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Chapter 19
In the elevator, Ji Xingyao turned to face Mu Jinpei. Now that he was officially her boyfriend, she could finally look at him openly—no more avoiding his gaze.
Mu Jinpei lowered his eyes to meet hers. Her skin was nearly translucent, and her eyes looked like a starry galaxy, naturally radiant. He clasped her hands tightly and lowered his head to kiss her eyes.
The elevator reached the first floor. The doors opened slowly.
Two men stood outside. One was giving instructions while the other listened respectfully—it looked like a boss-and-assistant dynamic. The man wearing glasses, presumably the superior, paused for a few seconds when he saw Mu Jinpei and Ji Xingyao.
Mu Jinpei led Ji Xingyao out of the elevator, brushing past the two.
“Sir, please wait—sorry to bother you,” the supervisor said, hurrying over. He handed over a business card with a courteous smile and spoke very tactfully: “If you or any of your relatives are interested in entering the fashion or entertainment industry, feel free to contact me. My surname is Liu. Our company is on the 22nd floor.”
Mu Jinpei took the card and replied politely, “Thank you.”
“No, thank you for your time. Sorry again to disturb you both.” Mr. Liu put his hands together in a respectful gesture before rushing back to the elevator.
Ji Xingyao tilted her head to glance at the card. The agency was quite reputable in the industry and had launched the careers of several stars. Her mother had even mentioned it when she first chose to set up her studio in this building. “That director probably liked your look but didn’t want to say it outright.”
Mu Jinpei turned to her. “He was probably hoping to scout you, but since I was there, he knew better than to push it.”
Ji Xingyao laughed. “You always sound so reasonable.”
Rarely, a slight smile tugged at the corners of Mu Jinpei’s lips.
A few meters away, their bodyguards stood by the corridor. Mu Jinpei handed the business card to one of them casually and continued walking out of the building with Ji Xingyao.
As their car passed the ballet troupe building, Ji Xingyao asked the driver to pull over. She turned to Mu Jinpei and said, “I’ll just grab the tickets and be right back.”
Out of courtesy, Mu Jinpei got out too. “I’ll come with you. I’d like to say hello to Aunt Yin.”
Ji Xingyao had originally worried he might feel awkward meeting her family—especially since their relationship had just been confirmed the day before—but seeing him take the initiative made her happy.
The car’s trunk opened, and Mu Jinpei walked over. Ji Xingyao saw him pull out a bouquet of carnations.
“There wasn’t time to prepare anything else,” he said, handing her the flowers. “Here, you hold them.”
“Just showing up to see my mom already makes her happy. No need to bring gifts next time,” Ji Xingyao replied, brushing a few water droplets from the petals with her fingers. “Did Assistant Chu pick these out for you?”
“Mm. There aren’t any malls near your studio—just a flower shop.”
The lobby of the ballet troupe was usually quiet, its carpets muffling all sound. But today, they could hear a woman arguing from a distance.
Ji Xingyao quickly approached the entrance. Sure enough, a dispute was unfolding. Yin He was trying to usher a middle-aged woman into an office to talk, but the woman wouldn’t listen.
“I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t forced to!” The woman was elegant and clearly well-groomed, from her hairstyle to her clothes. Her eyes were sharp and cold as she stared directly at Zhou Yuxi.
“Just because you don’t want kids doesn’t mean we don’t! You want to be all fashionable—fine, go be child-free by yourself, but don’t drag my son into it! You’ve practically ruined him, do you know that?”
The woman clutched her chest, clearly agitated.
“If it weren’t for you, he would’ve studied metallurgy like he planned. But no, he chose medicine. Now you’ve twisted him even more. Just the other day, he told us you’ve decided to get married—but won’t have children. So everything you promised me about breaking up was all lies! Our family has worked hard for generations to build our legacy—are we supposed to just donate it all in the end?”
Mu Jinpei recognized the woman, as well as Zhou Yuxi. He gently patted Ji Xingyao’s shoulder and whispered, “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
Ji Xingyao nodded. As she turned to leave, she realized she shouldn’t be there either—but before she could retreat, someone from the troupe spotted her and called out.
Her presence interrupted the heated argument.
The middle-aged woman had nearly said her piece anyway. She straightened her coat, gave Zhou Yuxi a final scornful glance, and strode off.
