Just Wanting to Divorce My Love Rival - Chapter 2

Mu Cheng forced a smile and held out her hands. “Anyway, as long as things are explained clearly, it’s fine. I didn’t have that kind of dream. Also, about me cursing at you downstairs earlier—I was in a bad mood and took it out on you. I spoke without thinking. I’m here to apologize. I’m sorry.”

Zhong Yingzhi didn’t reply. She turned back and continued reading her book.

Mu Cheng glanced at the book on her desk. It was as thick as a brick, crowded with dense black text. At a glance, professional terminology in both Chinese and English was mixed together, looking profound and difficult. It was clearly a book related to her major.

Zhong Yingzhi was a sophomore in the Finance Department from a wealthy background. To be precise, it wasn’t just “wealthy.” To use a phrase Xiao Xiaoli often used to joke in private: “If the school didn’t make living on campus mandatory, how would us common folk ever get the chance to be associated with a top-tier heiress like her?”

Of course, the so-called “association” was limited to being roommates.

In a four-person dorm, only three lived there. Mu Cheng and Xiao Xiaoli had become thick-as-thieves “frenemies,” but their relationship with Zhong Yingzhi was no different from that of strangers.

They had different majors—Zhong Yingzhi in Finance, Mu Cheng in Chinese Literature. Their fields were worlds apart, and their interests were completely unrelated. Consequently, they had no common language.

Perhaps saying they had “no common language” wasn’t accurate enough. A more precise description would be: zero communication.

Mu Cheng complained inwardly: This person doesn’t say a word all day. The moment she gets back to the dorm, she buries her head in books. If you talk to her, you’re lucky if she acknowledges one out of ten sentences. She wears a cold face all day long, looking exactly like a walking refrigerator.

Complaints aside, Mu Cheng’s apology was sincere, as she was the one in the wrong first. “Don’t take what I said to heart. You’re not angry, are you?”

Zhong Yingzhi flipped a page, her eyes showing impatience. She replied coldly with just two words: “No time.”

Those two words conveyed a lot.

“No time” could be interpreted as: I don’t have the time to be angry with someone as unimportant as you. Even talking to you feels like a waste of my time and life. Do you really think it’s possible for me to get angry at someone like you?

Being snubbed so invisibly made Mu Cheng feel several consecutive stings. She wanted to get angry but couldn’t find a reason. She took a deep breath and sensibly shut her mouth and walked away.

Mu Cheng glanced at the culprit, Xiao Xiaoli, who was watching the drama from the side, and made a “slit-throat” gesture at her.

Xiao Xiaoli leaned in mischievously and whispered, “So, did you have a wet dream or not?”

Mu Cheng cracked her knuckles, her bones making a crunch sound. “So, I see you really want to have a fight with me today.”

As for that strange dream, although Mu Cheng had her doubts, she didn’t think too deeply about it, treating it purely as a very vivid dream.

On Saturday, Mu Cheng had no classes and stayed in the dorm playing games.

“Go in! Charge! What are you afraid of when I’m supporting you? You have to believe in me!”

She wore her permanent “Grandma-brand” bright red pajamas, half-reclining on her bed with her phone, acting like a grand commander. “The mid-laner went to support top. Hurry up and take the wave for me! The jungler isn’t here, steal his camps! No problem, you can carry the whole game. What’s wrong with taking a bit of gold…”

A 0/10 support leading a 0/8 ADC, frantically stealing waves and camps. As her teammates began “vomiting fragrance” (cursing) in the chat, Mu Cheng curled her lip and wisely chose to mute the in-game conversation.

Unsurprisingly, the game was a loss. Mu Cheng leisurely ate a spicy strip (latiao) and started the next round without a care.

Suddenly, a black unidentified flying object fluttered past her eyes. Mu Cheng waved it away, then realized something was wrong and looked up.

It was a flying cockroach.

Mu Cheng’s pupils dilated. In a panic, she abandoned her game, tossed her phone aside, and scrambled off the bed.

Unfortunately, the cockroach seemed to have taken a liking to her, insisting on buzzing around her head.

She jumped around the dorm barefoot. “Holy crap! You black thing, get away, get away!”

At that moment, Zhong Yingzhi pushed open the bathroom door and walked out.

She was wearing a white bathrobe, her collarbones faintly visible, carrying a light mist of steam. Her fair face showed a hint of pink, a dry towel was draped over her shoulder, and her long brownish-gold hair was dripping wet.

The cockroach landed on the floor, scurrying near Mu Cheng’s feet. Her skin crawled with goosebumps. In a moment of mental chaos, to avoid the cockroach, she recklessly jumped toward Zhong Yingzhi.

