After the Divorce, the Whole World is Waiting for Us to Get Back Together - Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Inside the elevator, everyone continued to discuss animatedly, and the follow-up PD’s camera remained focused on the group.

In a spot hidden from view, Meng Zhijin’s hand grasped Cheng Xi’s—discreet yet blatant.

What does it feel like to interlock fingers with someone you once loved after so many years?

Perhaps it really was as Xiao Wu once said: “You only dream of them because your obsession is too deep.” Cheng Xi had dreamed of Meng Zhijin more than once. In her dreams, the memories she sealed away during the day would restlessly rewind to moments where they sat together, fingers entwined.

But a phantom dream could never rival even half of reality.

A current surged from Cheng Xi’s fingertips, sending a shiver of electric numbness straight to her brain, teasing her nerves. That familiar feeling—one that should never have been remembered again—surged forth, starting with an action and connecting to stories of the past.

Cheng Xi remembered that once, Meng Zhijin had also said to her: “Don’t let go of my hand.”

And yet.

In the end, she had let go.

“…”

The memory was ill-timed, and Cheng Xi’s current mood was hard to describe. But as Meng Zhijin held her hand, she did not choose to pull away.

The elevator soon reached the first floor. The doors slid open to reveal exactly what Xu Changyan had predicted: an escape room. However, there were no staff members to welcome them, and the director was nowhere to be seen. As the group looked around in confusion, several figures in black suddenly darted out from nowhere and blindfolded them without warning.

The dim environment turned into total darkness. The chaos of being “ambushed” swirled around them. Cheng Xi heard Yu Tong and the others crying out in panic and instinctively tightened her grip on the hand she held.

Perhaps to enhance the atmosphere, the air conditioning in the area was blasted at full power. The cold wind brushing against the back of Cheng Xi’s hand made the warmth of her palm pressed against Meng Zhijin’s feel exceptionally hot.

Meng Zhijin is still here. Cheng Xi felt a strange sense of peace.

The sound of static mixed with the wind, and from above their heads, a sinister, high-pitched female voice shrieked: “Welcome, sacrificial offerings, to the Grotesque Town! Please give your all to escape!”

The voice cackled, followed by the sound of eager drooling, as if she couldn’t wait to devour the sacrifices. At that moment, Cheng Xi felt her arm being grabbed.

Even knowing it was all fake and part of the escape room, the sense of unknown terror still spread as her eyes were covered and the woman’s voice wailed. With her nerves taut, Cheng Xi instinctively wanted to strike back at the person holding her, but luckily, a small whisper reached her ear: “Teacher Cheng, Teacher Meng, this way.”

Realizing this was likely a staff member and not an NPC, Cheng Xi followed the man’s lead. Walking in total darkness while blindfolded was disorienting. When one’s sight is stripped away, the body compensates by making other senses incredibly sharp.

Thus, Cheng Xi could clearly feel the sensation of Meng Zhijin holding her hand. Quietly, yet tightly. Even someone as powerful as Meng Zhijin had her weaknesses. And right now, she had placed that weakness into Cheng Xi’s palm, making Cheng Xi her only solace.

Cheng Xi couldn’t quite describe the feeling in her heart, but there was a flicker of relief. Relief that the person joining Meng Zhijin on this show was her. Relief that she was one of the few who knew Meng Zhijin’s secret weakness.

After walking for an unknown distance, the music from the entrance faded, replaced by an unsettling silence. Soon after, a music-box-like melody began to play.

Cheng Xi listened and began to hum along softly. “It’s The Nutcracker.”

Feeling that the silence was giving them too much room to think, Cheng Xi decided to distract Meng Zhijin. “Teacher Meng, do you know the story of The Nutcracker?”

“Mhm,” Meng Zhijin nodded. “A classic ballet. A little girl receives a nutcracker for Christmas. At night, she dreams it turns into a prince and soldiers who defeat the Mouse King. The prince then takes her to his kingdom where the Sugar Plum Fairy welcomes her, and everyone sings and dances. It’s a very fairy-tale-like play.”

Meng Zhijin paused. The music around them began to distort, taking on a twisted quality. She listened and added, “But it feels like this place doesn’t want to keep the fairy tale a fairy tale. The pitch is off, and it’s missing a beat in some places.”

“Your pitch is quite good, Teacher Meng,” Cheng Xi noted, giving her hand a light squeeze of approval. As they walked, she analyzed: “Aren’t ‘dark fairy tales’ popular lately? Maybe the next room involves the little girl, or maybe ballet.”

Cheng Xi turned toward the staff member guiding her and smiled slightly. “Big brother, am I right?”

