A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 4

Ji Chenli had spent a tremendous amount of effort just to escape.

The place where she and Ming Lang got married was the Ming family’s private resort winery. The banquet hall was located deep within the estate, three stories high, with each floor having exceptionally high ceilings. Fortunately, Ji Chenli had built up some physical foundation from years of filming and wire-work; otherwise, a normal person would feel lightheaded just looking down, let alone trying to climb down from the balcony.

This place stored a lot of fine wine. During those seven years, Ji Chenli had frequently used her status as Ming Lang’s wife to come here openly and “steal” drinks. She knew the layout like the back of her hand and timed the security patrols perfectly, successfully slipping out of the winery gates under the cover of night.

The winery was far from the bustling city. The Ming family didn’t visit often, and there was only one winding mountain road leading to the outside world, spiraling into the unknown darkness. Ji Chenli hadn’t had time to put on shoes when she fled; she was barefoot. If she truly had to rely on her two feet to walk back, her thin legs would probably break before she even reached the city limits.

So, Ji Chenli squatted at the base of the winery’s iron fence, fumbling through her pockets to pull out her phone and scroll through her contacts.

She had bought this phone with her very first paycheck after graduation. Ji Chenli was stingy when it came to spending money on herself; she had used one phone for ten years, never replacing it until the day she died. By the end, the paint had worn off so much you couldn’t even tell what brand it was.

Right now, thanks to the careful maintenance of the younger Ji Chenli, it was still quite new. The contact list contained hundreds of numbers. Most of the owners of these numbers would part ways with Ji Chenli seven years from now. As she looked through them, she could still match some names to faces, but the majority had become blurred in her memory.

But there was one number Ji Chenli could never forget. Its contact name was specifically set as a single period (“.”). Because of this special symbol, it was always the very first number that appeared when she opened her contacts.

Ji Chenli tapped the number. She only needed one more tap to place the call, but her index finger began to twitch uncontrollably against the screen. Eventually, her entire arm started to shake, making it impossible to press down.

While Ji Chenli was hesitating, the banquet finally broke up. Various luxury cars began to drive out one after another. The high beams blinded Ji Chenli, forcing her to shut her eyes and quickly curl her body deeper into the thick grass beside a tree.

Many people had attended the wedding; essentially all of City C’s elite were present. Ji Chenli squatted in the grass until her legs went numb. Being barefoot, she occasionally felt unknown insects crawling over her insteps, making her scalp tingle. Just as the luxury cars finally cleared out and Ji Chenli wanted to come out to stretch her legs, several more cars drove out from the manor. Instead of driving away like the others, they stopped at the manor entrance.

Ji Chenli cursed these corrupt capitalists in her head for their love of grand displays—turning a single banquet into so many convoluted ceremonies. Just then, the rear door of the lead car opened, and a foot wearing a high heel stepped out. Then the owner of the foot emerged. It was that same red formal dress. Ming Lang’s skin was pale; against that vibrant scarlet, she could have been strapped to the front of the car to serve as a headlight.

Ming Lang was tall and slender, and the heels she wore weren’t short either. Standing straight after exiting the car, she was even a few centimeters taller than the burly bodyguards who wore sunglasses even at night. Her assistant had to stand on tiptoe slightly to speak to her.

Han Xinyuan stepped out of the following car, also in thin stilettos at least ten centimeters high. She stomped over to Ming Lang with an aggressive momentum that made onlookers nervous.

Han Xinyuan glanced into Ming Lang’s car and asked seemingly casually, “Where’s Ji Chenli? Why isn’t she with you?”

“She’s still resting.” Ming Lang didn’t even look at Han Xinyuan. “You’re tired too. Go home early.”

Han Xinyuan mocked, “Aren’t you two married? Legal partners? Why, are you afraid the paparazzi will catch you together?”

Ming Lang ignored her and gave orders to the bodyguards behind Han Xinyuan: “Take Miss Han home.”

The Ming and Han families were close, old family friends. Furthermore, Ming Lang was the head of the Ming family. The Han family bodyguards were more obedient to her than to Han Xinyuan. They half-persuaded, half-pushed Han Xinyuan into the car and sent her away. Ji Chenli, hiding in the grass, watched in amazement.

Han Xinyuan was Ming Lang’s childhood friend and the “White Moonlight” (unattainable crush) Ming Lang held dear to her heart. Ming Lang almost gave her everything she asked for. When she said she wanted to be an actress, Ming Lang brought a dozen scripts from top directors and major productions for her to choose from the next day. When she said she wanted to be a singer, Ming Lang mobilized all the company’s resources to custom-tailor an album for her. When she wanted to be a Movie Queen, Ming Lang cleared her schedule a month before the awards just to accompany her abroad to walk the red carpet.

Ji Chenli had crossed paths with Han Xinyuan in public several times. Every time, Ming Lang would watch from the side like a hawk, as if afraid Ji Chenli would eat her alive. Before they could chat for even a minute, Ming Lang would hurriedly take Han Xinyuan away, fearing she would fall victim to Ji Chenli’s “evil hands” the next second. Watching this, Ji Chenli would usually just swirl the wine in her glass and laugh.

