The Whole World Is Waiting for Me and My Ex-Girlfriend to Remarry (Entertainment Industry) - Chapter 19

Was that mung bean smoothie really that delicious?

Since Dong Huaci had deliberately come to see her today, she wasn’t going to be overly coy. Among the thousands of misfortunes, there was one piece of good news: their relationship was such that Dong Huaci didn’t need to add an awkward self-introduction or greeting—her presence in this lounge was already the height of awkwardness as it was—and so she sat face-to-face with Zhong Qing in the lounge.

It had to be said that ever since they had run lines together for the Huang Jue crew, their relationship had softened considerably. In the past, whenever one saw the other, they would run away, offer a cold face, or simply turn their head. Being able to sit face-to-face like this now was considered a remarkable change.

The change in the relationship between her and Zhong Qing—was it for better or for worse?

Dong Huaci’s old habit acted up again: she was so busy overthinking that she failed to pick up the conversation with a polite remark. A greeting wasn’t necessary, but she couldn’t just say nothing at all! Actors always have abundant emotions; otherwise, it would be difficult to be an excellent one. While ten thousand thoughts raced through her mind, Zhong Qing was also seriously capturing her micro-expressions. She seemed to have discovered something, for she smiled again:

“Teacher Dong, why are you dressed like this? Are you doing some intelligence work?”

Speaking this way indicated that she hadn’t taken the incident of being confronted by a “true love” fan to heart. This realization allowed Dong Huaci to breathe a significant sigh of relief.

“I asked Feili to find an opportunity so I could represent the fans and apologize to you,” Dong Huaci said, sitting still but gesticulating somewhat restlessly, appearing uneasy. “But this matter was definitely not a master plan by our company.”

The rose on Zhong Qing’s face bloomed more vividly with her smile: “That was something my own fan did; why are you in such a hurry to convict yourself? Nong gang ne?”

That last phrase—”Am I right?” in Shanghainese—made Zhong Qing’s intention to comfort Dong Huaci unmistakable. This somewhat deliberate narrowing of distance was rare for Zhong Qing. After becoming celebrities, they had lost the habit of speaking their respective dialects; they were from different regions to begin with. It was only during their past youth, in their most intimate years, that they would unguardedly let a few phrases slip, then ask each other for the meaning and imitate one another. The blending of accents was like the layering of emotions: natural, intimate, intense, ambiguous, and indistinguishable.

Dong Huaci exhaled. She felt deeply that she had been too proactive these few times; even though she felt she had gained the upper hand in the turning point of their relationship, she had fallen into the “disadvantage” of being the one to initiate. Feeling a sense of unfairness—as if Zhong Qing only had to sit there and wait for her to do something stupid or say something silly, and then by being magnanimous, wipe away the years of no contact—she felt she had to find some ground in their dialogue.

“So, you aren’t afraid of me bringing reporters this time?”

“Since you arranged it here, I believe there won’t be any reporters.” Zhong Qing held a lounge pillow in her arms and shifted into a more comfortable sitting position. Fans would never imagine this cold-faced queen had such a relaxed and casual state. “Besides, if this got out, I feel it would be worse for your side. After all, I am the victim.”

“I was afraid you would think I’m someone who uses any means for traffic. I was deeply afraid that if I wasn’t careful and you got angry, you’d blackist me. I thought about it and felt I had to come in person once.” Dong Huaci’s words were dead serious yet appropriately softening, which she thought was just right.

Unexpectedly, Zhong Qing replied to this sentence quite formally: “I really did have that suspicion once. Of course, that’s because I once had such thoughts myself.” She answered with extraordinary candor. “But, I still know you too well, Dong Huaci.”

Dong Huaci stared at her blankly. She seemed to have fallen into a dream again, unable to distinguish the time for a moment, as if she had returned to a certain moment—the moment when her relationship with Zhong Qing was at its very best. The warmer it felt, the more the current scene felt formal, rigid, torn, and awkward. Yet, this was exactly what she had sought, so she couldn’t even summon the resentment of a victim.

Perhaps because the emotion in that gaze was too burning, Zhong Qing turned her head, deliberately avoiding it. “There are some things we are both powerless over. Besides, you and I should both be used to this by now. Why bother apologizing? If we start that, we’ll never finish, right? In just a few days, you’ve come twice.”

Although the words were said, the delayed dull pain welled up, causing Zhong Qing’s smile to vanish for an instant. Zhong Qing’s facial expressions off-stage were not rich to begin with; she was used to dissolving things behind many different ways of saying “it doesn’t matter.” Therefore, this emotional fluctuation naturally did not escape Dong Huaci’s perception.

Dong Huaci intentionally steered the topic toward something lighter: “Did she have any reaction last time?”

“What?” Zhong Qing was puzzled. “Why are you still talking so aimlessly?”

“Zhao Xuanxuan.” As Dong Huaci spoke, her anger unconsciously rose, though she felt she was suppressing her emotions and being relatively calm. In reality, in Zhong Qing’s eyes, it felt like Dong Huaci might jump up and start cursing in her dialect at any second. “I’m telling you, I was quite sad that you got scolded; that’s why I specifically came to ask. Actually, regarding today’s public opinion, I was scrolling through my phone in the audience and found I’m not doing any better. It was her! Infuriating. She’s hoping my endorsements will drop so she can take over. In her dreams.”

