance was second nature, and she arrived fifteen minutes early.

Cheng Xi looked around. Seeing the bustling theater entrance without the person she had invited made her feel a mix of disappointment and a strange sense of anticipation. She found a clean stone bollard, leaned against it casually, and pulled out her phone to send a message to Meng Zhijin with a hint of pride: “I’ve already arrived, Sister! (First place.jpg)”

At that moment, a low voice sounded near her ear: “Miss, would you like to buy an ice cream?”

Cheng Xi didn’t particularly like buying food from street hawkers and intended to decline politely: “I’m sorry, but…”

Before she could finish her refusal, she looked up and froze. The sun, threatening to bring back the heat, hung in the sky, tracing a beautiful halo around Cheng Xi’s upward gaze. The person holding a vanilla-matcha swirl ice cream was standing right within that halo. A black baseball cap paired with a black mask covered her completely, making her features unrecognizable.

Even so, Cheng Xi recognized this “hawker” instantly and blurted out: “Sister?”

Meng Zhijin seemed slightly defeated. Her usually expressionless face showed a clear sign of regret—a sharp contrast to her usual cold and aloof demeanor. “Oh dear, I wanted to tease you a bit.”

Cheng Xi let out a triumphant giggle, took the ice cream from Meng Zhijin, and took a large, greedy bite. How could she not recognize her sister?

People came and went around them. The afternoon sun hadn’t lost its edge, and it felt a bit stuffy after standing there for a while. Thinking of something, Cheng Xi asked: “Have you been here long, Sister?”

“Not long. The ice cream hasn’t even melted yet.” Meng Zhijin pointed to the ice cream Cheng Xi had already half-eaten, then glanced down at her watch. “The Grand Theater requires the audience to enter early. We can go in now.”

“Okay,” Cheng Xi nodded. As she stood up, she noticed Meng Zhijin was carrying a cup of fruit tea. The floating lemon slices looked like a small boat on the sea, washed over by the tea as she walked, looking as if they might be swallowed at any second.

But no shop would give a customer a cup of fruit tea that wasn’t full.

Unlike Cheng Xi, Meng Zhijin was already famous and likely to attract attention, so she readjusted her mask as they spoke. Just as she was about to head toward the theater entrance, her arm hanging by her side suddenly felt a weight.

Meng Zhijin was surprised to see Cheng Xi, who seemed happy about something, hooking her arm with a smile. It was uninhibited and intimate—like a clingy little fox.

The Provincial Ballet Troupe was performing the classic Swan Lake. The dancers leapt and spun to the music, their layered tutus rising and falling with their movements. Their straight, extended arms were like swans spreading their wings, providing a magnificent visual feast for the audience.

Cheng Xi watched with rapt attention. Even when it ended, she was still lost in the performance; Meng Zhijin even had to carry her shoulder bag for her. “Shall we go?”

“Mhm,” Cheng Xi nodded. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she stopped Meng Zhijin from heading toward the exit. “Sister, let me take you to a special place!”

Before Meng Zhijin could ask, she was pulled by Cheng Xi deeper into the theater’s interior. The hallway wasn’t brightly lit; the dimness felt as if it were trying to envelop them in shadows. Meng Zhijin didn’t like this darkness. However, Cheng Xi’s palm was resting on her wrist—warm and firm, as if she would never let go.

After walking for a while, Cheng Xi stopped in front of a door. Without knocking, she pushed it open: “An Ran!”

The room was much brighter than the hallway. Bright lights surrounded the mirrors, clearly illuminating the shock on the face of the person sitting there removing makeup. Although Meng Zhijin didn’t know her, she could tell from the elaborate tutu that this was the lead dancer from Swan Lake.

“Xiao Xi!” An Ran’s surprise immediately turned into excitement and joy.

“Congratulations! Being the lead is definitely different,” Cheng Xi said with a smile.

“Don’t even get me started. I was scared to death before going on stage,” An Ran clutched her heart. “This was my first time playing the lead in such a large theater.”

“That’s why I came to support you,” Cheng Xi said. She walked closer to An Ran and couldn’t help but reach out to touch the stiff tulle of her skirt. “It’s so beautiful.”

In the small, well-lit room, Cheng Xi’s eyes were full of admiration. And a hint of regret.

Meng Zhijin knew that Cheng Xi felt a profound sense of loss regarding ballet—the art she had trained in and considered her life’s work since childhood. But this time, before she could place her hand on Cheng Xi’s wrist as she used to, An Ran patted Cheng Xi’s shoulder: “We’ll dance together again when there’s a chance. Just the two of us.”

Actually, Cheng Xi wasn’t as unable to let go as she had been in the past. It was just a sudden surge of emotion that subsided after a bit of comfort. Even though she didn’t hold much hope of dancing again, she still nodded to An Ran: “Okay.”

Seeing her friend’s mood improve, An Ran jokingly accused her: “But seriously, you said you came to support me, so where are my flowers? And did you bring a new friend?”

Cheng Xi’s eyes curved even more. She stepped back toward Meng Zhijin and whispered to An Ran with a mix of pride and caution: “This is Meng Zhijin, my sister.”

“!” An Ran knew the dressing rooms weren’t soundproof and fought the urge to scream. Her eyes widened. “Teacher Meng! Is it really you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to joke around in front of you.”

