It’s Okay to Divorce - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

They arrived at the mountaintop temple in the afternoon of the second day.

Shengshui Temple was built against the mountain, with sheer cliffs both in front and behind. The welcoming pine at the entrance was adorned with red wish ribbons fluttering in the wind.

The temple was preparing vegetarian meals, with wisps of cooking smoke curling through the air.

As their group stepped through the main gate, the scent of incense and candles hit them immediately.

Mu Mian’s zen room was to the left, where Zou Tingshen was staying. The room was spotless, with bright windows and no air conditioning, yet it felt cool and comfortable.

She lay on the wooden bed, thinking of calling Ming Wei, but there was no signal. She got up and pushed open the window, and the view suddenly opened up before her. Only then did she realize that behind wasn’t a courtyard—it was a cliff.

If there were an earthquake, wouldn’t she get shaken off and fall to her death, shattered beyond recovery?

The crew’s location manager was setting up the filming area in the front courtyard. After dinner, the main cast began shooting.

Tonight’s scene was the one where the male and female leads were forced by their family elders to come to the mountain temple to pray for blessings.

Originally, the couple had a big fight, but after arriving on the mountain, the female lead, Ren Li, suddenly got stomach pains, scaring the male lead, Mo Shao, into nearly carrying his wife down the mountain on his back.

Fortunately, it was a false alarm. The two spent the night on the mountain, away from the city’s hustle and bustle, away from work, and finally sat down for a calm, heartfelt talk, reconciling at last.

This scene wrapped up at 2 a.m.

Although Zou Tingshen had mentioned to the director about cutting back on late-night shoots, they only had a few days to film at the temple, so every minute was precious.

Mu Mian yawned as she returned to her room. Just as she entered, there was a knock at the door.

She opened it and was stunned to see Chen Sheng. “Why is it you?”

She had thought it was Li Wen.

“Staying up late is bad for your health. I asked the auntie in the temple kitchen to stew some mung bean and barley soup for you. Drink it while it’s hot.” He handed over the stew pot, standing at the door as he asked, “What? Not inviting me in to sit?”

Mu Mian took the wooden tray. “Better not… It’s the middle of the night, a man and a woman alone in a room—if word got out, it wouldn’t sound good, right?”

Chen Sheng smiled faintly and nodded. “Yeah, then finish it and rest early.”

He turned to leave, but as he reached the courtyard gate, he heard Mu Mian talking to someone behind him.

The courtyard had no lights, and he was already too far from Mu Mian, but he could vaguely make out two blurry figures, their voices faint and fragmented.

He took a couple of steps back, hiding around the corner, and listened carefully to their conversation.

Mu Mian said, “Hurry inside, it wouldn’t look good if someone sees.”

Zou Tingshen hummed in response and followed her in.

Once they were inside, the lights came on, illuminating the corridor as well.

A moment later, Zou Tingshen came out carrying that bowl of mung bean and barley soup and dumped it all into the flower bed.

Chen Sheng: “…” In the darkness, his face grew even more grim, his fists clenched, veins bulging on his forehead.

He took a deep breath to calm his emotions, pulled out his phone, edited a message, and sent it.

—

Inside the room.

Zou Tingshen frowned at Mu Mian, scolding her, “Did you read the materials I gave you?”

“I… I did. Why are you being so harsh…” Mu Mian felt a bit intimidated.

When the film emperor came in, he was all smiles and pleasant, but as soon as he sat down and saw her bowl of barley soup, his temper flared.

His originally calm expression suddenly turned dark, his eyes fierce like a man-eating beast. He grabbed her bowl of soup and poured it out.

Startled by the film emperor’s sudden shift in mood, she shrank back, timidly adding, “I didn’t… read it carefully.”

“And the list of foods to avoid that I sent you separately? You didn’t look at that either?” Zou Tingshen was furious at her disregard for her health, and even more so at her lack of awareness as an expectant mother.

Mu Mian sat on the bed, tilting her head up to look at him, her eyes watery and on the verge of tears. “I… really didn’t read it carefully.”

Zou Tingshen was about to explode from anger, but he forced his voice down, his face serious. “Eating barley during pregnancy can easily lead to miscarriage. It’s very harmful to both the fetus and you.”

Mu Mian hadn’t realized the consequences of eating barley were so severe. She swallowed hard, staring at him blankly. “It’s… that serious? In ancient palace dramas, this stuff would be the ultimate abortion tool, huh?”

She always had a way of not taking things seriously. Zou Tingshen couldn’t bring himself to scold her further. He took a deep breath and said, “Ming Wei should have instructed you on your diet. Logically, your assistant wouldn’t be so careless as to give you something like this.”

“It wasn’t the assistant,” Mu Mian explained. “It was Chen Sheng.”

“He was here?” This was the first time Zou Tingshen had encountered this person, and his impression was already very poor.

He couldn’t pinpoint why, but he just felt repelled by him.

Zou Tingshen took her sippy cup water bottle, mixed some milk for her, and handed it over. “Drink your milk and rest early. You have work tomorrow.”

“Mm…” Mu Mian took the sippy cup, then suddenly stood up and called after him, “Wait, let me show you something.”

“Hm?” Zou Tingshen looked at her.

Mu Mian hugged the bottle, shuffling over to the wooden window in her slippers and pushing it open.

A gust of cold night wind rushed in, tousling her loose hair.

With strands blowing across her face, she bit the sippy cup’s spout and turned back to him. “Come look.”

Mu Mian’s dark hair cascaded down, windswept, half-obscuring her bright features. The ancient-style window lattice behind her blended with the deep night, giving her a stunning allure reminiscent of Nie Xiaoqian from the classic film A Chinese Ghost Story—beautiful eyes and pearly teeth, with a suppressed vivacity ready to burst forth.