If the background music was a predictable, surface-level horror, the sight of Cheng Xi smiling at him while blindfolded was actually terrifying to the staff member. Who smiles in an environment like this? Swallowing hard, the man stopped. He released Cheng Xi’s arm and said calmly, “You have reached the starting location. Please remove your blindfolds after you hear the beep.”

For once, Cheng Xi was a “good girl” and followed the rules. But she wasn’t just doing it for the rules; she squeezed Meng Zhijin’s hand and asked, “How are you feeling, Teacher Meng?”

“I’m fine,” Meng Zhijin replied. Her voice was as calm as ever, not sounding at all like she was having a claustrophobic episode. However, her palm was slightly damp with sweat—though whether from holding hands too long or something else, it was hard to say.

BEEP—

The prompt sounded, and Cheng Xi pulled off the black cloth. Immediately, a loud “HOLY CRAP!” erupted from next door. It sounded like Gao Mingtai from Sun Ran’s group.

Cheng Xi hadn’t been scared by the journey, but she jumped at Gao Mingtai’s shout. Though she didn’t know what they were facing, she pitied him for a second before surveying her surroundings.

She had thought the production team’s escape room wouldn’t be too scary—after all, the point was to show “sweet interactions.” She didn’t expect them to go for realism. The room smelled of blood, and against a mirror-walled far end lay a “corpse” of a man so gruesome it would need to be blurred for TV.

The space was a classic escape room setup. No script briefing, and no follow-up PD in the room with them.

Cheng Xi found the bloody room strangely familiar. She let go of Meng Zhijin’s hand and walked toward a ballet barre where blood-stained clothes were draped. Soft tulle overlapped, and flat-toed ballet shoes were knotted together, hanging from the bar like tiny hanged corpses.

“It’s a ballet practice room,” Cheng Xi concluded. She turned to Meng Zhijin, who had walked to the crime scene. “Teacher Meng, find anything important?”

“This should be the murder scene,” Meng Zhijin observed the items around the man, using his cane to poke at his blood-stained clothes. “The deceased is a well-dressed noble. The gemstone on his cane is still there, so it wasn’t a robbery.”

Meng Zhijin stood up, holding a delicate pocket watch. “There’s a photo inside—a family of three. The woman and child’s faces are intact, but the man’s face has been scratched out, just like the corpse. It looks like it was done by fingernails. These wounds don’t look human; they look like they were made by a supernatural force. But I don’t think the ghost is his wife—that’s likely a red herring.”

Cheng Xi was impressed by her speed. “Teacher Meng, you’re so fast at this. I feel like first place is already in the bag.”

Right then, as if responding to the deduction, a figure suddenly burst out of a nearby wardrobe. It was a small, thin girl, her face completely obscured by excessively long hair. Her once-beautiful ballet tutu was soaked in blood, and her sharp black nails reached out as she lunged at them with a shriek: “YAAAAAA!”

Before Cheng Xi could react, she felt her hand being pulled. Then came a mad dash as Meng Zhijin pulled her toward the exit. The dim corridor was winding, and the broken lights flickered rhythmically. The “ghost girl” chased them with raspy screams. Even though Cheng Xi knew the NPC was just herding them to the next room, her heart still hammered.

The damp wind whistled past. Cheng Xi didn’t know where Meng Zhijin got such fast reflexes—they had been standing on opposite sides of the room, yet Meng Zhijin had grabbed her instantly. Their hands were once again tightly interlocked. It felt like they were truly participating in a post-apocalyptic escape. An apocalypse where only the two of them survived.

After running for a while, they reached a small room. Meng Zhijin slammed the door shut with a bang. Due to the momentum, Cheng Xi braked hard and was pulled directly into Meng Zhijin’s embrace.

They were about the same height; the impact left Cheng Xi’s head resting on Meng Zhijin’s shoulder. Outside, the ghost girl was professionally scratching and banging on the door. The terrifying sound effects played right by their ears. Cheng Xi’s body tensed up instinctively.

At that moment, she felt the hand that was holding hers being gently stroked. Soft fingertips brushed over the webbing of her thumb—light as a feather, slightly ticklish, and indescribably gentle.

The room’s lights flickered. Cheng Xi saw Meng Zhijin’s profile bathed in a layer of shimmering light; the eyes beneath her dark lashes were exceptionally calm. She always seemed this way—no matter what happened, she remained composed. Sometimes it was annoying, but other times, it was incredibly reliable.

Warmth gathered between their palms again, precious in the cold draft. Cheng Xi couldn’t tell if Meng Zhijin needed her, or if she needed Meng Zhijin at this moment.

The ghost girl finally stopped banging, and the background music faded. However, the lack of soundproofing allowed the screams of other groups to drift in: “HELP!”,”AAAAHHH!”,”GET BACK! GET BACK!”,”HOLY—!”

