Chapter 2

As a rising star in the financial world and the only son of the M.K. Group chairman, Mu Jinpei naturally became the center of attention the moment he entered the banquet hall. People gathered around him like stars orbiting the moon.

With his tall stature, he stood out in any crowd—imposing and radiant.

Ji Changsheng didn’t join the swarm. He reclined on a lounge sofa in the rest area, his thumb gently tracing the rim of his wine glass.

The orange-red wine swirled lightly in the glass, catching the light from the grand chandelier overhead.
Light and shadow shimmered in a delicate interplay.

“You’re here? I’ve been looking for you.” Tang Hongkang sat down across from him, glancing around. “Where’s Xingyao?”

Ji Changsheng responded distractedly, “She was with Galai just now.”

Tang Hongkang winced at the mention of his daughter, Tang Galai—just hearing her name gave him a headache. Only minutes earlier, he’d run face-to-face, but neither had acknowledged the other.

He moved on to business:
“I just spoke with Old Qi. Heard that Mu Jinpei is actively looking for high-quality partners—people who can help him break into the domestic market. In return, he’ll help them expand overseas. A win-win.”

The Ji Group had long been eager to establish a new marketing system for its European division but faced intense internal and external competition.

“Maybe partnering with M.K. Group could make that happen.” Tang Hongkang asked, “What’s your opinion?”

Ji Changsheng gave a noncommittal answer, “That needs long-term consideration.”

Tang Hongkang nodded. “Of course. This is a major investment.”

He and Ji Changsheng had been partners for years. Most group decisions ultimately rested with Ji Changsheng.
If the chairman wasn’t showing interest in collaborating with Mu Jinpei, there was no point in the second-in-command pushing it.

Ji Changsheng swirled his wine again and took a small sip.
For some reason, he still felt uneasy. Until Mu Jinpei’s background was fully verified, he had no intention of establishing ties.

Even if Mu Jinpei was truly Pei Yu’s son, Ji Changsheng still didn’t want to get too close.
Every time he investigated Mu Jinpei’s eyes, memories from twenty-five years ago surfaced.

And with them, the face of someone long gone.

Ji Changsheng clinked glasses with Tang Hongkang. “I’m going to look for Xingyao.”

Tang Hongkang nodded. He hesitated about whether he should go find Galai too—but then recalled the eyeroll she gave him earlier and quickly dropped the idea.

…

Ji Xingyao was also looking for her father. The banquet hall was massive, and she didn’t see any familiar faces at first glance.

She hadn’t found her father yet—but she had spotted Mu Jinpei.

He was speaking with a beautiful woman.

The woman was animatedly describing something, her hands gesturing expressively as she talked.

Now and then, Mu Jinpei would nod slightly and respond with a few polite words.

It wasn’t just her—many of the socialites at the banquet tonight had their eyes fixed on Mu Jinpei. Ever since he entered the hall, it was as if their gazes had been glued to him.

Suddenly, Mu Jinpei turned his head sharply.

For the second time tonight, their eyes met without warning.

Before Ji Xingyao could even register Mu Jinpei’s expression, she quickly turned her gaze away to look for her father, walking off as she searched.

“Jinpei.” Pei Yu walked over.

Mu Jinpei gave a polite nod of apology to the woman he was speaking with and said, “Excuse me,” then stepped forward to greet his mother.

Pei Yu tilted her chin slightly in the direction the woman had left. “You like her?”

Mu Jinpei replied, “I was just waiting for you to come and rescue me.”

Pei Yu seized the opportunity to say, “Then hurry up and find someone you do like, get married, and put a ring on your finger. That’ll block all the unwanted attention.”

Mu Jinpei dreaded conversations about relationships, but like many mothers, Pei Yu never tired of worrying about his love life.

She suddenly remembered something. “Why don’t I check in on that girl who bought the women’s watch a few years ago? See if she has a boyfriend now? If she’s still single, maybe you could consider her. I heard she’s like a fairy. You know your Uncle Cory rarely compliments any girl’s looks. Most women don’t meet his aesthetic standards.”

As she spoke, Pei Yu lifted her son’s wrist. Mu Jinpei was wearing the very watch she had given him.

It was part of a matching couple’s set, gifted to her and her husband by their old friend Cory on their 30th wedding anniversary. Cory was the lead designer for a prestigious vintage watch brand and had designed the watches specifically to suit Pei Yu’s tastes.

The pair of watches carried Cory’s heartfelt blessing for love.

