A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 37

Ji Chenli was in a good mood, and consequently, she was much more pleasant toward Ming Lang than before. She glanced at her sideways and asked, “You’re here?” A light, airy smile lingered in her voice.

Ming Lang’s timing was perfect; Ji Chenli had some things she had been pondering for days without clarity, and she could finally ask her.

“I’m here,” Ming Lang said. She moved a stool from the corner and sat down in silence.

“You know now?” Ji Chenli asked again.

As if knowing exactly what she was referring to, Ming Lang nodded. “I know.”

Ji Chenli sneered. “Is it awkward?”

This time, Ming Lang remained silent. She hadn’t turned on the lights when she came in. After sitting in the darkness for a while, she finally spoke: “Happy birthday.”

Hearing this, Ji Chenli felt a heat in her eyes; she wanted to cry.

She had waited an entire lifetime for those words and never heard them. Finally, when she didn’t want them anymore, Ming Lang came crawling back, insisting on saying them.

What was the point? It was already too late.

Ji Chenli used the faint moonlight from outside to study the woman by her bed. Was this gaunt woman with her head bowed still Ming Lang? Where was her pride? Where was her arrogance? She never used to care about her, so how could she possibly care which day her birthday was?

“Do you know how many years I waited for that sentence?” Ji Chenli’s throat was raspy. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice from sounding abnormal.

Ming Lang sat with her head down, her hair falling over her forehead and obscuring the bridge of her straight nose, forming a lonely silhouette in the night. She gave a faint smile and said, “Seven years.”

When she spoke that number, Ji Chenli wasn’t even surprised. She placed the back of her hand over her eyes, trying to force the tears back, but they still seeped out from the gaps between her hand and eyelids. Fortunately, the ward was pitch black and Ming Lang’s head was lowered; no one saw Ji Chenli crying.

“Seven years.” The word coming from Ming Lang’s mouth carried a thousand times more lethality than when Ji Chenli said it herself. Her disguise instantly crumbled.

“Seven years,” Ji Chenli laughed miserably, sniffing hard. “Ming Lang, from the moment we got off that plane, I’ve wanted to ask you.”

“When did you die?”

She should have guessed it. She should have guessed it from the day they married, but the truth was too surreal; Ji Chenli hadn’t even believed it herself.

“Ming Lang, when did you die, and how did you die?”

Ming Lang’s voice drifted through the darkness, carrying a distant, aged quality. “Chenli, it turns out dying truly is much simpler than living.”

“It turns out that by dying, I could be with you again. Had I known, why would I have stayed alone and guarded that emptiness for so many years?”

“Chenli, in the years after your death, I often wondered how much you must have hated me to die before my eyes in such a decisive way, ensuring I could never forget you for a lifetime.”

“But later, when I thought of you, what I remembered most were the first few years when we first met.”

“You waited seven years for a ‘Happy Birthday.’ I waited twenty.”

Ji Chenli kept the back of her hand over her eyes, but the tears had stopped. Her nose was stuffed, and she spoke with a heavy nasal tone. “Ming Lang, I thought I could start over.”

“Why didn’t you stay dead? Why didn’t you stay dead?”

Ji Chenli began to weep again, laughing and crying simultaneously. Finally, she shouted at the top of her lungs, “That’s what you said to me! ‘Why don’t you just go die!’”

“I did what you wanted. I died. And then what?”

“Then you tell me that you died too—by suicide, in the same place where I died. What is this? Ming Lang, do you hate me so much that you won’t even let me have peace in death?”

Ji Chenli gritted her teeth against the sob in her throat. “Ming Lang, do you really hate me that much?”

“I only loved you for a lifetime. Even if I was wrong, wasn’t the retribution of my last life enough?”

“Ming Lang, your twenty years, my seven years—which one hurt more?”

Ming Lang allowed her to scream and curse without a word. When Ji Chenli had finally vented enough, she said: “I love you.”

“You don’t love me,” Ji Chenli said through gritted teeth, her voice sharp. “You said it yourself. You said you would never love me in this lifetime.”

Ming Lang said, “I regret it.”

Ji Chenli mocked her inwardly. This woman had lived twenty years longer than her, and while she hadn’t seen any other improvement, her capacity for shamelessness was far greater. To say something so brazen with such a righteous tone. “I regret it too.” Ji Chenli smiled with red-rimmed eyes. “Ming Lang, how blind was I to have fallen for you back then?”

“Ming Lang, if you have even a shred of conscience left, let me have a divorce.” Ji Chenli sighed, covering her eyes. “If you truly love me, divorce me. I don’t want to die a second time.”

“The cement tiles were so cold, so hard. I don’t want to die again. Ming Lang, I beg you to spare my life.”

Ji Chenli used to see in TV shows and novels how beautiful love was—two people caring for and respecting each other, like a fairy tale of a prince and princess. Why was it so miserable for her?

She had only coerced Ming Lang once, and that marriage contract only ever bound Ji Chenli herself. For that, Ming Lang had humiliated her for a whole lifetime. Was that not enough? Must she now trample her hard-won second life into the dirt as well? Where was the justice in that?

“Ming Lang, if you truly love me, show me some consideration. Divorce me.”

But Ji Chenli had already anticipated Ming Lang’s answer: a firm, unquestionable “No.”

Right. She was just a pathetic creature whose love was unrequited. If Ming Lang had even a hint of consideration for her, why would her divorce have ended in such a tragic and decisive way?

“Ming Lang, today is my birthday. The first birthday you could remember.” Ji Chenli smiled bitterly. “Consider it a birthday gift to me. I truly…”

“I truly can’t hold on any longer…”

A massive full moon rose higher in the sky, finally casting a sliver of light onto Ji Chenli’s face. She shielded her eyes with her arm, two tear tracks visible at the corners of her eyes. Ming Lang stood up, took Ji Chenli’s hand, and knelt on one knee before her. “Chenli, I will agree to anything except a divorce. Anything at all.”

“I don’t want ‘anything,’” Ji Chenli sneered. “Ming Lang, guess if I die again, how many years back will I be reborn?”

Ming Lang fell silent.

She knelt on the floor for a long time—as long as a century—before finally saying exhaustedly: “You win.”

“The divorce—I agree to it.”

“We will divorce once you are discharged.”

But Ji Chenli said: “The divorce agreement or my corpse, Ming Lang—which do you want to see first?”

Twenty minutes later, Ming Lang’s private lawyer arrived at the ward with extreme efficiency, producing a drafted divorce agreement and presenting it with both hands to this strange couple.

Both times she signed a divorce agreement, it was on a hospital bed. Unlike the last time, Ji Chenli felt completely light, as if the future were filled with hope.

She believed that Ming Lang might actually have some feelings for her now, to the point that her life finally held some weight in Ming Lang’s eyes. But so what? Ji Chenli thought: the person Ming Lang loved was just the Ji Chenli she had conjured in her mind. Otherwise, why did she not love her when a living, breathing Ji Chenli was by her side for seven years, only to fall in love after she died?

“In the future, can we still be friends?” Ming Lang asked Ji Chenli after signing the agreement.

“Sorry, I have no way of being friends with my ex-wife.”

“Then what are your plans for the future?”

“That is my business, Miss Ming. It has nothing to do with you.”