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Chapter 8
Qi Chen scooted over to sit next to Xu Rui, who was replying to work emails. She impatiently shoved his face away with a palm.
“Get lost! Don’t ruin my appetite.”
Qi Chen didn’t argue with her. He had just suddenly remembered something.
“Was that your former boss Mu Jinpei just now?”
Xu Rui gave him a sideways glance.
“So what if it was?”
Qi Chen grinned, his expression full of schadenfreude.
“Just curious—how does President Xu feel seeing the man she once had an unrequited crush on now with someone he likes?”
Xu Rui smacked him on the head again.
“Go sit over there!” She couldn’t be bothered to bicker.
Rubbing his head, Qi Chen seized the moment to spill more gossip.
“Oh, right forgot to tell you. A few days ago, at the hospital, I ran into your ex-boss and his woman. He was still in the car, and I didn’t know who he was. But as soon as I saw that girl—so damn pretty—I went up and asked for her contact info.
Xu Rui showed no reaction, continuing to type her email.
Thinking he had struck a nerve, Qi Chen went on adding fuel to the fire.
“It was love at first sight. I can’t even tell you how badly I wanted to marry her. Even if she already had a man, I don’t mind—as long as she’s willing to be with me.”
Xu Rui clicked “send” and exited her inbox. Then, finally lifting her head, she said,
“You think Ji Xingyao would give someone like you the time of day? Do yourself a favor and look in a mirror before fantasizing.”
Qi Chen: “……”
Xu Rui picked up her tea to moisten her throat.
“I must’ve been blind to settle for you. Don’t forget who you are.”
Qi Chen:
“…Then let me book you the best ophthalmologist money can buy. Get your eyes fixed and kick me to the curb already.”
He even clasped his hands together in a mock prayer of gratitude.
Xu Rui smiled sweetly.
“Thanks, but no need. Being blind to trash has its perks.”
Qi Chen was helpless—
Even that didn’t provoke her enough to dump him.
He slumped back to his seat, rested his head on one hand, and began tapping the table with the other.
He truly couldn’t figure it out.
“Ruirui, I mean—I’m so scummy, such a jerk, complete garbage. What the hell do you see in me?”
Xu Rui replied languidly,
“Well… your face is tolerable. You’re good in bed. You flirt but don’t cheat. And most importantly—you’re dumb and shameless, easy for me to wrap around my little finger.”
Qi Chen: “…………”
He was practically bleeding from all seven orifices from sheer rage.
Meanwhile, in the other restaurant—
Ji Xingyao tried her best to scoot further inside the booth to avoid physical contact with Mu Jinpei. But the sofa wasn’t wide enough, just right for one person, a little cramped for two.
She was surrounded by his scent, something hard to define, but pleasant. Probably what people mean by “masculine.”
As she reached out with her chopsticks, she accidentally brushed against Mu Jinpei.
“Sorry.”
Mu Jinpei placed some food on her plate, his tone calm and natural.
“Want anything else?”
Ji Xingyao thanked him and politely declined.
“Should I switch to the outside seat? Otherwise I’ll keep bumping into you.”
“No need.” Mu Jinpei replied,
“If I sit inside, I’ll just end up bumping into you instead.”
Ji Xingyao wanted to say—if that’s the case, wouldn’t it be better to just sit across from each other?
Sitting this close, they were practically like a couple.
He kept picking food for her throughout the meal, taking care of her the whole time.
No matter what, before the contract is signed, she refuses all sugar-coated bullets. Of course, with his kind of net worth, he wouldn’t resort to using his looks just to save a bit of money.
Anyway, she couldn’t read him anymore.
Ji Xingyao was nearly done eating and set down her chopsticks to start on the fruit. Mu Jinpei had his left hand resting on the edge of the table near her. From her angle, she could see his wrist.
Mu Jinpei noticed her staring at his watch in a trance. Not understanding the reason, he assumed she had gotten another wave of artistic inspiration. He took off his watch and reached for her left arm.
“Hey, you…” What are you doing?
Before Ji Xingyao could finish the question, Mu Jinpei had already fastened the watch onto her forearm.
She was wearing a half-sleeved dress today. Her smooth arm rested in his palm, skin against skin—his touch felt warm, but also somehow cool.
It gave her a tingling, numbing sensation—she couldn’t quite tell anymore.