But it was clear that Pei Yu and her husband weren’t the kind of couple that such blessings suited.

She kept the women’s watch, waiting to give it to the woman her son truly loved, and gave the men’s watch to Mu Jinpei.

Three years ago, when Cory announced his retirement, the company held an exhibit featuring all of his work from his forty-year career. The couple’s watches were part of the limited edition showcased. Pei Yu brought the woman’s watch to support the exhibition.

Mu Jinpei had taken the men’s watch on a business trip, so she sent the women’s version ahead.

Later, Cory called her, saying that a young girl had fallen in love with the watch. It happened to be her eighteenth birthday, and she wanted to buy it for herself as a birthday gift.

Cory had told her, “That girl reminded me so much of a younger you—not in looks, but in spirit and presence.”
The watch didn’t match most people’s tastes. It was rare to find someone who appreciated its unique aesthetic the way Pei Yu did.

So she told Cory to give the watch to the girl—as a gift to someone destined for it.

Cory praised her for doing a good deed, since the watch had no real meaning just sitting with her.

After the girl accepted the gift, she donated ten million yuan to Cory’s charity foundation—far more than the value of the watch.

Pei Yu pulled herself from the memory and said to Mu Jinpei, “That girl is twenty-one this year. If she’s still single, maybe—”

Mu Jinpei had no interest in romance right now and interrupted her: “Did you buy any artwork you liked today?”

Pei Yu took the hint. Any more nagging and her son would find her annoying. She smoothly changed the subject. “I bought a painting from a fairy.”

Mu Jinpei was slightly surprised. “Since when did you start collecting portrait art?”

“Just this afternoon.”

As mother and son chatted, they walked toward the lounge area.

Sometimes, the more you want to avoid someone, the more likely fate forces a direct encounter.
You couldn’t just pretend not to see.

Mu Jinpei was no stranger to Ji Changsheng. Even aside from the old grudge between them, they had met several times before.

“Chairman Ji, it’s been a long time,” Mu Jinpei greeted first, extending a hand.

The two men shook hands briefly.

Ji Changsheng took on the easygoing demeanor of an elder. “Drop by my place sometime if you’re free. I don’t know how to make coffee, but my tea is passable.”

Mu Jinpei replied, “Then I’ll take you up on that.”
There was a faint smile at the corner of his lips—so subtle it was easy to miss unless you looked closely.

Just then, Ji Xingyao came around from the other side.

Pei Yu waved at her. “Xingyao, come here.”
She genuinely liked Ji Xingyao and wanted to introduce her to her son.

Ji Xingyao didn’t look at Mu Jinpei. His deep, unreadable eyes always made her feel unsettled.
“Ms. Pei,” she greeted politely.

Pei Yu turned to Mu Jinpei. “Remember the portrait I told you I bought this afternoon? The one I really liked? Xingyao painted it.”

Then she introduced them: “This is my son, Mu Jinpei.”

Mu Jinpei’s gaze landed on her face as he extended his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

His fingers were long and neatly trimmed.

Ji Xingyao responded, “Pleasure to meet you.”
His fingertips were cool, and so were hers.
When their fingers touched, a tiny shock of static passed between them.

Ji Xingyao thought to herself—it must be the dryness of autumn air.

She still didn’t meet his eyes. During their handshake, she only stole a brief glance at his face—just enough to get a rough outline.

Pei Yu smiled and said to Ji Changsheng, “With such a beautiful and talented daughter, even plain water must taste sweet.”

Ji Changsheng chuckled. “The feeling is mutual.”

The two exchanged pleasantries.

After a bit of small talk, Ji Changsheng led his daughter away.

Mu Jinpei had given the auction house enough face tonight, staying until ten o’clock before finally leaving.
He headed home with Pei Yu.

“Where’s your luggage?” she asked once they were in the car.

Mu Jinpei casually pointed toward the trunk.

Pei Yu suggested, “You should stay at the villa. I’m hardly ever in Beijing for more than a few months each year, and the villa has everything you need. No need to get another apartment.”
She added with a smile, “Don’t worry, I won’t nag you.”

Mu Jinpei replied dryly, “All moms say that.”

Pei Yu laughed. “This time, I mean it.”

The car fell into a brief silence.

But some things had to be said.

Pei Yu turned to her son. “I won’t interfere with whatever grudges or unresolved issues you’re still holding onto. But if it’s something that’s stayed with you all these years and still hasn’t been resolved, then take this opportunity to finally let it go. However—”

She paused deliberately.

