She Wants to Divorce Me

Ji Yaoguang, seeing the faint light through the door crack, hesitated briefly before quickly pushing the door open and entering, fearing Chang Yu might suddenly change her mind. The television was on, playing recent entertainment news. Chang Yu lounged on the sofa, her eyes reflecting endless fatigue. Without makeup, her face looked somewhat haggard, as if she hadn’t slept well for several nights. Her expression remained cold and indifferent; even hearing movement, she didn’t raise her eyes or spare a glance for Ji Yaoguang. Seeing Chang Yu in this state, Ji Yaoguang suddenly felt a pang of sympathy. She quickly moved forward, half-crouching at Chang Yu’s feet, looking up at her.

“Ji Yaoguang, I’m very tired,” Chang Yu turned off the television, ending the noisy sound, and suddenly spoke, pursing her lips.

A surge of pain mixed with a hint of grievance nearly brought tears to Ji Yaoguang’s eyes. She blinked hard, feeling as if she had become incredibly fragile lately, her emotions swaying with Chang Yu’s every move. Chang Yu had previously said that living with and taking care of Ji Yaoguang was exhausting, leading to her request for divorce. And now? After saying she was very tired, what words would follow? Ji Yaoguang remained silent, unsure how to respond, only quietly waiting for Chang Yu to continue.

The room fell silent for a moment, finally broken by a moderate sigh. Chang Yu reached out and tilted Ji Yaoguang’s chin up, gazing into her bright eyes, feeling as if her heart was being slowly cut by a dull knife. She still didn’t speak, her fingertips lightly brushing Ji Yaoguang’s lips and cheeks like feathers, finally covering Ji Yaoguang’s eyes with one hand. She forced her emotions to calm, only able to speak in a cold, distant tone when not looking into Ji Yaoguang’s eyes. “Why are you here?”

A tickle in her heart, as if stirred by a gentle breeze, Ji Yaoguang’s vision was darkened, only able to see Chang Yu’s blurred expression through the gaps between fingers. Her heartbeat suddenly quickened, her long eyelashes brushing Chang Yu’s palm as she blinked. “I miss you,” she said, as if using all her strength, her body swaying slightly from crouching for so long. She waited for Chang Yu’s response.

After a while, a light chuckle was heard.

Ji Yaoguang couldn’t see Chang Yu’s expression.

Disbelief? No, Chang Yu had always believed such words from Ji Yaoguang. How many times after their cold wars had sweet words made her change her mind? Sometimes it wasn’t even Ji Yaoguang’s fault, yet she would still accommodate and apologize. Chang Yu was angry at Ji Yaoguang, but also resentful towards herself. She moved her hand from Ji Yaoguang’s eyes, reaching down to take out a box of ointment from her pocket, having known Ji Yaoguang’s intentions since seeing her awkward face when opening the door. “Get up, sit beside me,” Chang Yu said flatly, lowering her eyelashes.

“Oh, okay,” Ji Yaoguang responded after a moment. However, her numb legs were no longer under control, and she had to grab the nearest person for support. Chang Yu, seeing her condition and predicament, naturally wouldn’t push her away at this moment. She exerted a bit of strength to pull Ji Yaoguang up, but Ji Yaoguang, unsteady on her feet, fell squarely into her arms.

Since the divorce, they hadn’t been in such close contact. It had only been about ten days, but for Ji Yaoguang, her memory held three years—three years haunted by longing and regret day and night. She rested on Chang Yu’s shoulder, unmoving for a long time.

Chang Yu frowned, about to push away the presumptuous Ji Yaoguang, when she suddenly felt wetness on her shoulder. Her body stiffened slightly, her eyes revealing complex emotions. Her hand unconsciously stroked Ji Yaoguang’s back, only relaxing slightly when the small sobs gradually subsided. Hearing Ji Yaoguang cry over the phone had already been heart-wrenching; with this person standing before her in tears, how could Chang Yu maintain her coldness and speak those hurtful words?

Ji Yaoguang cried for a while before moving away from Chang Yu’s shoulder. She rubbed her reddened eyes, forcing a strained smile, deliberately baring her teeth and pointing at her cheek, saying, “It hurts so much, I couldn’t help it for a moment.”

Chang Yu: “…” She glanced lightly at Ji Yaoguang, not exposing her little act. After Ji Yaoguang sat down properly, she scooped out a small amount of ointment and gently rubbed it on Ji Yaoguang’s swollen cheek. Recalling Li Ou, Director’s words from earlier, she became slightly lost in thought, her fingertips applying uncontrolled pressure until she heard Ji Yaoguang’s faint gasp of pain. She came back to herself and said flatly, “Sorry.” These simple, distant words nearly made Ji Yaoguang’s eyes well up again. Chang Yu glanced at her, sighing helplessly, and casually asked, “Are you very familiar with Cheng Henian?”

