A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 12

Cold, so cold.

Ji Chenli felt as if she were in a pitch-black ice cellar. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt glued together. She ran forward desperately, only to return to the same spot. There was no road, no way out, and not a soul in sight. No one could save her. Finally, she curled into a ball, clutching her knees and shivering.

This must be hell, Ji Chenli thought hazily. Suddenly, she was wrapped in something warm and soft. Her body was freezing; having finally found something with temperature, she pressed herself against it without a second thought. The warmth was perfect. Ji Chenli hugged the object tightly, feeling her pores open and even her toes curl in comfort.

On the hospital bed, Ming Lang lay holding Ji Chenli. Ji Chenli’s head was buried deep in her embrace, her hands clutching Ming Lang’s lapels as she kept burrowing closer.

On this early winter night, the north wind howled through the streets. Ming Lang had one arm around Ji Chenli’s waist, while her other hand idly stroked the girl’s hair. She stared out the window, lost in thought.

Ji Chenli’s body was burning; her high fever had spiked to nearly 40°C and showed no signs of breaking. The doctor said it was acute pneumonia. An IV was set in her left hand, and fearing she would dislodge the needle by moving, Ming Lang held her left hand firmly.

The persistent heat made Ji Chenli’s skin turn an unnatural red. Her head was tucked against Ming Lang, exposing a long stretch of her neck, which was flushed like a ripe apple. Her breath fanned against Ming Lang’s chest, very close to her throat. That small patch of skin became damp with moisture and clung to Ming Lang’s skin. Ming Lang’s gaze moved from the window to the small section of snowy-white, pink-tinged neck exposed in the darkness. She swallowed, feeling the heater in the room was a bit too high; her throat felt parched.

Ming Lang glanced at the hospital door. It was the middle of the night. The duty doctors were resting, and since this was a VIP suite, no one would dare enter without her permission. Ming Lang lowered her head, wanting to taste that neck that was constantly radiating a tempting aura.

But just as her lips touched Ji Chenli’s neck, she heard the girl murmur in her sleep.

“Divorce… Ming Lang… let me go…”

Ming Lang froze. She remained with her lips pressed against Ji Chenli’s neck for a few seconds before lifting her head. She rested her chin on the crown of Ji Chenli’s head and let out a deep sigh.

The room was silent. If one listened closely, the only sound was the steady dripping of the IV.

In the darkness, Ji Chenli found a warm heat source. Her body gradually stopped freezing, and her surroundings grew brighter. By the time she noticed, she was standing on the set of an unknown movie.

It seemed to be a spy thriller. A gunfight scene was being filmed, and sudden explosions roared, deafeningly loud. Standing on the sidelines, Ji Chenli was startled, but in a nearby outdoor shed, a young woman was focused on a computer—left hand on the keyboard, right hand on the mouse. She wore headphones. When the explosions went off, her hands didn’t shake, and she didn’t even blink.

The person’s face was so familiar, yet Ji Chenli couldn’t remember where she had seen her.

Then, another woman entered the shed. She had shoulder-length hair and a very faint expression. Her makeup was light, but her features were so striking they outshone every starlet in Ji Chenli’s memory. She wore a simple white T-shirt, cropped pants, and pointed flats, exposing the fair, bony skin of her ankles and insteps. The protrusion of her ankle bone was particularly delicate.

Ji Chenli recognized this woman. It was a younger Ming Lang. At that time, she hadn’t yet fully grasped the power of the Ming family. Her face hadn’t fully matured, and her attempts at indifference couldn’t hide her youthful air. Her style was more relaxed and casual, though a hint of her future sharpness was already visible between her brows.

Ming Lang walked into the shed and stood quietly behind the woman with headphones. A perceptive staff member immediately brought her a chair. She sat down, crossed her legs, and stared at the computer screen, occasionally glancing at the woman in headphones.

They seemed completely unaware of Ji Chenli standing there watching. But Ji Chenli suddenly remembered something.

She remembered: the woman in the headphones was herself.

How many years ago was this? Ji Chenli hadn’t graduated from university yet and was interning on this set. She studied film design and had come with a recommendation from her mentor. Her role was post-production editing. Her job was to follow the filming progress, perform rough cuts of the raw footage, and hand them over to professional editors. Though the work was hard, her mentor was a pro, and she learned a lot. It was exhausting but fulfilling.

She was finally earning money with her own hands and was appreciated by the company. Ji Chenli had been full of confidence, thinking she could lead Tao Yuan to a happy life. Who knew she would meet Ming Lang and fall into an abyss?

