The Whole World Is Waiting for Me and My Ex-Girlfriend to Remarry (Entertainment Industry) - Chapter 9

“Right?”

Dong Huaci still remembers clearly that the afternoon of the torrential rain at the convenience store was July 1st in Shanghai. The college entrance exams had been over for nearly a month. The midday weather forecast had announced Shanghai’s highest temperature of the year at 38.6°C. She had passed a life-changing interview and encountered Zhong Qing—the woman with whom she would later become entangled in a ripening yet bittersweet relationship throughout the better part of her youth. At that time, she had stuffed twenty yuan in cash toward Zhong Qing, who had helped pay her bill. Above those two crumpled ten-yuan notes was Zhong Qing’s face, which looked almost kaleidoscopic with emotion.

Perhaps having truly never seen such a scene before, Zhong Qing froze for a moment. “I… you… you don’t need to give it to me. Just keep it.” Her final expression bordered on fear and exasperation as she pulled the money out, insisted on giving it back.

Dong Huaci didn’t understand. Her eyes just blinked and blinked. This convenience store created a safe space against the pitter-patter of the pouring rain outside the glass windows. Somehow, Dong Huaci felt as though Zhong Qing’s originally weary and volatile expression was now surrounded by a rising, rolling red mist. Zhong Qing hadn’t blushed, but Dong Huaci had a strange intuition: in their brief conversation just now, Zhong Qing’s heart had turned beet red.

Seeing that Dong Huaci wouldn’t take the money, and unable to find a single pocket on her outfit—she couldn’t exactly stuff it down the girl’s cleavage, could she? What would that even mean?—Zhong Qing realized Dong Huaci hadn’t considered that stuffing twenty yuan at her like that was actually quite strange. But looking at Dong Huaci’s face, Zhong Qing knew naturally that she had no ulterior motives; she truly just wanted to give her the money. It wasn’t about being insulted or receiving charity; it was purely about paying her back. In Dong Huaci’s eyes, she and Zhong Qing were equals. It was this aura of “no distinctions, just settling debts” that instantly hooked Zhong Qing, who was usually either facing coaches and bosses or maintaining fans and data.

So, Zhong Qing hurriedly followed up: “It’s not even like I’m treating you. I was just in a hurry to pay and couldn’t jump ahead of you, right?” By the end, her speech was extremely fast, and her dialect almost slipped out, turning the Mandarin duifua into the Shanghainese defua?

This logic made sense to Dong Huaci. Zhong Qing paid for her because she wanted her “express lane,” found her wait too slow, and didn’t want to cut the line. Thus, Dong Huaci happily took back her twenty yuan in cash, solemnly tucked it into her bag, and replied in not-yet-standard Mandarin: “Thank you, Sister. You really are beautiful and kind-hearted. If I get into the company, I hope I can be assigned to practice dancing with you. That way, I’ll have someone to look out for in Shanghai.”

An expression of “interest piqued after doing a good deed” surfaced on Zhong Qing’s face.

At that time, Dong Huaci hadn’t formed a deep impression of Zhong Qing yet. She only remembered her as a beautiful woman who might become a decent colleague in the future. She was still in a hurry to go back and share the good news with her high school friends. Originally, they were supposed to stay in Shanghai for two days; if Dong Huaci didn’t pass, they would return to Henan together. Now, Dong Huaci didn’t have to. Dong Huaci had passed! It was a contract in black and white. The eighteen-year-old Dong Huaci didn’t even need to tell her parents before she could independently complete this groundbreaking endeavor of her life.

From a perspective she was unaware of, under Zhong Qing’s trailing gaze, Dong Huaci carried her twenty yuan of unexpected joy, a cold chicken burger she didn’t know the clerk could heat up, and a radiant, leaping face, as she rushed back into the rain—as if the summer storm itself had to dodge the sharp brilliance Dong Huaci radiated in that moment.

That night, Dong Huaci treated her friends to a farewell dinner. They laughed heartily in a small noodle shop, as if the glorious future promised by this contract was more of a testament to the unstoppable brilliance of being eighteen than any admission letter from a famous university. The next day, the group headed to Pudong Airport to catch a flight back to Henan, while Dong Huaci remained in Shanghai, about to fearfully yet eagerly welcome a second possibility for her life, one entirely different from theirs.

Now, she stood downstairs at the company, pulling the contract from yesterday out of her backpack to find the floor number. She realized that yesterday she had forgotten to tell her friends the name of the company, and by last night, she had completely forgotten it herself.

Xingtu Yiyi Network Technology Culture Co., Ltd. In the days to follow, netizens mostly called it by the first two characters for convenience: Xingtu.

Dong Huaci went to the front desk to register. To her slight disappointment, the boss who signed her yesterday wasn’t in today. As the receptionist led her to the dormitory, the scent of overcrowding hit her even in the hallway. Narrow, long, and stark white, the walls weren’t peeling, but they lacked vitality. Only a damp chill seeped into one’s bones. The doorways were piled with courier boxes, takeout bags, strange crates, cleaning tools, and even a couple of withered bouquets.

They arrived. Room 609.

It was a four-person room. Compared to the congestion of the corridor, this room was relatively spacious and tidy, which was a relief. Inside, one woman was sitting, one was standing, and two beds were empty. One of the women was someone Dong Huaci recognized instantly: Zhong Qing.

Naturally, they both looked up.

