Did My Ex-Wife Agree to Remarry Me Today? - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Renaming

The setting sun turned Chi Yun’s cheeks and neck a soft red. The fine hairs at the nape of her neck tickled her jaw; she reached up to brush the stray strands behind her ear.

Beneath her well-defined ears and pale skin, her white business suit made her slender, elegant figure stand out sharply against the black car.

Sea breezes, coconut groves, a white cottage… relaxing colors, and waves she was trying her best to ignore. Chi Yun was well aware of the ocean’s direction, so she deliberately chose an angle with her back to the water, facing Li Zhou’s tightly shut front door.

The courtyard was enclosed by a white iron fence. Behind each panel, angle irons were welded to prevent the wild sea winds from toppling it. Behind the fence stood a row of casual, swaying Slender Rice Bamboo, glowing brilliantly in the sunset.

Her grandmother had told her that this kind of bamboo doesn’t grow tall; its leaves turn yellow in winter but become a vibrant, dripping emerald in the spring. Planted in a courtyard, it added a certain poetic flair.

As Chi Yun was admiring the poetic bamboo, a sudden, mischievous gust of wind blew the hair tie right off her head. Her long hair flew wild.

The wind carried the salty, fishy scent of the sea. Chi Yun bent down to retrieve her hair tie, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the vast blue. Upon standing, she took a small step to the left, pressing her back against the high chassis of her car, using the vehicle to physically block the ocean from her peripheral vision.

She wasn’t ready to face the sea, but she missed her wife dearly perhaps she should start calling her ex-wife so she had come.

Jianghua and Wuzhou were adjacent. Starting from downtown Jianghua and taking several expressways, one could reach southern Wuzhou in an hour. But once inside the “Stone House” village, the roads narrowed and twisted. Chi Yun had spent an hour just wandering through the labyrinth to find Li Zhou’s home.

She planned to head back at 6:00 PM. It was now 5:30 PM. She hadn’t even seen the person yet.

The silver lining was that she now knew the way; future trips would be smoother. She aimed to shorten the drive to forty minutes and come once a day.

Li Zhou saw Chi Yun the moment she stepped out of Ms. Wang’s courtyard.

Chi Yun was standing right outside her gate, her car parked by the roadside. Her hair danced in the wind, making it hard to read her expression.

Li Zhou had expected a brief meeting after the divorce, but she hadn’t expected it so soon. In her memory, the eldest Miss Chi was a busy woman who rarely found a block of uninterrupted time.

Since she was here, it was better to make a clean break now. From now on, one would head east and the other west, completely uninvolved.

“A-Mei.” Li Zhou, walking in front, suddenly stopped and called out softly.

The call snapped A-Mei out of her deep thoughts about what a skateboard looked like. It also startled Chi Yun, who had been trying to deduce if the owner of the house was home.

Two gazes converged on Li Zhou.

A-Mei, standing closer, looked up anxiously. “What’s wrong, Sister Zhou? No skateboard?”

Li Zhou shook her head gently. “No. I just realized the production time—from design to finished product—takes an hour and a half. It’ll delay dinner. Go home and eat first, then come back to find me, okay?”

“But… but…” A-Mei was impatient. However, looking up, she saw the car at the gate and Chi Yun watching them. A-Mei took a moment to realize that Sister Zhou had a guest.

Sister Zhou was very busy; when she was home, people came to see her every day. Her grandmother always said it was okay to play with Sister Zhou, but never to hinder her work.

Coincidentally, A-Mei was hungry too. She nodded obediently. “Okay, I’ll go eat. Grandma already made the food; it’ll get cold.”

Li Zhou handed over the sleepy puppy in her arms. “Take Biscuit home for now. If he’s hungry, give him a little something.”

A-Mei was used to feeding Biscuit whenever Li Zhou wasn’t around. She took him expertly and nodded firmly. “Okay!”

With Biscuit in one hand and her heavy sack of plastic bottles in the other, A-Mei turned to leave. Li Zhou stopped her. “A-Mei, leave the bottles with me. No need to carry them back and forth.”

“Oh.” A-Mei obediently handed over the bulging sack.

Li Zhou gave the sack a powerful tug, pulling it into the courtyard and leaning it against the bamboo. The sack sat on the ground, bulging larger than the bamboo stalks.

Chi Yun stared at it for an extra second.

Li Zhou walked over, her eyelids lifting slightly, her eyes devoid of ripples. “Looking for me? Is something the matter?”

Just as Chi Yun was about to speak, several barks erupted a few meters away.

The difference in how one held a dog was vast. A-Mei, with her childlike nature, wasn’t as gentle as Li Zhou; she bounced as she walked, jarring the dazed puppy awake. Seeing that it wasn’t its owner holding it, the puppy scrambled out of A-Mei’s arms, bracing its front paws on her shoulder to look for Li Zhou.

It let out a series of aggrieved, whimpering howls.

Li Zhou gave Biscuit a reassuring look and gestured for A-Mei to continue home.

At her side, Chi Yun, who had been scrutinizing Li Zhou’s every facial expression, frowned with displeasure. Once Li Zhou turned back to face her, Chi Yun asked with a sour look, “Is that dog yours?”

“Yes,” Li Zhou said.

During their year of living together, Chi Yun had never seen Li Zhou keep a pet. How did she have a dog the moment they divorced? And the dog was so clingy and it shared her name.

“Why is it called Biscuit?” Chi Yun was very unhappy. Her beautiful eyes drooped, and her cheeks puffed out slightly. Her expression regained a hint of the familiarity Li Zhou knew, but only a hint.

