A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 3

“Miss Ji? Miss Ji, are you in there?” The door was being pounded loudly, and the voice from outside sounded anxious.

So noisy.

Ji Chenli rolled over, intending to go back to sleep, but her body met empty air. She fell heavily onto the floor, the pain instantly snapping her awake.

“Who is it!” Ji Chenli shouted at the door in annoyance.

“Miss Ji, have you finished changing? Miss Ming is waiting outside!”

Changing into what?

Ji Chenli stood up while rubbing her aching backside, her face contorting with pain.

Wait.

Her movements froze for half a minute.

Wasn’t I dead?

Ji Chenli gave her cheek a hard pinch. It hurt—a lot. It wasn’t a dream. But she clearly remembered dying; the sensation of blood draining from her body had been vivid and real, as had the thrill of seeing that final, incredulous look on Ming Lang’s face. Nothing in her life had ever felt that real.

“Miss Ji, my ancestor… I beg you to hurry, okay? The wedding is about to start!” The person outside wailed again. Only then did Ji Chenli notice the wedding dress she was wearing.

She could recognize this dress even with her eyes closed just by touch. It was the one she wore when she married Ming Lang. Back then, while attending a film festival in Europe, Ji Chenli had specially commissioned a French designer to create two sets. They were unique in the world, entirely handmade, and took half a year to complete. She had only worn it once in her entire life.

Is God… playing with me?

Ji Chenli scanned the room’s decor, her gaze landing on a nearby vanity. She rushed over in three steps and clutched the large mirror like a lifeline.

The person in the mirror was both a stranger and familiar. Red lips, black hair, and skin full of collagen—there wasn’t a single wrinkle, let alone a deep line. Ji Chenli touched her face and gave a bitter laugh. How long had it been since she had actually looked at herself?

“Miss Ji, if you don’t come out, I’m breaking down the door! I’m really doing it! Hey, hey, hey—”

Before the person outside could finish, the fragile door was kicked open. Ji Chenli turned to see Ming Lang, also in a wedding dress, walking in. She marched straight up to Ji Chenli and looked her up and down in silence, scrutinizing her from head to toe. From her posture, it looked like she wanted to swallow Ji Chenli alive.

The Ming Lang of this era was still young, with a lingering hint of youthfulness on her face. Ji Chenli clicked her tongue in wonder, thinking to herself: So this person already had this “dead face” seven years ago.

“Ji Chenli.” Ming Lang hesitated, taking a half-step forward. She called her name with an unusual level of agitation, a faint glint shimmering in her eyes.

Too much time had passed; Ji Chenli only remembered that she married Ming Lang on this day, but she couldn’t recall the specific details. She wondered what could have happened to make the “President Ming”—the woman who wouldn’t flinch even if Mt. Tai collapsed before her—show such a rare display of emotion.

“Ji Chenli,” Ming Lang called again, her volume rising, the tears in her eyes becoming more apparent.

Perhaps the young Ming Lang hadn’t fully mastered her poker face yet. Relying on the fact that she was technically “older” now, Ji Chenli magnanimously forgave her in her heart. She sat leisurely on the stool, crossed her legs, and smiled. “What?”

Realizing she had lost her composure, Ming Lang quickly reined in her emotions. Her face went completely blank as she said coldly, “It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Ji Chenli asked, playing dumb.

Ming Lang narrowed her eyes, her hands behind her back. “You were the one who asked for this marriage.”

“Yes.” Ji Chenli nodded with a smile.

She wasn’t so senile that she’d forgotten that. Back then, she had been so infatuated that she threw herself at Ming Lang, using every means possible to get close to her. Eventually, she engineered this wedding farce, staking the rest of her life on it, only to end up dying a miserable death. How could she forget?

“However,” Ji Chenli shifted her crossed legs and said with an air of calm indifference, “I regret it.”

“What did you say?” Ming Lang took another half-step closer, her face darkening.

“I regret it.” Ji Chenli took it a step further, crossing her arms. “What kind of thing are you, Ming Lang? Why should I waste the best years of my life on something like you?”

The bridesmaids and makeup artists eavesdropping at the door all gasped. Was Miss Ji insane? She had clung to Ming Lang like her life depended on it, causing such a scene to get this marriage—why the sudden change in personality? It was like she had a split personality.

At this time, it had been a few years since same-sex marriage was legalized, but public opinion was still largely against it. Plenty of same-sex couples registered their marriages, but few dared to make it public. On the day the news of Ming Lang’s wedding hit the trending searches, the stock of Ming-Han Media had plummeted by 20%—though, to be fair, they received wave after wave of support from “keyboard warriors” on Weibo.

It was Ji Chenli herself who had demanded an unprecedentedly grand wedding. Ming Lang had withstood the pressure from the board of directors and the elders of both the Ming and Han families. She had personally delivered invitations to various family patriarchs, enduring countless cold stares. Finally, all the prominent families of City C had arrived, giving Ji Chenli more than enough face. If Ji Chenli said she “regretted it” now, not just Ming Lang, but the entire Ming family would become a laughingstock for idle gossip. How could they let her have her way?

Ming Lang leaned down toward Ji Chenli, bracing one hand on the vanity, stopping just ten centimeters from her face. Their gazes locked, and the air seemed to freeze. The onlookers peeking through the door gap exchanged glances, not daring to breathe.

