Chapter 15

Mu Jinpei’s hug lasted only two or three seconds, but it took Ji Xingyao more than half a minute to regain her composure. Last time he carried her into the elevator, it was just the two of them. This time, the hug was in full public view.

Mu Jinpei asked, “What time is the banquet?”

Ji Xingyao tried to sound calm and unaffected. “Four o’clock. I still need to go home and get my makeup done.”

They chatted while walking out, both appearing composed, as if that hug just now hadn’t happened at all.

Mu Jinpei’s car was already waiting at the entrance—three vehicles in total, all expensive but with low-key license plates, nothing flashy, just simple numbers and letters.

Ji Xingyao had come with Uncle Zhang, but for the return, she naturally rode with Mu Jinpei. The driver, very tactful, raised the partition to give them some privacy.

Halfway through the ride, Ji Xingyao suddenly remembered something. She took the watch out of her bag and handed it to him. “Thanks, I’m done with it.”

“No need for thanks,” Mu Jinpei said, not taking the watch but instead offering his wrist.

It was the second time Ji Xingyao helped him put on a watch. As she lifted her eyes to glance at him, she found his gaze already on her.

His eyes were like a deep pool with an undertow—if she wasn’t careful, she might get pulled under.

She quickly looked away and pretended to calmly fasten the watch clasp.

Once it was secured, she adjusted his shirt cuff slightly to cover about a third of the watch face.

“President Mu, may I ask you a bold question?” Ji Xingyao asked nonchalantly, but when he met her gaze, she immediately looked away, focusing on the car window instead.

Out of politeness, she only looked at him directly now and then.

Mu Jinpei gestured for her to go ahead.

Ji Xingyao appeared composed. “Do you have someone you like?”

Afraid of sounding abrupt, she explained, “Today’s banquet is different.”
She didn’t spell it out, but she assumed he understood—this event was somewhat like meeting the family, an unofficial ‘public announcement.’

“I don’t want to affect your private life. I’d feel bad.”

It was the first time anyone had ever asked Mu Jinpei about his love life face-to-face. Not because others didn’t dare, but because they knew he would never answer.

So why embarrass themselves?

Mu Jinpei seemed to consider it. “Not at the moment.”

Ji Xingyao pondered that line—it could mean he once liked someone but no longer did, or that time and circumstances had changed.

Or it could mean he never liked anyone before, but might in the future.

She chose to interpret it as the latter.

The car pulled up in front of Ji Xingyao’s residential complex. Mu Jinpei also got out and walked her a few steps to the entrance. “Go on up. I’ll wait here.”

Ji Xingyao said politely, “Don’t you want to go home and rest a bit?”

What she meant was: after a long flight, shouldn’t he go home to shower, relax, and maybe change into something more formal for the evening event?

Mu Jinpei replied, “I was on a private jet.”
He had already showered during the flight—he just needed to swap the trench coat for a suit later.

Ji Xingyao suddenly understood. No wonder he’d smelled so fresh and clean when he hugged her at the airport, even with a hint of crisp aftershave.

She’d need at least an hour or two to get her makeup and hair done. She didn’t want to leave him waiting too long downstairs, so she offered, “If you don’t mind, you can come up and sit for a while.”

She smiled lightly. “The place is a bit messy.”

Mu Jinpei asked out of courtesy, “Will it be inconvenient?”

Ji Xingyao replied, “Not at all. I live alone—no one else here. The makeup artist will arrive later.”

Mu Jinpei went back to the car to get his suit and followed her upstairs.

She wasn’t lying—the place was a mess.

The apartment was decorated in cool tones, with a cream-colored sofa.

Several easels stood in the living room. From the coffee table to the floor, and even on the cabinets along the wall, there were all kinds of art supplies, sculptures, and arranged scenes.

Mu Jinpei was used to seeing his mother’s studio and reading room, so these artistic displays didn’t bother him. To him, it felt orderly.

Ji Xingyao poured him a glass of warm water. “Feel free to look around. I’m going to put on a face mask.”

Mu Jinpei took off his coat. “Do you have a coffee machine?”

Ji Xingyao pointed to the open kitchen. “Yep—same model and beans as the one in my studio.”
The kitchen was spotless, without a trace of cooking mess.

Mu Jinpei unbuttoned his cuffs. “You go ahead. I’ll make some coffee.”

“You’re spoiling me again,” Ji Xingyao said without thinking. “It’s been over a month since I had coffee. After drinking yours, everything else just tastes bad.”

Saying that, she headed into her bedroom.