It sounded like Yu Tong and Su Miaomiao. Even Gao Mingtai’s loud shouts were audible.

Cheng Xi realized she had been a bit scared too. She awkwardly scratched her cheek. “Um… I wasn’t like that just now, was I?”

Meng Zhijin shook her head. “You were very good.”

The evaluation was simple and direct, but using a word typically reserved for children on an adult changed the flavor entirely. The comparison made the compliment feel ambiguous. Despite the cold wind, Cheng Xi felt like midsummer had arrived.

Cheng Xi didn’t know if Meng Zhijin could feel her breath on her shoulder, but she could clearly feel Meng Zhijin’s. The frantic running had made their breathing heavy and hot. There was no avoiding it—it fell right onto Cheng Xi’s neck, like a chaotic intimacy. In the confusion, there was no way to tell why their hearts were beating so fast.

Coming back to her senses, Cheng Xi realized how suggestive the situation was. As if escaping, she let go of Meng Zhijin’s hand and stepped back.

“Ahem,” Cheng Xi cleared her throat. “Looks like the others have lost their cool. We should take this chance to grab first place!”

Meng Zhijin slowly retracted her hand and gave a cold “Mhm” as she watched Cheng Xi turn away.

The room was simple: a single bed and a wardrobe, looking like a small dormitory. Beside the bed was a group photo of young girls in a ballet class. For some reason, some of the faces were blacked out, with crosses floating above them. Like they had died. It was eerie.

Cheng Xi found a flashlight and shone it on the wall, revealing a painting. Her eyes darkened. “Teacher Meng, do you know what this painting means?”

Meng Zhijin looked over. Cheng Xi explained: “In 19th-century Europe, ballet served wealthy gentlemen. It wasn’t just about the dance; it was about grooming young, beautiful girls for them to ‘maintain’ and enjoy. Those girls were called ‘little rats.’ Their status was low and hidden—a sharp irony compared to their white tutus.”

“These men are waiting for the girls to finish class. They don’t care if they dance well or have the right posture.”

“I suspect the owner of this room had that identity. She died unexpectedly for some reason, likely related to these men. After death, her resentment lingered, and she became a vengeful spirit, punishing the men who treated her and her sisters like playthings.”

Cheng Xi’s face held a hint of vengeful satisfaction as she praised, “What a good girl.”

The lights were dim. Meng Zhijin, standing to Cheng Xi’s left, noticed the personal emotion in her words. Memories overlapped. She reached out and placed a hand on Cheng Xi’s shoulder to redirect her focus. “So we need to resolve her resentment and give her peace to leave this room.”

“Give her peace?” Cheng Xi was indeed distracted, teasing with a smile, “Teacher Meng, can a foreign ghost be exorcised using Chinese methods?”

“Let’s try,” Meng Zhijin said calmly. “She took revenge on the man, but the man isn’t the source of her resentment. However, I found this on him.”

It was a blurry application form. The escape room was dedicated—the photo on the form looked like the ghost girl with her hair disheveled, which Cheng Xi having a ballet background scoffed at. Before she could voice her complaint, she noticed the serial number was smudged. “We need something to reveal the ink. Right now, I can only see a ‘1’… and the last digit is a ‘2’.”

Meng Zhijin nodded and began searching the room for tools. Before she found a lighter or phenolphthalein, she noticed a broken music box. She wound it, and the distorted Nutcracker theme played.

Hearing the tune, Cheng Xi had an epiphany. She held the paper and followed the rhythm: “The first measure is missing one beat, the second has four, the third has… three, the fourth has seven, the fifth has six, and the sixth… yes, two!”

“Quick, Teacher Meng! Look for a combination lock!”

“Here.” Meng Zhijin pointed to the wardrobe she had just opened.

Cheng Xi rushed over and entered: 143762. The golden handle clicked down. The box opened. Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Yes! Yes! First place!”

Inside was a pair of ballet shoes. Cheng Xi’s gaze softened. “She really loved ballet. That man extinguished her hope.”

Meng Zhijin looked at Cheng Xi and lightly patted her shoulder. “Let’s go. Give them to her and finish her wish.”

They walked out, and the girl was waiting at the end of the corridor. Cheng Xi was honestly a bit scared, then felt her empty hand caught by another. Meng Zhijin seemed scared too—or maybe she was comforting her.

They reached the girl. “Alright, don’t be angry anymore. Put on your shoes and go dance in heaven.”

The ghost girl looked at the shoes Cheng Xi offered. She was much quieter than before. Seeing her cradle the shoes like a treasure, Cheng Xi felt a pang of sadness and marveled at the actress’s skill.

