Did My Ex-Wife Agree to Remarry Me Today? - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Biscuit

Chi Yun’s two mothers, Long Xi and Sheng Minghui, were photography maniacs and obsessive baby-scammers. One loved capturing candid, embarrassing shots of their daughter, while the other loved making her strike various poses for staged photoshoots.

From childhood to adulthood, Chi Yun had left behind countless photos in their communicators. Thus, these photo albums were born.

Chi Yun remembered that the albums were divided at age six. Her photos from age zero to six made up two-thirds of the total volume, so they required one extra-thick album.

After six, she started school, and by middle school, she was boarding. The time spent with her mothers decreased significantly, and daily life photos became scarce. That stage was mostly filled with photos taken by classmates during various activities. By the time she reached eighteen, she had barely managed to fill a second album.

Placed next to these two albums was a much more exquisite one, and Chi Yun’s favorite the wedding album of her and Li Zhou. They had hired the best photographers and traveled to many places, both domestic and abroad. In terms of figure and looks, Chi Yun felt her wedding-era self was far more beautiful than the baby-fat version of herself from childhood.

If Li Zhou wanted a memento, she should have taken the wedding album. Why was the childhood one the one that vanished? Did the person who took it even flip through it? Did they know what was inside?

Chi Yun leaned against the TV cabinet, frowning in deep thought. Given Li Zhou’s personality, why would she take something so ambiguous? In the year she spent in this house, Chi Yun had never seen her flip through or touch anything that wasn’t hers. They had always kept things strictly separate.

Assuming Li Zhou had flipped through it and seen her as a child what reason could she have for taking it?

They had only met last winter. At the time, they knew very little about each other’s pasts; they simply both had a “need,” so they became a couple in name only. If Li Zhou had taken anything else, Chi Yun wouldn’t have found it so strange. But she took the childhood album.

Chi Yun couldn’t help but let her mind wander. She barely slept that night, and by the next morning, she was certain of one thing.

The ownership of that album wasn’t written into the divorce agreement. Li Zhou hadn’t asked for it, but she took it. That wasn’t right, and it wouldn’t do. The album was hers; she was going to get it back.

If Li Zhou refused to give it back, then they would have to discuss why, after throwing away a whole wife, she was so enamored with this one album.

The day after returning from Country S, Li Zhou arrived at her residence in southern Wuzhou.

It was a two-story small building made of brick and stone, painted white, with two warehouses and a courtyard. Facing the sea, it was part of a seaside fishing village of “stone houses,” a permanent residence provided to Li Zhou by the government. Several similar houses stood nearby, inhabited by fishermen who lived off the sea. Li Zhou had lived here for several years and knew them well.

Li Zhou had converted the first floor into a studio for her handicrafts. The second floor was her living quarters. Usually, she spent more time in the studio. Her handicrafts always had a single theme: Warning the world.

In an era where plastic was unavoidable, the output of waste far exceeded what cleaning technology could consume. This displaced trash was burned, buried, or dumped into rivers and oceans, eaten by innocent creatures, or decomposed by nature… with the accumulated toxins eventually returning to human bodies.

Li Zhou didn’t pity humanity; she pitied the azure sea, the beautiful coral reefs, and the innocent lives that shared this planet but suffered persecution. Humans loved to beautify their actions; she intended to expose them.

On this voyage, they had found two “Ghost Nets” near Flame Island in the Indian Ocean. Ghost nets are common marine debris—fishing nets discarded by commercial vessels or snagged on obstacles. Commercial greed made these nets fine and dense. Creatures entangled in them rarely escaped; some had limbs severed, some starved, and some—unable to surface for air—suffocated.

Unfortunately, they had arrived too late. Every creature caught in these specific nets had perished, leaving only white bones: a Monks Hornshark, a Coral Manta Ray, a Southern Dolphin, a Green Sea Turtle… and countless others yet to be identified.

Even more numerous were the creatures that died from ingesting marine debris. From a Grey Whale that could no longer eat due to a blocked digestive system, Li Zhou had extracted 936 pieces of plastic, including a nine-square-meter advertising banner for a mall promotion.

Seeing such tragedy in a video app wasn’t enough—people forgot as soon as they looked away. Li Zhou wanted to place these remnants on the busiest streets, weaving them into the fabric of human life so the flow of time would carry this memory forward. She wanted them to never forget.

So, she brought everything back: the ghost nets, the souls within them, and the plastics taken from carcasses. She intended to restore them into displays for mall lobbies and central avenues—anchors at every point where people ignored rules or discarded trash carelessly.

