Chapter 33:

During the meal, the conversation revolved around Ji Xingyao. It wasn’t awkward, and there were no dull moments.

Ji Xingyao couldn’t give Mu Jinpei much of her personal time. After lunch, she stayed at home for a bit before needing to rush back to her studio.

Mu Jinpei drove her there. Along the way, Ji Xingyao clung to him, stealing kisses now and then. Only during these moments did Mu Jinpei truly feel like she belonged to him. But once they arrived at the studio, all her attention went to the canvas.

He didn’t leave right away. “I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

Ji Xingyao had changed into comfortable loungewear. “If you’re not busy, you can stay for a bit, but I won’t have time to talk to you—I don’t want you getting bored.”

Mu Jinpei did want to stay with her a little longer, but in the end, he gave up on the idea. His presence would still distract her somewhat.

When the coffee was ready, he poured a cup and placed it by her side, then filled up a thermos as well.

“Yaoyao.”

Ji Xingyao looked up—he had already put on his coat.

She got up and walked over. Mu Jinpei lifted her into his arms. “I’ll come pick you up in a few days. Don’t forget to take your herbal medicine. When you finish it, call me—I’ll go to Luo Song for a refill.”

She kissed him in return. “If you miss me, just come to the studio.”

Mu Jinpei set her down, gently brushed her cheek with his thumb, and said, “Go on, get to work.” Then he closed the door and left.

Downstairs, Zhang Bo was strolling around the square. The weather was nice today, and after sitting in the car for a long time, he’d gotten out to stretch his legs.

Mu Jinpei could tell Zhang Bo was purposely waiting for him.

He walked over. “Zhang Bo.”

Zhang Bo nodded. “Xingyao’s back to work already?”

“Yeah.” Mu Jinpei stood beside him, hands in his pockets, waiting silently—he knew Zhang Bo had something to say.

Zhang Bo unscrewed his thermos lid. The tea leaves had been in there since morning and had long lost their flavor. But some things couldn’t be avoided. He finally spoke with difficulty, “I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you.”

He took a sip of the now bland tea. It tasted no different from plain water, yet his throat still felt dry. “Jinpei, I’m really sorry.”

His voice suddenly sounded older—full of guilt and sorrow.

Mu Jinpei gazed out at the bustling street, the noise endless. Yet between him and Zhang Bo, it was quiet enough to hear each other breathe.

“It’s alright. You just followed your conscience.”

“Thank you for being honest.”

Mu Jinpei turned and walked away.

Back in New York at the villa, when he had gone to Ji Xingyao’s room to keep her company, Zhang Bo had been standing at the window with a cup of coffee. Maybe back then, Zhang Bo had already changed.

Was he disappointed?

He wasn’t sure.

Zhang Bo watched Mu Jinpei’s sports car fade into the distance, disappearing into the traffic.

Mu Jinpei drove onto the ring road. He didn’t know why—didn’t know where he was headed. At one point, he thought about visiting the old Gu family house, but when he came to his senses, he abandoned the idea.

After driving aimlessly for a while, he returned to the office.

Chu Zheng was still working overtime. He had just received word that this Friday night, Xie Junyi would be hosting a birthday party. It wasn’t by his own wish—it was arranged by the Xie family, who also invited many business associates. Ji Changsheng was on the guest list, as was Chairman Qi from Ruichen.

“President Mu, will you be attending?”

To outsiders, the Mu family appeared harmonious. Since Mu Jinpei was already in Beijing, not showing up might seem inappropriate.

Mu Jinpei replied, “No time.”

Chu Zheng said no more.

On the night of the birthday party, Xie Yuncheng didn’t attend either. He dropped off a painting at home two hours early. If not for the fear of being ridiculed by the Xie family, he wouldn’t have shown up at all.

“Found you a painting.” He didn’t even bother with birthday wishes.

Xie Junyi was surprised his son had come—and even brought a gift. But when he unwrapped the painting, his calm expression slowly vanished.

Yesterday’s Rose.

It was a subtle jab.

