A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 56

Only then did Ming Lang release her hand.

Ji Chenli brought a basin of warm water to wipe away Ming Lang’s sweat and placed a cool towel on her forehead to bring down the temperature. As soon as she finished, Ming Lang immediately gripped her wrist again, as if terrified she would sneak away the moment she let her guard down.

Ji Chenli leaned against the headboard and let Ming Lang hold her, planning to check if the temperature dropped in half an hour; if not, she would still have to call a doctor. During this time, she changed the wet towel several times. She remembered she had brought a box of cold medicine just in case; unsure if it would help, she gave some to Ming Lang anyway. Then, she leaned against the headboard and started to doze off.

The struggle lasted until two in the morning. Perhaps the medicine had taken effect, as Ming Lang’s fever began to break, but she was still frowning, her breathing labored. When Ji Chenli asked what was wrong, she found out it was a headache.

“You’ve practiced martial arts since you were a child, yet your constitution is weaker than mine,” Ji Chenli muttered to herself. Resigned, she pulled Ming Lang over, placed her head on her lap, and began massaging her temples.

Ji Chenli’s fingertips were delicate and her touch was gentle. To Ming Lang, it didn’t feel like a massage but more like a caress—tingly and very comfortable. Ming Lang wrapped an arm around Ji Chenli’s waist and gradually quieted down. As she massaged, Ji Chenli grew tired too. Her movements slowed and eventually stopped. With her head resting against the headboard and her mouth slightly open, she actually fell asleep. The position was uncomfortable, and she even let out a soft snore.

“Chenli,” Ming Lang murmured, her muffled voice drifting into Ji Chenli’s ear.

Ji Chenli snapped awake, her eyes bleary with sleep. “Oh, you’re still awake.”

Ming Lang released her hold on Ji Chenli’s waist and moved her head off her lap, lifting a corner of the quilt. “Come sleep here too.”

“I… I’ll just go back to the sofa.”

Ming Lang shivered, her nose turning red. “I’m cold,” she said.

When a person is sick, they appear vulnerable. Seeing Ming Lang like this, Ji Chenli’s heart softened. Ultimately, she couldn’t withstand the pleading look in Ming Lang’s bloodshot eyes and lay down on the bed. Even if I met a stray cat or dog on the street, I’d give it something to eat, let alone a human, Ji Chenli comforted herself. Just consider it a good deed.

The moment Ji Chenli slipped into the covers, Ming Lang pressed close to her. She still possessed a shred of reason—her brain wasn’t completely fried by the fever—so she didn’t dare do anything untoward. She simply rested her shoulder against Ji Chenli’s. Her body was still hot, while Ji Chenli’s arm was cool and pleasant. Ming Lang couldn’t help but huddle a little closer.

Ji Chenli’s entire body was tense, her scalp tingling. Fortunately, Ming Lang made no further moves, and the two just lay side-by-side. With Ming Lang lying next to her, Ji Chenli found she couldn’t sleep again. She stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. After an unknown amount of time, she heard Ming Lang speak: “I really wish this illness would never end.”

“Who curses themselves like that?”

“Tonight has been the happiest night of my life in so many years.” Ming Lang finally couldn’t help herself; she reached out and took Ji Chenli’s palm into her own. “I’ve dreamed of you many times. Every time, I wake up just as I’m about to catch you. I open my eyes to darkness, and not a single soul is there. Later I thought, you must really hate me—so much that you don’t even want me to touch you in a dream.”

“If I could catch you just once in a dream, I’d be willing to pay any price.” Ming Lang was exceptionally talkative tonight. Her voice, mingled with her congested nasal tone, buzzed in Ji Chenli’s ear, making her feel restless.

“You said you didn’t love me, Ming Lang. Why bother?”

“I also said I regret it.” Ming Lang tightened her grip on Ji Chenli’s hand.

Ming Lang’s hand was slender yet full of strength, unlike Ji Chenli’s, which was truly thin and soft from lack of exercise. Ji Chenli felt like her fingers were about to be crushed. Ming Lang’s thumb rubbed against hers, and inexplicably, Ji Chenli’s heart began to race again.

Ji Chenli felt panicked. Ming Lang was too powerful; the barrier she had struggled so hard to build was nearly being breached. She tried to pull her hand back, but Ming Lang held her fast, and she couldn’t retrieve it.

“Chenli, your heart rate is speeding up,” Ming Lang whispered. “I’m so afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Ji Chenli felt her own voice trembling.

“Afraid that this is another dream. That when I wake up, I’ll still be me, surrounded by darkness, and you won’t be anywhere to be found.”

“Your heartbeat is so strong, it feels so real. It almost tricked me into believing.”

Ji Chenli said, “You are Ming Lang. Who in this world could ever trick you?”

“Yes—you,” Ming Lang said self-deprecatingly. “Chenli, you’ve lied to me twice.”

“The first time, you lied to get me to marry you. The second time, you lied to make me think you wouldn’t leave.”

“The third time, you’re lying to me, saying you don’t love me anymore.”