Her captivating aura formed a beautiful ancient painting with the surroundings.

Except… the beauty of this masterpiece was somewhat shattered by the sippy cup.

Zou Tingshen walked over and looked up in the direction she pointed. The vast starry sky, the Milky Way like a light veil, seemed close enough to touch.

The sky was a deep blue, with the faint outline of undulating mountain peaks in the distance.

Mu Mian leaned on the window lattice, took a sip of milk, and asked him, “Isn’t it super beautiful?”

Zou Tingshen couldn’t deny it.

It was beautiful. The person in front of him, even more so.

Mu Mian seemed in a good mood, her face lively and playful. She took a deep breath of the mountain air. “This temple is built in a pretty risky spot, but the view is amazing. I heard from the older generation that wishing on stars from the mountain is especially effective.” She paused, turning her head to look at Zou Tingshen. “Hey, Old Zou, what’s your wish?”

Mu Mian was just making things up on the spot to tease Zou Tingshen, but unexpectedly, he took the bait.

After a moment of silence, he looked at the brightest star and said, “I hope our child grows up carefree, without suffering the pain of separated parents.”

“…” That wish seemed pretty hard to fulfill. Mu Mian patted his shoulder consolingly. “Old Zou, don’t worry. Once the baby’s born, it’s not like I’ll completely ignore them. At least every few days, I’ll take them out to play, and I’ll provide child support.”

Zou Tingshen glanced at her, his voice calm. “Miss Mu, you’re not suited to be a mother.”

Mu Mian replied without missing a beat, “Of course not. I’m still a baby myself—I haven’t even thought about marriage. How could I be fit to be a mom?”

Zou Tingshen felt a bit helpless. “Have you never considered raising this child yourself?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be a single mom, so I’m rejecting this kid…”

Zou Tingshen frowned, words on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them back. “Rest early.”

“Oh…” As Zou Tingshen reached the door, she added, “Goodnight, Film Emperor Zou.”

—

The final night scene was in front of the wishing stone at the temple, where the male and female leads had a kissing scene.

This kissing shot was crucial; the director wanted a beautiful long take, and using body doubles or angles would easily give it away.

Feng Weijian pulled the two leads aside and spoke earnestly. “I know neither of you likes filming kiss scenes, but this shot really isn’t suited for doubles or tricks. Could you two… make do with each other? I’ll give you an hour to talk it over. In one hour, we’ll start shooting.”

They’d avoided kiss scenes for so many episodes—could they really not dodge this last one?

Mu Mian looked at Zou Tingshen helplessly, poking his arm with her finger and asking cautiously, “Old Zou, could you… just make do and kiss me? The baby’s in my belly—think of it as kissing the baby through my mouth. Would that make it easier for you?”

Zou Tingshen lowered his head to read the script, his face serious, as if he hadn’t heard her.

Mu Mian took a deep breath. “Ah, forget it. I’ll go talk to the director about changing it to a hug.”

She turned to go find the director, but Zou Tingshen reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “Wait.”

“Hm?” Mu Mian looked back at him.

“Are you in the right state to get into character?” Zou Tingshen asked.

Mu Mian shrugged. “I don’t know, but… we can try.”

Zou Tingshen closed the script and nodded. “Then let’s try.”

The clapperboard snapped.

In front of the wishing stone, Ren Li wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck, her forehead gently rubbing against his jaw. Mr. Mo lifted his wife’s chin with his slender fingers, slowly leaning in for the kiss.

The moment their noses touched, the man’s gaze suddenly turned tender as water.

Mu Mian let the man’s features draw near, her cheeks flushing pink.

His breath brushed against her face, making her cheeks tingle lightly, her heart racing. Zou Tingshen pressed his lips to hers, paused for a moment, then captured them, gently licking.

Fireworks exploded in Mu Mian’s mind, her skin feeling like it had been brushed by feathers, her heart about to leap out of her throat.

She closed her eyes, clenching her fists, her muscles tense all over.

Zou Tingshen closed his eyes too, beginning to enjoy the physical and mental pleasure of kissing the opposite s3x—a feeling he’d never experienced before.

The staff nearby watched in stunned silence.

The location manager leaned over to the assistant director and commented, “Why do I feel like Mu Mian and Zou Tingshen are acting like awkward teenagers having their first kiss? Mu Mian’s expression is spot on… And Zou Tingshen’s nailing that shy young guy vibe too.”

Chen Sheng watched the scene, his gaze unconsciously turning cold.

Yun Pei noticed Chen Sheng’s mood seemed off. He was staring at the filming site, and there seemed to be… anger in his eyes?

She wasn’t sure if her judgment was right, so she tugged at his sleeve and called, “Dr. Chen? You okay?”

Chen Sheng’s gentle smile appeared almost instantly. “I’m fine.”

Yun Pei didn’t think much of it and continued watching the shoot.

She could probably understand Chen Sheng’s mood. Her idol was Zou Tingshen—maybe his crush was Mu Mian?

Watching your favorite star filming a kiss scene, no matter who the partner was or how great they were, was enough to make anyone grind their teeth in jealousy.

“Cut” The director interrupted the kiss scene.

Mu Mian and Zou Tingshen snapped out of the wonderful sensation of that first kiss.

They both turned to look at the director.

Feng Weijian said, “The kiss itself is fine, but the vibe is off. You’re supposed to be a long-married couple in your thirties, but you’re acting like innocent middle schoolers. Let’s do it again—remember, you’re seasoned spouses, not juniors in school, okay?”