Ji Chenli wanted to walk over, slap her younger self awake, and warn her to stay far away from the person behind her. But her legs felt as if they were cast in concrete. She could only watch as her younger self finished the footage, let out a sigh of relief, took off her headphones, and turned around—only to lock eyes with Ming Lang.

The young Ji Chenli was startled. It was the first time she had seen this beautiful woman. Not knowing who she was, she assumed she was a star on the set. She gave a polite smile. “Excuse me, this is a restricted area for the crew. Non-staff aren’t allowed in. Are you lost? The set is in the other shed.”

“Are you the editor?” Ming Lang asked.

“Uh… I’m still an apprentice for now.” The young Ji Chenli scratched the back of her head shyly, then smiled with determination. “But I believe I’ll become one of the top post-production specialists in the industry!”

Watching from the side, Ji Chenli shook her head and smiled bitterly. She wanted to tell that young girl: You won’t become a top specialist. You will become a reviled Movie Queen, and it will all be because of the woman in front of you.

Ming Lang pursed her lips into a small smile. Looking at the rough-cut clips on the screen, she nodded. “You surely will.”

It was that smile—two small, beautiful dimples appearing beside her slightly curved lips. The young Ji Chenli was mesmerized. She asked dumbly, “Are you a celebrity?”

“Hmm?”

“You look really beautiful when you smile.”

Realizing what she’d said, Ji Chenli hurriedly waved her hands. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! I mean… I mean…”

She blurted out a mess of an explanation, her face turning beet red. Seeing her, Ming Lang found it amusing and smiled again, deeper this time. Ji Chenli’s face grew even redder. She lowered her head and said resignedly, “What I mean is, you really are beautiful…”

Ming Lang slowly withdrew her smile and said softly, “You’re very interesting.”

This was the first meeting between Ji Chenli and Ming Lang. So much time had passed—Ji Chenli had lived two lives. She thought she had forgotten, but seeing it play out, she remembered every line and every tiny expression. It appeared before her like a movie.

The Ji Chenli of that time was too young. She thought if someone smiled at you, it meant they liked you, or at least didn’t hate you. She thought Ming Lang noticing her meant she had something that could attract her. She thought that if she was good to Ming Lang, Ming Lang would eventually be moved. Watching the replay now, Ji Chenli realized: it was all fake.

The only reason Ming Lang had specifically sought her out that day was because the footage she was editing contained shots of Han Xinyuan.

The computer, the desk, and the youthful versions of Ming Lang and Ji Chenli all dissolved into dust. The surroundings vanished. Ji Chenli was back in the cold, dark void.

“Fake.” Ji Chenli lay on the hard, cold floor, covering her eyes with her arm and laughing bitterly. “Everything is fake.”

She tried to close her eyes, but liquid still seeped through the gap between her arm and her face.

The sky outside the hospital had turned a hazy gray-white. The north wind that had roared all night finally died down. Ji Chenli’s fever began to subside. Ming Lang had held her like that for the entire night without closing her eyes once.

She spent the night listening to Ji Chenli’s sleep-talk. At first, it was “so cold,” then “Ming Lang, let me go.” In the middle of the night, she heard her say: “You’re very interesting.”

Later, Ji Chenli began to cry in her arms, sobbing: “It’s all fake.”

To be precise, it wasn’t exactly crying. Crying is a release—tears accompanied by screams that wash away sadness and despair. What Ji Chenli was doing was simply weeping.

It was suppressed, trembling, and cautious. She gritted her teeth, terrified of letting out even a sliver of sound. Even her sleep-talk was a whispered murmur.

“Chenli,” Ming Lang whispered into her ear. “What exactly is real?”

In her dream, Ji Chenli shook her head, not saying a single word.

Ming Lang sighed and sucked away the last teardrop clinging to the corner of her eye.

The dream had lasted too long. Ji Chenli had a night full of chaotic thoughts. When she finally woke up and opened her eyes, she was in an empty room filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant. She looked left and right; there was no one in the room.

Ji Chenli sat up, clutching her throbbing head, trying to remember what happened. Her memory stopped at the moment she lost strength and fell into the lake. She didn’t know she had a long, long dream—shifting between cold and heat—and she couldn’t remember the details of the dream anymore.

However, she found a strand of hair on her pillow. It wasn’t long, was ink-black, and lay softly on the pillow, carrying a faint scent. It clearly belonged to another woman. Ji Chenli had been entangled with this woman for ten years; she knew the scent of her shampoo like the back of her hand.

Ji Chenli’s throat was dry, her chest ached, and she began to cough into her hand.

“I told you not to go with that person named Ming. Now you’ve turned yourself into this state, are you happy?” A woman’s angry scolding came from the doorway. Ji Chenli looked up, forgetting her cough.

“Sister Tao Yuan? How did you get here?”