Hearing this, Ji Chenli laughed. “I’m not lying to you this time, Ming Lang. I truly don’t love you anymore.”

She really didn’t love Ming Lang anymore. Even if there was a flutter in her heart, it was only because she happened to favor Ming Lang’s “type,” and she was being temporarily blinded. Recalling the cold eyes and words from her previous life, along with the constant neglect, Ji Chenli shivered with fear. She didn’t dare love Ming Lang again. One such catastrophic mistake had already shattered her into pieces; how could she commit it a second time?

“It doesn’t matter.” Ming Lang turned her head, pleading, “Chenli, this time, let me be the one to love you, okay?”

She spoke with such sincerity and passion that Ji Chenli, unable to resist the temptation, nearly nodded in agreement.

But with her reason still intact, Ji Chenli had finally learned her lesson: she had to protect herself first.

Ji Chenli was slow, but after being wounded until nothing was left, she had learned that one must first engage in self-preservation.

“Ming Lang, does someone like you even understand what love is?” Ji Chenli sneered. “You’ve simply lost someone who gave you their heart and soul, and so you’ve developed an obsession. Ming Lang, you don’t understand love.”

“Can a love born of obsession not be love?” Ming Lang threw the question back at her. “Chenli, back then, were you not also obsessed? This isn’t fair.”

“Your obsession was love, but my love has become an obsession. Chenli, it’s not fair.”

“Chenli, your heart is beating so fast. I don’t believe you don’t love me anymore.”

Stop talking, Ji Chenli thought. Stop talking. Ming Lang understood the human heart too well. Her words were like a sharp blade stabbing at the mental defenses Ji Chenli had spent seven years building, nearly piercing the final layer of protection.

“You don’t understand love,” Ji Chenli could only mutter repetitively, as if accusing Ming Lang or warning herself. “You don’t understand love. You don’t.”

“If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have left me out in the cold for seven years. No one is that cruel to a lover. Ming Lang, you don’t love me.”

That was it. Seven years. Recalling those seven years, Ji Chenli’s heart instantly hardened again.

How could she be defeated by a few sweet words? Ming Lang had used seven years to prove she truly didn’t love her—a bloody fact far more credible than any nonsense coming out of Ming Lang’s mouth now.

Love is meant to be felt. If Ji Chenli had felt even a shred of it, she wouldn’t have been that desperate. If Ming Lang had truly loved her even a tiny bit, she wouldn’t have let her fall into such despair.

“You don’t love me, you don’t love me…” Ming Lang’s body was burning, yet Ji Chenli felt as if she were pressed against a block of ice—chilled to the bone. The cold made her want to flee.

But she was trapped by Ming Lang. Flee? Flee to where?

“I don’t understand love.” Ming Lang pried open Ji Chenli’s palm, sliding her fingers into the gaps between hers, locking their hands together. She turned on her side, leaning close to Ji Chenli’s ear, her long-drawn-out voice sounding like an aria: “Chenli, you teach me.”

“You teach me how to love someone.”

“Chenli, let me be the one to love you this time. Let me be the one to treat you well. You don’t have to accept it, just like the me in our past life. But Chenli, you have to give me a chance.”

“You can ignore me, but you have to give me a chance to give up. You can’t be this unfair.”

Ming Lang moved strategically, once again driving Ji Chenli to the edge of a cliff. No—this time it was a trap.

A trap wrapped in the appearance of love, filled with candy and flowers. Ji Chenli knew that once she stripped away the sugar coating, a man-eating abyss would await her. But she still couldn’t help her heart from being stirred.

That was Ming Lang. The Ming Lang she had loved for a lifetime.

The instinct to love Ming Lang was carved into Ji Chenli’s soul. Now that this person was pleading with such heartfelt sincerity, how could she not be moved?

But…

“It’s all fake,” Ji Chenli said. “The sweet words are all fake. Ming Lang, the cold looks, the curses, the neglect—those are the things that are real.”

Ming Lang was only weaving a beautiful dream for her. Those poisonous glares were what she had actually experienced—the naked truth.

“Ming Lang, I don’t dare believe you anymore. If I fall in again, there won’t even be scraps of me left.”

Ming Lang pressed against the nook of Ji Chenli’s neck. “You don’t have to believe me. Just consider yourself a cold bystander watching a play I’m directing and acting in myself. I beg you.”

“And when the play is over?”

“If you don’t call for it to stop, this play will never end.”

In the end, Ji Chenli was no match for Ming Lang. Or rather, the conditions Ming Lang offered were too tempting. Ji Chenli knew it was a deep pit, yet she jumped in anyway.

One last time, Ji Chenli told herself. Ming Lang wouldn’t let her go anyway. If she didn’t agree, who knew how many more tricks she had? One last time. I’ll stay until she’s bored of the game, and then we can part ways for good.

So Ji Chenli closed her eyes and heard herself reply with a single word: “Okay.”

Ming Lang embraced her, ecstatic. Yet Ji Chenli felt that her racing heartbeat had distinctly slowed down.