A Washed-up Movie Queen's Divorce Strategy [Rebirth] - Chapter 7

In her previous life, Ji Chenli’s casting in this movie had been something of an accident. The film was originally tailor-made by Ming Lang for Han Xinyuan; the script had been meticulously polished for three years by a sought-after gold-medal screenwriter before it finally took shape. It was a niche, fringe subject, and with Ming Lang serving as the producer herself, it was a film guaranteed to lose money—it was made solely to chase awards. However, after Han Xinyuan read the script, she had a massive row with Ming Lang and refused to act in it, which is how it eventually fell into Ji Chenli’s lap.

“I won’t do it!” Ji Chenli didn’t stop at knocking the script out of Ming Lang’s hand; she stomped over in a fit of rage and ground it under her feet several times. “Go find Han Xinyuan! Or find any random actor from your company! Why does it have to be me!”

Her chest heaved violently as she glared ruthlessly at Ming Lang. She could even imagine that in her previous life, when Ming Lang presented this script to Han Xinyuan, Han Xinyuan must have worn the same exasperated expression she had now. The tables had turned; who would have thought that one day Ji Chenli would be the one losing her temper in front of Ming Lang.

There are some things that won’t come no matter how much you beg when you want them, yet they insist on rubbing themselves in your face when you don’t.

Ming Lang watched Ji Chenli for a while before leaning down to pick up the script with its mangled cover. “Ji Chenli, what are you afraid of?”

Ji Chenli leaned against the wall, her eyes red, and said nothing.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the day we got married. Ji Chenli, what are you afraid of?” Ming Lang tossed the script onto the table and approached Ji Chenli step by step. Her toes brushed against Ji Chenli’s, and she even hooked a leg between Ji Chenli’s knees. The distance was so close that the heat of her breath fanned across Ji Chenli’s face. “Or rather… who exactly are you?”

Ji Chenli’s heart jolted. She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Ming Lang didn’t answer. Her gaze lingered on Ji Chenli’s face before she tilted her head and kissed those thin lips.

The number of times Ji Chenli and Ming Lang had kissed—from her past life to this one—could be counted on one hand. Furthermore, those kisses always had some sort of unavoidable excuse, and usually, it was Ji Chenli who initiated. So, for the first time, when Ming Lang took the initiative to kiss her, Ji Chenli’s brain went into a buzzing stupor.

It was the same familiar scent from her memory, though with a hint of awkwardness. When Ming Lang unskillfully pushed her tongue inside, Ji Chenli finally snapped back to reality. She bit down without hesitation. Ming Lang recoiled in pain, clutching her mouth as she stumbled back several steps, watching Ji Chenli with a dark, brooding expression. When she lowered her hand, there was a trace of blood at the corner of her mouth.

Ji Chenli took a deep breath, stepped forward, and slapped Ming Lang across the face without hesitation. A crisp, loud crack echoed through the silent living room. “Ming Lang, you’re disgusting.”

The slap wasn’t light. A bright red palm print immediately surfaced on Ming Lang’s fair face. She touched her burning left cheek and actually let out a weirdly eerie laugh. “Aren’t you going to look at the script?”

“I said I won’t act in it.”

Ming Lang retreated to sit on the sofa, saying calmly, “If you don’t act in it, I’ll have that orphanage razed to the ground tomorrow.”

Ji Chenli’s pupils constricted. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ming Lang wore a mocking expression. “Haven’t you already experienced my despicableness?”

Ji Chenli closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to suppress the urge to slap Ming Lang’s handsome right cheek as well. Only when her racing heart slowed down did she open her eyes, her face masked with a fake smile as she picked up the tattered script. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“But I have one condition,” she added.

Ming Lang looked at her with a half-smile. “What do you have to negotiate with?”

Ji Chenli sneered. “Ming Lang, if you don’t agree to my condition, you can find whoever the hell you want for this movie. As for the orphanage—that place has been precarious for decades. If you raze it, then that’s just the orphans’ fate. They are nothing to me. Go ahead and level it; I’ll stand by and cheer for you when you’re done. I mean what I say!”

Ming Lang looked at Ji Chenli, seemingly trying to gauge the truthfulness of her words from her expression. After a long while, she said, “Speak.”

“Divorce me.”

“No.” Ming Lang refused flatly.

Ji Chenli gave a cold snort and, without a word, tore the script in half. “Then leave, President Ming. Don’t you always pride yourself on being a woman of your word?”

Ming Lang sat on the sofa, unmoving. After a long time, just when Ji Chenli thought she had entered a trance, she let out a long sigh and said wearily, “You win, Ji Chenli.”

Ji Chenli was stunned, not quite understanding what Ming Lang meant.

“You win. I promise you: we will divorce once this movie is finished filming.”

Happiness came so suddenly that Ji Chenli found it hard to believe. She asked tentatively, “Really?”

Ming Lang lowered her eyes and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Didn’t you say it? I am always a woman of my word.”

She sat alone on the sofa, surrounded by sharp-edged furniture in a house with no warmth. Ji Chenli suddenly felt a twinge of heartache.

This woman—Ji Chenli had loved her for a full ten years and cherished her for a full ten years. There was a time when Ji Chenli would have been worried sick just seeing a small accidental cut on her hand. Even though the dream had shattered and she had woken up, how could ten years of emotion be retracted the moment she willed it?

But what else could she do if she didn’t take it back? Ten years—even a stone would have been warmed through if it were held against a heart every day. Yet Ming Lang’s heart was harder and colder than stone. Instead of Ji Chenli warming her up, she had frozen Ji Chenli solid alongside her.

During the last few years with Ming Lang, Ji Chenli had become addicted to alcohol. Ming Lang didn’t often visit the massive Ming family estate, so it became Ji Chenli’s headquarters for drinking. People usually “speak the truth after wine” and forget it afterward, but not Ji Chenli. The drunker she got, the more clearly she remembered everything once she sobered up.

Once, when Ji Chenli was drunk, she had clung to Ming Lang’s arm and begged: “Ming Lang, Miss Ming, great President Ming… I love you so much. Have some pity on me and love me just a little bit, okay? Just a little bit, and I’ll be satisfied.”

What did Ming Lang say?

Ming Lang said: “I didn’t ask you to love me.”

And so, Ji Chenli lost even that tiny, unreachable hope. Come to think of it, the movie’s title was quite fitting: Out of Reach. Wasn’t Ming Lang exactly that to Ji Chenli?

Of course, the script of this movie wasn’t written for Ji Chenli to see.

“Ji Chenli.” Ming Lang’s call pulled her back to reality. “Didn’t you say you loved me?”

Hearing Ming Lang clearly lower her stance like this made Ji Chenli want to laugh. She didn’t feel right laughing in Ming Lang’s face, so she simply said, “People change.”

Just like Ming Lang—who could have imagined such words would ever come out of her mouth?