Chapter 18

At this point in the conversation, Xu Rui felt it was pointless to say more. But even if she wanted to speak, it was too late—Mu Jinpei had already hung up.

She looked up once again at the M.K. building’s logo, glaring bright under the sun.

Since she couldn’t get a meeting with Mu Jinpei, Xu Rui arranged to have coffee with Chu Zheng instead.

Chu Zheng had hesitated at first, torn for a while before he finally agreed. Once his boss and Ji Xingyao went upstairs to the studio and he was no longer needed, he left to meet her.

Xu Rui hadn’t asked Chu Zheng out to persuade him to speak positively about her to Mu Jinpei—she knew better than anyone how loyal Chu Zheng was to his boss and what kind of principles he lived by.

Right or wrong, Chu Zheng would always side with Mu Jinpei. Nothing could shake that.

They’d worked together for five years and had gotten along well. She had no intention of making things difficult for him. But aside from him, she had no one else she could talk to.

By the time Chu Zheng arrived at the business lounge, Xu Rui was already on her second cup of coffee.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad,” he said.

Xu Rui smiled. “No need to be so formal with me.”

Chu Zheng took off his suit jacket. When the waiter offered to hang it, he waved him off and draped it over the back of his chair.

The waiter quietly closed the door and left.

Xu Rui rested her chin on her hand. “This isn’t going to make you late for work, right?”

Chu Zheng chuckled. “You really don’t know how to phrase things, do you?”

“Yeah, must’ve had water in my brain today,” Xu Rui replied, lifting her chin slightly toward the coffee cup in front of him. “I ordered for you. Then I second-guessed myself—wasn’t sure if your taste changed.”

Her mind was clearly not functioning well today.

Chu Zheng said, “I’m not picky. As long as it’s coffee.” He had already come, and there was no point pretending he didn’t know why. “No chance, right?”

Xu Rui sighed. “What do you think?”

“No matter what Mr. Mu says, don’t take it to heart.” He paused, then added gently, “Just pretend you don’t know anything. No matter how special you were to him, nothing is more important than the hatred in his heart.”

Xu Rui suddenly laughed—at herself. She set the coffee spoon down on the saucer and lifted the cup. The bitterness hit her instantly.

“I’m no more special than you are,” she said. “Actually, that’s not quite true. If one day you pleaded on Ji Xingyao’s behalf, he might actually give you a little face.”

Chu Zheng said firmly, “I wouldn’t.”

His tone was resolute.

Xu Rui shook her head. “Boring! It was just a hypothetical, and you still took it seriously.” Her coffee had gone cold; she drank half the cup in one go.

Chu Zheng blinked. “…Who drinks coffee like that?”

Xu Rui didn’t have the patience to sip slowly. After a few seconds of silence, she said, “To put it bluntly, I’m just a silent witness who’s lost her conscience.”

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’ve always been kind,” Chu Zheng said after a brief pause. “I know you hold a grudge against Mr. Mu, but—”

“I don’t dare.”

She cut him off. Chu Zheng sighed and took a few sips of his coffee as well.

The room was silent. Some kind of flower by the window gave off a subtle fragrance.

Eventually, Chu Zheng picked up where she had interrupted him. “Xu Rui, neither of us is Mr. Mu. We haven’t gone through that kind of bone-deep pain, so we can’t truly understand. You’re speaking from an outsider’s perspective, which is why you expect him to repay hatred with kindness. But even so, that concept only works for ordinary grievances. Between Mr. Mu and Ji Changsheng… there’s death in between them.”

He looked into his cup. “Mr. Mu already is repaying hatred with kindness—he only wants the Ji Group to go bankrupt. That’s all.”

Xu Rui knew she couldn’t convince him, so she didn’t waste more words.

She got straight to the point about why she’d invited him for coffee. “When the truth comes out, even if you won’t help Ji Xingyao, at least act as a buffer—so when she falls from heaven into hell, she doesn’t crash and burn.”

She looked up at him. “Assistant Chu, that’s not asking too much, is it?”

Chu Zheng stared into his coffee cup for a long time and didn’t answer.

—

Unknowingly, the morning passed, and it was already lunchtime.

