Running Over The Head Of My Ex [Rebirth]

Chapter 77

Zhuo Zhiwei’s mind was in turmoil; her thoughts were tangled and noisy. Although she couldn’t bring herself to believe a word He Qingqi was saying, the earnest look on the girl’s face made her hesitate.

Even with her furrowed brow, He Qingqi remained extraordinarily beautiful, but there was now a melancholic charm to her appearance.

That melancholy, as fleeting as the wind, could grip Zhuo Zhiwei’s heart with just a sigh. Her fingers instinctively tightened along with He Qingqi’s sigh, causing a slight pang of pain.

The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to echo in the quiet room, punctuated only by the sound of their heartbeats, which grew louder with each breath. Zhuo Zhiwei blinked slowly, suddenly unsure of what to do.

The righteous anger and sharp words she had hurled just moments ago faded into something unnameable, stuck in her throat, neither able to be swallowed nor spat out, leaving her chest feeling suffocatingly tight.

Her throat bobbed as she shifted her gaze away, her eyes silently reddening at the corners.

She took a few deep breaths and forced a smile. Thankfully, her acting skills had always been top-notch, and the smile that spread across her face was still enchanting.

Zhuo Zhiwei took hold of He Qingqi’s hand, her voice catching in her throat as she spoke in a clear, gentle tone, “It’s all in the past.”

That’s what she said.

But had it really passed?

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know how long this would stay with her—how long she would be consumed by jealousy and resentment. The person she had cherished so dearly had long since been claimed by someone else, not just as a crush but in a ten-year marriage.

Hearing this news, she had thought she could stand on moral high ground, unleashing all the anger and jealousy she had bottled up onto He Qingqi.

She could question her, curse her, and bite her in rage, as if to devour her flesh and drink her blood.

Because she was the one who had been deceived.

He Qingqi had no choice but to bear the brunt of her emotions and soothe her.

But in the end…

“I’m reborn.”

With that one light sentence, Zhuo Zhiwei was stripped bare, her surging emotions suddenly replaced by an overwhelming wave of pity and hatred.

She felt sorry for He Qingqi and hated Fang Xuanrao for not cherishing her.

These emotions clashed violently in her chest, unable to reconcile, as if enemies were waging war inside her heart, leaving everything in disarray. At some point during the battle, her heart was slashed, and she could almost hear the sound of wind howling through the gaping hole in her chest.

Zhuo Zhiwei didn’t know how to handle this, so she resorted to the only way she knew how to face the world: restraint.

She had barely allowed herself to act impulsively, taking half a step forward before retreating once more.

Clearly, venting without rhyme or reason didn’t suit her.

Suppressing the discomfort in her heart, Zhuo Zhiwei pretended nothing was wrong as she comforted He Qingqi.

“You’re already divorced, aren’t you? You still get to live those ten years, so technically, you’ve come out ahead.”

She even managed to joke: “You’ve regained your youth—how many people dream of that?”

She raised her hand as if to touch He Qingqi’s face but, after a moment of hesitation, fatigue washed over her, and she let her hand fall back down.

“Divorce is good.”

Zhuo Zhiwei nodded twice, a forced smile on her face as she shifted her gaze away and let go of He Qingqi’s hand, retreating to sit on her bed.

Her eyes suddenly reddened, a faint mist forming as she blinked it away, disappearing so quickly that it seemed like He Qingqi had imagined it.

“Divorced… so it’s nothing.” She repeated the words again, as if saying them enough times would make her believe them.

Her throat ached, a bitter taste rolling over her tongue.

“Weiwei…” He Qingqi murmured.

Suddenly, He Qingqi regretted her decision. Should she have told Zhuo Zhiwei all of this?

But how much longer could she have kept it hidden? Zhuo Zhiwei was the person she had chosen—could she keep her in the dark for the rest of their lives?

It was better to cut the knot quickly. That had been her reasoning.

But the knife she had wielded had tangled Zhuo Zhiwei’s emotions into a mess she couldn’t untangle. The blade was stained with blood, and a gaping hole had been torn in Zhuo Zhiwei’s heart.

He Qingqi hadn’t noticed how hard she was biting her lip until the pain hit. She released it, guilt and self-blame clouding her expression, her fingers curling slightly as the searing touch lingered in her heart.

Her heart trembled.

“Weiwei, I—” She raised her voice slightly, stepping forward.

“Don’t say anything!” Zhuo Zhiwei suddenly snapped, taking several deep breaths as she covered her face with her hands, turning her back to He Qingqi.

She soon calmed herself. “I just need time to process it.”

“This whole rebirth thing… it’s really hard to believe.”

But the emotions she was suppressing, like molten lava, threatened to erupt at any moment.

“Just… let me be for now.”

She sighed, utterly defeated.

“I’m sorry.”

It was as if all the stars in the room had lowered their heads at once, dimming the light in the room.

He Qingqi’s movements frozen, her eyes flickering.

Her lips trembled as she clenched her fingers before finally saying:

“I should be the one apologizing.”

“It’s my fault… for not thinking it through, for not asking your opinion, and for confessing without considering the consequences.”

“We’re already together, and yet I made you ask me before I told you the truth.”

“That was my mistake.”

“I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Her voice grew softer and softer, until it was nearly inaudible.

Zhuo Zhiwei said nothing, her face still buried in her hands.

The air grew still.

“It’s getting late. Let’s sleep.”

“Goodnight.” He Qingqi turned off the light, then cautiously climbed into bed, careful not to cross any boundaries.

Their beds were pushed together, and just half an hour ago, the two of them had been filled with uncontainable joy, anticipating a beautiful night.