Ji Chenli’s attention, however, was entirely drawn to Ming Lang’s collarbone. Ming Lang’s wedding dress was a strapless design; the well-tailored gown perfectly traced the elegant curves of her upper body. Near her shoulders, a pair of jade-white collarbones wound across her skin, swaying right in front of Ji Chenli’s eyes. Ji Chenli swallowed—she just wanted to lean in and steal a kiss.

For someone like this, it wasn’t exactly unacceptable that I fell for her so hard back then.

“Ming Lang.” Ji Chenli blinked at the person within arm’s reach and said with a beaming smile, “Let’s get a divorce, shall we?”

Even though they had already obtained their marriage certificate, it wasn’t too late to divorce now.

Ji Chenli didn’t know why God had played such a huge joke by giving her a second life. Since she could start over, she was truly terrified of Ming Lang. She couldn’t afford to pluck this “flower on a high peak”—whoever wanted it could have it.

“You don’t want to be the Movie Queen anymore?” Ming Lang asked.

Ji Chenli gave a cynical laugh. “I never did.”

Where was Ming Lang on the day she won her Best Actress trophy? Oh, right—it was Han Xinyuan’s birthday, and Ming Lang was busy celebrating with her. So, Ji Chenli had to look at the seat in the front row that remained empty all night and wish herself a “Happy Birthday” in her heart.

After the awards ceremony was the celebration banquet. Ji Chenli accepted every toast, whether well-intentioned or malicious. She mixed red and white wine until she ended up clutching a toilet, vomiting so hard she couldn’t straighten her back. Tears and snot covered her face. Once she had emptied her stomach and cried her fill, she washed herself at the sink, reapplied her makeup, and returned to the private room with a face full of smiles to keep drinking.

That’s how the industry was; you couldn’t afford to offend anyone. If they told you to drink, you drank. What was a “Movie Queen”? In the eyes of outsiders, she was just a high-class escort who smiled for pay.

It wasn’t a happy memory. The mocking smile on Ji Chenli’s face faded, and she hung her head listlessly. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and realized that after being around Ming Lang for so long, she had unconsciously begun to resemble her.

A look of realization appeared in Ming Lang’s eyes. She straightened up and took a few steps back. “It’s not up to you.”

She grabbed Ji Chenli’s wrist, forcefully pulled her off the stool, and dragged her out past the wooden door that was still lying on the floor.

“Hey, Miss Ming! The veil! The veil—” The makeup artist and bridesmaids picked up the hanging veil and chased after them.

The banquet hall was packed with distinguished guests. Ji Chenli’s sharp eyes immediately spotted Han Xinyuan sitting in a corner.

Han Xinyuan was also young. Her face was ashen, and she was glaring at Ji Chenli, her fingers nearly clawing a hole in the elegant tablecloth.

A malicious sense of gratification rose in Ji Chenli’s heart. She tilted her chin defiantly, squinting at Han Xinyuan below the stage with the blatant face of a “villain in success.”

She surveyed the room—a spectrum of humanity: the fawning, the disdainful. No wonder people say life is like a play; these faces were far more interesting than any movie.

“Now, the bride may kiss the bride.” The emcee was an A-list host, a master at working the crowd. With that one sentence, the atmosphere—genuine or staged—instantly livened up. Ji Chenli’s “fair-weather friends” from the entertainment industry cheered and jeered.

Ji Chenli glanced at Han Xinyuan. Han Xinyuan was part of the Han family and was close to the Mings; she sat in a high-status position very close to the stage.

Ji Chenli curled her lips maliciously. She threw her arms around Ming Lang’s neck and accurately kissed those red lips.

Ming Lang was completely caught off guard. She stared blankly at Ji Chenli’s magnified face. Surprisingly, she wrapped her arms around Ji Chenli’s slender waist and closed her eyes, deepening the kiss.

This wasn’t part of Ji Chenli’s plan. However, she diverted her attention to look at Han Xinyuan and found her biting her lip stubbornly, her eyes shimmering with pitiable tears—a picture of strength that made one’s heart ache for her.

Ji Chenli smiled with satisfaction.

Even though the kiss made her feel disgusted, it was worth it if she could disgust Han Xinyuan at the same time.

Isn’t life just about mutually disgusting one another? She wondered what had been wrong with her in her past life, thinking she could trade her sincerity for Ming Lang’s. In the end, she had not only disgusted the two of them but had dragged herself down as well.

The wedding banquet lasted from day until late into the night. Ji Chenli was only responsible for appearing during the ring exchange; the rest was left entirely to Ming Lang. When Ming Lang finally saw off all the guests and returned to the dressing room, she found it empty, save for the high-end wedding dress scattered carelessly on the floor. The wind poured in through the wide-open window, making the curtains flutter wildly. Ji Chenli was long gone.

Ming Lang leaned down to pick up the dress. A heavy diamond ring rolled out from the fabric—the very ring Ming Lang had placed on Ji Chenli’s finger only hours before.

Ming Lang picked up the ring. She was only wearing a red off-the-shoulder mermaid gown to host the guests. As the cold midnight wind blew through, she crouched in the middle of the floor, clutching Ji Chenli’s discarded wedding dress, and gave a shiver.

Ji Chenli had treated that dress as a sacred treasure the day she brought it home. Now that she didn’t want it anymore, she discarded it like a worn-out shoe.