Mu Jinpei and Ji Xingyao sat in front of their respective canvases, completely absorbed in their work. They’d been painting for three hours straight, not disturbing each other at all. When Uncle Zhang came to deliver lunch, they were so focused they didn’t even hear the door open.

Every mealtime was a struggle for Uncle Zhang. Wait too long, and the food wouldn’t taste good. But interrupt too soon, and he might break her inspiration or creative flow.

He set the insulated lunch containers on the coffee table and glanced from Ji Xingyao to Mu Jinpei. They sat opposite each other, separated by their easels, unable to see one another.

Mu Jinpei was the first to notice him. He put down his brush and saw someone standing in the lounge.

He walked over quietly. “Just leave it here. I’ll call Xingyao to eat in a bit.”

Uncle Zhang left, closing the door gently behind him.

Mu Jinpei didn’t call her right away. Instead, he went to make coffee.

It was the smell of freshly brewed coffee that finally pulled Ji Xingyao from her artistic trance. She looked up to see Mu Jinpei leaning against the wine cabinet, also looking in her direction.

She smiled at him and suddenly remembered to ask, “What time is it?” She glanced at her watch even as he replied, “Twelve thirty.”

Ji Xingyao frowned. “Why hasn’t Uncle Zhang ordered lunch yet?” She’d told him that morning what she wanted to eat, even included some of Mu Jinpei’s favorite dishes.

Mu Jinpei pointed to the coffee table. “He already brought it. Let’s have some coffee before we eat.” The containers were insulated, so the food would stay warm.

Ji Xingyao said, “Then give me ten more minutes—I can finish this.”

Mu Jinpei asked, “Finish the section you planned for today, or the whole thing?”

“Xingyao No. 4 is done,” she said, adding the finishing touches. From concept to completion, this piece had taken two months, breaking her usual timeframe for the “Xingyao” series.

Especially this morning—these three hours had been more productive than an entire week’s worth of inspiration.

Mu Jinpei wanted to go look at it but held back, asking first, “Can I take a sneak peek?”

Without hesitation, Ji Xingyao shook her head. “No. You’ll have to wait until it’s completely dry.”

Which meant waiting at least six months, maybe longer. Mu Jinpei respected that and didn’t push. When the coffee finished brewing, he switched off the machine.

Ji Xingyao was in a great mood and opened a bottle of red wine to celebrate. She poured half a glass for Mu Jinpei and just a splash for herself. “You keep painting this afternoon. I have an appointment—I made a reservation to see Dr. Luo.” She put the wine bottle away.

Mu Jinpei looked at her. “Still not feeling well?”

Ji Xingyao nodded. “Things are still a little off. Nothing serious, I just want to get it regulated.” It had been over a month and her period still hadn’t come. She wanted to get her health back on track.

Mu Jinpei said, “I’ll go with you.” Then added, “I’ve been meaning to catch up with Luo Song anyway.”

Ji Xingyao reminded him, “Doctor’s visits only last a few minutes. You won’t have time to chat. His schedule’s packed—he might even have to work overtime.”

Mu Jinpei didn’t really have anything important to say to Luo Song—he just hadn’t seen him in a while. “Then let’s all grab dinner tonight.”

Ji Xingyao joked, “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have booked the appointment—could’ve just seen him over dinner.”

The restaurant had sent them two roasted mushrooms today. She took a bite and fed the other half to Mu Jinpei. “Dating me might be pretty boring. When I start painting, I forget everyone and everything.”

Mu Jinpei swallowed the mushroom slowly. “I’m usually busy too. I don’t like crowds. This arrangement suits me fine. When I have time, I’ll help you set up the studio.”

“And you still have to make my coffee.”

“Sure.”

“Then maybe you should consider…”

She trailed off, giving him a playful look.

Mu Jinpei knew what she was hinting as she wanted him to be her model so she could paint his back. He raised his wine glass to hers and said, “What if I say no? “Will you be mad?”
Ji Xingyao took a small sip of wine. “No, I won’t be mad. Being a part-time model falls under the category of work—you’re allowed to have your boundaries, just like I insist on a 70/30 split in my contracts. However—”

She deliberately paused a few seconds before continuing, “—I might ignore you for three days. That’s a woman’s prerogative. No need to explain why.”

