After the Divorce, the Whole World is Waiting for Us to Get Back Together - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The vast lounge was exceptionally quiet. The sounds of staff talking in the hallway drifted in, sounding detached and flighty, causing Cheng Xi’s heart to skip a beat in sync with them.

The world reflected in the mirror was flat and bright. Cheng Xi saw her own reflection standing near Meng Zhijin’s. The two-dimensional image pulled them incredibly close—so close they seemed within reach.

Cheng Xi’s mind wavered. Hearing those words, she was about to move toward her.

Unexpectedly, a crisp response came from behind her: “Hey, coming right now!”

A young, unfamiliar girl about her age strode in, carrying two takeout coffees. She appeared to be Meng Zhijin’s new assistant.

The mirror reflected the silent light. Cheng Xi gave a mental sneer at herself. It turned out she had been flatteringly self-indulgent.

“I remember buckling them for you before I left?” the assistant said, sounding confused.

Meng Zhijin withdrew her gaze from the mirror without a trace, finally looking at the person behind her. She didn’t answer.

“I think you’re just too thin; you can’t fill out the buttons,” the assistant continued, complaining with a voice full of heartache when she received no reply. “Back then, the director and Sister Jing both told you that losing weight to that extent was enough. There was no need to pursue a perfect reconstruction of the character’s look; getting the ‘vibe’ right was sufficient. Look at you now—you’ve been recovering all spring, and you’re only just starting to show improvement.”

“I know you wanted that Best Actress title, but is it worth ruining your body like this? Your stomach issues flared up again the night before last, you struggled until today, and now you’re here for a magazine cover shoot. You’re going to collapse.”

The assistant’s quiet mumbling inevitably reached Cheng Xi’s ears. Her gaze fixed on Meng Zhijin. A thin gold bracelet hung on the woman’s slender wrist; if not for the protruding wrist bone acting as a stopper, Cheng Xi felt the bracelet would surely slide right off.

Is it really worth it?

The question pierced through the shackles of time, echoing from the past.

Two voices overlapped in her mind, causing Cheng Xi to frown. She inexplicably remembered the day before their divorce. A cold moon hung in the upper left corner of the window frame, casting a chilly light into the living room. Dark clouds covered most of the stars, making the sky feel lonely and oppressive.

Cheng Xi had forgotten exactly how she felt at that moment, but the voice worn down by time remained icy.

“Is it really worth it?” she had asked, looking at the script for Silence placed before her.

Meng Zhijin’s lips had remained pressed together. Her raven-feather eyelashes lifted slightly, and the pride that never left her eyes shattered into starlight. After a few seconds, Meng Zhijin’s lips moved as she called out, “Xiao Xi.”

“It will get better slowly.”

Meng Zhijin’s calm voice in the present reconnected with the voice in her memory, abruptly snapping Cheng Xi out of her trance. Her tone sounded gentle and indifferent, as if soothing the worried assistant, but it felt like more than that.

The mirror reflected a blinding light. Cheng Xi felt as though someone’s gaze had lingered on her.

“Slowly, slowly… when will it end? I think—” The assistant whispered worriedly, but as she was about to say more, her eyes suddenly widened. “Cheng Xi! You’re Cheng Xi! Teacher Cheng!!”

Cheng Xi was stunned by the sudden turn. The assistant looked as if she had finally met a long-time idol, becoming incoherent with excitement. “Teacher Cheng, I’m your idol—no, you’re my fan… no, wait! I mean, I’ve liked you for a long, long time!”

“Why is Teacher Cheng here? Are you looking for Teacher Meng? Is the dating show CP still happening!?”

Looking at the girl who had suddenly appeared in front of her, Cheng Xi, who hadn’t experienced fan enthusiasm in a while, felt a bit at a loss. However, after a few seconds, she regained her usual composure. Her red lips curled slightly as she held up her room card labeled 106.

With a hint of not-so-innocent innocence in her fox-like eyes, she said, “I’d also like to know why the magazine arranged my lounge here.”

“I am truly sorry, Teacher Meng. It was our mistake. We are deeply sorry.”

“Today, the shoots for the monthly, quarterly, and semi-annual issues were all scheduled together. Our staff misread the timetable. Truly sorry.”

“We will reassign personnel immediately and give Teacher Meng and Miss Cheng a satisfactory solution.”

After the situation was clarified, the Editor-in-Chief apologized repeatedly—though mostly to the newly crowned Best Actress, Meng Zhijin.

Cheng Xi watched from the side. The Editor-in-Chief’s scalp, which he had tried to cover with a few strands of hair, was now exposed as he bowed and sweated profusely. It gave her an excuse for the unreadable smile on her lips.

Just then, the door was pushed open by a staff member. Although people had been talking, it was mostly the Editor-in-Chief’s one-sided explanation; without responses, the room felt as quiet as an empty one.

The staff member whispered something to the Editor-in-Chief, whose nervous expression turned even grimmer. He rubbed his hands and addressed them hesitantly. “Um, I’m terribly sorry, but all the lounges are full today. Would Teacher Meng and Miss Cheng be willing to share a room?”

Cheng Xi uncrossed and recrossed her legs with her usual lazy air. “I don’t care.”

While she minded being in the same space as Meng Zhijin, she didn’t want to be unreasonable just to get away from her. Moreover, they had long since passed the barrier of “seeing each other naked,” so sharing a room with a private changing area was nothing.