The mission seemed over. The girl led them toward the exit. The corridor was quiet now, without the eerie music. Cheng Xi was just thinking how the tension had dropped when a loud BOOM sounded. A hidden door slammed down, cutting off the path behind and ahead of them.

The girl was on the other side. She smiled at them and ran off.

The long corridor was dark. Cheng Xi reacted quickly. “Teacher Meng, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Meng Zhijin replied, but Cheng Xi felt a tight squeeze on her hand. Knowing Meng Zhijin had been in the dark for too long, she comforted her: “Don’t be afraid, I’m here. I’m a person who keeps her promises.”

Using the flashlight, Cheng Xi found a button prominently placed on the wall next to the door. Seeing no traps, she pressed it. Light spilled from the door ahead. It opened.

“Teacher Meng!” Cheng Xi cheered.

But the moment she let go of the button, the door slammed shut. They realized they had no heavy object to hold the button down. One person had to stay inside to hold it for the other to escape.

“Does this little girl hate lovers that much?” Cheng Xi frowned. Was the girl’s final act to separate those who saved her? That was a bit ungrateful.

Meng Zhijin’s gaze flickered. The darkness didn’t seem so terrifying anymore.

“Teacher Meng, you go. I’ll stay and hold it. I’m brave, I’m not scared,” Cheng Xi decided, patting her shoulder with feigned lightness. “You take first place for me…”

“But only you know the professional ballet knowledge for the final part,” Meng Zhijin countered.

“But you…” Cheng Xi hesitated.

Meng Zhijin didn’t give her a choice. She picked up the walkie-talkie they had been ignoring. “Just promise to keep the walkie-talkie on and keep talking to me.”

“It’s just a game…” Cheng Xi worried Meng Zhijin would have an episode. Her desire for victory began to waver.

“You want first place, don’t you?” Meng Zhijin placed a heavy weight on the scales. “It’s dark ahead too, just a bit brighter than here. If there’s another puzzle, I’ll waste time with trial and error, and I might have an episode from the pressure. Go on, kid.”

Perhaps it was the environment, but Meng Zhijin’s voice was tender. Her eyes, illuminated by the flashlight, were full of expectation. The door slowly groaned open. She had prepared the way for her.

Cheng Xi’s brow furrowed as a memory surfaced. Knowing Meng Zhijin was right, she took the first step. She made a choice different from the one in her memory.

The outer corridor wasn’t very bright. Without the flashlight, it was dim. Cheng Xi held the walkie-talkie and fulfilled her promise: “Teacher Meng.”

“Mhm,” came the reply. “Are you there?” “I’m here.” “Teacher Meng.” “I’m here.”

Back and forth they went until Cheng Xi laughed. “What are you laughing at?” “I just feel like you’re like Siri right now. Always responding, even when I’m just calling your name out of boredom.”

Meng Zhijin’s lips curled into a smile in the dark. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Cheng Xi reached a steel door blocked by an oil painting of a ballet. She studied it. “I’m blocked by a door now. There’s a painting—Giselle, Act II, the entrance of the Queen of the Wilis…”

She noticed something on the tombstone in the painting. “The numbers on the tombstone changed… 2035? The current year? Is it a code?”

“Try it,” Meng Zhijin suggested.

Cheng Xi entered the code. The lock clicked open. Beyond was a hall with a sign: Congratulations on Escaping Nightmare Town. Cheng Xi was excited and about to share it when a loud RUMBLE came from behind. Like something collapsing.

It came from Meng Zhijin’s side.

Cheng Xi’s heart gripped. She couldn’t remember exactly how Meng Zhijin looked during an episode, but a wave of sickening dread washed over her.

“Teacher Meng? Are you there? Can you hear me?” “Teacher Meng! Meng Zhijin!”

No response.

Remorse surged up like aged wine—sharp and stinging. She instinctively shouted: “Sister!” “Sister!”

“You have to climb back up. I can be your ladder.” Meng Zhijin’s words from the police station echoed in her ears. Today, she had actually accepted that arrangement, used her as a ladder, and taken the first place they had talked about. She made a different choice than in the past, but the result felt the same. She couldn’t feel happy.

Cheng Xi’s mind was a whirlwind. Her first instinct was to go back and get her out. She didn’t want Meng Zhijin to look pathetic in front of the cameras because of her. She knew the show would love to see a “Movie Queen’s breakdown,” but she wouldn’t allow it.

She wanted Meng Zhijin to remain that proud, cold figure on camera forever.

Just as Cheng Xi was about to give up her seat at the first-place throne, she turned and slammed into someone’s embrace. A familiar scent mixed with a faint hint of sweat surrounded her. A cool hand brushed her back, and a gentle voice comforted her: “I’m back, kid.”

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