Li Zhou looked at her expressionlessly. “You have an objection?”

“I do,” Chi Yun said. “It shares a name with me. I don’t like it sharing my name.”

Li Zhou was speechless. “You have a double-name (Chi Yun/Yun Yun). The dog doesn’t. How is that sharing a name?”

Besides, the “Yun Yun” nickname was rarely used. Was she really being this petty?

“It’s just the same,” Chi Yun insisted.

Li Zhou didn’t want to get bogged down in this. She turned her head. “Do you have anything else? If not, I have work to do.” Since they were divorced, there was no need for pleasantries; she was ready to show her the door.

“I do,” Chi Yun’s gaze remained glued to Li Zhou. “I came for my photo album. My childhood album is missing.”

When Li Zhou had taken the album, she hadn’t given it a second thought. But when she placed it by her bed earlier, she had wondered: Would Chi Yun notice? And what would her reaction be?

Li Zhou’s internal answer had been: Chi Yun wouldn’t notice, and she wouldn’t care. That album had sat there for so long, and Chi Yun never flipped through it.

Facing the unexpected confrontation, Li Zhou could have simply denied it. If she didn’t admit it, no one would know, and Chi Yun wouldn’t dare break in to search.

But before Li Zhou could say anything, Chi Yun blinked and suddenly changed her tone. “Either you change that dog’s name, or you give me back the album. One of the two.”

She was certain the album was here.

Li Zhou looked toward the horizon and crossed her arms, her attitude resolute. She chose neither to change the name nor return the album.

The sea breeze died down. The two stood in silence, one on the left and one on the right, like two trees planted in the ground, competing to see who could grow straighter.

Chi Yun didn’t mind the passage of time. The longer the silence lasted, the more certain her suspicions became. The answer she wanted would surface eventually.

Li Zhou didn’t mind standing there either. What was wrong with being a tree? She was a tree, after all.

But this standoff wasn’t a solution. She had to resolve it.

“Wait here. I’ll go get it,” Li Zhou said suddenly. Chi Yun’s brow smoothed over, but her expression shifted into something unreadable.

Li Zhou walked into her courtyard, flipped on the outdoor lights, and entered her first-floor studio. Ten minutes later, she emerged holding something.

It wasn’t a photo album.

Chi Yun craned her neck and saw a sheet of white paper in Li Zhou’s hand. Or maybe it wasn’t blank; it had writing on it. But that was irrelevant. Chi Yun really wanted to laugh.

“What is this?” Chi Yun asked, unable to hide her amusement as the thin paper fluttered in the gentle breeze.

Li Zhou flattened the paper before Chi Yun’s eyes. It was a supplementary agreement—requested via a quick phone call, stamped immediately, and sent over by fax. “In black and white: the album belongs to me now.”

“If you want the original, I’ll have someone deliver it to you in a couple of days.”

The supplement detailed a property division. The subject wasn’t money or real estate; it was a single photo album. Now, that album legally belonged to Ms. Li Zhou.

This thin sheet of paper had involved five different departments.

Looking at the rows of red official stamps, Chi Yun couldn’t fathom how Li Zhou had managed it so quickly, but she couldn’t stop the happiness from bubbling up inside her.

Li Zhou mistook the smile on Chi Yun’s lips for one of frustrated disbelief. She added kindly, “These departments have all certified this. You wouldn’t win in court, so don’t waste your energy.”

Sue her over a photo album?

Li Zhou had divorced her without asking for a single house, car, or cent. Did she really think Chi Yun would sue her over an album? Why did she think that? Was the album that important to her?

Chi Yun didn’t want to sue; she wanted to frame this piece of paper.

“Is that all? If so, I’m going back in.” Chi Yun had accepted the agreement. Although her stance was unclear, she hadn’t voiced a protest, so Li Zhou assumed she had none.

“Nothing for now. Go ahead with your work,” Chi Yun said softly.

The divorce itself passed by in a blur; neither mentioned it. Their marriage had started with a contract, and now it was ending according to the timeline stipulated in that contract. It was logical.

It was getting late.

A-Mei, having finished her dinner and fed Biscuit, had wandered around her courtyard to digest. Finally, unable to resist, she crouched by the easternmost wall of her yard, peeking at Sister Zhou’s house. She wanted to go over but was afraid Sister Zhou was still busy.

She couldn’t read the situation. Sister Zhou had gone back inside, but the pretty lady in the black suit was still blocked at the gate. Was the work done or not?

Chi Yun deduced what Li Zhou was about to do from their earlier conversation. She turned and waved to A-Mei, signaling that she was finished and A-Mei could come over.

A-Mei didn’t understand. She shrank back, leaving only her dark eyes visible. Chi Yun waved again, then gestured toward her car to indicate she would be leaving soon.

This time A-Mei understood. She sprinted toward the gate with Biscuit in her arms. Since she didn’t know the lady, she chose to pass by as fast as possible, avoiding eye contact and skipping the greeting.

Chi Yun and her car were parked right on the path between Ms. Wang’s yard and Li Zhou’s.

Just because A-Mei didn’t greet Chi Yun didn’t mean Biscuit sensing Chi Yun’s special status and feeling a crisis of competition—didn’t want to.

The puppy was prepared. As they passed Chi Yun, he let out three sharp barks and bared his teeth at her angrily.

A palm-sized dog who hadn’t even grown its full coat yet already knew how to be jealous? What would happen when he grew up?

In a staring contest between only her and Biscuit, Chi Yun bared her teeth back and silently mimicked his barks three times. She wasn’t going to let him win.

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