Ji Xingyao held her breath until Mu Jinpei finished putting the watch on her and withdrew his hand. Only then did she begin breathing normally again.
Mu Jinpei said casually, “Use it for your drawing. I have plenty of watches, no rush to return it.” With that, he resumed eating, as if nothing had happened.
Ji Xingyao also pretended nothing was out of the ordinary. She popped a pineapple-strawberry into her mouth, though her gaze kept drifting toward her own forearm.
After the meal, Ji Xingyao put on her trench coat. Even through the sleeve, she subconsciously touched the watch now and then, afraid it might grow legs and run away.
The elevator was crowded. Mu Jinpei shielded her in the innermost corner, giving Ji Xingyao the chance to admire his back freely. Her heels weren’t high today; she barely reached his shoulder.
—
On Monday, Ji Xingyao was the only one with free time.
She finally fulfilled her promise to visit the dance troupe’s rehearsal and to spend some time with her mother.
Ji Xingyao studied painting since elementary school. Yin He was busy with her own work, so the mother and daughter rarely had time together—most of their communication happened through video calls or phone chats.
After many promises, her mother finally got to see her daughter in person. Yin He personally came downstairs to greet her and joked, “Our dance troupe is graced with your glorious presence today.”
Ji Xingyao hooked her arm around her mother’s, swaying and acting spoiled. “Mom, please don’t tease me.”
Yin He looked her daughter up and down, sensing something different. In her eyes, her daughter had never been anything less than beautiful, but today she was particularly radiant. There was a glow about her, inside and out, as if she were bathed in joy—the kind that starts in the heart and shines all the way to the eyebrows. It was a joy to behold.
Perhaps it was because her artwork had fetched such a high price—her daughter must be feeling proud.
Ji Xingyao looked at her mother curiously. “What’s wrong?”
Yin He replied, “You look so beautiful, I can’t get enough of it.”
Ji Xingyao grinned playfully. “Well, you and Dad deserve all the credit for making me this good-looking.”
The mother and daughter chatted as they went upstairs.
Ji Xingyao hadn’t been to the troupe since she was a child. The place had been completely renovated in recent years, looking entirely new and unrecognizable. She looked around, occasionally stopping to stare at the large promotional posters on the wall.
Among the crowd, she could always spot her mother briefly.
“Mom, is the person standing next to you the Zhou Yuxi you always mention?”
“You recognize her?”
Yin He’s gaze also fell on the poster.
Ji Xingyao shook her head — aside from painting, she didn’t pay attention to much else.
“She’s got a transcendent aura, truly unique. Clearly one of your proudest students,” she said, casually complimenting her mother in the process.
Zhou Yuxi was the principal dancer of the troupe and Yin He’s only disciple.
Yin He started talking about Zhou Yuxi:
“Her boyfriend is an OB-GYN. Quite well-known. If I’d known you were going to the hospital for endocrine issues, I would’ve told you to see him instead.”
Ji Xingyao pulled her gaze away from the poster.
“It’s just a minor problem—any doctor can handle it. The one I saw was pretty good too.”
As they spoke, they arrived at the entrance to the rehearsal room, where practice was in full swing.
Ji Xingyao didn’t go in, choosing to stand just off to the side of the door. She spotted Zhou Yuxi — even more stunning in person than in the poster. Like a fairy who had accidentally fallen into the mortal world: elegant and enchanting.
Yin He signaled to the dance director to start the first scene over again. The dancers were fully focused on their movements and the music, not noticing Ji Xingyao standing beside Yin He.
Yin He leaned in and said, “After you watch, tell me what you think.”
The music started. The character Zhou Yuxi portrayed moved gracefully to the center of the stage in time with the rhythm. Her blue dress shimmered like the sea, its hem dotted with sequins sparkling like starlight.
Zhou Yuxi’s slender, graceful arms rippled like flowing water. The music shifted between powerful and gentle tones, and her movements balanced fluidity and strength with ease.
Ji Xingyao was captivated.
The scene ended.
Yin He whispered, “How was Zhou Yuxi’s performance?”
Ji Xingyao wasn’t a professional, so she couldn’t give a technical evaluation. She just spoke from the heart:
“She captured the soul of the performance.”
For painters like them, the hardest part is giving a painting a soul.
It’s the same for a dancer.
Yin He was very pleased. She draped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders as they walked toward her office.
“Come to my office later. I’ll show you the script for this dance drama.”
