She Wants to Divorce Me

“Cheng Henian is an eccentric,” Bian Yuting had said, once indignant about it. Countless people sought to curry favor with Bian Yuting, yet when she extended an olive branch, she was unhesitatingly rejected. Far from being a breath of fresh air in the music industry, listening to Cheng’s voiced radio dramas was like a mudslide.

Ji Yaoguang wasn’t sure if it was an auto-reply or Cheng Henian herself. After hesitating, she replied: “Are you still on set?”

“Still here. Why haven’t you come, Teacher Ji? Tired from last night? I noticed Teacher Chang looked a bit weary after removing her makeup,” Cheng Henian responded swiftly.

“…I’ll talk to you when I get to the set.”

“Hurry over. A seductive vixen has come to visit, looking for Teacher Chang.”

“Who is it?”

“Didn’t see clearly.”

Ending the conversation with Cheng Henian, Ji Yaoguang put down her phone and sprang out of bed, rushing to get ready. The red marks on her forehead and face had faded considerably; light makeup should conceal them. “Ji Yaoguang, you can do it,” she encouraged herself, blinking her bright almond eyes at the mirror. The path to winning back her wife was long; how could she succeed if she became discouraged at every small setback?

Without Li Yaoyao, the set was calm. With fewer scenes opposite Princess Pingyang, Chang Yu had more free time, even chatting with an old friend who had come to visit. Director Li, fearing delays, had moved up scenes that didn’t require the princess. His irritable shouts occasionally punctuated by rare words of praise.

When extras weren’t needed, Cheng Henian usually sat on a nearby stool, sometimes immersed in mobile games, sometimes glancing up. Apparently informed by Director Li, her treatment differed from other extras; even when she wandered into the main actors’ makeup room, no one bothered her. As Chang Yu passed by, recalling Director Li’s words, she couldn’t help but look at Cheng Henian a few times. Unfamiliar with China’s music scene, the only person she knew well was Lu Yusheng.

Lu Yusheng was one of Chang Yu’s few close friends in the industry. Their closeness had once sparked baseless media rumors, with some online clamoring about shipping them as a couple, infuriating Ji Yaoguang for days. Chang Yu didn’t pay much attention to such things, but Ji Yaoguang couldn’t stand it. Entering the rest area, Chang Yu was still somewhat dazed to see the supposedly vanished superstar Lu Yusheng there. Seeing Chang Yu enter, Lu Yusheng removed her earbuds and smiled lazily, “What, thinking about your better half again?”

“No,” Chang Yu shook her head, glancing at Lu Yusheng sprawled on the sofa before adding, “I just didn’t expect you to arrive so quickly.” After her retirement, Lu Yusheng had completely disappeared from public view. Even Chang Yu could only guess her whereabouts from food photos in her social media posts. After her retirement announcement, some speculated she had married a foreign tycoon, while others guessed she was ruining her voice eating street food—after all, just before the announcement, she had been secretly photographed eating spicy hot pot in a narrow alley. This clashed with her “superstar” image, shocking many, though some fans found it endearing, wanting to win their goddess’s heart with delicious food.

Lu Yusheng smiled, “I heard the snacks in Wannian Alley were delicious, so I came. Didn’t expect you to be filming nearby.”

“You probably guessed why I’m looking for you,” Chang Yu got straight to the point, gazing into her warm eyes. “Director Li hopes you’ll sing the theme for ‘The Treacherous Courtier.’ Can you do me a favor and appear before the public once more?”

Fingers tapping rhythmically on her thigh, Lu Yusheng burst out laughing at Chang Yu’s slightly pursed lips. Chang Yu rarely asked old friends for help, often keeping things to herself. How heavy must this burden be for her to ask now? Lu Yusheng had already decided, but couldn’t resist teasing Chang Yu a bit. This person was wound too tight, far too stressed. With this in mind, she feigned hesitation, “You know I announced my retirement. Director Li’s films are always well-received, and many who work with him gain popularity. But for me—”

“I know why you retired,” Chang Yu quickly interrupted. She smiled lightly, “Just tell me your answer. I think you’ve already decided.”

Lu Yusheng laughed, “Tsk, you’ve seen through me.” At her age, others sought stability, but she needed freedom and joy. For over twenty years, she had suppressed her love for food to protect her voice. She had the self-discipline but no longer wanted to use it. In recent years, she had released fewer albums and relaxed her standards. She didn’t lack money or fame anymore. One day, inspiration struck—why couldn’t she pursue her own desires instead of wasting time in this circle? “Since you, Chang Yu, have asked, how could I refuse?”

