Just Wanting to Divorce My Love Rival - Chapter 3

At five in the morning, Mu Cheng jolted awake from her sleep. She wiped the sweat from her brow, hopped off the bed, and walked to the door. Looking at the calendar hanging there, she murmured, “I’m definitely possessed.”

It’s normal to dream after falling asleep, and it’s somewhat acceptable for a dream to feel immersive. But having nearly identical dreams at a fixed time—that was simply unjustifiable.

The date on the calendar read July 9, 2019.

It wasn’t a particularly special day, except for one thing: on the 9th of every month, Mu Cheng would have that dream. She would be lying on a hospital bed, covered in injuries and in unbearable pain, unable to speak or move. Occasionally, she could struggle to open her eyes, and Zhong Yingzhi was always there.

Mu Cheng stared at the date, nodded, and reached a firm conclusion: “I am truly possessed.”

Xiao Xiaoli rubbed her eyes, her messy mushroom-cut hair standing on end. Woken up and full of “rising-from-bed anger,” she snapped, “You aren’t possessed, you’re losing it. What do you want so early in the morning?”

Mu Cheng blinked at her and smiled, revealing shallow dimples and a cute little snaggletooth. “Get up. Come with me somewhere.”

She dragged Xiao Xiaoli out of bed. “Isn’t there a small temple next to our school? Let’s go, come with me. I need an exorcism. This is too eerie.”

Xiao Xiaoli was still dazed, dragged out in a half-dreaming state, only to find they had arrived so early that the temple hadn’t even opened.

The temple doors were made of joined wooden planks with rusted ring handles on both sides. Fallen leaves were piled in front, uncleaned for ages. Above the door, the plaque was draped in spiderwebs: Zhukong Temple.

Built next to the school, the temple’s bleak and dilapidated state stood in sharp contrast to the campus’s grandeur.

Mu Cheng stood before the tightly shut doors, observing them as she fell into deep thought.

Xiao Xiaoli, assuming she was just being crazy, let out a yawn. “It’ll probably open soon. You wait here; I’m going across the street to buy a steamed bun. What filling do you want? I’ll bring you one.”

Mu Cheng shook her head. “I’m not in the mood for buns right now.”

Xiao Xiaoli tutted. “Fine, keep being crazy. I don’t know what kind of drama you’re trying to stir up today. If you won’t eat, forget it. I’m eating alone.”

With that, Xiao Xiaoli ran across the street. Simultaneously, the old wooden doors emitted a creak.

The doors opened.

A portly, bald man with a large head and big ears walked out. He wore grey monk robes and a string of Buddhist beads around his neck.

He was clearly a monk, yet incongruously, he held a roasted chicken leg in his hand. His mouth was stained with oil. He let out a satisfied burp as he ate, swaying as he walked, his belly fat wobbling with every step.

The temple was a wreck and the monk didn’t look “proper.” Mu Cheng immediately felt like backing out, thinking that even for an exorcism, she should find a more reliable place.

“Did the benefactor come to seek a dream interpretation?” The monk spoke as if he had foreseen everything. Before Mu Cheng could say a word, he had guessed her purpose.

Mu Cheng’s eyes widened in astonishment.

The monk sucked on the chicken bone, smacked his lips, and tossed the bone into the pile of dead leaves by the door. “My Buddhist name is Zhukong, the same as this little temple. I am the master here. If the benefactor is here for a dream interpretation, there is no need to enter. The dream you seek… is not a dream.”

The words were cryptic, leaving Mu Cheng confused. “Master Zhukong, what does that mean?”

Zhukong carelessly wiped the oil from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. “Your fate carries a curse. Your life will be full of hardships and will not end well. You will die the wrong way, and after death, you will be sentenced to suffer in hell.”

Not end well? Suffering in hell? This monk certainly had a way with words. No wonder the temple was in such a state; he was lucky no one had smashed the place up yet.

Zhukong continued, “In nine years, you will embark on a path of no return. If you wish to change it, this might be your chance. Turning your direction at the right moment can avoid many misfortunes. It is not a dream; the ‘you’ in the dream is you, nine years from now.”

Mu Cheng’s brow furrowed. “You mean… I’m not dreaming, but traveling nine years into the future?”

“You don’t believe it?” Zhukong looked at her with a half-smile.

Despite how absurd the words were, Mu Cheng couldn’t help but believe him a little, because the scenes in the dream were simply too, too real.

Zhukong lowered his head and pressed his palms together. “I only offer guidance because of our karmic connection. Benefactor, please return. I have said all I can.”

Mu Cheng wanted to ask more, but when she looked again, the man had vanished into thin air, as if he had never existed.

Startled, Mu Cheng scanned the surroundings and rubbed her eyes, thinking she was hallucinating. How could a person standing right there a second ago suddenly disappear?

“What are you looking for?” Xiao Xiaoli, holding a steamed bun, walked over from across the street. “Eat. I got you a meat bun.”

Mu Cheng asked urgently, “Did you see a monk just now? A really fat one?”

“A monk?” Xiao Xiaoli shook her head, bewildered. “Where would a monk come from? The temple doors aren’t even open.”

“How could they not be open? Someone just walked out and talked to me…” Mu Cheng looked up at the temple doors, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat.

The doors were tightly shut. They really hadn’t opened.

