It’s Okay to Divorce - Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Zou Tingshen’s face was pale, and he lifted his eyelids to look at her.

“I just asked the doctor—your illness isn’t contagious, so there’s absolutely no need to worry about it passing to the baby,” Mu Mian said, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice pitiful and pleading. “Just give me half the bed, okay?”

The little wooden cabin had only one room, and thus only one bed.

She had no idea how cold the living room got at night, but she knew for sure that sleeping on the sofa wouldn’t be comfortable. With her massive belly, if she rolled off the couch, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

In that moment, she looked just like a little puppy wagging its tail, begging with wide, hopeful eyes.

“There’s an extra blanket in the closet—go grab it and sleep next to me.”

His voice, weakened by illness, came out faint and listless, like water left overnight in a thermos—lukewarm and sluggish.

“Lao Zou, you’re a giant tonight—two meters eighty tall!” Mu Mian shot to her feet in a flash, her movement lightning-quick.

Her decisive, no-nonsense personality sent a shiver of alarm through Zou Tingshen.

He fought back the throbbing in his head and said softly, “Take it slow when you get up. Remember, it’s not just you anymore.”

“It’s fine—the baby’s tucked safe and sound in here.” Mu Mian pulled a blanket from the closet and spread it out beside him.

She happily dashed to the bathroom to wash her feet, then settled on the edge of the bed, dried them off, and slipped under the covers with a contented sigh, pulling them up to leave just her head poking out.

She stared at the IV bag and explained to Zou Tingshen, “Lying like this lets me keep an eye on the drip—it’s more comfortable. Kneeling on the floor hurts my knees and back.”

Zou Tingshen nodded in understanding and turned his head toward her. “You’ve got enough on your plate. You sleep first—I’ll watch the IV.”

His breath brushed hot against Mu Mian’s face, making her flush with embarrassment.

A man and a woman, alone in a room, sharing a bed—no cameras, no director. They just lay there, eyes locked, both momentarily stunned.

Zou Tingshen realized too that speaking to her like this felt a bit awkward.

Before he could turn his head back, the girl slapped a hand over his face and shoved his head to the other side. “Don’t breathe on me…”

Zou Tingshen rolled onto his side, his back to her. “You sleep first.”

“Yeah, right,” Mu Mian scoffed, rolling onto her side too. She stacked her hands under her cheek and fixed her gaze on the back of his head. “You’re sick as a dog—how long do you think you can hold out?”

She reached out and patted his shoulder blade reassuringly. “Go on, get some sleep. I’ll keep watch for you. Be good.”

That single “be good” made Zou Tingshen’s spine go rigid.

And it was precisely those words from Mu Mian that finally eased the tension coiled in his nerves, as if he’d found a sliver of reassurance in her voice.

Zou Tingshen’s voice was soft, gentle. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Then we’ll just lie here.” Mu Mian kept staring at the nape of his neck, too afraid to close her eyes. She didn’t trust a patient to take proper care of himself, so she simply zoned out, fixated on the back of his head.

But… god, it was boring.

About ten minutes later, Mu Mian piped up. “Lao Zou, wanna play a game?”

“Hm?”

“It’s easy—just to kill time.” She extended a finger and lightly traced it along his back. “I’ll write characters on your back like this, and you guess. If you get it right, you score a point. If not, I do. Ten rounds—whoever loses has to do laundry for the next week.”

Had she developed some kind of trauma from washing clothes?

She was pregnant—how could Zou Tingshen bear to make her do it every time? Letting her handle the laundry today was just to curb her spoiled young-lady habits a bit.

“Here I go,” Mu Mian said, slowly and gently drawing the character for “Mu.”

Zou Tingshen focused on the strokes and guessed, “Mu.”

“I’ll give you that one—next one’s tougher.”

Mu Mian started on “Wei,” but with its complex strokes, Zou Tingshen couldn’t figure it out.

He won the first round but lost the next five straight. The girl behind him burst into nonstop laughter, and at the height of her glee, she smacked his back. “Lao Zou, don’t you even recognize your own name? It’s ‘Zou.'”

Zou Tingshen recalled the strokes and suddenly got it. The girl had jumbled the order on purpose, throwing him off.

His back started to itch, and he shifted his shoulders, but the sensation lingered. Mu Mian asked, “What’s up? Is your back itchy?”

Zou Tingshen let out a low “mm-hm.”