After that scene, everyone in the ballet troupe now knew Zhou Yuxi was infertile—and that her relationship with her wealthy boyfriend was far from smooth.
The lobby fell silent. Zhou Yuxi turned to Yin He. “I’m sorry, teacher, for causing trouble.”
Yin He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a firm squeeze. “Stick to what you believe is right. Don’t worry about what others think. It doesn’t matter.”
Zhou Yuxi stayed silent for a moment, then headed upstairs.
Ji Xingyao finally approached her mother. Yin He sighed. “That was Zhou Yuxi’s boyfriend’s mother. If I didn’t think Zhou Yuxi might still marry that guy, I would’ve had security throw her out.”
“Don’t be upset,” Ji Xingyao said, handing her the bouquet. “You look younger every day. These are from Mu Jinpei.”
Yin He’s mood visibly lifted. “Thank Jinpei for me. Did you two meet up this morning?”
Ji Xingyao linked arms with her and nodded. “Yeah, he came upstairs with me earlier but went back to the car—he probably thought it wasn’t appropriate to stand there and watch the argument.”
Yin He said, “Next time, have Jinpei come up for tea.”
Ji Xingyao checked the time on her watch. “We’ve got another meeting, so we’ll have to pass this time. But there’ll be plenty of opportunities in the future.”
After picking up the tickets and the gift, Ji Xingyao didn’t linger—she quickly headed back downstairs.
Mu Jinpei stood by the car, debating whether to call Luo Song. But seeing the time on his phone, he figured Luo was probably still seeing patients and put the phone away.
Chu Zheng got out from the back seat. “Mr. Mu, we’ve completed the entire dossier on Xie Junyi.” He handed over a tablet.
It had taken them over a month, but they’d gathered all of Xie Junyi’s personal records—spanning forty years, all the way back to his first year of high school.
Mu Jinpei flipped to the second page and, upon seeing the lines at the bottom, his grip on the tablet unconsciously tightened.
Chu Zheng stood beside him, holding his breath.
Though cars and people bustled all around them, the space near Mu Jinpei felt so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
After a long pause, Mu Jinpei finally asked, “Did you read it?”
Chu Zheng answered honestly, “Yes.” He had organized the materials himself, of course he’d read them. Even just reading them had left a hollow ache in his chest. He could only imagine what it felt like for Mu Jinpei.
Mu Jinpei said no more and turned to the next page.
The report stated that Xie Junyi’s first love was Pei Yu.
He hadn’t misread his uncle’s first love was his mother, Pei Yu.
They had begun dating in high school. Their relationship was strong—handsome boy, beautiful girl. Pei Yu came from a wealthy family; Xie Junyi was from a modest background.
After graduating high school, Xie Junyi stayed in Beijing while Pei Yu went abroad to continue her studies. Still, their long-distance relationship remained strong.
In college, Pei Yu met Mu Wenya—Jinpei’s aunt.
Four years later, Xie Junyi graduated and was awarded a full scholarship to a university in New York, ending their long-distance arrangement.
During a visit to Pei Yu’s campus, Xie Junyi met Mu Wenya.
Mu Wenya developed feelings for the tall, handsome Xie Junyi. Through her connections, he was offered an internship at one of M.K.’s investment subsidiaries.
That’s when Xie Junyi’s feelings of inadequacy began to grow. Surrounded by people who are smarter, more successful, luckier, and wealthier, he began to crack.
The harsh reality of Wall Street slowly crushed him.
Meanwhile, Pei Yu’s painting career hit a plateau. She traveled extensively, looking for inspiration and to clear her mind.
When she returned, Mu Wenya came clean to her.
She was pregnant. The father was Xie Junyi.
Pei Yu’s world shattered. She broke down completely. She had never imagined that the glamorous Mu Wenya—surrounded by suitors—would betray her, or that the man she had loved for so many years would do the same.
Xie Junyi ultimately chose his future over love.
Pei Yu didn’t cry, cause a scene, or demand answers—she simply threw away everything in the apartment related to Xie Junyi, including his paintings. From that point on, she never touched portrait painting again.
Thirty years later, she revisited the genre for Xingyao 2.
After their breakup, Pei Yu lost her sense of direction.
Mu Wenya’s older brother—Mu Wenhuai, who later became Mu Jinpei’s adoptive father, felt guilty upon hearing what had happened and tried to contact Pei Yu to offer some form of compensation.