“I was wondering, with the way this company is, how could they leave a spot empty and not arrange for someone else to move in? Haven’t even had two days of peace and quiet, turns out the bed was saved for a newcomer.” The other woman sitting across from Zhong Qing didn’t even bother to put on a basic welcoming act; her eyebrows were raised to her forehead. Her looks possessed a sharp beauty, like a thorn suddenly poking out from under a rose petal—very eye-catching. However, immediately after speaking, she quickly tried to smooth things over. “Don’t mind me. What I just said wasn’t targeted at you. I’m He Xizi. What’s your name?”

“Dong Huaci. Hua as in flower, Ci as in resign.” Dong Huaci thought about it and omitted her poetic way of introducing herself, answering honestly like a student.

When she was a child, her mother always told her that she had spent a whole meal treating a university student neighbor to come up with this good name. She told the student that a fortune teller said Dong Huaci lacked “Gold” and “Wood” in her five elements, but the names the master came up with didn’t sound like a girl’s name—things like “Dangbai” or “Tongtong.” The university student then recited a poem: “The youthful face departs the mirror, the flower departs the tree,” saying it contained both Gold and Wood. But every time Dong Huaci introduced her name and recited that poem, people either interrogated her—they still didn’t know the characters and thought she was being pretentious—or asked why she picked such a tragic poem for a girl’s fate.

Seeing Dong Huaci like this, He Xizi suddenly laughed and pointed: “I’ll take those auspicious words; may you blossom and resign early. Baby, pick whichever of these two beds you want. Two people just left; they were so eager to go sue the company they didn’t even finish throwing out their stuff. We had to clean up the mess. Luckily, under my supervision, the inside is finally clean.”

“What do you mean ‘left’?” Dong Huaci had already been struggling to hold back a reaction to the “blossom and resign” comment, but she was even more intrigued by the latter part.

He Xizi’s gaze flickered toward Zhong Qing for an instant before quickly snapping back, like the pulled sugar strands Dong Huaci had seen from street performers in Shanghai parks. Dong Huaci was like the child standing nearby who refused to leave no matter what the parents said, skillfully lured in.

On the other side, from the moment Dong Huaci entered the room, Zhong Qing had been organizing the things on her vanity. Foundation, perfume, kaleidoscopic bottles and jars—only a silent shadow fell over them. She said nothing.

“Go ask her.” He Xizi smiled, her lips curling up and then flattening. Clearly, Dong Huaci hadn’t chosen a good time to move in. However, this wasn’t her fault, so it didn’t discourage her much.

Having been called out, Zhong Qing finally looked up sluggishly, but what she said was completely disconnected from their previous conversation: “Zhong Qing.”

“Eh?”

Zhong Qing’s hands couldn’t seem to stay idle. She capped a bottle and turned her head to truly, seriously look at her new roommate. Her “B-king” (cool/boss) nature was already showing its edge back then: “My name is Zhong Qing. As in ‘It’s hard not to feel Zhong Qing (deeply in love) with you.’ That’s my name.”

In the middle, she hummed a tune from a popular song. her voice was as mellow as fine wine, yet faintly carried a hint of tart sweetness.

Dong Huaci didn’t focus on the uniqueness of the name at all. As soon as the song started—not even ten words in—Dong Huaci remembered her as someone who was not only beautiful but also sang very well. It’s best if certain artistic talents don’t appear right next to you, because Dong Huaci would later suffer over singing for a long time; it seemed it wasn’t something that could be saved by hard work alone. Once, when Zhong Qing tried to coax her by singing two lines, Dong Huaci cried even harder and woke up the next day with a hoarse throat.

But that was for later.

“Thank you, I mean… for the chicken burger.” Dong Huaci was afraid she had forgotten about it, though theoretically, it should have been hard to forget.

Zhong Qing finally stopped fiddling with her things. “Little… small thing, don’t worry about it.” She almost slipped into Shanghainese again. Aside from a slight blush, she looked over at He Xizi. “Xixi, aren’t you eating? It’s noon.”

He Xizi muttered, “I’m ordering takeout. The cafeteria food is disgusting. They call it ‘healthy’ and talk about ‘maintaining physique,’ but it’s really just to save on costs.”

“I haven’t seen the company cafeteria yet,” Dong Huaci quickly joined in, afraid to miss a topic that seemed like a way to blend in. “Sister Zhong Qing, as a thank you for yesterday, let’s go eat together. I can treat you.”

As a result, both people across from her laughed.

Dong Huaci froze in place again. He Xizi poked at her: “The company has a meal allowance. There’s a 400 yuan monthly limit at the cafeteria for free. Did the boss or HR not tell you?”

“Let’s go, I’ll take you to eat.” Zhong Qing stood up with great efficiency, her accessories clinking and clanking. Without giving Dong Huaci a specific title or name in her speech, she directly half-guided, half-pulled Dong Huaci toward the door. “Let me show you how much your standard meals for the next five years will help you maintain a standard figure.”

It was a very natural physical contact—arm against arm, somewhere between a loose embrace and a pull. Zhong Qing’s hair hung down, and she wore no makeup, yet she seemed to carry a natural halo. With a smile following her words, she effectively announced the luck, beauty, and reliability of the new journey Dong Huaci was about to start alone as a worker in Shanghai.

Dong Huaci didn’t know if she should touch back, but she felt that this touch was somehow “off.” It wasn’t the feeling any of her past female friends had ever given her. Instead, a strange tingling sensation crawled over her entire body. It was weird; her heart was racing.

At the time, she thought, Maybe it’s just too hot.

If only the company cafeteria had iced mung bean soup to drink.