Did My Ex-Wife Agree to Remarry Me Today? - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Little Drunkard

Returning to the consultation room after clearing her head felt entirely different.

Chi Yun took off her coat and spoke to the only doctor still at her post in the row of offices. “Dr. Fu, please give me a set of psychological health tests the most basic kind.”

Dr. Fu was astonished. Chi Yun had rushed here like a bolt of lightning just for a basic quiz? “Did something trigger you?”

Chi Yun sat down across from her and shook her head with a smile. “No. I just want to check something. I won’t be wasting your time with chatter today.”

Dr. Fu had plenty of such tests, though they were usually for people just starting their journey, not someone who had been stuck in a “strange loop” for as long as Chi Yun. Still, she asked, “Why the sudden interest in a test?”

Chi Yun sat with her back straight, eyes bright. “My heart is currently full of sunshine. I want to see if that sunshine has chased away the haze.”

Dr. Fu nodded thoughtfully and retrieved a tablet from a cabinet. She tapped a few keys, logged in, and handed the sixty-question assessment to Chi Yun. The questions were short: “Lately, I have been easily agitated Agree or Disagree?” or “I am full of hope for the future Agree or Disagree?”

For Chi Yun, the answers were instant.

Seeing that her visitor was stable and focused, Dr. Fu lowered her head to her own communicator. she opened her home security feed to check on her cat. Sigh, she’s not eating because I’m not home. I blame this ‘connected’ patient.

The test was evaluated by the system. The second Chi Yun hit submit, the results appeared: Stable emotions, bright mood, normal social functioning, normal environmental adaptability, capable of facing high pressure… a normal psychological state requiring no maintenance.

Chi Yun looked at the results and laughed. The sound was crisp like the sound of a cold watermelon being cracked open in summer. Dr. Fu craned her neck, trying to see the screen from an angle. “Do you need me to take a look?”

“No need.” Chi Yun exited the platform, darkened the screen, and handed the tablet back. Then she stood up.

“You’re… leaving?” Dr. Fu hadn’t believed Chi Yun had come all this way just for a test until she saw her actually putting her coat back on.

“Yes,” Chi Yun looked back, her expression open and light. “Happy clocking out, Dr. Fu. Say hi to Xiao Fu for me. I was in too much of a rush to bring a gift for your cat today, but I’ll find something tomorrow and have Pei Pei mail it over.”

From the moment she entered to the moment she left, barely fifteen minutes had passed.

“You have nothing else to consult about?” Dr. Fu asked.

“Nothing.” Chi Yun smiled brilliantly. “My psychological condition is good.” In fact, it was excellent.

Dr. Fu sighed in admiration. “So, you’ve figured it out.”

“I have. I should have figured it out much sooner.”

“Congratulations, then.” Nothing made Dr. Fu happier than finishing work. She struck Chi Yun’s name off the list with her left hand and turned off the desk lamp with her right.

Chi Yun hadn’t even reached the parking lot before Dr. Fu, now in civilian clothes a dark Gothic-style dress caught up to her. “I’m taking the shortcut home. My place is right next to the hospital. See you!” The black silhouette vanished into the shadows before Chi Yun could even say goodbye.

Chi Yun smiled to herself and headed toward the hospital’s main gate.

As she reached the exit, a voice called out to her. “President Chi.”

Chi Yun turned and saw Yu Ting, a business partner who had helped her out recently. “President Yu.”

It wasn’t a great place to meet—it always made people feel like there was some secret medical reason for being there. Yu Ting didn’t ask why Chi Yun was there; she simply explained her own presence. “My sleep quality has been poor lately. I came to get some medicine.”

Chi Yun rubbed her nose and gave a polite, fake smile. “I’m just visiting a friend.”

“It’s 8:30.” Yu Ting checked her watch and smiled gently. “Have you had dinner? I came straight from the office. Would you mind joining me?”

Chi Yun owed Yu Ting a favor for connecting her with a materials supplier when no one else would. She couldn’t refuse. “Of course. My treat. Where would you like to go?”

“Let’s have something light,” Yu Ting said. “I’m new to Jianghua. Is there a Hong Kong-style tea restaurant nearby?”

“There’s one at Shazhou Port with a great reputation,” Chi Yun decided, booking a table on her phone. “Are you driving?”

Yu Ting gave a weary smile. “I wasn’t feeling up to it, so I took a taxi.”

“Then take my car,” Chi Yun offered.

After finishing A-Mei’s skateboard and settling Biscuit, Li Zhou finally had some peace. She went to her second-floor bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

Running her fingers over the cover of the photo album, she leaned back against the headboard and began to flip through it. The album was in chronological order. The first few pages were of a smooth, white Phoenix egg—rolling around on the grass, hiding in flower beds, or tucked inside a mother’s hat.

