Under the Cheongsam Skirt - Chapter 23

At 9:30 in the morning, sunlight spread across the city skyline, casting a golden band of light on the art gallery’s sign. It was still far from peak hours, and only a few pedestrians were on the street, with the occasional rickshaw driver hurrying by.

Watching Xu Xing leave, Zhao Ciqin began to think about what they had just discussed.

In half a month, she would be going to Beijing, mainly to meet her painting mentor and fellow disciples. She would likely stay there for a few days, which meant they wouldn’t see each other for five or six days.

Although she had previously had a key to Xu Xing’s place and would visit him occasionally, she had never been clingy. But now, she already missed him before they had even parted.

Was this how love could completely change a person?

Zhao Ciqin pondered this question, but suddenly, her steps faltered, as if something had struck her heart.

—The resistance, fear, and unease she had felt the moment Xu Xing confessed to her three months ago resurfaced vividly from the depths of her soul.

But before she could delve deeper into her thoughts, her wrist was seized by a strong hand.

It was Mu Changfeng.

Mu Changfeng had somehow appeared behind her. His expression was tense as he stared at her. His eyes, usually devoid of warmth, were now icy cold. He spoke slowly, word by word:

“Who was that man just now?”
Upon hearing this, Zhao Ciqin instinctively frowned, but she tried to remain calm and attempted to free her painfully gripped wrist. “This shouldn’t concern you, Young Marshal Mu…”

“Zhao Ciqin!”

Zhao Ciqin’s pupils contracted.

But Mu Changfeng didn’t do anything drastic. He still held her wrist, his presence cold and imposing. His dark eyes seemed to be suppressing and restraining something.

After a moment, he said, “Speak properly, or I’ll make you regret divorcing me.”

The air around them froze.

Qin Anmei, who had come out upon hearing the commotion, saw the two of them locked in a standoff. It should have been a beautiful scene of two people facing each other, but Zhao Ciqin’s hand was forced up, trembling slightly. Just as Qin Anmei was about to cry out, Zhao Ciqin turned her head.

“What do you want to ask?”

***

The second-floor studio was quiet, bathed in sunlight that made the environment bright and comfortable. From here, one could see the street beginning to come alive, with people entering and exiting the Longyang Department Store.

Zhao Ciqin sat on a chair, while Mu Changfeng stood with his back to her, silently gazing out the window, lost in thought. The silence stretched on.

After a while, there was a knock at the door.

Qin Anmei entered with tea. She set the tea down, glanced worriedly at Zhao Ciqin, and then quietly left.

The door closed softly, and Zhao Ciqin was the first to speak.

She kept her eyes downcast, sitting motionless. “I thought we had already made things clear last time.”

Mu Changfeng turned around, staring at her intently.

The sunlight illuminated half of his face, softening his sharp edges. Externally, he had no flaws. Years of military life had made him stand tall and straight, solemn but not overly imposing.

He said, “Made things clear? How? With the words ‘we’re divorced’?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Is it?” Mu Changfeng said calmly.

There was no mockery in his tone, just a genuine question. “We’ve known each other for nineteen years, been married for eleven. Can all those shared memories really be erased with just a divorce?”

Zhao Ciqin looked up at him, about to say something.

But Mu Changfeng averted his gaze and continued, “Last year, your divorce papers were sent to Qingxi Village. By then, I had already withdrawn. Two months later, the papers finally reached me. I refused to sign because I believed there was still room for reconciliation. I hoped the war would end sooner so I could see you and try to win you back.”

“But the war dragged on for months, with battles in Qingxi Village, Lügang, and Ningcheng. By the time I realized it, you had already filed for divorce in court and announced it in the newspapers.”

“Zhao Ciqin,” he turned back to look at her, his voice soft, “think about it. Do you think this is fair to me?”

Time seemed to freeze, the air tense and silent. Zhao Ciqin’s expression remained unchanged, as if nothing could shake her.

Finally, she couldn’t hold back anymore. “…Then what kind of fairness do you want?”

Mu Changfeng was taken aback.

“Do you want to go through the divorce again? This time, you file, you sue, you announce it in the papers?”

His brows furrowed deeper. “You know that’s not what I—”

But Zhao Ciqin cut him off.

She slowly stood up. She had never been this confrontational before, her eyes slightly red from the argument, her lips trembling.

“You feel it’s unfair because you think there’s still a chance to fix things,” she took a deep breath and said. “But you don’t know that, for me, the moment I made the decision, I never looked back. Mu Changfeng, if I had to make the choice again, I would still divorce you.”

“…”

She looked at him coldly. “No matter how long we’ve known each other or how many memories we’ve shared, we’re divorced. That’s the fact. If you think I wasn’t clear enough last time, I’ll tell you again: I don’t love you anymore.”

“As for the man you asked about earlier, he’s my current partner. I just want a peaceful life now, and I hope you won’t disturb me again.”