Mu Jinpei watched her go, then rolled up his sleeves and entered the kitchen.

The coffee wasn’t even ready when the doorbell rang.

Before he could answer, the door was pushed open from outside—it was Uncle Zhang, bringing the stylist and her assistant.

“Yaoyao, they’re here,” Uncle Zhang called from the door, not planning to come in himself.

“Oh, okay,” Ji Xingyao answered.

Uncle Zhang closed the door behind them. The stylist and assistant took off their shoes and entered.

Even though they knew this was Ji Xingyao’s home, seeing a tall man casually making coffee in her kitchen still caught them off guard. For a second, they thought they’d walked into the wrong apartment.

Ji Xingyao came out of her room after removing her face mask. “A friend,” she explained simply. “This is the stylist and her assistant.”

The young assistant was especially overwhelmed—even after entering the dressing room, she was still taking deep breaths, silently marveling at how a man like that could actually exist.

She had no words to describe how stirred and excited she felt. After years of working alongside her boss and meeting all kinds of men from different industries, she had never encountered anyone so striking.

The stylist finally understood why Ji Xingyao had insisted on wearing that particular watch—it was part of a matching couple’s set with the man outside.

“Wearing those same flats today?” the stylist asked with a smile, looking at Ji Xingyao through the mirror.

Ji Xingyao felt embarrassed. “Please don’t tease me.” She explained, “The shoes weren’t from him—they were from his assistant.”

The stylist laughed. “Same difference—it was still his money.”

To match the flat shoes, the stylist spent half an hour selecting a gown, but none were quite right. She ended up calling a friend to borrow one. That friend happened to be a regional director for a major fashion brand in Asia.

The moment she heard it was for Ji Xingyao, she immediately agreed and arranged for the dress to be delivered.

It was this same friend who had helped her get introduced to Ji Xingyao’s mother, Yin He, and become her personal stylist.

The friend had met Yin He at an event. They got along well, and since Yin He’s previous stylist had recently left due to marriage and pregnancy, she made the connection.

That was during a rough patch in the stylist’s career, but Yin He offered her generous compensation, encouraged her to take private clients, and even introduced her to others.

It was thanks to Yin He that she had the career she did today—and the higher rates that came with it.

So naturally, she took extra care with anything related to Ji Xingyao.

“I’ll just buy the dress,” Ji Xingyao said gratefully. “Borrowing is such a hassle.”

The stylist waved it off. “No need to waste money. This is a new design—you’re the first person to wear it. If you really want to spend, get another dress that also matches the flats, and save it for another event.”

Ji Xingyao nodded. “That works.”

Makeup took an hour longer than expected due to the dress situation.

But once her look was finalized, the result was stunning.

The stylist and assistant didn’t linger—they left quickly to give the two of them space.

Mu Jinpei hadn’t been idle either. During that time, he helped set up a few still-life scenes for her using bottles, jars, and fruit from the coffee table.

The arrangements were so simple they looked like a mischievous child had randomly tossed things around.

The quiet simplicity inside, even touching something deep in the soul—Ji Xingyao actually felt it. It moved her.
“I owe you another favor,” she said softly.

Mu Jinpei turned at her voice. Her makeup today was different—radiant and bold. She looked like a different version of herself: alluring.

Ji Xingyao’s attention was still on the arrangements he made, as if she couldn’t admire them enough. “It’s a pity you didn’t pursue painting.”

After a brief silence, Mu Jinpei said in a low voice, “I had more important things to do back then.”

Ji Xingyao misunderstood. “Yeah, well, being the son of M.K’s CEO, you have a family business to inherit.”

Mu Jinpei didn’t respond. He changed the subject: “You finished with your makeup?”

Ji Xingyao nodded. “The stylist left a while ago.”

Mu Jinpei hadn’t noticed—he’d been focused on arranging the vases.

Ji Xingyao glanced at her watch—it was almost 3:30. But she wasn’t in a hurry to go to the hotel. She still wanted his coffee.
“I want a cup of coffee before we leave.”

She walked toward the kitchen.

Mu Jinpei called to her back, “There’s none left. I drank it all.” He had only brewed two cups—and finished them both.

“You didn’t even save one for me?” Ji Xingyao said, half teasing, her tone gentle.

“Coffee loses its flavor if it sits too long,” Mu Jinpei explained. “And you were busy getting your makeup done—you wouldn’t have had time to drink it anyway.” He added, “I’ll make you one tomorrow.”

“You’re not busy tomorrow?”