Zhong Yingzhi stared at the person rushing toward her, stunned. Her hands instinctively caught her.

Mu Cheng’s feet left the ground. Zhong Yingzhi held her in a princess carry. The two locked eyes, and an awkward atmosphere filled the room.

Xiao Xiaoli stood at the door, holding a delivery box, looking at the scene with confusion. “Are you guys… playing ‘princess carry’?”

Zhong Yingzhi’s beautiful brows knitted together. The next second, she simply let go.

Mu Cheng, caught off guard, crashed to the floor. Her buttocks hit first, and she let out a pained cry. “Ah!”

Zhong Yingzhi ignored her, looking down at the towel on her shoulder. Displeasure surged in her heart.

There were two oily handprints on the towel.

Mu Cheng had just finished eating spicy strips, and her hands were still oily. In the sudden accident just now, she had wiped it all onto Zhong Yingzhi’s towel.

Clutching her aching backside, Mu Cheng climbed up with a grimace. “Could you at least give me a heads-up before letting go? You dropped me like that—shouldn’t you feel a sliver of guilt?”

Zhong Yingzhi took the towel off her shoulder. “The person who should feel guilt is you.”

Mu Cheng glanced at the towel and said irritably, “I dirtied it, I’ll wash it for you. Happy now?”

Mu Cheng reached out to take the towel, but Zhong Yingzhi pulled her hand back. With a cold huff, she tossed the towel casually into the trash can.

Mu Cheng looked at the towel in the trash, then at Zhong Yingzhi. “What are you doing?”

The phone on the desk dinged—a monotonous system notification.

Zhong Yingzhi walked over, picked up the phone, glanced at the caller ID, and frowned. After answering, she walked out of the dorm.

Mu Cheng’s lips twitched. She took several deep breaths to suppress her anger, then bent down to pick up the towel.

After finishing her call, Zhong Yingzhi returned to the dorm.

She cast a cold glance at the person holding the towel. “What are you doing?”

Mu Cheng curled her lip and didn’t answer.

Zhong Yingzhi: “Do you have a hobby of recycling trash?”

Mu Cheng’s eyebrows shot up. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Zhong Yingzhi replied flatly: “Exactly what it sounds like. Aren’t you a Chinese Literature major? Can’t you even understand a simple word combination? I threw the towel in the trash, which means I don’t want it anymore. Trash belongs in the trash can. Even if you pick it up and wash it, it’s still trash. You can’t change its nature.”

She was talking about the towel, but to Mu Cheng’s ears, this was clearly a “pointing at the mulberry to revile the locust” tactic—she was calling her trash.

Mu Cheng’s anger surged. She was livid. In contrast, Zhong Yingzhi was perfectly calm, as if none of this concerned her.

Zhong Yingzhi casually picked a dress from her wardrobe and went into the bathroom to change.

Mu Cheng stared at the closed bathroom door and laughed from sheer anger. She slammed the towel onto the floor and was about to rush in to argue.

Xiao Xiaoli grabbed her. “Don’t be impulsive! Calm down, calm down. We’re all roommates, everything can be discussed.”

“Discuss my foot!” Mu Cheng shook her off, rushed to the bathroom door, and kicked it violently a few times. “Get out here!”

Before long, Zhong Yingzhi walked out, now wearing a pale blue dress that accentuated her cold elegance.

She ignored Mu Cheng’s fury and asked, “Kicking the door? Do you have an intermittent explosive disorder?”

Mu Cheng: “??”

Zhong Yingzhi glanced at the time. “I’m very busy now. We’ll talk about whatever it is later. Though, actually, I don’t really want to talk to you.”

With that, Zhong Yingzhi took her bag and phone and left the dorm without expression.

Mu Cheng watched her departing back, holding the back of her own neck, both angry and amazed. “Wow, what a truly polite and wonderful person.”

For several nights, she slept well without dreams. But on this day, she fell back into that strange dream world.

She was lying on a hospital bed, unable to move, her whole body in constant pain.

It was impossible to tell if it was a dream or reality. Setting logic aside, this simply couldn’t be a dream—what kind of dream allowed such a vivid perception of intense pain?

But if it wasn’t a dream, what could it be?

She heard intermittent conversation nearby.

A male doctor stood to one side with a stethoscope around his neck. “President Zhong, you can save her once, twice, three times, or even four times. But what about after that? Can you save her in time every single time? This time it was jumping off a building; what will it be next time? Slitting her wrists, poison, or jumping into the sea? If she wants to die, no one can save her.”

Zhong Yingzhi gazed at the sleeping person on the bed. She reached out to touch her brow, but as she got close, her fingers trembled slightly and she pulled back.

Her expression was desolate. “I just want her to live well. Is it really that hard?”

