Chapter 34:

Xie Yuncheng stood downstairs, letting the cold wind wake him up. His drowsiness faded, but Mu Jinpei’s murderous glare from earlier still lingered in his mind.

He and Mu Jinpei had always kept their distance—whether due to family conflicts or differing business opinions, they both treated things with indifference, never bothering to exchange more than a few words.

But that one look they shared in the studio earlier—silent as it was—stirred up a storm between them.

He gave a faint, cold smile and carried the painting back to his car.

The city had long since quieted down. He hadn’t.

He started the engine, then turned it off.

He called his assistant. “Cancel the flight instructor arrangement for Ji Xingyao.”

It was the middle of the night. The assistant had long been asleep, and the call rudely tore him from his dreams. This was a specially set ringtone for the boss—he had no choice but to answer.

His brain still sluggish, the assistant instinctively replied, “Got it.” Thinking it was just a delay, he added, “Even if Miss Ji passes the physical, we’ll just find an excuse not to accept her?”

Xie Yuncheng: “I’ll teach her myself.”

“……” Now the assistant was wide awake. He couldn’t figure out his boss’s train of thought. Usually, anything related to Mu Jinpei was avoided like the plague—why was he suddenly offering to personally teach her?

No one else had ever been given that privilege.

Worried he might be overthinking it, the assistant cautiously reminded him, “Sir… Miss Ji is Mu Jinpei’s girlfriend.” He knew it might annoy the boss, but as his right hand, it was his duty to speak up.

Xie Yuncheng’s voice turned cold: “Exactly. That’s why I need to teach her myself. If anything happens during training, I’ll be on the helicopter too—what could he say then?”

Even over the phone, the assistant could feel his boss’s displeasure. Whether he’d hit a nerve or completely misunderstood didn’t matter—the reasoning made sense. After all, Mu Jinpei was terrified of helicopters. If something went wrong during flight training, and Xie Yuncheng wasn’t there, Mu Jinpei might think it was sabotage. If that happened, their training center’s reputation would be ruined, no matter what explanation they gave.

Still, if the boss was that worried about complications, wouldn’t it be easier to just reject Ji Xingyao as a student altogether? Why go through the trouble of teaching her himself? It was a waste of time and effort.

But clearly, Xie Yuncheng had no intention of doing that. The assistant didn’t dare question him further.

He hesitated. “Sir, with how busy you usually are, I’m afraid you won’t have the time…”

“I’ll make time if I don’t have any,” Xie Yuncheng said emotionlessly.

“……” The assistant fell silent.

Xie Yuncheng hung up and drove off. As he merged onto the main road and stopped at a red light, he glanced up at the building.

The light in the studio window had gone dark—pitch black now.

…

Upstairs, Ji Xingyao blinked in confusion at Mu Jinpei. “Hey, why did you close the blackout curtains? Now we can’t see the night view—it feels stuffy. That’ll mess with my inspiration.”

“What’s there to see in the middle of the night?” Mu Jinpei grabbed his coat and headed out.

Ji Xingyao looked at his back. “You’re not going to keep me company a bit longer?”

“I’m staying here tonight.” Mu Jinpei closed the door behind him.

Only then did Ji Xingyao realize—he was going down to get his suitcase from the car. His trunk was always stocked with everything he needed for business trips.

She put down her brush and relaxed her wrist.

It was late. She planned to sleep soon too.

In under ten minutes, Mu Jinpei was back with his suitcase.

Ji Xingyao was tidying the sofa. She offered the bedroom to Mu Jinpei and intended to sleep on the couch. When she was painting, she often crashed on the sofa, too lazy to walk to the bedroom.

She urged him, “Go take a shower and sleep. You’re not like me—you have to be at the office on time. I can sleep and wake whenever I want.”

Mu Jinpei tossed the pile of throw pillows back onto the couch. “We’re sleeping together.” He held the suitcase in one hand and took her hand with the other, leading her into the bedroom.

He said it as casually as one would say “let’s eat.”

Ji Xingyao kept glancing sideways at him, trying to read his expression. But his face was calm, composed—like a frozen lake in winter. No ripples, no hint of what lay beneath.

Maybe there were undercurrents. Maybe it was completely still.

Mu Jinpei met her gaze. “What are you staring at?”

“Measuring your blood pressure with my eyes. Seeing how high it is.”

“Two-eighty.”

Ji Xingyao laughed.

“Don’t overthink,” he said after a pause.

“I’m not. I’m just admiring the lines on your back.”

“……”

In the bedroom, Mu Jinpei opened the suitcase and took out his loungewear. Ji Xingyao beat him to the bathroom.

