A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 55

Ming Lang’s room was a suite. The outer room had a sofa just wide enough for an adult to lie on their side. Ji Chenli put her backpack down and tested it out; it was quite soft. When staying at someone else’s place, one shouldn’t have too many demands; she was quite satisfied with these conditions.

Lunch was handled in the room. Having not slept all night, Ji Chenli began to feel drowsy after eating. Sitting on the sofa, her head started nodding down bit by bit. She shook her head and pinched her thighs to drive away the sleepiness—she even went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face—but none of it could withstand the overwhelming tide of fatigue.

Ji Chenli’s head jerked down once more, startling her awake. She rubbed her eyes and looked at Ming Lang, who was processing work at the computer desk with rapt attention. Finally, Ji Chenli decided to take a nap on the sofa. She placed her backpack in a corner of the sofa to use as a pillow, but before she could lie down, Ming Lang suddenly left her desk, sat on the sofa, and picked up the TV remote.

“Go sleep on the bed,” Ming Lang said. “I’m going to watch some TV.”

Ji Chenli watched as Ming Lang turned up the volume. Although she couldn’t understand the language, she could guess it was a news channel. “You watch French news?” Ji Chenli asked in surprise.

“Work requirement.” After saying those few words, Ming Lang stared at the TV as if Ji Chenli didn’t exist at all.

The unintelligible foreign tongue on the TV was an even better sedative. Ji Chenli felt sleepier than before. Seeing her struggling to stay awake, Ming Lang spoke again: “If you’re tired, go lie on the bed for a while.”

“I’m not tired,” Ji Chenli shook her head, her stubborn words coming through closed eyes.

Ming Lang knew she was pushing herself and said jokingly, “Go on. Consider it a deduction from the debt I owe you.”

Ji Chenli chuckled with her eyes shut. “Exactly. You still owe me a hundred million.”

“Go,” Ming Lang said. Seeing that Ji Chenli still wouldn’t move, she could only sigh and add: “With you here, your breathing is distracting me.”

“…” Since she had put it that way, Ji Chenli felt there was no need to be tactless and stay. She went into the bedroom to catch up on sleep. As she closed the door, she noticed the soundproofing was excellent; Ming Lang had the TV volume quite high, yet once the door was closed, she couldn’t hear it at all.

What she didn’t know was that from the second she closed the door, Ming Lang had muted the TV.

Ming Lang sat in the outer room for twenty minutes, then walked into the bedroom. Ji Chenli was already deep in sleep. The bed was large and the quilt was fluffy. Ji Chenli’s head was the only thing peeking out from the soft bedding; her jet-black hair was scattered across the pale gold pillow. Her skin was snowy white with a hint of a healthy flush, and her lips were a moist red, like cherries with dew on the branch. Ming Lang desperately wanted to lean in and take a bite.

But she didn’t dare. She didn’t even dare to move, fearing that even a slight motion would wake Ji Chenli, who would then open her eyes and reveal that undisguised estrangement. Ming Lang was afraid of that look.

The person who once belonged to her had always been cast aside and uncherished. But a person, after all, is not a stationary object; people have legs, and hearts can change. Once that person has left and changed, even quietly guarding her dreams becomes a rare luxury.

How hard is it to win back someone’s heart? Fortunately, Ming Lang had lived decades longer than most; what she feared least was difficulty.

Ming Lang was a clever person. Clever people know how to shift strategies and when to retreat to advance. She had tried so many methods with Ji Chenli. Previously, she had gripped her tightly and refused to let go, which only incited Ji Chenli’s resentment. This tactic of “retreating to advance” had finally yielded results.

If there was no Ming Lang in Ji Chenli’s future, then Ming Lang would write herself back in, stroke by stroke. Because in Ming Lang’s own future, every page was written with Ji Chenli’s name.

Soon, Ming Lang thought. As long as she cleared the final obstacles, she would slowly wear Ji Chenli down. Ji Chenli’s heart was so soft; Ming Lang didn’t believe she could truly excise her without leaving a trace.

Ji Chenli slept until dinner time. She was lured awake by the scent of food. Waking up famished, she saw another sumptuous Chinese meal on the table, with Ming Lang setting out the bowls and chopsticks.

“Awake?” Ming Lang glanced up at her and handed her a glass of warm water. “Drink some water to clear your system. Let’s eat.”

“Where on earth do you get such authentic Chinese food?” Ji Chenli marveled while eating. “Don’t tell me it’s your master’s chef again!”

“No.” Ming Lang sat down to eat as well. “It’s my…”

“Hmm?”

“The chef I brought with me.”

Ji Chenli thought about it. Of course, with so many people in Ming Lang’s entourage, what was one more chef? Maybe there was even someone to taste her food for poison, like an emperor of old.

The two sat facing each other. Ji Chenli ate like a whirlwind while Ming Lang ate with measured grace. When they were almost finished, Ming Lang said, “The first time.”

“First time for what?” Ji Chenli was battling the last chicken wing in her bowl and took a moment to look at Ming Lang.