Ji Yaoguang found Chang Yu’s question strange but answered honestly, “Not really, I’ve just heard Yuting mention her before.” Although they had spoken on set, without exchanging any contact information, how could they be considered acquaintances? Seeing a flash of disappointment in Chang Yu’s eyes, she pursed her lips and added, “Do you need something from her? I can ask Yuting, she should have Cheng Henian’s contact information.”

“No—” Before she could finish saying “it’s not necessary,” a thought crossed Chang Yu’s mind, and she changed her words, “That’s fine, contact her when you have time.”

It would be a lie to say she wasn’t curious. Cheng Henian’s words on set were still fresh in her mind, and now Chang Yu was inquiring about her. Ji Yaoguang’s displeasure was clearly written on her face, but after secretly glancing at Chang Yu’s expression, she didn’t dare ask more. They fell silent again until Chang Yu withdrew her hand and stuffed the ointment back into Ji Yaoguang’s pocket. The flat “It’s done” sounded like a dismissal.

Ji Yaoguang didn’t want to leave Chang Yu’s room at all. Her gaze wandered left and right, finally settling on Chang Yu’s expressionless face. Several times she wanted to speak but was deterred by the pervasive coldness. Eventually, Chang Yu even closed her eyes, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation. Ji Yaoguang sighed inwardly and left the room dejectedly, thoughtfully closing the door for Chang Yu. But the next moment, she began to regret it. She felt her pocket and suddenly realized she hadn’t brought her room key. Feeling both distressed and elated, she hesitated for a while before knocking on Chang Yu’s door again with mixed emotions.

Drowsiness and fatigue washed over her like waves, her body and mind reaching a state of extreme relaxation. Chang Yu nearly fell into sweet dreams. She was startled by the knocking, frowned in thought for a moment, but still got up to open the door. As expected, Ji Yaoguang’s flushed face entered her view. Her eyes flickered as she pointed at the door across, saying nervously, “I forgot my room key, I can’t get in.”

You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Chang Yu raised an eyebrow, her eyes seeming to say these words. There were many ways to enter a room without a key; she didn’t need to come here for help. Chang Yu’s gaze lingered on Ji Yaoguang’s trembling eyelashes for a moment before saying nothing and letting her into the room. Granted permission, Ji Yaoguang was like a fish successfully swimming into the sea, free and unrestrained. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said, darting into the bathroom.

Chang Yu: “…” The hotel bathroom had frosted glass, making the silhouette inside vaguely visible. The sound of running water reached her ears. Chang Yu glanced in that direction before averting her gaze. She returned to the sofa and picked up the script covered in red circles, but after her eyes lingered on it for a moment, her thoughts began to wander. The clock ticked away, and neon lights outside flickered. It seemed like only ten minutes had passed, yet also felt like an hour or two. Chang Yu suddenly stood up, glaring angrily at the bathroom.

At this moment, Ji Yaoguang found herself in an awkward situation. She was unwilling to use the hotel bathrobe, and she hadn’t brought any undergarments. She couldn’t walk out naked. The hot water had turned her skin red, almost wrinkled. Biting her lip, she hesitated for a moment, about to ask Chang Yu for help when she forgot about the glass door and bumped into it with a crisp thud. What bad luck—how much pain had she endured in just one day? Ji Yaoguang’s eyes glistened with tears from the pain, barely noticing the hurried footsteps outside.

“Ji Yaoguang?”

All the pent-up grievances found an outlet in these three concerned words. The pain on her forehead gave Ji Yaoguang another reason to cry. The rhythmic knocking on the door mingled with the sound of water. After crying for a while, Ji Yaoguang sniffled and said with a choke, “I’m fine, Chang Yu. I didn’t bring any clean underwear.”

Chang Yu leaned against the door, maintaining her knocking posture. She heard the unusual tone in Ji Yaoguang’s voice. Hiding in the bathroom for so long, was she crying alone again? Suppressing the slight pain in her heart, a barely audible sigh escaped. The sound of water in the bathroom had stopped. After listening for a while without hearing any other movement, Chang Yu turned back. She and Ji Yaoguang had similar builds, and they had bought many clothes together. After rummaging through her suitcase for a moment, Chang Yu didn’t know what she was thinking. When Ji Yaoguang emerged from the bathroom, shyly wearing the rather revealing silk nightgown, Chang Yu came back to her senses. Pursing her lips in slight annoyance, she withdrew her gaze from Ji Yaoguang’s body, pretending to be nonchalant as she picked up the discarded script.

In the December weather, even with the air conditioning on full blast, there was still a chill in the room. Ji Yaoguang almost thought Chang Yu was deliberately torturing her. She stammered Chang Yu’s name, but received no response. Her gaze shifted between Chang Yu and the bed before she resolutely walked towards the warm covers.