Unexpectedly, the moment they met, Mu Wenhuai fell in love with Pei Yu at first sight.
Pei Yu thought he had come to buy her off and force her to leave New York to clear the way for his sister and Xie Junyi. As a result, her resentment extended to him as well.
More than six months passed, and Pei Yu was still unable to move on. Out of spite toward Mu Wenya, she married Mu Wenhuai.
Meanwhile, Mu Wenya, leveraging her identity as the heiress of M.K., ultimately won over Xie Junyi and married him, having children together. But married life was far from happy—because in Xie Junyi’s heart, there was only Pei Yu.
What Mu Wenya never imagined, even in her worst nightmares, was that her own brother would end up marrying Pei Yu. She had once even threatened her brother with her life to stop it, but Mu Wenhuai remained unmoved.
Even knowing full well that Pei Yu didn’t love him and was only using him, Mu Wenhuai still accepted it all without complaint.
Pei Yu didn’t want children, so Mu Wenhuai respected her wishes. Later, when Pei Yu adopted a two-year-old boy—Mu Jinpei—Mu Wenhuai accepted the child as his own and gave him all his fatherly love.
Pei Yu never hid her contempt for Xie Junyi and Mu Wenya. No matter the time or place, she would not exchange a single word with them, not even in front of the elder patriarch of the Mu family.
Now, love was gone, and hate had worn thin. Everything had gradually faded, leaving behind a life filled with scars.
Even the old master, upon learning about the tangled love and hatred among the four younger people, could only sigh helplessly. After all, marriages had been formed and children were born. And so, this dysfunctional web of relationships lasted more than thirty years.
To outsiders, though, the Mu family appeared harmonious.
Mu Jinpei didn’t keep reading. He rubbed his forehead hard, memories flooding in. He felt sorrow for his mother Pei Yu and even more so for his father, Mu Wenhuai. Of everyone, his father was the most pitiful lifetime of unrequited love.
Even now, his father remained cautious and deferential around his mother.
For some reason, he suddenly recalled what Ji Xingyao once said: “Sometimes you’re so rational it’s inhuman, and sometimes you’re so obsessive it’s self-destructive.”
“Mr. Mu,” Chu Zheng waited for instructions.
The situation was now very complicated. In the trap they had set for Ji Changsheng, Xie Junyi was a troublesome variable. Yet his weakness was tied to Teacher Pei. How to exploit it?
One careless move could ruin everything.
Mu Jinpei stared at the tablet screen, his eyes completely devoid of warmth. “Once we’re back, arrange a meeting with Xie Junyi.”
Just then, Ji Xingyao came out of the ballet troupe, ending their conversation. Chu Zheng took the tablet and returned to the car.
“It’s so cold—why didn’t you wait in the car?” Ji Xingyao asked as she hurried over.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t find the car.”
“I remembered the license plate.” She held onto his hand—almost in the car but still needed to hold him once more.
Mu Jinpei opened the door, and they both got in.
Ji Xingyao handed him the tickets. “If you’re free that day, we can go watch together. If you’re busy, give them to a friend—better than wasting them.”
She started unwrapping the gift. It was a bottle of perfume—her favorite brand.
Mu Jinpei checked the date of the performance. He should be in Beijing then. “I’ll go with you,” he said, putting the tickets away.
Ji Xingyao opened her bag and spritzed the perfume into one of the inner pockets. It had a faint scent—cool and a little sweet.
She chatted casually, “Do Dr. Luo and his girlfriend like ballet? If they do, I’ll buy two more tickets—we can all go together.”
“Luo Song’s considered family—he doesn’t need a ticket.”
Ji Xingyao blinked. “Dr. Luo is…?” She only realized after asking—and still found it unbelievable.
Mu Jinpei nodded. “Mm, Zhou Yuxi’s boyfriend.”
So, it really was him.
Her mother had mentioned before that Zhou Yuxi’s boyfriend was also an OB-GYN and had said that if she’d known, she would’ve recommended him to Ji Xingyao. She never imagined it was Dr. Luo himself.
No wonder Mu Jinpei had tactfully avoided going in earlier—to avoid making things awkward for Zhou Yuxi.
Ji Xingyao couldn’t quite name her feelings. “Did Dr. Luo study traditional Chinese medicine for her?”
