A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 30

Ming Lang held Ji Chenli’s hand, resting her head by the bedside. The hospital was overflowing with the injured; it was hard to find a footing even in the stairwells. Ming Lang had managed to secure a private room for Ji Chenli with great difficulty. The cramped space didn’t even have a stool, and the bed was a temporary iron cot, unusually low. Ming Lang could sit cross-legged on the floor and rest her upper body completely on the bed.

Ji Chenli had sustained a severe spinal fracture when the ceiling collapsed. She couldn’t endure a long, bumpy journey, but fortunately, the professional medical team Ming Lang brought from C City was on standby. In the disaster zone where medical supplies were scarce, they performed a reasonably successful surgery. Ji Chenli’s life was saved, but a spinal fracture is complex; she faced a long period of treatment and rehabilitation, and there was no guarantee she would fully recover.

However, these seemed like minor issues now. As long as Ji Chenli survived, Ming Lang felt it didn’t matter if she was paralyzed for life; she would simply take care of her forever.

In addition to the spinal fracture, Ji Chenli’s back had been torn into a bloody mess by sharp bricks and concrete. With the wounds medicated and bandaged, she couldn’t lie flat or on her stomach. Ming Lang had to turn her every four hours, keeping her body in a straight line on her side for a few minutes to prevent the wounds from becoming inflamed or infected.

Ming Lang had gone dozens of hours without a drop of water or a moment of sleep. Once she knew Ji Chenli was out of danger, she fell asleep sitting on the cement floor while holding Ji Chenli’s hand. Fearing she would miss the time to turn her, she set an alarm for every two hours. Xu Luyang arrived after the surgery was finished. She had intended to tell Ming Lang that the headquarters needed her back as soon as possible, but the moment she pushed the door open and saw Ming Lang, the words stuck in her throat.

Ming Lang was still in the clothes she wore at the rescue site: a cashmere sweater and jeans. She was wearing only socks; her raincoat and rubber boots were nowhere to be seen. Xu Luyang guessed she probably thought those items were too dirty and had taken them off outside before entering. Although the air conditioning was on in the hospital, it wasn’t very warm. Ming Lang, sitting on the floor, didn’t seem to feel the cold. She was sleeping soundly, clutching Ji Chenli’s hand. She must have been exhausted; despite the uncomfortable posture, she slept deeply. Walking closer, Xu Luyang could even hear Ming Lang’s light snoring.

Xu Luyang sighed and quietly retreated.

Shortly after she left, another aftershock occurred. The hospital was far from the epicenter, but the tremors were clearly felt. Ming Lang snapped awake from her sleep. Her eyes were still closed, but she had already scrambled onto Ji Chenli’s bed, shielding her firmly beneath her body.

Her reaction was so intense and the noise so loud that Ji Chenli, whose anesthesia was wearing off, opened her eyes groggily. She saw a blurred figure in front of her and tried to raise a hand to rub her eyes to see clearly, but the person grabbed her arm and pinned her to the bed. “You’re injured, you can’t move right now,” the person said.

Ji Chenli was instantly wide awake.

She had heard this voice for ten years; it was a conditioned reflex. She didn’t even need to think; her body naturally identified the person as Ming Lang.

Ji Chenli’s lips curved slightly, and she gave a soft, faint laugh. “Did I not die, or did I start a new life again?”

If this were a third life, it would be too ridiculous—especially since she still hadn’t escaped Ming Lang in this supposed third life. It would be goddamn absurd.

Ming Lang’s profile was right by Ji Chenli’s ear. Ji Chenli’s soft laugh and weak voice drifted into Ming Lang’s ear. The faint current of breath brushed against her, carrying a self-deprecating tone. Having the energy to mock herself meant she was likely out of the woods.

Ming Lang’s heart settled, and she laughed along. “A ‘new life’ again? In your dreams.”

Ji Chenli understood then: she had survived the earthquake.

“How are the others?” Ji Chenli asked. “Feng Cai, Fang Shi, and the crew?”

Hearing that Ji Chenli’s first question was about others, Ming Lang felt a flash of disappointment, but she immediately perked up. She climbed off the bed, brought over a cup of warm water, and used a cotton swab to moisten Ji Chenli’s lips. “Feng Cai and Fang Shi sustained minor injuries and have already returned to C City. As for the others… some lived, some died.”

Ji Chenli nodded. Most of the crew members were recent university graduates; even the experienced cameramen were only in their thirties. To die in the prime of their lives—she couldn’t imagine the grief of their families.

Having been trapped for dozens of hours and unconscious for another dozen after being rescued, Ji Chenli had only IV fluids to maintain her energy. Her throat felt like it was parched to the point of smoking. Feeling the moisture on her lips, she instinctively stuck her tongue out to lick them.

Watching Ji Chenli’s small pink tongue darting in and out, Ming Lang’s eyes shifted slightly, and her throat tightened. She deliberately soaked the swab with more water, letting a few drops fall onto Ji Chenli’s lips. Seeing the nimble tongue curl slightly to take the droplets into her mouth, a stray thought crossed Ming Lang’s mind. She set down the swab and began to rub her thumb back and forth across Ji Chenli’s lips.