He Qingqi had kissed Zhuo Zhiwei—a mint-flavored kiss.

Or was it more like mint candy?

Cool, with a hint of sweetness.

But she had ruined it all with a sudden confession that had thrown Zhuo Zhiwei’s heart into turmoil, causing her unbearable pain.

Their relationship had hit rock bottom.

He Qingqi pulled the blanket over herself, even her breathing slowing down, as if afraid of disturbing the person beside her.

That person wasn’t asleep either. He Qingqi could tell because she saw her hand still resting on her face, turned away from her.

Was she crying?

He Qingqi’s heart grew heavy.

…

Lin Dao and Liu Ge had a great relationship. After the strange coldness between He Qingqi and Zhuo Zhiwei, the two seemed to fill the inn with playful laughter and teasing, bringing a cheerful energy.

He Qingqi and Zhuo Zhiwei weren’t exactly giving each other the cold shoulder—they still spoke, smiled at each other, and remained close in front of the cameras. But even Chai Xu could sense the awkward tension between them.

It seemed they were avoiding eye contact, as if afraid of revealing their truest feelings.

One day, after lunch, Chai Xu pulled He Qingqi aside into a camera blind spot.

“What’s up?” He blinked his wide eyes, a bit of gossip in his tone. “Did you tell her?”

He Qingqi pursed her lips and nodded slightly, letting out a long sigh, her mood heavy.

“How… how did it go?” Chai Xu stammered.

“She couldn’t accept it? That doesn’t sound like her.”

He Qingqi remained silent for a few seconds before shaking her head. “Not exactly. She just… needs time.”

She sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead. “I feel really guilty about it.”

Chai Xu nudged her with his elbow, wearing an expression that said, Come on, don’t be so dramatic. “It’s not that serious, Qingqi. You two just got your marriage certificate, that’s all.”

“You liked her when she didn’t like you, and when she liked you, you didn’t like her. You two haven’t even properly dated.”

“And Zhuo Zhiwei can’t handle that?”

The disbelief in his voice carried a hint of contempt.

He Qingqi felt uncomfortable, frowning as she looked at Chai Xu.

She took a deep breath, her tone serious. “Xu Xu, I know you’re on my side, and you’re my childhood friend, but you don’t understand our situation. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“This is entirely my fault. The fact that she hasn’t broken up with me already shows how kind she is.”

“Just… stay out of it, okay?”

Chai Xu blinked in surprise, swallowing nervously at her intensity, feeling a little sheepish.

“Okay, I won’t say anything.”

He offered a placating smile, nudging her shoulder again, like they had done as kids.

He Qingqi suddenly felt moved and broke into a smile.

Chai Xu relaxed.

…

It was probably the third night of

what might be called a cold war—or more accurately, Zhuo Zhiwei’s time of reflection—and it was the last day before the end of Qi Ran’s Inn.

The next day, to avoid the cameras, they separated their beds again, and they both silently agreed never to push them together again.

That night, they lay in their respective beds, listening for any sounds from the other.

And on this night, as He Qingqi lay in bed, Zhuo Zhiwei came out of the bathroom, her purple-red hair damp, hanging loosely over her shoulders, a towel draped across them.

He Qingqi, lying there idly scrolling through her phone, was instantly captivated the moment Zhuo Zhiwei appeared. Her thoughts drifted, the phone in her hand forgotten.

Zhuo Zhiwei walked between the two beds, not too troubled as she moved the nightstand aside.

He Qingqi froze, her pupils dilating slightly in shock.

Her heart skipped a beat, and then it raced, pounding loudly in the small room.

She shot up in bed.

“Weiwei!”

Zhuo Zhiwei glanced at her with her usual cool indifference, her voice calm.

“Aren’t you going to help?”

She gestured toward the bed.

He Qingqi bit her lip, feeling as if she were floating. It was like being hit by a giant gift from the heavens, leaving her dizzy with delight.

She took a deep breath, flashing Zhuo Zhiwei the first genuine, beaming smile she had in days, her eyes curving like crescent moons.

“Sure!”

With that, she slipped on her slippers, suddenly filled with energy, as if she could run ten laps around the inn just to release her excitement.

The moment the two beds came together, He Qingqi felt a sense of wholeness, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Her happiness was so overwhelming that even the normally aloof Zhuo Zhiwei couldn’t help but smile briefly before suppressing it, her throat moving slightly as she lifted her chin.

Prideful yet elegant.

Her oversized sleepwear concealed her graceful figure, her chest just the right size—He Qingqi’s favorite. Her slender, exposed arms evoked both tenderness and a certain possessiveness, and her long, bare legs were especially captivating.

Before now, He Qingqi hadn’t paid much attention, but with the girl standing right in front of her, all the anxiety she had felt dissolved, replaced by a deep stirring.

Her gaze darkened slightly, her throat tightening as memories of that mint-flavored kiss resurfaced, along with the sensation of her fingers slipping under Zhuo Zhiwei’s clothes.

She clenched her fingers.

But now, she didn’t dare act as boldly as before, not when Zhuo Zhiwei had just started to soften.

She merely approached her side.

The other girl looked up, her gaze slightly hazy, her head tilted ever so slightly, her delicate collarbone moving gently.

For a brief moment, He Qingqi wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

But she held back, shifting her gaze away.

Zhuo Zhiwei slowly closed her eyes.

He Qingqi gently removed the towel from her shoulders.

Her voice was soft and tender.

“Let me dry your hair.”

Zhuo Zhiwei’s eyes flew open.

“…”