She Wants to Divorce Me

Cheng Henian had no genuine interest in Chang Yu; her previous words were mere jest. She squinted at Ji Yaoguang, who had deliberately distanced herself, finding it somewhat amusing but mostly feeling disappointed that her curiosity remained unsatisfied. She couldn’t quite understand how these two, entangled for years, had gone from being an inseparable loving couple to the brink of divorce and estrangement. It hadn’t been an easy journey, and Ji Yaoguang didn’t seem willing to let go. Cheng pursed her lips and whistled a long note, drawing more attention. Feeling embarrassed as she realized her old habit was resurfacing, she pulled a candy from her pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth, leaning back contentedly with narrowed eyes.

“The Treacherous Courtier” was adapted from a popular online novel. It told the story of Yun Yanhui, born into an official family, who disguised herself as a man to take the imperial examinations in the capital after her parents were framed. With her own abilities and the help of Princess Pingyang, she gradually climbed to a high position. This game of power naturally involved men, from her childhood friend Xie Xi to the noble Crown Prince, each with their own sincere or ulterior motives. However, Yun Yanhui was in male disguise, and through a twist of fate, became Princess Pingyang’s consort. Though billed as a grand palace intrigue drama, it was more akin to a period idol drama. However, with Director Li Ou, Director at the helm and Chang Yu as the lead, the film was destined for success. Ji Yaoguang’s presence added even more pre-release buzz. Almost everyone involved was a shrewd businessperson; idealism alone could no longer support inflated ambitions.

Ji Yaoguang knew her own limitations. The shows she had acted in were so bad that not only did Chang Yu refuse to watch them, but Ji Yaoguang herself was quite ashamed and forbade those around her from mentioning them. Under Chang Yu’s protection, she had been content with the status quo. After their divorce, when Chang Yu left the entertainment industry, Ji Yaoguang struggled alone, channeling all her grief and anger into motivation to seriously hone her acting skills. Later, she achieved fame and success on stage and under the spotlight, but felt no joy in her accomplishments. This time, she played a maid in the drama, specifically a tea-serving maid in Princess Pingyang’s household, with only a handful of appearances. When the male-disguised Yun Yanhui was recommended to Princess Pingyang by the Prince of Xiang, she heard music and her hand trembled while pouring water, spilling hot water on the Princess’s hand. Yun Yanhui then played another tune to save this unfamiliar maid. Even if it was just this one scene, Ji Yaoguang was quite satisfied with their interaction.

For minor roles like hers, there was no need to stay on set constantly, but Ji Yaoguang couldn’t bear to take her eyes off Chang Yu for a moment. She had selfishly pushed aside all other engagements and scripts, behaving like an idle person with nothing to do. Even though she was playing an insignificant maid in the drama, Ji Yaoguang’s status still commanded respect, and hardly anyone dared to slight her. Even without an assistant by her side, there were plenty of attentive people on set ready to serve her tea and water.

Online rumors were becoming increasingly outrageous. When Chang Yu glanced in her direction with a hint of impatience, Ji Yaoguang quickly lowered her head, pretending to be engrossed in her phone. Her fingers swiped to unlock the screen, opening Weibo. While quietly complaining about the boredom of netizens, she scrolled through comments one by one, finally coming across a blurry photo, clearly a candid shot of her moment speaking with Chang Yu. By the time she exited the comments, that photo had been posted separately with the caption “Outward Harmony, Inner Discord.” Ji Yaoguang resisted the urge to curse, rubbing her long hair and telling herself not to get angry. She had three years to regret and change her bad habits, but when faced with these situations again, she found all her mental preparation had vanished. What was the point of that? This wouldn’t do. Ji Yaoguang silently scolded herself, tucked her phone into her pocket, and stared straight ahead.

The scene was fully set up, and the first act was about to begin filming. Chang Yu, now in full makeup, emerged in a light cyan robe, looking like a refined and romantic scholar. The coldness and arrogance characteristic of Chang Yu had disappeared, leaving only the determined and stubborn Yun Yanhui. Some actors become the character they play, while others always play themselves. Ji Yaoguang preferred the former; on screen, there were many facets, but when the makeup was washed away, what remained was still herself.

Today’s first scene depicted Yun Yanhui’s initial entry into the capital, where in just half a month she understood the predicament of being without connections and the loneliness of unrecognized talent. But Yun Yanhui was no ordinary person; she devised a strategy to make herself known throughout the capital.

In the twelfth month, snow fell heavily in Chang’an City. Carriages left tracks in the snow, mingling with the chaotic hoofprints and footprints. Passersby hurried along, occasionally breathing on their hands for warmth, hunching their shoulders as if trying to disappear into their collars. The streets were quiet, but the small taverns were bustling. There were people selling flowers in baskets, musicians performing, and in the center, a weathered old man sat on a table selling a huqin, drawing quite a crowd.