Even though those lips were dry and cracked, they were exceptionally soft. Ming Lang almost wanted to pry them apart and draw out that clever little tongue to caress it. But her eyes met Ji Chenli’s. In that direct gaze, the undisguised disgust in Ji Chenli’s eyes instantly snapped her back to reality.

Ming Lang felt the awkwardness of being caught in an inappropriate act. She turned her face away and placed the water cup on the floor. Her clothes were dirty, so she couldn’t sit on the bed. Since there were no chairs in the room, she sat cross-legged on the floor again, her back ramrod straight, staring directly at Ji Chenli. She seemed to know Ji Chenli didn’t want to talk to her, so she didn’t initiate conversation; she just stared until Ji Chenli felt a chill down her spine.

Thinking of her spine, Ji Chenli finally felt the pain. Not just in her spine, but her entire back felt like it was on fire, and even her internal organs began to ache. The pain made her gasp.

“Are there painkillers? Give me two.” Ji Chenli couldn’t stand the pain any longer and finally spoke to Ming Lang.

“You shouldn’t take too many painkillers. You… just bear with it.”

“I won’t take many.” Ji Chenli felt the pain throbbing in her head as well. She had no energy to argue with Ming Lang and only said, “The injury is fresh. Just have the doctor give me two today; I won’t take them anymore after this.”

Ji Chenli looked to be in agony, her features contorted and her eyebrows knitted together as she hissed in pain. Ming Lang felt at a loss. After hesitating for a long time, she squeezed out a sentence: “How about I tell you a joke?”

“Huh?” Ji Chenli thought she had misheard. She opened her eyes wide at Ming Lang, the pain momentarily forgotten. “What did you say?”

“I’ll tell you a joke.” The expression on Ming Lang’s face was awkward. “Since you don’t want to talk to me, it might distract you from the pain.”

Ji Chenli hadn’t received this kind of treatment in eight hundred years. Was this a joke? The big boss of Bright Real Estate, the head of the Ming family, was going to tell her a story? Anyone else would be ecstatic, but Ji Chenli just found it unbelievable. She hissed through her teeth in pain but couldn’t help mocking: “You actually know how to tell jokes?”

“I’ll try. Who knows?” Ming Lang said.

She paused for a moment, as if trying to recall the joke she wanted to tell. A few minutes later, she cleared her throat and began: “Once upon a time, there was a village. In the village lived an old lady. She was always a loner, but every summer evening, she would bring her chair out to the yard and watch the villagers chat comfortably from a distance.”

“A traveler passing through the village noticed the old lady and grew curious. He asked a villager, ‘Hey, who is that old lady? Why is she always so gloomy?’”

“‘She’s our village’s oldest ghost,’ a neighbor said disdainfully. ‘Don’t be fooled by her; she’s a malicious old woman.’”

“‘Why?’ the traveler asked in confusion.”

“‘Because she caused the death of her lover.’”

Ji Chenli lay on the bed listening silently. Ming Lang was not a natural storyteller. What should have been a dramatic story was told in a dry, unappealing manner. Yet, Ming Lang’s voice was magnetic—low, slow, and flowing like a gentle stream over Ji Chenli’s burning wounds and internal organs. Surprisingly, Ji Chenli actually felt the pain subside.

Ming Lang continued her story: “The neighbor looked at the old lady and said with contempt: ‘Her lover used to be so good to her, but she treated that kindness like trash. Everyone advised her to be better to her lover, but she stubbornly believed the lover had ulterior motives. In the end, her lover died of a broken heart.’”

At this point, Ming Lang suddenly stopped.

Ji Chenli had been drifting off. When Ming Lang stopped without warning, Ji Chenli, wanting to know the ending, asked, “And then?”

“And then,” Ming Lang looked deeply at Ji Chenli and said, “one day the old lady was sleeping in bed and—bam—she died.” When Ming Lang said “bam,” she looked serious and solemn. Ji Chenli found it unexpectedly funny. She wanted to hear more, but Ming Lang said nothing else.

“…That’s it?” Ji Chenli didn’t quite process it.

Ming Lang said, “That’s it.”

Ji Chenli curled her lip. “That’s not interesting.”

Ming Lang gave a slight smile. Just then, her phone vibrated in her pocket—her set alarm. Ming Lang turned Ji Chenli over into a side-lying position and placed a pillow under her head to maintain her balance. Only then did she say, “It was a ‘cold joke’ to begin with; of course it’s not interesting. Are you sleepy?”

“Mhm.”

“Then sleep. When you wake up, it won’t hurt anymore.”

“…”

Ji Chenli had actually forgotten about the pain for a moment, but thanks to Ming Lang’s reminder, it came rushing back, hurting even more.

After Ji Chenli fell asleep, Ming Lang spoke again: “The old lady often sat alone in her yard on summer nights, watching the crowds from a distance. There were three generations sharing happiness, loving newlyweds, and groups of young friends.”

“The old woman always thought she could find a shadow of her lover among these people. There were none.”

“For someone so unique, how could there be a second one in this world?”

Ji Chenli didn’t hear her. Her current life included family, children, and friends who would die for her; she no longer needed a lover. Thus, even if she had heard, she wouldn’t have understood the old woman’s loneliness. She only furrowed her brow in her sleep from the pain.