The Editor-in-Chief turned his trembling gaze toward Meng Zhijin. People in the industry called her “Teacher Meng” partly because she had been acting since she was a child alongside her famous mother, and partly because of her unique aura—cold yet gentle. Until meeting her, it was hard to imagine anyone blending aloofness and approachability so naturally.

Meng Zhijin sat upright, the shimmering diamonds on her dress creating a gentle halo. She didn’t refuse or shake her head; she simply lowered her eyes in silent consent.

The Editor-in-Chief felt like he’d received a royal pardon. He exhaled sharply and said, “As an apology, we have prepared refreshments for you while you wait.”

Two staff members soon entered with beautiful boxes. The bone china plates with golden forks reflected an expensive light. Cheng Xi knew that even if the magazine were at fault, an actress of her current rank wouldn’t normally receive such treatment. She felt like she was riding on Meng Zhijin’s coattails.

However, a second later, she averted her eyes from the mango-topped cake. Cheng Xi had severe allergies; she couldn’t touch or even smell mangoes. She couldn’t share in this “benefit” of Meng Zhijin’s.

“Sorry, my stomach has been acting up lately. The smell of the cake makes me a bit uncomfortable. Can we swap it for something else?”

Just as Cheng Xi was thinking of moving away, Meng Zhijin’s voice rang out. Her voice carried a hint of apology, as light as a ripple on a pond.

But it stirred the calm in Cheng Xi’s eyes.

Meng Zhijin knew she was allergic to mangoes. But the reason given—stomach pain—had just been verified by her assistant. It was a collision of secrets and coincidences that left no traceable evidence of intention.

Cheng Xi frowned.

“Teacher Cheng, you might not know, but I’ve been following you since your debut in Daylight when you won Best Newcomer. My favorite—I mean, your most favorite character… no, the one I love most is Liao Ning from The Forgotten Girl! That resilience… she is truly the cinnabar mole on my heart!”

Cheng Xi thought Meng Zhijin’s assistant had a real talent for stepping on her triggers. One was her debut, the other was a film from two years ago. But then she realized these were her only two respectable works; her fans liked her for a reason. She couldn’t be angry with them. Instead, she felt her current self was failing their passion.

Sunlight fell through the window, mingling with the studio lights. Cheng Xi’s red lips pursed slightly. She glanced at Meng Zhijin on the nearby sofa and quirked her eyes like a sly fox. “Your boss is right there. Is it appropriate to say these things to me?”

“It should be okay?” The assistant scratched her head and looked tentatively at Meng Zhijin.

Cheng Xi’s smile deepened. “Kid, you should focus on your work.”

A sparrow flew past the window, casting a flicker of shadow. Perhaps the conversation had been too loud, because Meng Zhijin noticeably paused. Or perhaps it was just a trick of Cheng Xi’s peripheral vision.

During a break in her makeup session, Cheng Xi turned toward Meng Zhijin and caught the woman’s eyes fixed on her.

Qi Ming used to say time heals everything, but Cheng Xi felt like the waves of time had simply forgotten her on the shore. She saw Meng Zhijin’s familiar frown and knew she was dissatisfied with the makeup artist’s work on Cheng Xi. Meng Zhijin was an obsessive perfectionist who hid her opinions behind a mask of gentleness unless absolutely necessary.

“Her eyebrow shape is already excellent. No need for heavy changes,” Meng Zhijin’s voice rang out just as the artist was about to use a razor.

The artist, proud of her own “vision,” said boldly, “Teacher Meng, you might not understand, but this is to match Miss Cheng’s outfit today.”

Meng Zhijin said nothing. She simply walked over and took the razor from the artist’s hand.

Without asking, she familiarly pressed her fingers against Cheng Xi’s chin. Cheng Xi froze, but as Meng Zhijin lifted her chin, she instinctively tilted her head back. Their unspoken chemistry was jarring.

The razor skimmed the skin with a soft rustling sound. Meng Zhijin’s eyes were lowered in serious concentration; her expression was strictly business. But those cool fingers against Cheng Xi’s chin forced open a crack in her memories.

Memory always likes to intervene at the most inconvenient times.

Morning sunlight had filled the bedroom. A stray lock of Meng Zhijin’s hair had fallen onto Cheng Xi’s arm, smelling of light fragrance. The blade reflected silver light as Meng Zhijin carefully groomed Cheng Xi’s brows.

Cheng Xi had been sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs tangled with Meng Zhijin’s. She couldn’t help but laugh as the hair tickled her. “It itches, Sister.”

“Don’t move. What if I mess it up?” Meng Zhijin had pinched her chin gently, her voice full of a hidden indulgence. Cheng Xi had just laughed harder, leaning into her like a sly kitten. She had teased: “It’s fine. Even if you mess up, I’ll go to the magazine shoot like that tomorrow.”

Meng Zhijin had smiled, scratching Cheng Xi’s chin like one would a cat’s. She had reminded her: “Kid, you should focus on your work.”

The light of the present faded into the memory. In the real world, the cool voice broke the spell.

“Since it looks so good, do you want to keep looking for a while longer?”

Cheng Xi snapped back to reality and saw that Meng Zhijin had already put down the razor. Their eyes met.

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