Steam billowed out of the bathroom. The sound of running water was like a graceful waltz on ice—just like that day at the manor. It landed right in his heart.

Mu Jinpei opened the bedroom curtains a bit. Many distant windows were already dark. This time of night, he should’ve been at his apartment.

Turns out, he had a possessive side too.

“I’m done.” Ji Xingyao came out of the bathroom, holding a small white device and drying her hair haphazardly.

Mu Jinpei let go of the curtain, leaving the night outside. “What’s that in your hand?”

“A smart mini hairdryer.” She playfully blew warm air at his face.

Mu Jinpei grabbed a brush and combed out her long hair. “You washed your hair and didn’t even comb it?”

“It’s called the beauty of chaos,” she smirked—she’d left it tangled on purpose, so he’d have to do it.

Both of them spent less time than usual showering tonight.

The bedroom lights went out.

Ji Xingyao’s eyes hadn’t adjusted. She couldn’t find where he was.

“Where are you?”

The next second, she was pulled into Mu Jinpei’s arms. “Sleep.”

They used the same body wash—the fresh scent lingered.

Mu Jinpei laid on her pillow, one arm under her head. Ji Xingyao obediently rested her head on his arm and drifted off. She had no idea what he was thinking, but her mind was blank. Of course she still had thought otherwise, that would be strange. Her hand, unsure where to go, eventually curled up and rested on his waist.

“Mu Jinpei?”

No reply.

But she knew he wasn’t asleep. His breathing wasn’t steady at all.

Mu Jinpei held his breath. But it didn’t help—he got up and went to the bathroom.

Ji Xingyao ended up with insomnia. Her imagination ran wild, and she had no idea when she finally fell asleep. By the time she woke, it was already morning.

She opened her eyes to see Mu Jinpei’s backheel was putting on a dress shirt. His muscles were firm but not bulky, with smooth lines, definition, strength, and an unspoken beauty.

She’d felt that same sense of his form when hugging him the night before.

Mu Jinpei pulled on the sleeves, then began buttoning his shirt. Almost as if he could sense her gaze, he suddenly turned around and met her eyes. “Not going back to sleep?”

“I will after you leave. Just a little nap.”

Mu Jinpei buttoned his shirt from top to bottom. His defined abs and V-line gradually disappeared beneath the fabric.

Ji Xingyao finally looked away. “What do you want for breakfast? I’ll have Zhang Bo order it for you.”

“No need. I’ll eat at the office.” Mu Jinpei walked over to the bed, leaned down, and kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll come get you on the morning of the 12th.”

Ji Xingyao wrapped her arms around his neck. Now that they had physically gotten closer, they felt more emotionally intimate too. She didn’t feel the need to say anything—they just looked at each other for a long time.

Each trying to find themselves in the other’s eyes.

She finally let him go. “I won’t keep you. See you the morning of the 12th.”

Mu Jinpei left, taking his suitcase with him.

In the elevator, he stared at the faint reflection of himself in the door.

Absurd thoughts. Ridiculous actions.

For the next few days, Mu Jinpei didn’t contact Ji Xingyao. Not until the morning of their departure did he pick her up from the studio and head to the airport.

Their Valentine’s Day trip began.

Chu Zheng stayed behind in Beijing to handle work and attend Xu Rui’s wedding, so he didn’t come along.

Only now did Ji Xingyao learn they were going on a self-driving trip along Highway 50. Her excitement and anticipation rivaled the thrill of seeing her own artwork completed.

She asked Mu Jinpei, “You’re driving yourself?”

“Mhm,” Mu Jinpei replied. “I’ll drive the whole way. You sit in the passenger seat.”

In winter, Highway 50 felt even more desolate and lonely—especially when crossing through the uninhabited Gobi region. Endless stretches of dry grass reached the horizon, devoid of life.

They could go half a day without passing another car.

In the distance, white clouds hung low, and the sky was a deep, washed-out blue. It only made the road feel lonelier.

Ji Xingyao leaned against the window, absorbing the emptiness, the loneliness, and the roar of the engine. She didn’t know where Mu Jinpei was taking her—if he planned to just keep driving, or if they would stop in some small town.

But honestly, just driving like this felt good enough.

Every now and then, she’d glance sideways at Mu Jinpei. He was fully focused on the road. She didn’t interrupt, turning back to the scenery outside.

The landscape whipped past.

It wasn’t beautiful. Just dry grass or gravel and stones.

Everything looked bleak, devoid of hope.

She wondered if Mu Jinpei’s inner world was like this road and the desert around them—desolate, like a deserted island. One he couldn’t escape from, and no one else could reach.

Gradually, she felt the car slowing down.

Mu Jinpei pulled over. “Tired?”