“You must always consider the bigger picture. You can’t treat the group’s interests like a game, and don’t let your aunt’s side catch any leverage from something trivial. Your father has poured so much into M.K.—others may not know, but you should. It hasn’t been easy for him.”

Over the years, Mu Wenhuai and Pei Yu treated him like their own son.

Mu Jinpei replied, “Mom, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. I won’t let M.K. suffer in the slightest.”

When they arrived home, Pei Yu eagerly unwrapped the painting to admire it.

Mu Jinpei went upstairs to change clothes and came back down, only to see his mother still absorbed in the artwork.

“Even billion-dollar paintings don’t hold your attention like this,” Mu Jinpei said casually, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe without stepping into the study.

Pei Yu responded, “When it resonates with me, price doesn’t matter.”

She gestured toward the painting. “Come take a look. You’ll love it too.”

Mu Jinpei indeed had an artistic side, inherited from his great-grandmother. But after being raised by his adoptive father to go into business, he never pursued art seriously.

Mu Jinpei said, “A girl just over twenty—what kind of masterpiece could she possibly paint?”

Despite his words, he walked over anyway.

Pei Yu asked with a smile, “Well? Are you impressed?”

Mu Jinpei stared at the painting, but what surfaced in his mind were Ji Xingyao’s eyes—bright like stars, yet distant and proud.

The painting conveyed a theme of the future, uncertainty, and hope.

Pei Yu understood immediately, that’s why she loved it.

“I must have a connection with Xingyao,” Pei Yu said. “We even share the same sense of aesthetic.”

She called the housekeeper over to store the painting properly.

Mu Jinpei asked, “You’re saying one painting proves your aesthetics align?”

Pei Yu said, “It wasn’t just this one.” She recalled the afternoon auction. “There was another piece I liked. Someone bids against me, and the price went up to twenty-eight million.”

The housekeeper finished storing the painting and left the study.

Mu Jinpei asked, “And then?”

Pei Yu said, “I let them have it.” Then she added, “Turns out the one who bought it was Ji Xingyao.”

It was the first time she had ever let go of a piece she wanted—and it ended up in Ji Xingyao’s hands.

“Ji Changsheng really dotes on his daughter,” Pei Yu remarked casually. “No matter how expensive something is, if Xingyao likes it, he’ll get it for her.”

Mu Jinpei was lost in thought for a moment. Then he told his mother to rest early. “I’m heading upstairs. Got work to do.”

Pei Yu waved him off.

He wasn’t busy—just dealing with a pounding headache that came and went in waves.

He called a friend, but after dialing, he realized he was in Beijing, and there was no time difference. It was the middle of the night. He immediately hung up.

Soon after, his friend called back.

“Did I wake you?” Mu Jinpei asked.

Luo Song was driving. “No. Just picked my girlfriend up from rehearsal. On the way home.”

There weren’t many cars on the road at this time.

“Will you be at the hospital tomorrow?” Mu Jinpei asked. “I want to swing by your office.”

“You have time?”

“Yeah. Not busy.”

The call ended.

Mu Jinpei walked out onto the balcony, wanting to take in the night view of Beijing—then remembered this was a villa. Three stories high, all he could see was the backyard… and the cars parked in it.

The autumn wind was crisp and cold, leaves rustling loudly in the trees.

Past midnight.

Ji Xingyao was jolted awake by pain.

She opened her eyes. The room was pitch black.

She was certain—it wasn’t a dream. The pain was piercing, deep to the bone. She turned on the light and rushed to the bathroom.

Her period had come.

She let out a breath of relief.

The last time her period came was three months ago. Last month, she’d felt something was off and worried about her health, went to see a doctor. The doctor prescribed medication to help regulate things and specifically reminded her not to stay up late and not to put too much pressure on herself.

While working on Star Yao 3, she had completely disregarded day and night—sleeping when tired and painting as soon as she woke up.
Invisible pressure filled the entire studio.

Last week, Star Yao 3 was finally completed.
Today, Star Yao 2 sold for an impressive price at auction and even received recognition from the senior artist, Pei Yu.
These past few days were the most relaxed she’d felt in a long time.

Ji Xingyao came out of the bathroom and went to the kitchen to boil some water. Her mother had told her that drinking ginger water could ease menstrual cramps.

The kitchen was spotless—and completely empty. This apartment was just a place where she used to rest occasionally. Since returning to the country, she’d basically been living in her studio, even sleeping on the sofa there.

The pain was unbearable.

She clutched her lower abdomen hard, but it didn’t help at all.
She’d heard childbirth felt this pain, maybe even worse.