Xiao Xiaoli stuffed the bun into Mu Cheng’s mouth. “When I was buying buns across the street, I looked back and saw you talking to yourself like a lunatic. Please, eat this bun and return to normal, okay?”

Things were becoming increasingly eerie.

Incredible as it was, even if she assumed Zhukong had actually appeared and told the truth, why would her future self jump off a building? Why would she have depression? More strangely, why was the person guarding her hospital bed Zhong Yingzhi instead of her parents?

Every time she recalled the way Zhong Yingzhi curled up under the railing, whimpering and sobbing after she jumped, her heart would ache inexplicably.

Why would this person, who was completely at odds with her, cry so hard after she jumped? No matter how she thought about it, it didn’t make sense.

Everything was a mess.

Mu Cheng went back to the temple several times to ask the staff, but she always got the same answer: there were only five people in the temple including the abbot, all of whom were very thin. There was no portly monk with large ears, and certainly no one named Zhukong.

That monk didn’t seem to exist.

…

Cough, cough, cough. A violent coughing fit rang out.

Mu Cheng turned to look at the person sitting at the desk across from her. Zhong Yingzhi was hunched over, covering her mouth as she coughed. She seemed to have a cold.

Mu Cheng opened her drawer and rummaged for her usual cold medicine.

She looked at the medicine, then at the coughing Zhong Yingzhi, hesitating for a moment.

Mu Cheng stood up, walked over, and held the medicine out to her. “If you have a cold, don’t stay up late studying. This medicine is quite effective; you should try it.”

The hand holding the fountain pen paused. Zhong Yingzhi looked away from her book and glanced at Mu Cheng, her pale blue eyes full of aloofness.

Mu Cheng rubbed her nose. “Don’t overthink it. I’m just afraid your cold will get worse and you’ll catch me.”

Zhong Yingzhi said nothing, her expression icy.

Mu Cheng didn’t expect a “thank you.” She placed the medicine on the desk and walked away.

Zhong Yingzhi scanned the medicine, then looked back at her book, leaving it untouched.

When she woke up the next morning, Zhong Yingzhi had already left the dorm. The medicine sat in its original spot, unmoved.

Mu Cheng curled her lip, feeling unhappy.

When she returned to the dorm after class in the afternoon, Zhong Yingzhi wasn’t back yet, and the medicine was still there.

By nightfall, Zhong Yingzhi was still absent, but she seemed to have returned briefly. Her tidy desk had changed slightly—a change that successfully infuriated Mu Cheng.

Zhong Yingzhi had finally taken some cold medicine, but she hadn’t taken the one Mu Cheng provided. She had bought her own. That wouldn’t have mattered—everyone’s constitution is different, and perhaps she just couldn’t take that specific brand. One shouldn’t assume the worst of people.

However, the catch was: the medicine Zhong Yingzhi bought was the exact same brand Mu Cheng had given her.

Identical medicine. She wouldn’t take the one Mu Cheng gave her and insisted on buying her own. The message was simple: I find your medicine repulsive.

Mu Cheng rolled her eyes and snatched her medicine back from the desk. “Is my medicine poisoned or something? Fine, if I ever meddle in your business again, I’ll slap my own face.”

One day later.

Xiao Xiaoli nudged Mu Cheng’s shoulder. “Is Yingzhi okay? She’s been sleeping all day. She was coughing pretty badly earlier; do you think she has a fever?”

Mu Cheng’s hand playing the game paused. She pouted. “What does it have to do with me? Let her do what she wants. Don’t mention her; it just makes me mad and ruins my gaming mood.”

Despite her words, Mu Cheng had no heart for the game anymore. She tossed her phone onto the desk in frustration.

Xiao Xiaoli: “What, did you lose?”

Mu Cheng didn’t reply. Instead, she raised her hand and delivered a sharp slap to her own face. Slap!

Xiao Xiaoli froze, then laughed. “Are you crazy? It’s just a game; why are you slapping yourself?”

Mu Cheng stood up. “I’m just so pathetic. Too pathetic. I want to meddle again; I deserved that slap.”

With that, she strode to Zhong Yingzhi’s bed and asked irritably through the curtain, “Are you okay?”

There was no response. Mu Cheng pursed her lips, frowning, and gently pulled back the curtain.

The person on the bed had her eyes tightly shut. Her face was flushed, her forehead covered in sweat, and the brownish-gold hair at her temples was soaked.

Mu Cheng’s heart jumped. She felt her forehead—it was scorching. “Holy… she’s burning up.”

Ignoring everything else, she hauled the woman onto her back, stumbling as she tried to carry her to the infirmary.

On the way, the person on her back woke up.

“Put me down,” she struggled, her voice cold. “Do you hear me?”

Mu Cheng was too tired to argue and quickened her pace. “I’m exhausted carrying you, so don’t bite the hand that feeds you. I’ll put you down when we get to the infirmary.”

Xiao Xiaoli followed alongside, trying to soothe her. “Yingzhi, don’t be stubborn. You have a high fever; you need a shot to bring it down.”

Zhong Yingzhi’s eyes sharpened, her voice turning even colder as she commanded, “Are you deaf? I told you to put me down.”

Mu Cheng snapped, “I am deaf! Stay still and shut up!”