The cargo was massive, so she had hired a freighter. It was scheduled to arrive at the Jianghua port in the early morning. Li Zhou would drive a truck to meet it.

She went to the second floor, set down her bag, and began organizing. Her bag held a few new items from this trip: a divorce certificate, a photo album, and two jars of cold kelp salad made by Yu Xialin.

She planned to give the kelp to her neighbors, so she set those aside. As for the divorce certificate and the album… She opened a drawer and tossed the certificate inside. The album, however, traveled a further distance—from the living room to the bedroom, placed right on the nightstand next to her pillow.

Once finished, she headed downstairs with the kelp to pick up “Biscuit” from her neighbor, Ms. Wang.

Biscuit was a two-month-old stray puppy Li Zhou had adopted. He was milky white with dark eyes, very clingy, and loved to act spoiled. He had appeared out of nowhere, popping out of her leek patch one day to stare at her. He had run along the edge of the patch to get closer but was too scared of the two-brick height to jump down, standing there whining and wagging his tail.

Li Zhou had been reminded of a certain child who would report every little grievance and tell her every fear. She had bent down, picked the puppy up, and rubbed his head. Since then, he followed her everywhere—sincere, enthusiastic, and obedient.

Much better than a wife who maintained only a polite, superficial relationship.

The moment she decided to adopt the puppy was the moment the thought of “divorcing” Chi Yun truly took hold. And then she had actually done it.

In Ms. Wang’s courtyard, Li Zhou looked around and called out to Ms. Wang, who was picking peas: “Sister Wang, where’s Biscuit?”

Small as he was, the dog was smart and quick; he usually recognized her footsteps from meters away and would come running. Since he wasn’t here, he was likely playing far off.

Ms. Wang was eighty years old. Since her hair turned white, she stopped liking mirrors, feeling her aging skin only through the texture of her towel each morning. In the fishing village, no one was older than her. Everyone called her “Auntie,” “Granny,” or “Grandma.” Only this fair-skinned, red-lipped girl who looked to be in her early twenties called her “Sister.”

Ms. Wang had tried to make her change it, but Li Zhou refused, so after all these years, Wang Fang had grown used to it.

“Xiao Zhou, when did you get back? I’m stir-frying peas for dinner, want to join?”

“I just got off the plane. I have to go to Jianghua tonight to pick up some cargo, so I need to prepare early. I won’t trouble you.”

“You’re always so busy,” Ms. Wang set the peas aside and started peeling garlic. “No matter how busy, you have to eat. Looking for Biscuit? He went out with A-Mei a while ago. Probably on the beach. The wind is light today and the sunset is nice; they’re likely running around.”

Li Zhou sat down. “I’ll wait here then.” She placed the kelp on a stool. “A researcher on the ship made this. It tastes alright. One jar for you, one for A-Mei.”

Wang Fang turned her head away toward the sunset and huffed, “You won’t stay for dinner but you bring gifts? Take them back.”

As she turned, a beam of orange-red sunset light spilled across Li Zhou’s face, adding a touch of warmth to her usually cool expression. Li Zhou smiled. “It’s for looking after Biscuit. Such a small dog is a handful; he needs someone to play with all day. I’ve troubled you these past few days.”

Wang Fang said, “Give them both to A-Mei then. She’s the one who plays with him.”

Li Zhou didn’t insist. “Fine, I’ll ask her when she’s back.”

As Wang Fang sat beside Li Zhou to trim some spring onions, she suddenly remembered something. She lifted her clouded eyes and asked cautiously, “I heard from Jinyang’s girl… did you divorce that President Chi from the company in Jianghua?”

Jin Fei had returned a day earlier than Li Zhou and had been slumped at home, exhausted. She had accidentally let the news slip to her mother, who then told the neighborhood.

Li Zhou didn’t intend to hide it. She looked toward the distant sky and admitted calmly, “Yes, we’re divorced.”

Wang Fang had never met Chi Yun in person, but she had seen the tabloid news on TV. Her impression was terrible. She huffed, “Good riddance. That one with the last name Chi looks like bad news at a glance.”

Li Zhou stared at the sun sinking into the horizon and smiled without speaking.

Behind her, across a single road, Chi Yun who was driving and checking house numbers—suddenly sneezed. She slowed the car, the black silhouette of the vehicle flashing past in the corner of Li Zhou’s eye.

Li Zhou turned her head.

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