I Handled the Divorce for the Gods at the Civil Affairs Bureau - Chapter 10
Chapter 10
At dawn, the lobby of the Civil Affairs Bureau looked as if it had been swept by a typhoon and a wedding simultaneously.
The floor was littered with number slips, red thread ends, damp forms, rice crust crumbs, and fluorescent drink cans. Shared bikes were lined up like they were sleeping by the entrance, their bells occasionally ringing out like a mumble in a dream.
The Kitchen God did not divorce the Human World.
Instead, he signed a kitchen relationship reconstruction agreement.
The main contents included: no longer requiring every household to cook, but retaining the right to remind people to “eat well”; allowing air fryers to enjoy legal status as kitchenware; and low-fat chicken breast not being allowed to impersonate fried chicken unless it was willing.
Yue Lao officially resigned from his position as a matchmaker at the Red Thread Group and established the Homeward Service Station.
His first order of business was helping a delivery rider who had forgotten his way home find the lamp his mother had left on for him.
The Dragon King and Plum Rain Season began using empty cups to communicate.
It was said that on the first day, the Dragon King only rained for three minutes, but he was so excited that he posted ninety-nine updates to his social feed. Plum Rain Season gave him a single like.
Xiao Yin was back online.
The first thing it did was change the system login interface to: Welcome to the Relationship Registration and Voluntary Consultation Assistance System.
The second thing it did was schedule maintenance for itself every Wednesday afternoon.
Looking at the appointment schedule, Director Luo felt a heartache as if she had lost half her life, but she approved it anyway.
“The System needs to rest too,” she said. “Otherwise, it’ll quit again.”
Before leaving, Bai Heng left a warning, saying that the Heavenly Regulations Legal Department would not let the matter rest.
I asked him, “Does your legal department offer meal subsidies for overtime?”
He left with a cold face.
Judging by his expression, they probably didn’t.
As for me, after the old Public Spouse agreement was abolished, my memories didn’t all come back.
They were like paper that had been soaked in water; some words floated to the surface, while others remained blurred.
I remembered fragments from three years ago.
In the server room at three in the morning, Shen Tinglan handed me a cup of coffee. I complained it was bitter, and he said that according to regulations, coffee was supposed to be bitter.
At the entrance of the Civil Affairs Bureau on a rainy day, I stepped into a puddle. With an expressionless face, he tilted the umbrella toward me, letting half of his own shoulder get soaked.
And then there was that bouquet of daisies.
I remember asking him at the time, “Why not roses?”
He said, “Roses feel too much like a standard answer.”
I laughed so hard I nearly let the marriage registration appointment slip blow away.
But more things hadn’t returned yet.
For instance, why I liked him.
For instance, whether we had ever had a truly terrible fight.
For instance, just how sad I felt in my heart when I promised to do it “later.”
Shen Tinglan didn’t force me to think about it.
He put the ring back into its box and said to me, “No rush.”
I asked, “You’ve waited three years, and you’re still not in a rush?”
He said, “I am. But the regulations state that one cannot pressure amnesiac personnel to recover their feelings.”
Looking at his deadpan face, I suddenly felt like teasing him.
“Which regulation?”
He was silent for two seconds.
“The one I just drafted.”
I smiled.
This time, it wasn’t because of a memory.
It was because the person in front of me was actually quite funny.
At 8:30 AM, This Bureau resumed normal operations.
The first pair of newlyweds walked up to the window, holding hands nervously.
When I stamped their papers, the steel seal came down with a crisp thud.
As I handed over the marriage certificates, the girl suddenly asked, “Sister, is getting married very scary?”
I thought about it.
“Yes.”
She froze.
The boy froze too.
I added, “Divorce is also scary, falling in love is scary, and living alone is scary. When it comes to relationships, no state of being comes with a built-in ‘get out of jail free’ card.”
The girl grew even more nervous.
I pushed the certificates toward her and smiled.
“But you can negotiate, you can regret, you can grow, and you can make new choices as long as you don’t hurt others. Most importantly, don’t treat the other person like a system, and don’t expect happiness to be automated the moment the seal is pressed.”