Ji Xingyao misunderstood.
“Mom, I’ll pass on the script. I wouldn’t understand it anyway.” Mostly, she didn’t have the time—and wasn’t that interested. “I’m just here to join the fun.”
Yin He explained,
“Actually, I wanted to ask you for a favor. You picked up on the essence just now, didn’t you? The troupe’s going on tour after the New Year, but the promotional poster still isn’t finalized. I didn’t like the ones the designers made—no soul.”
She rubbed her daughter’s cheek and teased,
“You didn’t watch the performance for nothing.” Then she chuckled.
“Good things don’t come for free, you know.”
Ji Xingyao: “…”
She knew something was off. It all made sense now—her mother, normally too busy to even ask how she was doing, had suddenly been so warm and enthusiastic about inviting her to rehearsals, repeatedly checking her schedule. Turned out there was an ulterior motive.
But it was rare for her mother to ask her for something, so Ji Xingyao agreed without hesitation.
Yin He said,
“Then starting tomorrow, come to the troupe with me. Watch more of their rehearsals—get a feel for how they dance.”
Ji Xingyao replied instantly,
“No need. I’ve already got inspiration. I’ll go straight to my studio.”
Yin He: “…”
She had originally planned to use this to coax her daughter out of the house, let her socialize a bit and make some new friends. But it seemed that the plan had fallen through.
As the troupe director, Yin He was constantly busy. Just as things quieted down, her secretary came over to remind her she had a meeting in fifteen minutes.
Now that she had her assignment, Ji Xingyao didn’t linger. She headed off to find her father and get the watch.
Last night, she studied Mu Jinpei’s watch until midnight, examining every tiny detail. The watch sat on her bedside table like a stabilizing anchor, and she slept soundly, without dreams.
Ji Changsheng was also busy. He had just seen off a business delegation and hadn’t even had a sip of tea back in his office when his secretary, Feng Liang, came into the report.
Mu Jinpei had recently contacted one of Ji Group’s competitors. The details of their discussions were still unclear, but it seemed there was an intention to collaborate.
Feng Liang asked, “Chairman Ji, what should our next step be?”
Ji Changsheng took a few sips of tea but remained silent. Mu Jinpei’s identity was confirmed without a doubt, and logically, he shouldn’t be so wary of him—but something in his gut had been on edge these past few days.
The office was so quiet, it felt like you could hear the leaves falling outside.
Feng Liang didn’t dare speak further, quietly waiting for a response.
The ripple in Ji Changsheng’s eyes gradually calmed until it became unreadable—deep and sharp as ever. He slowly said two words: “No rush.”
Feng Liang understood and continued with his report.
When a cunning fox meets old ginger,
the outcome is unpredictable.
Once the report was done, Ji Changsheng instructed Feng Liang, “Don’t schedule any engagements for tomorrow night. I’ll drop by Old Qi’s place.”
“Got it.” Feng Liang left and closed the door behind him.
Ji Changsheng leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed in thought. He didn’t know why, but every time Mu Jinpei was mentioned, the past—dark and seemingly endless—rushed back like a flood he couldn’t contain.
Luckily, Ji Xingyao arrived. Ji Changsheng snapped out of those stormy memories.
She had called him at 6:30 a.m., repeatedly reminding him to bring the watch to the office because she’d be coming in the afternoon to get it. Yet here she was at just 11:30, already in a rush.
“I thought you were going to your mom’s?” he asked.
“I was. She’s busy.” Ji Xingyao opened the box and put the watch on her wrist.
Ji Changsheng couldn’t understand it—she’d worn that watch for years, and now just a few days without it made her act like she’d found treasure. He called Feng Liang and asked the restaurant to prepare her favorite dishes.
But Ji Xingyao quickly waved him off. “I’m not eating here—super busy.”
Ji Changsheng nudged his phone aside. “No matter how busy you are, you still have to eat lunch.”
“I’m going shopping. I’ll eat while I’m out. No need to worry about me. Don’t let me hold you up—bye-bye.” Ji Xingyao waved dismissively a few times, clearly in a hurry.
Ji Changsheng shook his head helplessly. This couldn’t go on. She even refused to eat at the company cafeteria now, just to avoid running into familiar uncles and elders she’d have to greet.
But Ji Xingyao wasn’t lying—she really was going shopping.
To buy high heels.
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