“In this life, it’s the first time we’ve sat face-to-face for a meal, peacefully.”

Ji Chenli froze, unsure what expression to make, so she just smiled and went back to gnawing on her wing. “We just had a meal at noon, and then there was Berlin.”

Ming Lang shook her head. To her, those didn’t count. Only now—holding bowls, facing each other, eating and chatting like a normal couple. She didn’t know how other couples interacted, but this was probably close.

After dinner, Ji Chenli went online on her phone while Ming Lang handled business on her laptop. Neither disturbed the other. At 10:00 PM, Ming Lang closed her laptop and asked Ji Chenli, “Are you going to shower?”

“You go first,” Ji Chenli said casually, staring at her phone.

Ming Lang walked over to take a look. It turned out Ji Chenli had recently become obsessed with a match-three game and was stuck on a level several hundred deep. Even when she barely passed, she only got one star. Ji Chenli had OCD; if she didn’t get three stars, she felt uncomfortable all over. When her “hearts” ran out, she threw her phone onto the sofa and sulked.

Ming Lang wanted to laugh but feared embarrassing Ji Chenli, so she pursed her lips and went into the bathroom. But Ji Chenli’s sharp eyes caught that sliver of a smile.

She’s mocking me! Ji Chenli thought indignantly. She picked up her phone and, for the first time ever, stubbornly spent money on the mobile game just to buy lives for a three-star clear.

When Ming Lang came out of the bathroom drying her hair, Ji Chenli was still playing. Ming Lang walked over and saw it was still the same level.

“Need help?” Ming Lang asked.

“Pfft, I’ve been playing this long and can’t pass. You’re a newbie; I don’t believe you can do it.” As she spoke, the round, cute “GAME OVER” appeared on Ji Chenli’s screen. “…I’m done!” Trash game, so annoying.

Ming Lang took the phone. Ji Chenli figured she’d let Ming Lang waste a heart just to take her down a peg. To her surprise, in less than thirty seconds, the game’s victory music played. Ji Chenli knelt on the sofa to peer over. Three stars.

Ming Lang calmly handed the phone back. “Good luck.”

“…” Ji Chenli took the phone back silently. I can’t even beat her at a match-three game. So annoying.

She originally wanted to delete the game to show her resolve, but when the “Uninstall App?” prompt appeared, she couldn’t bring herself to hit confirm. Having finally passed that level, it would be a pity to delete it now. Forget it. Ji Chenli put down the phone, grabbed her pajamas, and went to shower.

At bedtime, Ming Lang sensibly didn’t invite Ji Chenli to share the bed. She turned off the main lights in the outer room. Ji Chenli lay on her side on the sofa, playing her game. The bedroom door was left open. Ming Lang lay flat on the bed; as long as she tilted her head, she could see the faint glow of Ji Chenli’s phone.

Ming Lang hugged her quilt and took a greedy breath. It was full of Ji Chenli’s scent. She really wanted to lie on this bed forever and never get up.

Ji Chenli had slept enough during the day. She played on her phone until well past midnight and still wasn’t tired, but they had an early flight home tomorrow. She had to sleep, so she forced her eyes shut.

She just couldn’t fall asleep.

Ji Chenli rolled over. In the dead of night, every sound was amplified. Ming Lang’s breathing in the bedroom was exceptionally clear, a constant reminder that the woman—her ex-wife—was right there.

Who would have thought that in this life, she could share the same space with Ming Lang so peacefully?

But as she listened, Ji Chenli noticed Ming Lang’s breathing was distinctly off. It was heavy and uneven, as if she were biting her teeth to endure something. It wasn’t the sound of deep sleep at all.

“Ming Lang?” Ji Chenli whispered. “What’s wrong?”

She looked toward the bed and saw Ming Lang wrap the quilt tighter and roll over, curling herself into a ball like a silkworm cocoon.

Ji Chenli’s expression sharpened. She scrambled off the sofa and trotted into the room. Ming Lang’s face was flushed, her brow was furrowed tight, and her forehead was drenched in sweat, with her bangs sticking damply to her skin. Ji Chenli felt Ming Lang’s forehead with the back of her hand and was startled. Ming Lang had a fever—her forehead was hot enough to boil an egg!

“Ming Lang?” Ji Chenli shook her gently. “Ming Lang, can you hear me?”

Ming Lang finally opened her eyes. They were bloodshot, and her eyelids were burning. “What… what’s wrong?” she asked with a thick nasal tone.

“You have a fever.” Ji Chenli spread out the rolled-up quilt and tucked in the corners. “Where are your bodyguards staying? Or any of your subordinates? I’ll have them call a doctor.”

“Don’t go!” Ming Lang gripped Ji Chenli’s wrist tightly. “Chenli, don’t go.”

“I’m not going,” Ji Chenli said. “I’m going to call a doctor for you. You have a fever.”

But Ming Lang couldn’t hear what she was saying; she just gripped Ji Chenli, refusing to let her leave.