A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 6

“You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.” The summer sun was scorching even in the evening. Ming Lang stood there, blocking the sunlight for Ji Chenli. After standing for a while, she felt her throat grow dry. She leaned down, picked up the large tea mug Ji Chenli had casually left on the ground, and took a drink. Whether it was intentional or not, her lips pressed exactly where Ji Chenli’s had been.

She was clearly very thirsty; she drank more than half the cup. As she tilted her head to swallow, her throat moved up and down, constricted by a shirt collar buttoned all the way to the top. Her neck looked almost translucent in the sunlight, radiating a kind of discordant, untouchable sexiness.

Ming Lang’s hands were not meant for such a crudely made, cheap mug from the previous century. Her hands were best suited for holding fine bone china; her pale fingertips against warm, soft white porcelain would look as beautiful as a painting.

In Ji Chenli’s memory, Ming Lang was pathologically fastidious about her belongings. Forget using someone else’s cup—if a tea set was even touched by a hand that hadn’t been sanitized, Ming Lang would order the servants to throw the entire set away. Thus, when Ming Lang drank from her chipped, broken mug, Ji Chenli was so shocked she forgot to refuse.

“Did you put sugar in this?” Ming Lang handed the mug back.

“No.” After all, Ji Chenli and Ming Lang had lived together for seven years; some actions were ingrained habits. She naturally took the mug back, confused. “Is it sweet?”

Ming Lang let the taste linger on her tongue for a moment before nodding. She winked at Ji Chenli with a hint of cunning. “Sweet.”

“…” Ji Chenli’s face instantly dropped. She felt she had been played.

She really hadn’t mastered her poker face yet. Ji Chenli thought she knew Ming Lang inside out—especially this younger, more impulsive version—but she had still fallen into a trap the moment she let her guard down. Ji Chenli lowered her eyebrows, feeling stifled and annoyed.

Ming Lang seemed to be in a better mood after the water. She silently surveyed the orphanage. After a long silence, she said, “So you live here.”

Ji Chenli thought for a moment. This was indeed the first time Ming Lang had ever come here. In her past life, she had always been the one chasing Ming Lang, while Ming Lang’s footsteps were always following Han Xinyuan. How could Ming Lang ever have found the mercy to care about where Ji Chenli used to live? Besides, after Tao Yuan died, even Ji Chenli herself hadn’t returned. Thinking of this, Ji Chenli’s lips twitched—it wasn’t even a smile. The hot sunlight suddenly felt cold.

Ming Lang turned to her assistant. “Does this orphanage have a record with the Ministry of Civil Affairs?”

The assistant stepped forward, bowing behind Ming Lang. “No. This is an illegal children’s welfare home.”

Ming Lang seemed interested in that term. She repeated, “Illegal?”

“Yes. According to relevant laws, social organizations or individuals establishing children’s welfare institutions must co-organize with the civil affairs department and receive unified approval. This institution has never applied for such procedures. Moreover…”

“Moreover what?”

“Moreover, the director has long used a personal account to receive donations, which is suspected of fraud and illegal fundraising…”

As the assistant spoke, Ji Chenli’s face turned pale. She finally stood up from her stool to face Ming Lang, her fists clenched as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Ming Lang, what do you want?”

“Come home with me.”

“This is my home!”

Without waiting for Ming Lang to speak, the assistant began reciting from the law books again. “According to the laws of our country, using fraudulent methods for illegal fundraising is punishable by up to five years in prison or criminal detention…”

Ji Chenli was wearing slippers, while Ming Lang was in heels, making her ten centimeters taller. Ming Lang looked down into Ji Chenli’s eyes. Her face was expressionless, but Ji Chenli didn’t miss the glint of triumph in her gaze.

A surge of rage boiled up in Ji Chenli’s chest. Unable to suppress it, she grabbed Ming Lang’s perfectly ironed collar. “Ming Lang, don’t push people too far.”

Despite this blatant and rude provocation, Ming Lang didn’t get angry. Instead, she did something unprecedented: she drew Ji Chenli into her arms. The assistant nearly lost her glasses in shock. However, the moment Ming Lang’s hand touched Ji Chenli’s waist, Ji Chenli jumped back as if stung by a bee. Ming Lang shrugged and withdrew her hand, looking perfectly natural and not at all embarrassed.

“You have the nerve to show your face here, Ming!” Another woman’s voice came from the mouth of the alley. The roar echoed from one end of the street to the other. Ming Lang blocked Ji Chenli’s view, but she didn’t need to see to know who it was. She covered her head and let out a helpless sigh.

Tao Yuan, terrified that Ji Chenli would suffer at Ming Lang’s hands, shielded her like a mother hen protecting a chick. She glared at Ming Lang with an unfriendly tone. “What do you want?”

Ming Lang didn’t know Tao Yuan and had no interest in arguing with a stranger. She spoke to Ji Chenli across Tao Yuan’s shoulder: “Think it over carefully.” Then she gave a look to her assistant. Understanding the signal, the assistant jogged to the car to open the door. Ming Lang turned and walked toward the car, ignoring Tao Yuan’s glaring eyes, seemingly unconcerned about whether Ji Chenli would stay or go.

Ji Chenli stood behind Tao Yuan, unmoving. She watched with clenched fists as Ming Lang walked to the car and got in. The assistant closed the door and the engine started—the movements were so seamless that the assistant must have served her a thousand times and knew her habits perfectly.