A few pages later, the egg became a child in a white top, red overalls, and yellow cotton shoes. This was the childhood of the ex-wife she had just seen.

Li Zhou didn’t like the chronological order; it was too orderly. She wanted to see what she liked first. Since the album was hers now, she rearranged it. She moved some photos from page ten to the very beginning.

She stared at one photo and remembered the day vividly.

Chi Yun had been a little over three years old, mischievous and full of energy. While her parents were out, she had sneaked some of her mother’s fruit wine and lined up the empty bottles as a “gift.”

That afternoon, the weather had been clear and warm. Li Zhou (in her tree form) had heard the sound of the child rummaging through the storage cabinets in the living room. Through the open door, Li Zhou saw a pair of small legs sticking out of a cabinet.

The child dragged out several jars of fruit wine, opened them one by one, sat cross-legged on the floor, and drank them all. Li Zhou had seen the mothers drink this—one could drink it like water, while the other was out cold after one jar.

Chi Yun drank six. Then she ran out to the tree, beaming. “A-Li! I drank my mommy’s wine! Six jars! All gone!”

The parents didn’t usually forbid her from drinking a little, but they controlled the amount. They had hidden the wine in that cabinet, thinking it was a perfect secret spot. They hadn’t realized the child had spotted them sneaking a drink the night before.

The little girl stood under the tree, proud. She didn’t think she’d be in trouble; she remembered her mothers saying that family status was determined by alcohol tolerance. Therefore, her status was now very high.

However, she soon noticed something was wrong. She held up her hands, her tiny brows knitting together. “A-Li, I think I broke my hands. They won’t move.”

Li Zhou worried for a second, then watched as the child used her right index finger to poke each of the five fingers on her left hand. Then she did the same to the right. “See? They really won’t move.”

She’s just tipsy, Li Zhou realized, wanting to laugh.

The “little drunkard” then lunged forward, wrapping her chubby arms around the tree trunk and pressing her soft cheek against the bark. “A-Li, hug me, then my hands won’t be numb anymore.”

She clung to the tree to wait for her mothers, wanting to brag about her victory. But her mothers were taking a long time with the groceries. The alcohol kicked in, and the child grew sleepy. She looked up with heavy eyes. “A-Li, I’m tired. I don’t want to go upstairs. Can I sleep on you?”

Sleep wherever you want, Li Zhou thought silently.

Chi Yun kicked off her shoes and climbed to a fork in the branches where she could wrap herself around a limb. She wasn’t afraid of heights; she flattened her body against a secondary branch and fell asleep within seconds.

Her grip was loose, so Li Zhou used a bit of magic to secure her with two invisible “binds” so she wouldn’t fall. The child slept deeply, her pink lips slightly parted.

When the mothers finally returned and saw her, they laughed. “Our tree grew a baby! Quick, take a photo!”

That was where one of the photos in the album came from. The mothers walked around the tree, smelled the wine, and realized what had happened. One poked the child’s cheek, and the sleeping drunkard mumbled in her dreams: “A-Li… I drank six jars…”

One mother laughed. “Our little ‘Biscuit’ has grown up. Six jars! She can brag in the family group chat now.”

The other mother smiled. “Professor Shen will be thrilled; she’s always complaining no one drinks her grape wine. Now she has a major recruit.”

The mother Chi Yun called “Mommy” brushed a finger against her face, then looked up with a sudden worry. “Should we wake her? If she rolls over, she’ll fall…”

“She’s a quiet sleeper,” the other replied. “But it’ll be cold once the sun goes down.” She took off her jacket and draped it over Chi Yun, tying the sleeves around the tree trunk. The jacket wrapped the child like a cocoon, leaving only her head peeking out. It was both warm and a safety harness. “Let her sleep. Let’s go cook.”

They took another photo—the second one now in Li Zhou’s hand.

The little one slept for four hours. When she finally woke up, it was dark. Her first act was to yawn and greet the tree. “A-Li, I’m awake.”

She tried to stretch, but the jacket held her tight. She sniffed the scent on the fabric and realized what it was. She looked toward the glowing windows of the house and shouted like a little turtle stretching its neck: “Mommy—I’m stuck in your clothes! I… I can’t move—!”

A mother came running out and rescued her. Freed, Chi Yun wobbled on the branch. “Mommy, if I fall, will you catch me?”

“Of course,” the mother said calmly, not even raising her hands.

“I’m falling then…” The child tucked her limbs in and tipped over like a little bug, dropping from the branch—and landing thump right into her mother’s arms.

Li Zhou remembered the sound of her giggling and her boasting about her “six jars” as they walked inside. She watched them go, and the warmth of Chi Yun’s body lingered on her bark for a long time before it faded.

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