Ji Xingyao shook her head. Sitting for two or three hours hadn’t tired her at all.

“Get out. Be my model,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“You’re taking photos?” she asked.

“Painting.”

Mu Jinpei got out. The accompanying staff car pulled over behind them.

Ji Xingyao followed him out. There was an abandoned rest stop nearby. The bench had long since been worn down by the elements—paint peeling, legs rotting.

Next to the bench stood a road sign with faded letters.

She bent down and picked up a few small stones to play with.

Mu Jinpei retrieved a drawing board and painting tools from the trunk.

“You’re painting here?” she asked.

“Mhm.”

He chose the best angle and secured the board and canvas. Ji Xingyao came to help, laying out the rest of the tools.

He pointed toward the road. “Look that way. That stretch is called the ‘Loneliest Road.’ It’s most beautiful at dusk.”

Ji Xingyao looked at the straight road. It felt like if you kept walking, you’d walk right into someone’s heart.

She didn’t know where the next turn might be—maybe there was one ahead—but the illusion was that it just kept going straight. As long as you followed it, you wouldn’t lose your way.

The bench was covered in dust. Mu Jinpei wiped it down with a damp cloth, then laid a brown wool blanket over it. “Come here,” he called.

“You’re really painting me?” she asked. “What else?” he replied.

“What’s the title?”

“Haven’t decided.”

Ji Xingyao sat on the bench and wobbled the backrest. “You sure this bench can hold me? Don’t want it to collapse halfway through your painting.”

Mu Jinpei: “It’ll hold.”

She slouched lazily in the bench. “Any specific expression or pose you want?”

“Just be natural.”

Next second, Ji Xingyao kicked off her shoes, tucked both feet up onto the bench, found a comfortable position, and rested her chin on her hand, closing her eyes for a nap.

Mu Jinpei decided to capture exactly that scene.

Over four hours later, the painting was complete.

Ji Xingyao stretched her back. The sun was setting, casting golden hues across the sky. It was breathtaking.

She remembered what Mu Jinpei had said about this road being beautiful at dusk. She turned around to look.

The road was bathed in soft golden light. At the far end, sky met earth. The road disappeared into the clouds, as if it led to the edge of the world.

Mu Jinpei had the crew pack up the painting supplies, then returned to the car and slipped a ring into his pocket.

Ji Xingyao was still admiring the sunset—this was her kind of view.

“Yaoyao.”

“Mmm?” she replied distractedly, eyes still on the western sky.

“Want some water?”

“Not thirsty.”

Mu Jinpei drank half a cup himself, then walked over and zipped up her jacket. It was noticeably colder than at noon.

Suddenly, Ji Xingyao turned to him. “Is this the best spot to watch the sunset along this road?”

Mu Jinpei: “Probably.”

Ji Xingyao didn’t press him. It wasn’t “probably”—it was definitely. He’d stopped here and painted just so he could wait with her for the sunset.

She loved sunsets—how they made her feel like she could hold hands with someone forever.

Mu Jinpei lowered his head and kissed her. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ji Xingyao wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt content and fulfilled, truly happy. “That painting earlier—is it my Valentine’s gift?”

“No,” Mu Jinpei said. He gently took her hands away, stepped back, and dropped to one knee.

Ji Xingyao froze. She knew exactly what that gesture meant—but still couldn’t believe it. They locked eyes, nothing else existed in their gaze.

Mu Jinpei held her left hand, unknowingly rubbing it over and over. His grip was a bit tight, but Ji Xingyao didn’t feel any pain.

This proposal—for him—was the first and the last.

He had so many promises he wanted to make, but he knew in the end he might not be able to keep them.

He’d used up all his luck in this life just to meet her. He didn’t have the good fortune to grow old with her. He didn’t know how long he could stay by her side. How he wished it were like this road—endless, without a destination. And if there was a destination, then let it be the home he shared with her.

But reality didn’t work that way. Even what he had now would eventually slip away.

Mu Jinpei gazed into her eyes. “Yaoyao, I love you. All of you.”

“In this life, I’ll only ever love you. No matter when—three years, five, ten, twenty years later—as long as you call me, wherever I am, I’ll come to you.”

“Yaoyao, will you marry me?”

Ji Xingyao’s voice was hoarse. “Even when we’re an old married couple twenty years from now, will one call from me still work? No matter where you are, you’ll come back to be with me?”

Mu Jinpei’s throat tightened. He couldn’t speak—he just nodded hard.

To Ji Xingyao, as long as he kept holding her hand, it was enough. She held out her ring finger, and Mu Jinpei carefully slipped the ring on. Then he stood up, lifted her into his arms, and kissed her.

The Gobi sunset—at its most beautiful time of year.