After enduring an hour of sharp pain, sweat beading on her forehead, Ji Xingyao couldn’t take it anymore. She messaged her father:

[Ji Xingyao]: Dad, are you still busy?

Her father never went to bed before midnight.

[Ji Changsheng]: Yeah, I’m in a meeting. Go to bed early.
[Ji Xingyao]: What about Mom? Is she asleep?
[Ji Changsheng]: Not home yet, on her way.
[Ji Xingyao]: Then I’ll go home for a bit.

She changed clothes and knocked on the door of the apartment across the hall.

Uncle Zhang lived there.

Uncle Zhang was her driver and bodyguard. For as long as she could remember, he had always driven her around. She started learning to paint at three years old, and through wind and rain, it was always Uncle Zhang who picked her up and dropped her off.

Back then, he was still young.

Now, she had grown up, and he had aged.

Uncle Zhang was tall and handsome, but still unmarried.

She once asked her mother why he never married.
Her mother told her never to ask him that to his face—it was a painful subject.
Her mother never gave her details, so she didn’t press further.

“Uncle Zhang, it’s me.” Ji Xingyao knocked again.

The door opened.

Uncle Zhang immediately asked, “Yaoyao, what’s wrong?”

Ji Xingyao replied, “I’m not feeling well. Could you drive me home? I want to find Mom.”

He knew she’d seen a doctor—though the department she visited wasn’t one suitable for him to accompany her in. Each time, he waited in the car. He didn’t ask further now, it was a girl’s private matter.

“Hold on.” Uncle Zhang turned back inside to grab the car keys.

The pain returned like needles stabbing. After another half hour of torture, just as she was about to faint from the pain, they finally arrived home.

“You silly child. Did you paint yourself stupid? You’re in this much pain and didn’t go to the hospital for an injection?” Yin, He scolded while pressing a warm compress against Ji Xingyao’s abdomen.

Ji Changsheng went to the kitchen to boil ginger tea.

Ji Xingyao let out a breath. “I’m fine, I can still hang in there.” She didn’t want a painkiller injection. “I need to keep my brain sharp for creating.”

Yin, He felt sorry for her. “Just one shot once in a while won’t hurt.”

“That’s a no-go.”

Ji Xingyao leaned against her mother’s shoulder. “If I just push through the pain, it’ll pass.” She tilted her head slightly. “Mom, did Dad tell you the good news?”

Yin, He smiled, “More than told me—he bombarded me with non-stop calls.” She felt genuinely proud. “Good thing we didn’t force you into ballet back then. Otherwise, a great painter would’ve been ruined by me.”

Ji Xingyao had natural talent and physical conditions suited for ballet, but she just wasn’t interested.

Yin, He worried, “If you keep this up, your health will collapse sooner or later. Take some time to rest and reset. Go travel, relax your mind.”

Ji Xingyao spoke righteously, “I’m not stressed, I don’t need to unwind. The joy I get from locking myself up in the studio is something no one can understand.” Despite her words, she still comforted her mom: “I’ll go have tea and do some shopping with Sister Jiale this weekend.”

Yin, He didn’t really believe she’d willingly waste time on shopping and tea. “How about this—come with me to the ballet company to watch a rehearsal. It might even give you creative inspiration.”

Ji Xingyao thought about it, then nodded.

Yin He eagerly asked, “How about tomorrow?”

Ji Xingyao replied, “I’ll go find you at the ballet company in the afternoon. I’m going to the hospital in the morning to ask if I still need to continue treatment.”

After drinking a big bowl of ginger brown sugar tea, she finally fell asleep around 3 a.m.

…

The Next Day

Ji Xingyao slept in and woke naturally. Her parents had already gone to work.

After a quick breakfast, she headed to the hospital.

“OB-GYN, appointment with Dr. Luo.”

“Sorry, Dr. Luo doesn’t have consultations today.”

Ji Xingyao rubbed her temples. She must’ve been too foggy from the pain and forgot to check his schedule beforehand. She didn’t book an appointment and instead went straight upstairs to find Dr. Luo.

Hopefully she was lucky, and Dr. Luo wasn’t in surgery today.

She had good timing—Dr. Luo had just come out of the operating room. As he walked into his office, she arrived right behind him.

Knock knock. She tapped twice gently.

“Come in.”

Ji Xingyao pushed the door open. “Dr. Luo, sorry to bother you again.”
As soon as she spoke, her expression froze slightly.

Why is Mu Jinpei here?