Let's Get Married on the First Day of Rebirth - Chapter 2

Xu Mi hated Qu Ange.

She wasn’t entirely sure when this hatred had begun. It was just that one night, her heart ached as if gnawed by something, and as Xu Mi watched Qu Ange laughing and joking with a male co-star on the TV screen, a sudden thought struck her: What if she weren’t an actress?

If only she weren’t an actress, if only she didn’t have to be in the public eye. Xu Mi wanted to lock her away, keep her hidden, feed her only what she gave, let her hear only her voice, see only her face.

She no longer wanted Qu Ange to thrive. The better Qu Ange’s life became, the further she drifted away, growing more and more unfamiliar. Xu Mi finally realized that if things continued like this, Qu Ange would inevitably leave her. The pain spread from her heart to every limb, and she clenched her teeth, as if wanting to bite down on something.

She understood that hatred and love could sometimes be one and the same. The depth of her love for Qu Ange was matched only by the depth of her hatred. Love and hate intertwined, twisting her into a monstrous version of herself she no longer recognized.

So, she finally decided to let go. She feared becoming that monster, feared that the monstrous version of herself might truly harm Qu Ange.

But then, Qu Ange had to come and provoke her again. Sipping tea, eating egg pancakes, humming a tune and smiling at her. Xu Mi stared at her expressionlessly, fighting the urge to snatch the teacup from her hands and demand to know what the hell was wrong with her.

Yet she didn’t dare say it.

What if Qu Ange really was out of her mind, and one harsh word from her snapped her back to reality?

In the end, it was all just wishful thinking.

Lost in her own thoughts, Qu Ange licked her chopsticks and asked, “Besides an ID, do we need a household register to get the marriage certificate? Mine’s with my mom. I’ll have to go back and get it.”

She watched Xu Mi’s face, noticing the frown, but no words came.

Truth be told, though she had always considered Xu Mi her soulmate, the love of her life, it had been ten years since they’d last seen each other. She had convinced herself that Xu Mi grew clearer in her memories, but now, face to face, she realized that was just wishful thinking. The Xu Mi before her now felt somewhat unfamiliar. For instance, the Xu Mi in her memories wasn’t this silent.

The thought flickered through her mind, but before she could dwell on it, her phone rang. She picked it up and saw Zhou Yue’s name.

The sight of it made her sneer. Zhou Yue was her agent now, the same Zhou Yue who had tricked her into signing that contract with Guangju Media. A contract that sounded promising but was, in reality, a fifteen-year shackle with absurdly harsh terms. Though it might sound like shifting blame, Qu Ange was convinced that the no-dating clause in that contract had been the main reason she’d broken up with Xu Mi back then. She had been a fool, truly believing it was a golden opportunity when she signed it.

And Zhou Yue? She was nothing but Guangju Media’s lapdog or to put it crudely, a pimp, a piece of trash who procured talent for the company.

But judging by the timeline, her past self still trusted Zhou Yue wholeheartedly. She had been a newcomer to the industry, naive and clueless, foolishly believing Zhou Yue was her guiding light.

Later, it would take her immense effort to break free from both Guangju Media and that leech, Zhou Yue.

She frowned, thinking to herself, “Oh no.” She only remembered breaking up with Xu Mi in June this year, but vaguely recalled signing a contract with Guangju Media just before the breakup. Had she already signed it by now?

Once that contract was signed, there was no way out unless she paid the penalty fee.

For her future self, the two-million yuan penalty wouldn’t be much, but for her current self, it was an astronomical sum.

Qu Ange answered the call, and Zhou Yue screamed on the other end, “Qu Ange! Where the hell are you? There’s a dinner with Director Weng today. Don’t tell me you forgot!”

Zhou Yue was an overly dramatic man. Qu Ange always suspected he was gay, but he only ever dated women.

Qu Ange frowned. The fact that Zhou Yue could so casually tell her to attend a drinking session suggested the contract was already signed. Still unwilling to accept it, she bluntly said, “I’m here to see my girlfriend.”

Zhou Yue’s screeching cut off abruptly, like a chicken with its neck wrung. After a long pause, he stammered, “What did you just say? What?”

Qu Ange, already impatient with Zhou Yue, mumbled through a mouthful of egg pancake, “I said I’m here to see my girlfriend. What’s the problem?”

Zhou Yue calmed down and said slowly, “What’s wrong? Did something bad happen? Are you upset and acting out?”

Qu Ange retorted, “Can’t I have a girlfriend?”

Zhou Yue asked, “Do you remember the terms of the contract?”

Though she had already guessed it, hearing those words still made her heart sink. “So it’s already signed,” she thought.

This rebirth really couldn’t have picked a worse timing. Couldn’t it have been a few days earlier? But then again, rebirth itself was a miracle. Complaining about its timing seemed ungrateful.

As she pondered her next move, she said aloud, “I’m just not in the mood. I need a few days off. I don’t want to work.”

Her outrageous statement clearly stunned Zhou Yue, who fell silent for a long time. Qu Ange added, “I’m hanging up now. I’ve got a hangover, and my head’s killing me. Bye.”

She ended the call and flashed Xu Mi a smile. “I took time off to be with you, sweetheart.”

Xu Mi’s lips twitched, looking anything but touched. After finishing breakfast, Qu Ange patted her stomach and said, “For dinner, I want wild vegetable rolls wrapped in cold skin noodles, with that sweet and salty sauce you make.”

Xu Mi’s eyebrow twitched. She took a deep breath and said, “Now you’re ordering dishes?”

