Did My Ex-Wife Agree to Remarry Me Today? - Chapter 22

Chapter 22: No Response

“Sister Zhou, why did you and your ex-wife actually get divorced?” On the boat ride back to Shazhou, Lin Shanyu asked, her tone balanced between curiosity and subtle investigation.

Li Zhou leaned against the wooden partition of the fishing boat, her arms crossed and her eyes closed as she rested. After a moment’s thought, she answered, “There was no feeling.”

Her marriage to Chi Yun had begun with a contract and ended precisely when that contract expired.

The contractual marriage had been Chi Yun’s idea. Initially, Li Zhou hadn’t understood the point of such a formal constraint; she only knew she loved Chi Yun, and marrying her before she had given her heart to anyone else was a long-held wish.

Later, Li Zhou realized that everything after the wedding ran counter to her expectations.

It wasn’t that Chi Yun’s heart hadn’t been given away—it had been given long ago, to someone whose name and face Li Zhou did not know. Whether it was a mutual love that couldn’t be realized or Chi Yun’s unrequited longing, a year of living together had taught Li Zhou that she could never replace that person.

She was merely a shield Chi Yun used to fend off endless matchmaking attempts and social obligations. She was a wife in name only, a convenient cover for someone else’s shadow. Li Zhou had had enough of living as a placeholder, so she chose to cut the threads of her affection. Having lived through so many eras and seen so much change, there was nothing she couldn’t let go of.

Lin Shanyu’s question served as a reminder. If Chi Yun had someone else in her heart, why was she back now, bothering her? Why did she want to maintain a relationship that was dead on arrival?

Li Zhou felt she shouldn’t waver in her initial resolve.

Knock, knock, knock.

“CEO Chi.”

Only seconds after hanging up the phone, Chi Yun was already missing Li Zhou. She was slumped over her desk, her elegant features clouded with gloom, mourning the lack of “talk time.”

Hearing the knock, she remembered she was still at the office. She immediately straightened up, reassuming the posture of a leader. “What is it?”

Pei Pei peeked her head in. “There are some workers in dark blue uniforms here with two machines that look like vending machines. They say you ordered them and scheduled the installation.”

“I did.” Chi Yun stood up, rolled down her sleeves, and put on her blazer to hide the bruises on her hand. “Have them install them against the wall of my lounge.”

The wall had been prepared in advance, and the installation took only thirty minutes. Pei Pei looked the machines up and down. “What are these for?”

“Go to the mailroom and grab some discarded cardboard boxes,” Chi Yun said, her excitement temporarily masking her physical discomfort. “I’ll demonstrate.”

These were “treasures” specially created for her by her aunt.

As Pei Pei ran off, other employees who had finished lunch gathered around. Chi Yun picked up a box for the demo. She expertly dismantled it, folded it along its original creases to minimize its volume, and then—very pragmatically stepped on it to flatten it so it wouldn’t spring back. The sequence was so fluid it was almost artistic.

“How is the CEO so good at everything?” someone whispered in the back. They didn’t know Chi Yun had “apprenticed” under A-Mei and practiced this many times.

Next, Chi Yun faced the machine and swiped her employee ID. The system recognized her and linked to her attendance records. After confirming her account, she fed the box into the machine’s “mouth.”

The machine processed for a second and then displayed: Congratulations, Chi Yun. Today you may leave 2 minutes early, or tomorrow you may arrive 2 minutes late. You may also choose to accumulate your time for future use.

Chi Yun selected “Redeem” and chose “Leave Early.” Instantly, her official clock-out time on the system updated.

The crowd was stunned. Trash could be exchanged for time off? Was this a new employee benefit? For commuters facing the evening rush, two minutes could be the difference between catching a train and waiting twenty.

“Give me a bigger one,” Chi Yun told Pei Pei. After folding and feeding a large box, the machine granted her “5 minutes.”

Plastic bottles, waste paper, broken office supplies, snack bags anything recyclable could be exchanged. The machine calculated the value based on the material. It was all paid time off.

By the time Chi Yun returned to her inner office, a line had formed at the machines. Pei Pei was the most ecstatic; she had brought every box she could find. She planned to save her time for Monday morning so she wouldn’t have to wake up early for the weekly meeting.

The entire afternoon was a buzz of recycling education. “You have to use both sides of the paper, or the machine rejects it!” “Separate the caps from the bottles!” “Tie the plastic bags into a ball so they don’t blow away!”

Chi Yun was pleased. These machines solved her immediate problem while raising environmental awareness. She didn’t have to worry about “talk time” anymore. The machines automatically deposited the “collected goods” into her lounge. All she had to do was bag them up and take them to Shazhou to “pay” Li Zhou.

The cycle was perfect. Remarriage felt within reach.

However, the early stages of her cold left her feeling weak. She rested at home for a night and spent the next morning on an IV drip before heading back to Li Zhou’s house.

But when she arrived, Li Zhou was gone.

Chi Yun unloaded several bags of trash, piled them neatly in the corner of the yard, and took a photo. She labeled each bag clearly and sent it to Li Zhou with a message: When can I see you?

Li Zhou didn’t reply.

Minutes passed. Still nothing.

Chi Yun walked next door to find Grandma Wang and A-Mei, hoping to find out where her “answer” had gone.

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