Mu Jinpei knew it—she wasn’t that easy to reason with. Just like his mother, Pei Yu, Xingyao had her double standards: I can do it, but you can’t.

Of course, his mother only behaved unreasonably with those closest to her—and that list didn’t include his father. She treated him with courtesy and distance. She only acted irrationally with Mu Jinpei himself, his uncle, and his grandparents. He never understood it before—until a few days ago, when he learned about the existence of Xie Junyi.

As for Ji Xingyao’s double standards, they were likely only reserved for Ji Changsheng and Yin He. He must be the third person she allowed herself to act irrationally toward.

Ji Xingyao stabbed the last grilled mushroom with her fork, took a bite, and offered the rest to Mu Jinpei. “You don’t have to agree right away. I’m not painting now anyway. I’ll wait until I understand you better.”

The inspiration she’d have then would be different from now. Only by truly knowing someone could she capture their soul on canvas.

She brought up the vase he painted that morning. “I’ve painted that one too. I didn’t touch the brush until I fully understood its story. Once I did, the painting flowed naturally. It felt like I wasn’t painting the vase, but the joy and sorrow behind it.”

Mu Jinpei said nothing—just listened quietly.

Ji Xingyao continued, “Everything has a soul to me, even still life.” She paused. “Last time you gave me a pair of crystal shoes. To return the gesture, I’ll give you a painting.”

Mu Jinpei asked, “What kind of painting?”

Ji Xingyao replied, “Holding Hands Through Life — but you’ll have to wait a few months. It’s not fully dry yet. I’ll give it to you once it’s finished.”

Just then, her phone rang—it was her mother, Yin He.

The call was business-related. Ji Xingyao had previously designed a promotional poster for a ballet production. Everyone in the troupe had loved it, including the leadership, but no one had known it was her work—they assumed it was from an ad agency. When it came time to settle expenses and they found no line item for design, they realized it had been done by Xingyao herself.

“We won’t pay you,” her mother said. “But we’ll give you two tickets and a little gift instead.” Then she asked, “Want me to send them over, or will you come home to get them?”

Ji Xingyao said, “I’ll come by this afternoon.” She was passing by the troupe on her way to the hospital anyway—but she decided to skip the checkup to avoid worrying her mom.

After lunch, she tidied up briefly and asked Mu Jinpei to brew another cup of coffee for the road.

Mu Jinpei said, “I’ll make one for you tonight. It’ll spill easily in a cup, and it’ll get cold fast.”

Ji Xingyao opened the wine cabinet and pulled out a thermos. “This one’s specially for coffee.”

Mu Jinpei: “…”

He started brewing.

Meanwhile, Ji Xingyao went into the bedroom to touch up her makeup.

Mu Jinpei was still thinking about her earlier request for him to be her model. He didn’t understand why she was so set on painting his back. When she acted unreasonable, he almost agreed—but in the end, he came to his senses.

If she painted his back, what would happen to the painting the day the Ji Group went bankrupt?

She definitely wouldn’t keep it.

And what would he do with it?

Ji Xingyao soon returned. The coffee wasn’t quite ready yet. Mu Jinpei was leaning against the bar, gazing out, absentminded—clearly deep in thought.

His silhouette reminded her of the first time he came to the studio—lonely, maybe even sorrowful.

Weighed down with thoughts.

She walked up behind him. He didn’t hear her until she hugged him from behind and gently asked, “Are you tired?”

His body stiffened for a moment, then he relaxed and turned to face her. “You changed clothes?”

“No, just touched up my makeup,” she said, stepping in front of him.

The coffee finished brewing. Ji Xingyao let go of him.

Mu Jinpei washed and dried her cup, then poured her a serving.

Ji Xingyao handed him a ceramic mug. “Pour the rest in here. I’ll drink a few sips now.”

Mu Jinpei asked, “You just ate—can you still drink this?”

“Yeah, I can finish a cup.” She picked up the thermos and tightened the lid. “From now on, you’re brewing me one every day to take with me.”

“Won’t you get tired of it?”

“Even ten or twenty years won’t be enough.” She looked at him and said meaningfully, “I’m someone who gets attached easily. If I like something, I’ll probably like it for life.”

Mu Jinpei, in the middle of cleaning the coffee machine, paused.