Just as the car window was slowly rolling up, Ji Chenli suddenly shouted, “Wait!”

The window stopped halfway, perfectly hiding the lower half of Ming Lang’s face—and the rising curve of her lips.

“Sister, I’m sorry.” Ji Chenli bowed to Tao Yuan and walked to Ming Lang’s car without looking back, leaving a stunned Tao Yuan standing in the dust.

“I agree,” Ji Chenli said, looking at Ming Lang through the window with hatred.

“Get in.”

The assistant tactfully opened the door on the other side for her.

“Ji Chenli! If you dare go with her, don’t you ever call me sister again!” Tao Yuan shouted from behind, her emotions clearly reaching a breaking point.

Ji Chenli paused mid-entry, then gritted her teeth and dove into the car without leaving a single word for Tao Yuan.

The motorcade quickly drove away, and the remote suburban area returned to its usual dilapidated state.

Ji Chenli sat on the very edge of the seat, her body almost pressed against the door. She stayed as far from Ming Lang as possible, but the car was only so large. Ming Lang’s familiar, faint scent filled the cramped space. Every breath Ji Chenli took felt like a knife slashing her throat; it was suffocating.

“Is that person very important to you?” After a long time, Ming Lang broke the silence.

Ji Chenli turned her head to watch the greenery rushing past the window, using silence to fight Ming Lang’s despicable tactics.

Undeterred, Ming Lang slid a bit closer to Ji Chenli and asked again, “Is she your sister?”

She hadn’t gauged the distance well and moved too far. Their thighs brushed against each other. Ji Chenli’s scalp tingled; she lifted half her weight off the seat, feeling as if she were sitting on pins and needles.

“Ming Lang,” Ji Chenli said.

“Hm?” Ming Lang’s tone rose slightly.

“Aren’t you afraid Han Xinyuan will be angry that you came to find me?”

Ming Lang went silent. Her face, which had briefly lightened, returned to its usual gloom. “My relationship with Han Xinyuan is not like that.”

Ji Chenli gave a cold laugh. If she hadn’t lived through the seven years that followed, she might have actually believed her.

“Are you hungry?” Ming Lang produced an exquisite lunch box from somewhere and held it out to Ji Chenli. “Eat something.”

It was a transparent box. Through the corner of her eye, Ji Chenli saw the food inside: it was a Jianbing Guozi (savory crepe).

Ji Chenli wasn’t a glutton and didn’t have many specific food preferences. If she had to name one, it would be Jianbing Guozi—no egg, extra crispy crackers, brushed with sweet bean sauce. It was fragrant and crunched delightfully in the mouth.

Jianbing had to be eaten fresh to be good; if left too long, it became soggy and lost that crunch. Ming Lang’s lunch box was high-end, but the crepe inside looked limp and damp. Ji Chenli lost her appetite instantly. “I’m not hungry.”

Ming Lang nodded and didn’t push, putting the box away. She wanted to say something, but faced with Ji Chenli’s blatant rejection, she stayed quiet. The rest of the ride was silent.

Ming Lang didn’t take Ji Chenli back to the main Ming family estate. She was busy with work and rarely returned there, sometimes not going back for months. She had a private residence in a high-end complex in the city. In her previous life, Ji Chenli had only been here once.

Back then, she had heard from someone that Ming Lang loved soup, so she specifically bought a Cantonese cookbook. After burning herself countless times, she finally achieved a small success and excitedly brought the soup here. But the door was opened by Han Xinyuan, who was wearing loungewear with damp hair draped over her shoulders. She looked more like the mistress of the house than Ji Chenli did. Without a word, Ji Chenli threw the thermos away and never came back to humiliate herself again. The tattered Cantonese cookbook ended up in the trash as well.

Thinking carefully, perhaps Ming Lang wasn’t really at fault. She just didn’t love her.

Recalling her bitter past, Ji Chenli actually felt a faint trace of sympathy for Ming Lang. Being relentlessly stalked by someone you don’t love—it was a testament to Ming Lang’s upbringing that she hadn’t had a breakdown.

The place she couldn’t enter even at death in her previous life was so easy to enter in this one. The minimalist interior was exactly as she had glimpsed through the crack of the door once before: predominantly white, with sharp, angular furniture that matched Ming Lang’s taste perfectly.

Ji Chenli didn’t know what Ming Lang was up to. She followed her in, changed her shoes, and prepared to wait and see. Before she could even look around, Ming Lang slapped a key onto the coffee table. “This is yours.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Aren’t you even going to ask what it’s for?”

Ji Chenli was tired of playing the game of mutual respect. They had already torn each other’s faces off; pretending to be calm now was meaningless. She asked coldly, “What exactly do you want?”

Something was wrong. All the tropes were off. According to the plot of her previous life, the Ming Lang of this time should be staying as far away from Ji Chenli as possible. Which of her wires had crossed to make her insist on being right in front of her eyes? It couldn’t be that God saw how pathetic she was and forcibly modified the plot to give her a happy ending, right?

Ming Lang didn’t answer. Instead, she turned and went into her study. A few minutes later, she emerged with a thick stack of scripts and handed them to Ji Chenli. One look at the cover and Ji Chenli recognized it instantly. It was a movie she knew better than anyone—the very movie that had catapulted her to superstardom and won her the Movie Queen title.

Out of Reach.

A massive wave of fear crushed the breath out of Ji Chenli. She slapped the script out of Ming Lang’s hand and screamed hysterically:

“I won’t act in it!—”