Without a second thought, Mu Mian said, “Then let me scratch it for you.” She lifted the hem of his shirt, slipped her hand underneath, and grazed his shoulder blade. “Here?”

The man felt somewhat unaccustomed to the touch but didn’t make a fuss. “A bit to the left.”

Mu Mian shifted left and scratched lightly. “Here?”

“Mm.”

As she scratched, Mu Mian asked, “Feel good?”

Answering that felt oddly intimate, but with the queen of the silver screen personally tending to him, he owed her at least that much effort. He murmured a quiet “mm.”

Mu Mian’s eyes curved into crescents, and she grinned. “If it feels good… how about you handle all the laundry from now on? I’ll scratch your back every night—what do you say?”

The deal… didn’t sound half bad. But would his back really itch every single night?

Zou Tingshen’s lips quivered into a smile, though he stayed silent.

Mu Mian couldn’t see his face and assumed he wasn’t into the idea, so she kneaded his shoulders and back. “How about this? Feel good? You do the laundry, and I’ll give you shoulder rubs and back pats every night!”

“Deal.”

Straight to the point! Mu Mian was really starting to adore Zou Tingshen—no beating around the bush at all!

—

In the early hours of the morning, the doctor removed Zou Tingshen’s IV.

The two slept straight through till noon, when sunlight poured in from outside, bathing the entire cabin in a bright, warm glow.

In the middle of the night, Mu Mian had kicked off her blanket, and in his half-asleep daze, Zou Tingshen had tugged half of his cover to cover her.

By morning, Mu Mian’s head was nestled right against Zou Tingshen’s chest, curled up in his arms, sleeping soundly.

When Mu Mian fully woke, the man was already up.

She’d had a dream where she was clutching his arm, dozing in his embrace.

The image was too beautiful—she didn’t even dare dwell on it.

After washing up, she stepped out to find Zou Tingshen had prepared lunch.

The recovering patient didn’t have much energy, so he’d simply boiled two bowls of noodles.

On the table sat two bowls, one big and one small.

Zou Tingshen’s little bowl was fist-sized, adorably dainty; Mu Mian’s was even bigger than her face.

Mu Mian was starving and about to dig in when Ming Wei’s reminder hit her. She immediately unlocked her phone, logged into Weibo, and handed it to Zou Tingshen. “Turn on the live stream. I’m broadcasting lunch for the fans today.”

“Live-streaming noodles?” Zou Tingshen echoed, a touch incredulous.

“Yep. Noodles are pretty down-to-earth, right?”

Zou Tingshen eyed her massive bowl.

—Yeah, real down-to-earth.

He started the stream, and in an instant, thousands of fans flooded in.

Mu Mian gripped her chopsticks, cradled her noodle bowl, and waved at the camera. “Hey, everyone.”

The chat exploded.

“Ahhh… Goddess, you’re finally on Weibo!”

“Live out of nowhere! Sleepy Queen, we love you!”

“Wait, Sleepy, what’s with that giant bowl in front of you? A live prop or something?”

Mu Mian smiled at the lens—rare for her, not her usual bubbly self, but the cool, regal poise of a queen.

Her expression composed, she held up her bowl and said, “I wasn’t sure what to stream for you all, so… noodles it is. What do you think?”

What?! The goddess is live-streaming noodles?!

This is terrifying… What set her off?

Before she started eating, Mu Mian remembered something and pointed at the small bowl in front of Zou Tingshen. “Pass that over.”

Zou Tingshen handed it across, and a handsome hand entered the frame.

Mu Mian set the big and small bowls side by side. “This little one’s my assistant’s; the big one’s mine. Now, live noodle time—screenshots, make ’em pretty, don’t waste my looks.”

She said it all so seriously, and even as she bowed her head to eat, she kept that icy queen vibe.

In the background, floor-to-ceiling windows framed a blue sky and the distant sea.

Fans spammed the chat, asking where she was.

Mu Mian slurped a mouthful and replied, “A small town in America.”

Her words barely landed before the chat went berserk again.

One fan typed: “That hand! That hand! That’s Emperor Zou, right? AHHHHH… My male god and goddess eating together? His tiny bowl, her giant one? AHHH… Too cute, what do?!”

The barrage got hijacked by “Zou Tingshen.” Everyone bet a pack of spicy strips—it was definitely him.

Mu Mian hadn’t even finished her noodles when the phone screen had already flipped the world upside down.