Yun Yanhui pushed through the crowd, her gaze lingering on the huqin for a long while before asking softly, “How much?”

The old man, rolling his cloudy eyes, lazily replied, “A thousand gold pieces.”

The crowd immediately erupted in astonishment. The quality of this huqin was yet unknown, and even if it were of the highest grade, it surely wouldn’t be worth a thousand gold pieces. To everyone’s surprise, this seemingly impoverished scholar bought the huqin without hesitation, announcing loudly, “I am skilled at playing the qin. Please come again tomorrow to hear me play a tune.”

“Cut, that’s a wrap,” Li Ou, Director called out. Before Ji Yaoguang could approach to get a clear look at Chang Yu’s face, they were preparing to shoot the second take. The scene was similar, but now the snow had stopped, and the old man selling the qin was gone.

Yun Yanhui, hugging the huqin, smiled slightly upon seeing the gathered crowd and announced, “This humble one, having come to the capital from Wu, carrying a hundred scrolls of poetry and prose, has been rebuffed at every turn, with no one to appreciate my talents. This huqin is a craftsman’s tool; how could one of our station use it?” As she spoke, she smashed the huqin to pieces. Before the crowd could react, she distributed her poetry and prose among them. Within half a day, Yun Yanhui’s name had spread throughout the capital.

Chang Yu’s skill was undeniable; the first scene passed smoothly, followed by Jiang Huai’s scene. Jiang Huai was also a rising young actor from the same company as Ji Yaoguang. With his vibrant smile, he had been cultivated as an image of a sunny boy. “The Treacherous Courtier” was his first film, and his inner nervousness was palpable. He played the role of Prince Xiang, Zhao Tiandan, who played a crucial role in Yun Yanhui’s career. If not for Zhao Tiandan recommending her to Princess Pingyang, Yun Yanhui might have had to take many more detours in her journey.

Ji Yaoguang, focused solely on Chang Yu, sat to the side, twisting her body to watch for a moment before growing impatient. Looking up, she saw Chang Yu heading towards the makeup room and quickly followed, only to be blocked at the door by the cold-faced Qiao Xi.

“…” Ji Yaoguang was first stunned, then put on a pleading smile, begging Qiao Xi in a low voice, “Sister Qiao, please be kind and let me in. I won’t say anything, I’ll just watch from the side.”

Qiao Xi frowned, grabbing Ji Yaoguang’s wrist and dragging her to a nearby room. Crossing her arms, she asked impatiently, “What’s going on? Can’t you two give people some peace of mind?” Qiao Xi’s grip was strong, and Ji Yaoguang couldn’t break free, eventually following with a lifeless expression, disappointed at not being able to see Chang Yu.

“I was wrong,” Ji Yaoguang said, looking down at her toes, admitting her mistake without hesitation. How could Qiao Xi not know what had happened? Seeing Ji Yaoguang’s demeanor, she was almost amused by her anger. Her brow furrowed as she gritted her teeth, “Do you think Chang Yu would be interested in someone as ugly as Zhao Qing? You believe everything and get jealous over nothing. Why don’t you look at your own gossip? Coming home after a busy day to deal with your childish antics and princess-like temper, it’s exhausting not just for Chang Yu, but for me too.”

“Am I really that bad?” Ji Yaoguang muttered, pointing at her nose, but lost her confidence when she saw Qiao Xi’s piercing gaze. She and Chang Yu seemed to have many incompatibilities, with Chang Yu always being the one to compromise. Ji Yaoguang only demanded things from Chang Yu without ever examining herself; it wasn’t an exaggeration to say she was unreasonable. Hearing so much about various scandals and backstabbing, seeing so many breakups and makeups, she was terrified that both she and Chang Yu, immersed in this circle, would walk down that dark path.

“Why are you zoning out?” Qiao Xi waved her hand in front of Ji Yaoguang’s eyes.

“Huh?” Ji Yaoguang was clearly still in a daze.

Qiao Xi rolled her eyes, about to say something when they heard Chang Yu’s voice outside. Before Qiao Xi could react, Ji Yaoguang had already dashed out, barely stopping in front of Chang Yu. Chang Yu was still in her costume, but her makeup had been removed, instantly returning to her aloof demeanor. Ji Yaoguang trembled under her cold gaze, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with her hand, unsure what to say, unconsciously biting her nails.

This was Ji Yaoguang’s habitual gesture, which Chang Yu despised. Almost without thinking, she swatted Ji Yaoguang’s hand away, frowning, “Don’t—” She stopped mid-sentence, realizing she and Ji Yaoguang were still in the midst of a cold war. Seeing the person before her, a wave of irritation rose in her heart, her expression growing colder.

“Is everything finished over there?” Qiao Xi, emerging leisurely from the small room, broke the tense atmosphere.