“I… I really, really like you! Um…” An Ran spoke incoherently, rummaging through her cluttered desk until she finally pulled out a notebook. “Could… could you give me an autograph?”

“Of course,” Meng Zhijin nodded, her voice the same cool tone heard in her television interviews.

“I’m so happy today,” An Ran clutched the freshly obtained signature, incredibly excited. “This is the best thing I’ve ever received! I’m going to buy a frame and put it on the wall when I get back!”

Cheng Xi sounded a bit dissatisfied: “I don’t see you cherishing my autograph like that.”

“Oh, it’s different!” An Ran waved her off, looking untiringly at the three simple words in the notebook. “Teacher Meng’s autograph is worth a thousand pieces of gold.”

Then, An Ran seemed to think of something and put her arm around Cheng Xi’s shoulder, encouraging her: “Even so, Xiao Xi, you need to work hard too. When you’re like Teacher Meng and have a bunch of Best Actress awards, I can quit my job and become a scalper selling your old autographs!”

“Go on with you!” Cheng Xi replied with a playful glare.

For a moment, the small dressing room was filled with their playful banter, the light falling on them in a way that seemed intimate. Meng Zhijin stood to the side and watched. It felt as if something were stuck in her chest—it wouldn’t go up or down. Her hand, which had wanted to comfort Cheng Xi but missed the chance, hung by her side.

This was the first time Meng Zhijin realized that there were some things she couldn’t give Cheng Xi. She didn’t like this. The confined, small room seemed to lack air, making Meng Zhijin feel a bit suffocated.

Knock, knock.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. A woman who looked like a staff member pushed the door open: “An Ran, the director wants to see you.”

“Okay,” An Ran replied politely. “Thank you, Xiao Chun.”

Seeing this, Cheng Xi said: “Then we’ll be going. Hurry and get changed.”

An Ran nodded. “When I’m free, I’ll find you for a meal.” Then, she said to Meng Zhijin: “Goodbye, Teacher Meng.”

The old door squeaked open and shut. Cheng Xi led Meng Zhijin out of the dressing room. Cheng Xi was in an even better mood than when they arrived. She put her hands behind her back, sounding a bit boastful: “Does Sister think I actually have a few connections?”

But after she spoke, she received no answer from Meng Zhijin. Confused, she turned to look at her.

The hallway light was dim, but it was enough for Cheng Xi to see that Meng Zhijin’s face looked a bit pale. “Sister, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing… I’m fine,” Meng Zhijin paused, seemingly snapping back to reality.

Cheng Xi, however, took Meng Zhijin’s hand and was startled by the dampness. “Why is your palm covered in sweat?”

“It’s nothing. The hallway is just a bit too hot,” Meng Zhijin said, pretending nothing was wrong as she tried to subtly withdraw her hand.

But Cheng Xi wouldn’t let go. She stopped abruptly. Before Meng Zhijin could react, the distance between her and Cheng Xi vanished.

In the dim light, she could clearly see Cheng Xi’s eyes staring at her, their lashes almost touching. The distance was too small, and the hallway was deserted. The warmth of their breath was distinct in the cool air, seeping into Meng Zhijin’s skin and wrapping around her heart, making it race just as she had described.

The surroundings were silent, and Cheng Xi was looking at Meng Zhijin intently. How could she not know that this place was much cooler than the outside?

The saying “long illness makes a doctor” was true; during her past acupuncture treatments, Cheng Xi would always pick up the old practitioner’s books to read. Over time, she could actually perform a basic diagnosis.

“You can’t lift your eyes, there are faint dark circles underneath, and your lips are pale. These are classic signs of heart palpitations and night sweats,” Cheng Xi judged. Her sister was only twenty-six—she couldn’t have an elderly ailment. She had just drunk fruit tea, so it wasn’t low blood sugar…

Cheng Xi deduced in her mind, then looked up and asked: “Sister, do you… have claustrophobia?”

The mask and cap hid Meng Zhijin’s face in the shadows, but they couldn’t hide the shock in her eyes. Cheng Xi was the first person to figure out she had claustrophobia through observation alone.

An indescribable feeling slowly washed away the discomfort in Meng Zhijin’s chest. She gave an “Mhm” in admission, then hooked her fingers around the hand Cheng Xi held on her arm. “Kid, so you must remember: you can’t leave me alone in the future.”

Meng Zhijin’s eyes were sincere, as if she were entrusting herself to the other.

Cheng Xi nodded with extreme seriousness: “Mhm, don’t worry.”

As she spoke, her eyes were more earnest than ever, tinged with a bit of guilt. She should have noticed earlier; she shouldn’t have forgotten her sister while chatting with An Ran. It was really thoughtless of her.

Their fingers intertwined, their hands quietly clasping together.

Cheng Xi looked at the darkness at both ends of the hall, then leaned in closer to Meng Zhijin: “Then I’ll offer a ‘voluntary punishment.’ Let me give Sister a compensation.”

“What?” Meng Zhijin asked. Somehow, in the darkness, she seemed to see a slight arch in the corner of Cheng Xi’s eyes.

Even though they were young and didn’t understand much, they didn’t have many reservations back then. As she spoke, Cheng Xi stepped forward, her arm lightly pressing against the other as she kissed her uninhibitedly.

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