After the Divorce, the Whole World is Waiting for Us to Get Back Together - Chapter 43

Chapter 43

This summer felt exceptionally fierce. Even before the peak of the “Dog Days,” the cicadas were already shrieking impatiently.

The incandescent, scorching sun pierced through the glass, blanketing the room in a blinding glare. The central air conditioning pumped out a steady stream of cold air, battling the sun for dominance and barely managing to hold the upper hand.

With no cameras or staff around, Cheng Xi was dressed quite lightly at home—a simple camisole nightdress that barely covered what needed to be covered. Lying on the bed, her calves kicked up and down with a relaxed, lazy rhythm. Sunlight fell through the window onto her toes, looking clean yet carrying a hint of sensuality.

Although the response to her and Meng Zhijin’s CP pairing in the pilot episode last week had been unprecedentedly enthusiastic, Cheng Xi was still in a bit of a professional lull after finishing the filming of the second episode.

After returning from the set yesterday, Qi Ming told her that quite a few resources had come knocking—variety shows, TV dramas, and movies. However, Cheng Xi intended to stick to the actor’s path; being a regular on variety shows wasn’t her choice, and TV dramas ranked behind movies in her priority.

Qi Ming had received many scripts, but none were particularly high-quality resources. She expected that after today’s official broadcast, the popularity of the “Qian Cheng Si Jin” CP would reach new heights, leading to even better offers, so she told Cheng Xi to wait a bit longer.

Cheng Xi wasn’t in a hurry. She knew a good script was hard to come by, so she obediently stayed home to hide from the summer heat.

Perhaps because it concerned her next career phase, Cheng Xi was very focused on the second season of Our Romantic World. Due to the pilot’s success, the production team released an “extra” update on the day of the official broadcast, airing two episodes back-to-back—one at noon and one in the evening.

As soon as Cheng Xi opened the latest episode, an overwhelming flood of bullet comments rushed toward her. The four characters for “Qian Cheng Si Jin” never left the screen, appearing in every imaginable color and font.

It was a strange feeling. Cheng Xi knew perfectly well that “Qian Cheng Si Jin” was fake, yet she couldn’t help but lose herself in this state of being blessed by others, her eyes following the comments. The puzzle of her past beautiful visions, which had been ground down into ruins by time, was now being belatedly filled in by a fragment that didn’t quite match the original style.

Because the pilot had already covered the process of the CP getting to know each other, the “sugar content” of the official broadcast was pushing the warning line. The comments screamed:

“So sweet!”

“Qian Cheng Si Jin is killing me!”

“I’ve already brought the Civil Affairs Bureau here, please you four just get married on the spot.”

Watching from the other side of the screen, Cheng Xi felt a peculiar mix of shame and her natural defiant pride.

However, when she reached the part where everyone was using their hard-earned results at noon, she noticed that the production team had strangely cut the part where she called Meng Zhijin “Sister.” That part would have made the sweetness levels explode.

Cheng Xi was a bit dissatisfied. But then she thought, maybe it was because her face suddenly “collapsed” afterward, which might have ruined the atmosphere…

She could naturally maintain a scripted intimacy, but when a subconscious, slip-of-the-tongue endearment came out, she didn’t know how to handle it. Cheng Xi realized she always seemed to be avoiding things. Avoiding the potential for real intimacy between her and Meng Zhijin.

It was just like on the Ferris wheel at the amusement park yesterday. Sitting across from Meng Zhijin, the camera didn’t have the context to understand the meaning behind Meng Zhijin’s words, but Cheng Xi understood perfectly.

Their shared memories had emerged unbidden when she saw that venue outside the window. Meng Zhijin didn’t need to say those things on camera; the audience wouldn’t understand, and it might even seem out of character. It was precisely that “out of character” moment that made Cheng Xi sense something she wasn’t quite ready to be sure of.

Meng Zhijin’s eyes had been calm yet piercing. It felt as if a long-awaited answer was about to leap out of Cheng Xi’s heart, but once again, she chose to retreat. Whether it was caution or cowardice, she was like a fox that had been caught in a snare before. The fact that Meng Zhijin hadn’t let go of “that idea” was something Cheng Xi selectively chose to deny.

That was not a delicious fruit.

As the sun blazed, Cheng Xi propped her chin up with one hand, a bold smile masking her sense of distance. “Teacher Meng, no ‘daytime indecency’ allowed.”

As the episode ended, the expression on Cheng Xi’s face cooled significantly, like a deep pool of water that had been boiling and then settled into stillness. She rolled over on the bed and started scrolling through Weibo.

Unsurprisingly, their CP name, #QianChengSiJin#, had hit the trending searches again, staying at the top with massive heat. Below it were various other high-sugar topics like #YuTongStupidBeauty#, #SaltedTaroTTL#, and #ParentsLove#.

However, amidst the thick atmosphere of CP shipping on the hot search list, there was one topic that felt like a wet blanket: #FeelBadForSuMiaomiao#.

Initially, the tone of this topic was normal. In the episode aired at noon, Su Miaomiao hadn’t controlled her strength while pulling potatoes and took a bizarre tumble. It looked both pitiful and funny. Cheng Xi even felt a bit bad for her—but only after she finished laughing.

