A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 53

It wasn’t peak tourist season, and the Spree wasn’t as famous as the Danube or the Thames. There weren’t many people by the river. Couples sat far apart along the embankment; some leaned against each other reservedly, chatting, while others kissed boldly and passionately. No matter the country, lovers in the heat of passion can never wait a moment, intentionally or unintentionally broadcasting their happiness to the world.

Ji Chenli was envious. Her life had never known such a passionate romance. Her feelings had been burned to ashes on Ming Lang in her previous life. In that life, Ming Lang did not respond; in this life, it was no longer possible for Ji Chenli to have such a blissful, perfect love.

The weather was cool, and the light breeze by the river was refreshing. In a place like this, there was no need to think or worry about anything. Even her complex, tangled relationship with Ming Lang felt far away. Here, they were just friends who knew each other. Ji Chenli only had to follow Ming Lang to eat and play. Holding her coffee, she looked at the Western European-style pointed roofs across the river and sighed, “If life could always be like this, it would be quite nice.”

Ji Chenli looked at the scenery, but Ming Lang turned her head to look at Ji Chenli’s profile. The breeze blew softly, making her eyelashes seem to tremble slightly. Berlin’s summer is rainy, and the sky had been a dull, overcast gray, but Ji Chenli’s skin was so fair that the sky behind her seemed to brighten in response.

“Then live here. Don’t go back,” Ming Lang said.

“How is that possible?” Ji Chenli laughed. “No matter how good it is outside, it’s still ‘outside.’ No matter how many troubles there are at home, it’s my home, with my family.”

“I wish I could stay here forever,” Ming Lang smiled faintly. “Just you and me.”

Ji Chenli tilted her head to look at her, tucking a strand of wind-blown hair behind her ear. “And your home? You’d just abandon it?”

Ming Lang locked eyes with Ji Chenli, looking at her deeply for a moment before turning away. Her lips moved slightly: “Where you are, there is home.”

Unfortunately, the wind picked up, and Ji Chenli didn’t hear clearly. “What?”

“Nothing.” Ming Lang clinked her coffee cup against Ji Chenli’s. “Thanks for the treat.”

“What ‘treat’? In your dreams.” Ji Chenli took a sip of coffee and began counting on her fingers. “Today cost a total of 319 euros. Let’s round that up to 400. That means you owe me 200 euros, which is about 1,500 RMB. Let’s round that up again—you owe me 2,000 yuan. Give it back to me when we return, don’t forget.”

Seeing Ji Chenli being so petty and meticulous with her fingers made Ming Lang feel amused, though she didn’t show it on her face, only letting a hint of humor into her tone. “Why don’t you just round it up to a hundred million?”

“That works too.” Ji Chenli accepted the suggestion with a thick-skinned, deadpan face. “If you pay me back a hundred million, I’ll buy a big villa for Sister Tao Yuan. Then she can adopt as many children as she wants.”

Ming Lang said with a smile, “I can’t afford to pay a hundred million. How about I pay myself to you instead?”

Ji Chenli happened to turn her head just then, and their eyes met. She fell right into Ming Lang’s rare, warm, smiling eyes. Her heart thudded, and her face began to heat up.

It was exactly this kind of rare smile that had made Ji Chenli fall so deep back then—making her mistakenly believe she was the most special one to Ming Lang.

When someone as cold as Ming Lang unexpectedly offers a smile as warm as a spring breeze, it is a fatal blow. No one can escape it.

Ji Chenli inexplicably began to feel nervous. She felt the coffee was too hot; her palms were starting to sweat, and her heartbeat grew more intense, like a drum. Ji Chenli hurriedly covered her chest, terrified that Ming Lang might hear it.

Ji Chenli thought she had completely given up on Ming Lang, but she hadn’t expected that once the old grudges and new worries were cast aside, Ming Lang’s charm would strike her heart without warning. Ji Chenli couldn’t even mount a shred of resistance.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing Ji Chenli silent for a long while, Ming Lang was puzzled. “Are you uncomfortable?”

She raised her hand to feel Ji Chenli’s forehead, but Ji Chenli shifted back five centimeters in a panic to avoid her. Her mind was a mess, and she didn’t even know what she was saying. “I’m fine. Anyway, it’s dark. Let’s go back and sleep.”

Ming Lang’s face showed surprise, followed by a smirk. “You want to sleep with me?”