Qu Ange replied, “Well, since I’m off, why don’t we go home together? Your household register should be there too, right?”

Xu Mi demanded, “What the hell is wrong with you? Explain yourself.” Her mind was a mess, her head heavy and feet light, as if she were dreaming.

Just as Qu Ange was about to speak, her phone rang again. She glanced at it, Zhou Yue calling back. She wanted to mute it, but since it was an old Nokia model (not a smartphone), she fumbled and handed it to Xu Mi. “How do I mute this?”

Xu Mi looked at her with disbelief, as if staring at a fool, but still took the phone and set it to silent for Qu Ange. Seizing the opportunity, Qu Ange sat down next to Xu Mi, pressing close to her arm as she watched her operate the phone. Once Xu Mi finished, she shoved the phone back into Qu Ange’s hands and moved her chair away. Qu Ange scooted closer again, and Xu Mi retreated further, the two of them circling the table in a comical loop until Xu Mi finally stood up, exasperated, and said, “It’s sweltering. What do you even want?”

Qu Ange looked up at Xu Mi: “I just want to be close to you.”

The temperature was nearing thirty degrees, and with only a fan running in the living room, Qu Ange had broken into a light sweat. The stray hairs at her temples clung damply to her forehead, and her nose glistened with oil. Yet, despite it all, she was undeniably beautiful. Her fair skin making the sheen look dewy, her bare complexion flushed like a ripe peach, her entire face so plump and fresh it seemed like you could squeeze water from it. The lack of makeup only accentuated the effortless beauty.

Xu Mi felt unbearably hot and wiped the sweat from her brow. Qu Ange immediately piped up, “Are you hot, baby? I’ll turn on the AC for you.”

Xu Mi’s face scrunched up at the words. In the past, Qu Ange had always been a bit dramatic, but she’d never spouted such saccharine lines so freely. Had it been ten years later, Xu Mi would have recognized this behavior as downright cringey, but for now, she could only describe it as odd and uncomfortably mushy.

True to her word, Qu Ange went searching for the remote. She bent over the couch, digging between the cushions, her movements exaggerated in just a tank top and shorts. Her pale skin peeked out with every shift, her slender frame accentuated by the narrow couch.

Xu Mi turned her head away, gazing out the window where the harsh sunlight bleached everything into a blinding white, making it hard to tell what time of day it was.

They had attended universities in the same city but different districts. During their junior year, they had rented an apartment off-campus and moved in together. That summer, before Qu Ange had run into that damned talent scout on the street, she would spend entire days lounging on the couch watching mindless TV dramas. Xu Mi had taken up an internship and would bring back duck necks for Qu Ange on her way home. Qu Ange, feeling guilty about the electricity bill since she wasn’t working, refused to turn on the AC during the day. Only switching it on just before Xu Mi returned. So every time Xu Mi stepped through the door, she was greeted by a refreshing chill and the sight of Qu Ange sprawled on the couch, legs splayed, whining, “I’m so hungry, Xu Mi.”

Lately, Xu Mi often found herself reminiscing about those days. Back then, she would complain about having to cook after work, and Qu Ange’s culinary attempts were borderline inedible, practically poison. But Qu Ange would scoop out the sweetest part of a watermelon and feed it to her, stand in long lines to buy her favorite cakes, and no matter what time Xu Mi came home, she’d always find Qu Ange on the couch, her long limbs arranged in some bizarre, gangly pose.

Just like now, Qu Ange had turned on the AC, one leg propped on the coffee table, the other curled up on the couch as she cradled it, scrolling through her phone absentmindedly. Sometimes, Xu Mi thought Qu Ange was like a poorly trained large breed dog a Samoyed, maybe whose mere presence was overwhelming, always making sure to stir up some kind of commotion.

Now she sighed heavily, then lifted her head and asked, “Can’t you buy high-speed rail tickets on a phone? How am I supposed to buy them now?”

Qu Ange had just been reborn, but instead of enjoying the benefits of foresight, she found herself lacking common sense. Having grown accustomed to smartphones, she really didn’t know how to use this non-smartphone anymore.

Xu Mi didn’t answer and turned to walk into her room. Qu Ange hurried after her, saying, “How about you buy them for me?”

But just as Qu Ange reached the door, Xu Mi shut it and locked it. Qu Ange knocked and called out, “What’s wrong, baby? Xiao Mi! Xu Mi!”

Her phone screen lit up with another incoming call. This time from Zeng Xuejia. Zeng Xuejia was also an artist under Zhou Yue’s management. Seeing her name, Qu Ange’s expression darkened further. Zeng Xuejia was genuinely kind-hearted, but in this industry, that kind of personality never led to a good outcome. She had signed the same contract as Qu Ange, but unlike Qu Ange, who had met a benefactor, Zeng Xuejia had been dragged down by the contract until it ruined her.

Still, Zeng Xuejia had always been good to her. Though Qu Ange knew the call was likely Zhou Yue’s attempt to persuade her, she answered anyway and immediately said, “Jia-jie, if you’re calling to ask me to come back, I’m definitely not going. I’m not in the mood.”

As she spoke, she leaned against the bedroom door, her other hand unconsciously tapping on the wooden panel.

Inside the room, Xu Mi had been lying on the bed but grew increasingly irritated by the constant “thud, thud, thud” against the door. She walked over and pressed her ear to the door, hearing Qu Ange’s voice from outside.

“Ah, I know, I know. So, what if I breach the contract? I’m prepared to pay the penalty.”