“Not before New Year’s. I’ll come to your studio every day and make it for you,” he said as he wiped his hands, picked up his suit, and lifted his chin slightly. “Let’s go. Don’t be late.”

Ji Xingyao gently pressed her lips together. Maybe it was the new lipstick, but there was a faint sweet scent at the tip of her nose.

Whenever she was with Mu Jinpei, he always handled things like turning off the lights and locking the doors.

Wearing flats today, she barely reached his shoulder.

In the elevator, she had to tilt her head slightly to see his face.

As the doors slowly closed, Mu Jinpei turned to ask her which hotel the banquet was at. Their eyes met unexpectedly.

This time, Ji Xingyao didn’t look away—they simply stared at each other in silence.

The elevator was sealed and still.

Ji Xingyao began to feel short of breath. The air around them seemed thinner and thinner, making it hard to breathe.

Mu Jinpei’s gaze didn’t waver. In his eyes and brows, it seemed like turbulent undercurrents were flowing.

She couldn’t guess what he was thinking. Her mind had gone blank.

The elevator reached the twelfth floor.

Suddenly, Mu Jinpei leaned down, and their lips met.

The number “1” lit up. The elevator doors slowly opened.

Mu Jinpei gently pressed his forehead to hers and reached over to hold the door button. In a low voice, he said, “We’re here.”

Ji Xingyao stood stunned for a moment before stepping out. That kiss felt like a beautiful dream. But thankfully, she had woken up, and he was still there—it wasn’t a dream.

Outside, the sky was clear and blue, the sunset casting golden light across everything.

She loved sunsets—and Mu Jinpei remembered.
“Look to the west.”

Trying to hide her nervousness, Ji Xingyao smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

The aftertaste of that kiss still lingered—like the clean, refreshing scent on his body—sinking into the deepest parts of her heart.

She didn’t even know what had come over her at that moment.

They didn’t talk much on the way. Mu Jinpei answered a business call, which saved them from sitting in awkward silence.

He was speaking Spanish. She didn’t understand a word.

Ji Xingyao turned sideways, resting her chin in her palm as she looked out the window.

Christmas had just passed, but the festive spirit still lingered. Decorations were still up in shop windows—white snowflakes, pretty wind chimes, and sleighs pulled by reindeer.

The sunset cast golden light on the glass windows.

Over ten minutes later, Mu Jinpei ended the call. Seeing Ji Xingyao so focused on the scenery, he didn’t interrupt her.

“Xingyao.”

“Hm?”

She snapped out of her daze and turned around quickly.

Mu Jinpei reminded her, “We’ve arrived. Time to get out.”

While she had been lost in thought, the car had already stopped in front of the hotel.

Ji Xingyao didn’t rush to open the door. She looked at him and said, “There’ll be tons of relatives at the banquet tonight—my aunts, uncles, second cousins, you name it.”

She laughed at her own words.

Her extended family all had their own careers, but every year, as long as they were available, they’d show up to support the Ji Group’s annual banquet.

In their eyes, she was a recluse—quiet, living in her own little world, practically disconnected from society. They always wanted to drag her out and “air her out” in the sun, worried she might grow moss.

And now she was showing up with Mu Jinpei.

They were bound to bombard her with questions, grilling her on whether she was dating, when she planned to settle down, and if they could all meet again during the Spring Festival for more questions—blah blah blah.

Although Mu Jinpei didn’t live in China, he had plenty of relatives here too. He understood all too well what that kind of scene looked like.
“It’s fine. I’ve got you,” he said.

The sixth floor of the hotel was already buzzing with guests, full of laughter and lively chatter.

Ji Changsheng called Ji Xingyao, sounding exasperated:
“Do I need to come down and get you myself?”

“I’m at the door,” Ji Xingyao replied and hung up.

Since she was wearing flats, there was no need to hold onto Mu Jinpei’s arm on the elevator. Uncle Zhang had arranged a private elevator just for them.

Remembering the kiss in the elevator earlier, Ji Xingyao avoided looking at Mu Jinpei. She stared at the floor numbers instead, trying to seem unaffected. But she could still feel his gaze on her.

Without realizing it, the elevator arrived at the sixth floor.

As they stepped out, Ji Xingyao took several deep breaths. She couldn’t imagine the look of surprise on her parents’ faces when they saw her with Mu Jinpei—or the shocked expressions of the guests.

Just before entering the banquet hall, she reached to take Mu Jinpei’s arm. But he was a step faster—he reached out and held her hand, then gently intertwined their fingers.