“Yes… No!” Ji Chenli shook her head violently. “I mean it’s late, it’s unsafe outside. Let’s go back. Yes, back…”

On the way back, Ji Chenli was afraid of having any more unexpected reactions. She walked at a rapid pace, keeping her head down, while Ming Lang followed unhurriedly behind her. The sky darkened quickly, and soon they could only navigate by the dim streetlights. Ji Chenli was so focused on walking that she didn’t look ahead. As they crossed a road, a car roared past. Ming Lang, with quick reflexes, pulled Ji Chenli back. Ji Chenli, caught off guard by the force, crashed into Ming Lang’s embrace. They were roughly the same height, and their chests pressed together through their clothing. Ji Chenli felt herself collide with two soft mounds. Once she realized what they were, her face turned red again.

Ming Lang looks so stiff, but who knew… her chest is actually quite soft…

Ming Lang didn’t have Ji Chenli’s stray thoughts. Seeing that car almost hit Ji Chenli, her heart had nearly stopped in terror. Her body reacted faster than her brain. Even with Ji Chenli in her arms, she was still shaken, her arms clutching Ji Chenli tightly, all color drained from her face.

Ji Chenli shook off her chaotic thoughts and realized Ming Lang was actually trembling.

In her memory, Ming Lang was always a cold and hard person, unlike a woman, or even a human. In her past life, Ji Chenli had been so angered by Ming Lang’s attitude that she once complained, “She’s literally a stone in a latrine—stinky and hard.”

Ming Lang wasn’t like a woman, nor a man; she was like a machine with fixed programming, the code burned into her chips. She only operated according to her settings—no emotion, no warmth, and no love for others.

But she was actually trembling. And since this was one of the few embraces between them, Ji Chenli realized Ming Lang wasn’t as cold and hard as she had imagined. Her body was soft and carried her unique fragrance. Ji Chenli never thought she would use these words to describe Ming Lang, but in this moment, only one phrase came to mind: Soft jade and warm fragrance.

She really has lived decades longer than me, Ji Chenli thought. Ming Lang’s sharp edges had likely been smoothed down by time.

Sometimes Ji Chenli felt it was quite miraculous. She had died and lived again. Re-living it all, the tracks of her past life were wiped clean; even her memories felt surreal. No one would imagine that Ji Chenli’s memories might be their future.

Ji Chenli felt lonely occasionally. She was alone in the world; those memories of things that hadn’t happened yet could not even be shared with Tao Yuan.

Until she discovered that Ming Lang also carried the same memories—no, Ming Lang’s memories were even closer to the “future.” Ming Lang knew everything that would happen in the next thirty years. This made the loneliness fade slightly; at least there was one person in the world from the same space-time, someone who knew her past, someone she had once loved deeply.

Ji Chenli thought that if even Ming Lang didn’t have the memories, she might have eventually been driven mad by those things in her mind—unsure if they were memories or delusions. At least Ming Lang could prove that her past life was real, not a hollow dream.

Ming Lang’s body was still shaking. Ji Chenli tentatively called her name: “Ming Lang?”

“I thought…” Ming Lang’s heavy swallow sounded right by Ji Chenli’s ear. “I thought you were going to die.”

Ji Chenli knew what Ming Lang was saying. In this world, only she understood the secondary meaning behind those words.

See, Ji Chenli thought maliciously, it turns out my life in the past wasn’t ‘nothing’ to Ming Lang after all. Otherwise, why would she be so terrified of my death?

Ji Chenli let her hold her and said, “Ming Lang, people are looking at us.”

“Just for a moment.” Ming Lang buried her head in Ji Chenli’s shoulder, her grip tightening. “Chenli, I’m going crazy.”

On a foreign street where no one knew them, even Ming Lang dropped her habitual mask of strength, revealing her inner softness. Ji Chenli’s heart felt as if it had been bitten by an ant—a tiny, thin pain that she almost ignored.

“You won’t go crazy,” Ji Chenli said. “As long as we forget each other, you’ll still be your iceberg president, and I’ll be my commoner. We will become strangers.”

“Chenli.” Ming Lang leaned her entire weight against Ji Chenli. “You are truly cruel.”

Ji Chenli had used the most decisive method to ensure Ming Lang could never forget her. That vivid corpse in a pool of blood had tortured Ming Lang for half a lifetime. Finally, she could hold her in her arms again, and yet Ji Chenli was demanding she be forgotten.

“Chenli, you made me remember you so fiercely, and now you want me to forget you as if it were nothing. You are truly cruel.”

“You think I don’t want to?”

“If I could forget, I would have long ago.” Ming Lang whispered in Ji Chenli’s ear, “I would have forgotten long ago.”

Ji Chenli was only wearing a thin knit cardigan. She felt her shoulder becoming damp. “Ming Lang, are you crying?”

“I thought… Ming Lang was someone who wouldn’t cry.”

She was so powerful, so powerful she seemed to have no human emotions. How could she cry?