The doctor sighed softly. “Although Miss Mu barely survived the jump this time, depression is an illness of the heart. A heart’s ailment requires a heart’s medicine. If she can’t walk away from the past herself, no one can help her.”

Jumping off a building? Depression? What on earth was this doctor saying? The reason she was lying on the bed unable to move was because of a suicide attempt?

This truly was a nonsensical and bizarre dream.

Jumping, jumping, jumping…

The words echoed in Mu Cheng’s ears, repeating mechanically. Fragments of memory surged into her mind.

A balcony ten stories high. The wind was strong—the cold winter wind was bone-chilling.

Mu Cheng stood on the edge of the balcony, wearing a thin grey plush coat, her long hair draped over her shoulders. The wind messed up her bangs. Her once-thick hair was now thin and sparse; her cheeks were sunken, her face sickly, and her eyes as lifeless as gray ash.

Zhong Yingzhi stood a meter away, her cold face full of terror.

She looked at the person on the edge and pleaded: “Don’t do this, I beg you.”

Mu Cheng looked up at the sky. Snow was falling like goose feathers. “It’s snowing. Being able to see snow before I die… that seems quite nice.”

“Xiao Cheng, come down, okay?” Zhong Yingzhi’s eyes were red, frantic and anxious.

Mu Cheng reached out to catch a snowflake. It landed in her palm and immediately turned to water. “I’m really tired. I want to rest.”

“If you’re tired, we’ll go home. I’ll stay with you. No matter what, I’ll stay with you. Don’t leave me—don’t leave me like this, please.” Zhong Yingzhi moved her feet slowly, trying to get closer.

Mu Cheng noticed her intention and cried out emotionally: “Don’t come any closer!”

Zhong Yingzhi immediately stepped back and raised her hands. “Okay, okay, I won’t come closer.”

As she retreated, Mu Cheng’s agitation calmed slightly. “A-Ying, do you know? My whole life has been a failure. The only thing I’m grateful for is meeting you, and I really do like you…”

Zhong Yingzhi interrupted her. “If you like me, then don’t jump. If you like me, then live for me!”

“But…” Mu Cheng smiled, a tragic smile. “But I like myself more. I’ve thought about it—maybe I’m just too selfish. Don’t blame me and don’t resent me. I’ve just truly had enough. I’m in so much pain, don’t you understand?”

As if saying her final farewell, she took a step back with one foot. Her left foot hung in mid-air, precarious.

Mu Cheng shook her head. “Forget it. You won’t understand.”

“How do you know I won’t understand? What right do you have to dismiss me?” Zhong Yingzhi’s lips trembled, her voice bordering on a sob. “If you dare to jump, I won’t just resent you and hate you—I won’t forgive you for the rest of my life.”

“Thank you. But I can only say thank you. I’m going.” Mu Cheng leaned her body back, her gaze resolute without a hint of hesitation. She threw herself down.

Zhong Yingzhi’s pupils dilated. She lunged forward to grab her, but their hands missed each other.

She was just a split second too late. She failed to catch her.

Zhong Yingzhi collapsed against the railing, her hand still reaching out. She watched helplessly as the person fell, crashing onto the roof of a car below with a loud thud.

Blinding, crimson blood filled her vision.

Zhong Yingzhi shook all over. She slid slowly down the railing, curling up at its base. She clutched her heart and let out a pained whimper, tears falling drop by drop.

The dream ended abruptly.

Mu Cheng’s eyes were bloodshot. She gasped for air as if she had nearly drowned.

Zhong Yingzhi walked past, glanced at her, then indifferently looked away and walked off.

Xiao Xiaoli walked over. “Look at all that sweat. What is it? Another nightmare?”

Thankfully, she didn’t call it a wet dream this time.

Mu Cheng exhaled a long breath of turbid air and wiped the sweat from her brow. “It’s like I’m possessed lately, always having these strange dreams. I just dreamed I jumped off a building.”

Xiao Xiaoli was stunned for a moment, then patted Mu Cheng’s shoulder in comfort. “Even if your confession was rejected, you shouldn’t be thinking about jumping. There are plenty of fish in the sea; no need to hang yourself from one tree.”

Mu Cheng slapped her hand away. “Get lost! Do you think I’m brain-dead? Me, jump for a crooked tree like Jiang Zhengzhi? In his dreams!”

As she spoke, Mu Cheng’s gaze involuntarily drifted toward Zhong Yingzhi.

She was sitting at her desk, her long hair falling to her waist, the yellow light from the desk lamp reflecting off her slender back.

Mu Cheng’s mood felt inexplicably heavy. She murmured: “You seemed to be crying so hard… the you in the dream.”

The her in the dream always seemed to be crying.