But later on, the tone shifted. The real-time comments, which had been harmonious, were suddenly filled with unpleasant remarks.

“I feel like we shouldn’t feel bad because Miaomiao fell, but because Sun Ran was bossing her around? Sitting high and mighty while making the junior do the hardest work. So pitiful.”

“I feel bad for my Miaomiao. She wanted to be in a group with Meng Zhijin so badly, but she was still rejected by Cheng Xi.”

“Seriously, during the hotpot dinner last time, I thought Cheng Xi had a sour face. Is she afraid our Miaomiao will steal her woman? Heh, at least she has some self-awareness [rolls eyes].”

These sudden bursts of fans turned their “pity” into a weapon, pointing straight at Cheng Xi and Sun Ran. They painted a picture of Cheng Xi and Sun Ran bullying and isolating Su Miaomiao on the show, demanding justice for her.

Cheng Xi’s face showed disdain. Unsurprisingly, a red notification dot appeared in her message box. One became two, then it grew exponentially.

It wasn’t that Cheng Xi was incredibly strong, but she had been through this more than once. She had long since learned to look at it as a joke. She opened the private message section—the part of the internet that often showcased the “greatest hits” of human behavior.

“Are you acting up again? What did our Miaomiao do to you that you have to isolate and target her like this?”

“Don’t think that just because you have a “fox” persona you can act so recklessly. A vixen is a vixen; stop flattering yourself.”

“No way, right? You’re just playing a couple and you really think you’re the “main wife”? Is it really possessiveness, or are you just afraid Miaomiao will steal your screen time? You know you’re old and can’t compete with younger, prettier girls, right? Using these low-down tactics, gross.”

“Bitch, try bullying our Miaomiao again.”

“Don’t play dead. Apologize to Miaomiao.”

“Apologize, apologize, apologize…”

Fans demanding “justice” for Su Miaomiao arrived one after another, nearly exploding Cheng Xi’s private messages. The language, which they thought was righteous, was crude and vulgar—a testament to humans regressing into apes.

Cheng Xi narrowed her eyes slightly. If there wasn’t someone pulling the strings from behind, she wouldn’t believe it.

Buzz… buzz… buzz…

Her phone rang. It was Qi Ming.

“Ming-jie,” Cheng Xi answered.

“Xiao Xi, are you logged into your Weibo?” Qi Ming asked.

“Mhm,” Cheng Xi nodded.

Qi Ming guessed that Cheng Xi had seen the mess. “Don’t worry, we’re already handling it. We just contacted Teacher Sun Ran’s side. We absolutely won’t let them manipulate things however they want.”

“But she has the guts to step on me and Sun Ran-jie to climb up; her backer must not be small, right?” Cheng Xi said. “Ming-jie, this must be a lot of trouble for you.”

“Don’t worry about that. I am now Niohuru Qi Ming,” Qi Ming said, her voice sharp enough to kill. She paused, then asked, “Xiao Xi, are you okay at home alone? Do you want me to send Xiao Wu to keep you company?”

“No need,” Cheng Xi shook her head and smiled. “I’ve survived a total takeover of my Super Topic before; I can handle this.”

Hearing this, the killing intent in Qi Ming’s eyes softened into a bit of bitterness. She had been too useless in the past. After two seconds, Qi Ming’s gaze hardened. “Don’t worry, Xiao Xi. This time, I will never let that happen again.”

“Mhm. I believe in you, Ming-jie.”

Hanging up, Cheng Xi didn’t know what to do. She turned back and looked at the private messages again. It was as if by exposing her wounds nakedly to her own sight, she wouldn’t feel the pain anymore.

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound of knocking suddenly rang out, sounding particularly abrupt in the quiet space.

Perhaps having accepted too much malice in a short time, Cheng Xi’s eyes were filled with tension as she walked out of the room toward the silent foyer. Dark clouds covered the sun, stripping away the summer heat and the light in the room. The face of the stalker who had tried to pick her lock the other day suddenly flashed into her mind.

Fortunately, Qi Ming had replaced the electronic lock with a video doorbell while Cheng Xi was away filming.

Cheng Xi was cautious. She pre-dialed the emergency number on her phone before walking to the door. However, the moment she stood there, she hit the lock screen button.

Her tensed nerves suddenly relaxed, replaced by an unspeakable sense of security.

The person appearing on the video doorbell was Meng Zhijin.

Cheng Xi suddenly felt a bit ridiculous—she was scaring herself. She had forgotten how high the security was in her current neighborhood. Unless Meng Zhijin was also a fan of Su Miaomiao coming to “deliver justice,” she was safe.

The heavy door was opened from the inside. Cheng Xi leaned her rounded shoulder against the doorframe. The cold-toned corridor formed a sharp contrast with her smiling face and loose, wavy hair.

Still wearing that barely-there summer nightdress, her slightly upturned eyes were full of charm. “Teacher Meng? Two women alone together in the middle of the day—isn’t that a bit inappropriate?”

“I just wanted to come see you. How is that inappropriate?” Meng Zhijin said.

Before Cheng Xi could react, Meng Zhijin walked straight into her home, carrying a box of something.

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