“Mm,” Chang Yu nodded, then added after a pause, “Director Li mentioned the theme would be a duet, with Cheng Henian as the other singer. You don’t mind, do you?”

Lu Yusheng’s gaze suddenly darkened, a ripple passing over her calm face. She flashed a perfect smile at Chang Yu and replied, “No objection.” After years of friendship, Chang Yu could easily discern truth from lies. Perhaps Lu Yusheng didn’t care who she collaborated with, but there must be some history between her and Cheng Henian. Her questioning gaze lingered on Lu Yusheng’s face.

“Chang Yu, can you stop looking at me like that?” Lu Yusheng sighed, resting her chin on her hand, speaking half-jokingly. As Chang Yu withdrew her scrutinizing gaze, Lu Yusheng couldn’t help but continue, “You probably don’t know Cheng Henian well. Actually, I don’t have much connection with her either, just heard friends mention her often. When she first entered the music scene, her talent naturally led people to call her the next ‘superstar,’ but a towering tree catches the wind. Her personality isn’t suited for this circle. At my thirtieth birthday party, someone brought her in. Do you know what she said?” Lu Yusheng’s voice suddenly turned resentful.

“What did she say?” Chang Yu’s tone remained as flat as ever, not a ripple of emotion even in her question.

“She was discussing me with someone, calling me an old woman, and I happened to overhear!” Lu Yusheng touched her face, speaking indignantly. Time had been kind to her beauty, leaving few traces of age. Even at thirty-one, she looked like a beauty in her twenties, without a hint of aging.

A smile flickered in Chang Yu’s eyes as she shook her head, “Not old. Your face is full of collagen.”

Lu Yusheng looked wary, “I’m six years older than you. Do you think I’m old too?”

When Ji Yaoguang arrived on set, she immediately saw Cheng Henian sitting to the side, muttering softly.

“Old?” She raised an eyebrow.

Cheng Henian lazily glanced up at her, asking, “You asked me to wait on set. What did you want to say? Are you interested in my radio dramas? I think your voice could definitely handle it. Want to join?”

An unbidden, risqué image flashed through Ji Yaoguang’s mind. She quickly shook her head, changing the subject, “Has Director Li approached you?”

“Why would the great Director Li look for a small extra like me? He wouldn’t dare replace Li Yaoyao with me,” Cheng Henian smirked. Noticing Ji Yaoguang’s changing expression, she suddenly remembered something and added, “Though someone did email me on behalf of the production, asking if I’d be willing to sing the theme for ‘The Treacherous Courtier.'”

Ji Yaoguang’s eyes lit up, “How did you respond?”

Cheng Henian beckoned Ji Yaoguang to sit beside her. “According to the production, they want me to duet with Lu Yusheng. But if they can get that big shot, why would they need a small fry like me?”

“Isn’t Lu Yusheng your idol?” Ji Yaoguang blinked curiously. After all, Cheng Henian only followed one person on social media, easily leading to misunderstandings. Eyes only for you—such a phrase easily sparked romantic imagination. Due to her connection with Chang Yu, Ji Yaoguang also had a slight acquaintance with Lu Yusheng. She and Cheng Henian— This thought was dismissed as soon as it arose; she was more inclined to believe it was a fan-idol relationship.

“No, she’s not,” Cheng Henian glared at Ji Yaoguang, confusion flickering in her eyes. She continued, “My idol, my goddess, can only be myself.”

Ji Yaoguang: “…”

“Though I do like Lu Yusheng’s voice,” Cheng Henian suddenly changed tack. “If she were five years younger, I might consider her a goddess. Now, when I think of her, I remember that when she was in middle school, I was still playing in the mud.”

Ji Yaoguang instinctively retorted, “Aren’t you exaggerating? A six or seven-year age gap is quite normal, isn’t it?”

Cheng Henian replied, “It’s different. They say women are like wolves at thirty and tigers at forty. Once you hit thirty, you’re racing towards forty. It just sounds so… greasy.”

Have you even met Lu Yusheng? Ji Yaoguang wanted to ask this question, but before she could speak, she noticed a figure standing to the side, who had been there for an unknown time. Chang Yu’s expression was normal, but Lu Yusheng’s face was as dark as an impending storm.