The boy whispered, “What if we fight?”
I pointed to the newly posted notice beside us.
The notice read: This Bureau provides relationship negotiation consultations. Please do not treat your partner, deities, seasons, kitchenware, or public systems as emotional trash cans.
The girl’s tears turned into a smile.
After they left, Shen Tinglan stood outside the service window.
He wasn’t wearing his Audit Office uniform today, having changed into a light gray jacket. He held two portions of breakfast in his hands.
“Are you free after work?” he asked.
I glanced at the queue in the lobby.
“Do you think ‘getting off work’ is a mythical creature that still exists for me today?”
He placed the breakfast by the window.
“Then during your lunch break.”
I opened the bag to find two hot buns and a cup of soy milk.
It was very ordinary.
But as the steam rose, something deep in my mind stirred gently.
Like an old red thread finally poking its head out from a tangled mess.
I asked, “Did I used to love eating these?”
Shen Tinglan said, “You used to say that the buns from this shop next to the Civil Affairs Bureau are proof that the world is worth living in.”
I took a bite.
The filling was a bit hot, with a strong flavor of shiitake mushrooms.
“Then I had good taste back then,” I said indistinctly.
A hint of a smile surfaced in Shen Tinglan’s eyes.
The voice of the Human World rang out at that moment, sounding lazy, as if she had finally had a good night’s sleep.
She said, “Jiang Mian, thank you.”
I replied in my heart, “Don’t thank me. Just remember to cover my shift later.”
The Human World played dead.
I knew it.
This damn Human World-she couldn’t even stay moved for three seconds before she started dodging her debts.
At noon, Xiao Yin popped up a new prompt for me.
[Do you wish to restore Jiang Mian’s personal relationship files?]
There were two options.
[Restore immediately.]
[Take it slow.]
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Shen Tinglan didn’t look at the screen. He kept his head down, organizing documents as if he didn’t care about my choice at all. However, he organized the same form three times, until even Yue Lao couldn’t stand it anymore. Yue Lao whispered from the side, “Brother, that piece of paper is about to be polished to a mirror finish by your hands.”
I smiled and clicked the second option.
Take it slow.
The System prompt appeared: [Confirmed. Relationship restoration will follow the individual’s will; it will be phased, autonomous, and can be paused.]
Shen Tinglan’s hands finally stopped.
I said to him, “Auditor Shen.”
He looked up.
“Though I haven’t fully remembered you yet,” I said, “we can have lunch together during the break.”
His eyes lit up for a moment, then he tried his best to pull that brightness back.
“According to the regulations, the lunch break is one hour long.”
“The city almost got a divorce today. The regulations can be a bit more relaxed.”
“How relaxed?”
I thought about it.
“Until later.”
He froze.
I didn’t know what kind of weight those two words held for him.
I only saw him lower his head and let out a very soft laugh.
Sunlight from outside the window streamed into the Civil Affairs Bureau, falling on the people in the queue, on the new announcements on the wall, and on the System mainframe that could finally rest on a Wednesday afternoon.
The lobby was as noisy as ever.
Some were getting married, some were getting divorced, some were remarrying, some were regretting, some were rejoicing, and some had forgotten their ID cards on the photocopier.
The Kitchen God sat in a corner eating buns; Yue Lao tied a Homeward Thread for a lost child; the Dragon King held an empty cup, practicing saying less; and Xiao Yin secretly typed a smiley face in the corner of the screen.
I sat at Window One, the work badge on my chest replaced with a new one.
It no longer said “Public Spouse.”
It simply read: Jiang Mian.
Relationship Registrar.
I suddenly felt that this was very good.
I didn’t need to love on behalf of everyone, nor did I need to say goodbye on behalf of everyone.
I only needed to take a serious look when they handed over their messy lives and ask one question:
“Have you thought this through?”
If they had, I would press the seal.
If they hadn’t, I would hand them a tissue.
If a god came to get a divorce again, I would make him take a number first.
After all, the First Supplementary Rule of the New System stated clearly:
All Beings of the Three Realms must wait in line before the window.
(The End)