“You’re still resenting me?”

Xie Yuncheng: “Wouldn’t dare. After all, you gave me life—I’m eternally grateful.”

Xie Junyi could tell he was being sarcastic.

Xie Yuncheng didn’t even sit down. He left the painting and walked out.

He had known since childhood about the relationship between his mother, father, and Aunt Pei Yu. Back then, he hadn’t understood much, only that his parents fought constantly—and Pei Yu’s name always came up.

He understood the mess only when he got older.

He had grown up in that oppressive, twisted environment.

Driving aimlessly through the streets of Beijing, a city he barely knew, he followed any road he could. At first, he used navigation. Later, he just turned it off.

He circled for over four hours, from dusk until nightfall.

He realized he had passed some roads more than once—just entering from different alleys.

When he passed a busy district, he recognized a building across the street—he’d been there before. Ji Xingyao’s studio was at the top. During a traffic jam, he looked up. A light seemed to be on in the top-floor room. At the next intersection, he turned and pulled into the building’s open parking lot.

He called Ji Xingyao. It took two tries to get through.

She had just gotten up to get some water and saw her screen light up.

“I’m downstairs.”

Ji Xingyao: “It’s late, President Xie. What can I do for you?”

Xie Yuncheng parked, unfastened his seatbelt. “Even if I’m just passing by, shouldn’t I be invited up for tea?”

Ji Xingyao didn’t like his pushy, self-important demeanor. But given their distant family ties now, she had to show some respect to Grandpa Mu and keep things cordial.

She expressed her displeasure in a joking tone: “So does that mean whenever someone calls you saying, ‘I’m downstairs at M.K.,’ you’ll see them immediately?”

She added, “I seem to recall that’s not how it works. Anyone wanting to meet with you has to book a week in advance. Even with a booking, it’s not guaranteed.”

Xie Yuncheng: “…”

Speechless.

“I’ll be up in two minutes.”

He hung up.

When he arrived on the 52nd floor and stepped out of the elevator, he saw a tall man standing by the window at the end of the hallway. The lighting was dim, and the man was backlit. He couldn’t tell who it was at first.

Zhang Bo recognized Xie Yuncheng and walked over. “Good evening, President Xie. Did you make an appointment with Xingyao in advance?”

Only then did Xie Yuncheng realize it was Ji Xingyao’s driver. They’d met once at the estate. He shot back, “What, you need an appointment just to see her?”

Zhang Bo responded tactfully, “Xingyao is busy. If there’s something you need, I can pass the message.”

Xie Yuncheng ignored him and raised his hand to knock—just as the door opened from the inside.

She’d heard everything.

Tonight she wore a blue gradient knit dress, like the clear twilight sky. Xie Yuncheng glanced at her a bit longer than necessary, then followed her into the studio.

The door shut behind them.

Zhang Bo took out his phone and pulled up the studio’s live surveillance feed.

Ji Xingyao poured him a glass of plain water. “President Xie, are you here to buy a painting tonight? If it’s a business matter, I can spare a bit of time.”

Xie Yuncheng looked at her. “Is this how you greet all your clients?” He gestured at the water. “This too? Just plain water?”

Ji Xingyao smiled faintly, unhurried and calm. “I never neglect clients who treat Zhang Bo with courtesy.”

A not-so-subtle jab at his rudeness earlier.

Xie Yuncheng undid his coat buttons. “Just because I didn’t let Zhang Bo speak for me, now I’m labeled disrespectful?”

Ji Xingyao: “Because you see Zhang Bo as just a driver, unworthy of passing on a message. You carry an innate sense of superiority—wherever you go, people welcome you with smiles. You’re not used to being stopped at the door by a driver.”

Xie Yuncheng couldn’t argue.

No one had ever spoken to him like this. No one had ever given him the cold shoulder over something so trivial.

As for that superiority complex she mentioned—maybe she was right.

Ji Xingyao poured herself a cup of warm water too. “I didn’t know you were downstairs. I thought you were just calling to make an appointment. When I happened to see your name, I picked up.”