Zhong Qing let out a laugh. The more excited Dong Huaci became toward the end, the harder Zhong Qing laughed. Finally, she checked her phone. “Oh, I remember. You really have to believe me; if you hadn’t mentioned her, I couldn’t even match her name to her face.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“You have to believe it. She didn’t have much of a reaction personally, but a manager from Zhao Xuanxuan’s company asked Fu Hong indirectly. Fu Hong sent me a message, and I just said it was qing lie (clear and simple)—a personal preference.”

Zhong Qing pronounced the word “preference” (pi hao) with perfect diction, emphasizing the third tone quite deliberately. This time, it was Dong Huaci’s turn to double over laughing. Thus, in Zhong Qing’s eyes at this moment, there was a black shadow rolling around on the sofa with exaggerated movements. You could say her balance was excellent, or you could say it was terrible, judging by how she rolled. That face, made even whiter by the black outfit, had features bunched up in laughter. Finally, Dong Huaci caught her breath and said:

“Aiya, Teacher Zhong, it’s rare for me to think you have a good preference. Then I have to ask you one more thing: when did you discover me?”

“I noticed you immediately. You don’t know how to hide at all.”

As soon as these words came out, the two unexpectedly fell into a simultaneous silence. The traces of laughter vanished instantly. Dong Huaci was almost certain that because of their shared memories, she and Zhong Qing must have the same memory popping up in their minds—a memory that had nothing to do with anyone else, only them. Her heart softened immediately. Dong Huaci stood up and took the first step forward. Just like the steps of that rooftop hug when she first became close to Zhong Qing, it was always Dong Huaci who lifted her foot first, walked over first, and stood in front of Zhong Qing.

Carrying a scent, she crouched down in front of Zhong Qing and embraced her with the posture of a friend—both distant and lingering. Zhong Qing did not resist at all, but she was dazed, and the rose on her face seemed to have endured a storm.

This storm grew heavier, as if taking the two of them directly back to that bitter summer. Just after a rainstorm stopped, the black clouds pressed down on the afternoon, bringing a humid heat that left people with no energy. Nineteen-year-old Zhong Qing dragged and pulled eighteen-year-old Dong Huaci, who had just graduated high school, to the door of the dance studio. After several classes, Dong Huaci had fully realized she had zero talent for dancing. When Zhong Qing returned from the restroom, she was met with an empty, mirrored studio.

Zhong Qing sent messages and called Dong Huaci, but that person was determined to play dead to the end. Yet, before she could celebrate her escape for even five minutes, she was caught by Zhong Qing in the downstairs convenience store, caught in the act of sneaking oden and a mung bean smoothie. Dong Huaci was terrified; she thought Zhong Qing would at least go to the dormitory first, then check the rooftop, and finally ask a few friends. Only after finding nothing would she practice angrily for a while before finally catching her slacking off at the convenience store.

Eighteen-year-old Dong Huaci sat on the horizontal bench, facing nineteen-year-old Zhong Qing, whose hair was tied in a high, tight ponytail and whose beauty was beginning to show, through the glass window. There was still a small half-cup of mung bean smoothie left unfinished, and the convenience store love song was at its sweetest moment.

Zhong Qing seemed so angry she wanted to laugh. The automatic door opened for her, but she didn’t walk in. With just one look, she made Dong Huaci obediently abandon the half-cup of mung bean smoothie, ditch the “stolen goods,” and follow her out empty-handed.

Zhong Qing kept her lips pressed tight the whole way, finally unable to help a resentful remark: “You were the one who said this morning you wanted to practice with me. How could you just run away at the critical moment?”

Dong Huaci whispered something quite unreasonable: “I was too tired after my nap. Running away is shameful, but… Zhong Qing, how did you find me?” The last half of the sentence was a spoiled plea, surely assuming that this new roommate—though her temper was a bit odd and she was occasionally cold—meant no harm, was capable, and was good to her. Besides, she had previously demonstrated talking back to teachers and skipping class on the spot; how were they not kindred spirits? Surely this small mistake would be indulged.

Zhong Qing wanted to be angry, but she also really wanted to laugh. No “good colleague” or “good classmate” had ever given her such an emotion before. The words were completely crooked, but as soon as she saw that face, she couldn’t get angry. If she really got upset, the other would just hide away. So she could only say:

“I guessed it immediately. You don’t know how to hide at all.”

Dong Huaci was bewildered: “How was it immediate?”

“You’re very easy to read,” Zhong Qing said, pursing her lips. “But, that’s not a bad thing for others; it’s only bad for yourself. So, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Did she forgive her? Dong Huaci remained silent, unaware that her thoughts had long been seen through by Zhong Qing. For the rest of the walk, the two seemed to have their own hidden agendas, deliberately staying close in silence. By the time they reached the dance studio, Dong Huaci was already thinking of apologizing by taking Zhong Qing to lunch tomorrow. She probably didn’t know that at that very moment, Zhong Qing was thinking:

Was that mung bean smoothie really that delicious?