However, Ji Chenli had never seen Ming Lang and Han Xinyuan interact in private. She had assumed that since Ming Lang protected Han Xinyuan so much, she surely wouldn’t be able to maintain that “iceberg face” in private; she probably welcomed Han Xinyuan with a face full of smiles. Who knew that Ming Lang’s eccentric temperament had likely already reached a point of no return—she was this indifferent even to her precious “White Moonlight.”

After Han Xinyuan left, the assistant stepped forward. “President Ming, what do we do now? Miss Ji…”

“Send more people to find her.” Ming Lang turned her head and scanned the grass where Ji Chenli was hiding. Ji Chenli suddenly locked eyes with Ming Lang through the weeds. A cold sweat broke out on her back, and she didn’t dare to breathe. Fortunately, it was too dark to see clearly. Ming Lang just glanced over casually, then turned her head, got into the car, and told the driver to go.

Only then did the area around the manor truly become quiet.

Ji Chenli let out a long breath and crawled out of the grass on all fours. She was covered in dew and grass stains. Ignoring the dirt, she sat on the asphalt road to massage her legs, finally making up her mind to dial that number she had hesitated to press.

The phone rang for a long time. Ji Chenli’s heart hung high with every ring. Just as she was about to give up, a voice picked up: “Hello?”

It was a woman’s voice. She sounded like she was in a deep sleep; after letting out a muffled groan, there was no further sound, followed only by the sound of steady breathing over the phone.

“Tao Yuan…” It felt as if something was stuck in Ji Chenli’s throat. She could only call out the name and couldn’t make another sound. All her attention was focused on the small phone by her ear; she didn’t realize she was shaking like a leaf.

Tao Yuan was Ji Chenli’s childhood friend. Ji Chenli’s parents had died young, and Tao Yuan had grown up without a father or mother as well. Back then, Ji Chenli was not even four years old. When she was sent to the orphanage, she was so withdrawn she couldn’t even speak properly. It just so happened that the child in the bed next to Tao Yuan had recently been adopted, leaving an empty spot. Ji Chenli was placed there, and from then on, they became closer than biological sisters.

When Ji Chenli was a child, she was like a little chick—stunned and slow. At that time, there was a wave of foreign couples coming to China to adopt children. The clever children in the orphanage came and went, but two remained until they were eighteen and had to leave: one was the dull-headed Ji Chenli, and the other was the troublemaking Tao Yuan, who loved nothing more than climbing onto roofs and causing mischief.

An orphanage is a place where you have to fight for food. Relying on being a few years older, Tao Yuan had protected Ji Chenli since they were small. Later, when they reached adulthood and left, even the money for Ji Chenli’s university was scraped together by Tao Yuan.

To Ji Chenli, Tao Yuan was both mother and sister. She thought Tao Yuan would protect her forever, but Tao Yuan died.

In a car accident.

There are so many coincidences in this world that make one want to cry without tears. Most people only see deaths from car accidents on TV—they might sigh, but it always feels distant. But Ji Chenli had experienced it twice and lost every family member she had.

Ji Chenli still remembered that day. Tao Yuan had been clutching Ji Chenli’s Movie Queen trophy, dancing with joy. Then, their car collided head-on with a truck whose brakes had failed. The front of the car was crushed and deformed. By the time Ji Chenli regained her senses, she only saw Tao Yuan draped over her, protecting her firmly. Tao Yuan hadn’t had time to close her eyes; a palm-sized shard of glass was lodged in the back of her head. Warm blood dripped down, one drop at a time, landing on Ji Chenli’s face. That was the first time Ji Chenli felt the temperature of fresh blood.

When a person is grieving to the extreme, they cannot cry. The blood on her face was scalding. Ji Chenli blinked several times; her eyes were sore, but nothing came out. Her mother, her sister, her only relative in the world, had died because of her. During that time, Ji Chenli was haunted by nightmares and her mental state nearly collapsed, yet she didn’t shed a single tear.

Only those with the right to be sad can cry. Ji Chenli had caused Tao Yuan’s death; she didn’t even have the right to weep for her.

How long had it been since she heard Tao Yuan’s voice? Five years? Six years?

The tears she hadn’t shed for six years finally flowed today.

Fortunately, heaven had given her a chance to start over. Fortunately, it wasn’t too late.

In this life, Ji Chenli didn’t hope for unreachable love. At the very least, she had to ensure Tao Yuan’s safety for a lifetime.

“Chen-chen?” Hearing that Ji Chenli’s tone wasn’t right, Tao Yuan was instantly wide awake. She asked anxiously, “Chen-chen, what’s wrong? Did that Ming Lang person bully you? Don’t be afraid, your sister is here…”

Tao Yuan had never gotten along with Ming Lang. She had tried to persuade Ji Chenli a thousand times before, but the Ji Chenli of the past was young and had dove in headfirst. Only after being battered and bloodied did she finally know to turn back.

“Sister Tao Yuan…” Ji Chenli cried even harder, as if she wanted to drain all six years of tears at once. “Sister Tao Yuan… I want… I want to go home…”

A place with family is called a home. Ji Chenli’s home had been broken and shattered since Tao Yuan died. Having lived under someone else’s roof for six years, now that she was living again, she had finally found her home.

“If you want to come home, then come back,” Tao Yuan sighed. “I’ve raised so many kids; can’t I raise one of you?”

“But I don’t recognize the way home anymore.” Ji Chenli covered her mouth, looking out at the vast night, sobbing uncontrollably.