“Yeah. They started dating as teenagers and have been together ever since.” Mu Jinpei explained how he and Luo Song knew each other. “His grandfather and my grandfather were friends.”
Luo Song was his childhood playmate and the only person he could truly confide in.
As for Zhou Yuxi’s health issues, Mu Jinpei didn’t pry. But he knew Luo Song had returned to China for university because TCM schools were here.
Later, Zhou Yuxi changed ballet companies and moved back to China to be with Luo Song.
More than ten years—and nothing had separated them.
They dropped the heavy topic. Ji Xingyao opened her coffee cup, the scent drifting up. She held it to Mu Jinpei’s lips, “Smell it.”
Just as he opened his mouth to take a sip, she pulled it away. Mu Jinpei: “…”
Ji Xingyao laughed. “I didn’t say you could drink it—just smell.” She turned to look out her window, slowly sipping the hot coffee he made.
Mu Jinpei held her hand in his. His mind was still filled with thoughts about his adoptive parents’ past, unable to settle. He leaned back in the seat, and though his head didn’t hurt, he fell asleep.
When they arrived at the hospital, Ji Xingyao saw he was still asleep and didn’t wake him.
She carefully slipped her hand from his, quietly got out, and hadn’t walked far when she heard behind her: “Xingyao.”
Mu Jinpei was a light sleeper—he’d woken as soon as she shut the door.
He grabbed his coat and caught up in a few steps.
Ji Xingyao waited for him. “You should’ve kept sleeping.”
“I’m okay.” As he came closer, he reached for her hand.
They waited over two hours before Ji Xingyao’s number was called. Mu Jinpei accompanied her inside.
Luo Song looked up and froze when he saw who it was.
Only when Mu Jinpei rested both hands on Ji Xingyao’s shoulders to seat her did Luo suddenly laugh. “Wait—what… you two… what’s going on?”
Mu Jinpei said, “Not here to chat. Just brought my girlfriend for a check-up.”
Luo Song removed his glasses and rubbed his brow. The two of them being together made sense, but it still caught him off guard. It was work hours, so he didn’t say much.
“What’s wrong? Still feeling off?”
Ji Xingyao: “Mm, still not quite normal.”
Mu Jinpei didn’t understand their medical talk, so he checked his phone on the side.
The consultation didn’t last ten minutes.
Ji Xingyao stood and motioned to Mu Jinpei, “Let’s go—don’t hold up the next patient.”
Mu Jinpei said to Luo Song, “You’re busy—I’ll wait in your office.”
Luo had a feeling Mu Jinpei had something to say, so he nodded.
Mu Jinpei accompanied Ji Xingyao to get her medicine. The hospital would decoct it, and they could pick it up tomorrow.
It wasn’t until 5:30 that Luo finished work and returned to his office.
Ji Xingyao was holding Mu Jinpei’s hand, examining it like an artwork, her attention focused. The room was quiet, she looked at his hand, and he looked at her profile.
Luo shut the door and teased, “You two look like kids in love.”
Mu Jinpei gave a faint smile, saying nothing.
Luo pulled out a paper cup from a stack and poured some warm water on them. “Only one left—you two will have to share.”
Mu Jinpei took it and handed it to Ji Xingyao first. She drank a few sips before he did.
Then she picked up her bag and excused herself. “I’m going to the restroom.”
When the door closed, Luo leaned on the desk and asked, “So what’s going on?”
Mu Jinpei got straight to the point: “I saw Aunt Luo today.”
Luo Song frowned. “When did you get back to New York?” Then immediately realized how muddled his brain was. “She’s in Beijing?” But his mother hadn’t mentioned coming back to visit him.
Mu Jinpei replied, “Zhou Yuxi’s dance troupe. I went with Xingyao to visit Aunt Yin.”
Luo Song had recently found out that Ji Xingyao was Yin He’s daughter—Zhou Yuxi had told him, even praised how beautiful Xingyao’s poster designs were, saying her illustrations gave off a strong sense of story.
But he never imagined that his always-elegant, prideful mother would go confront Zhou Yuxi—and even show up at her workplace.
After a pause, Mu Jinpei added, “If I hadn’t said anything, Zhou Yuxi wouldn’t have told you. With her personality, she always tries to carry everything on her own.”
“I’ll treat you another day. I must pick up Xiaoyu from work.” Luo Song started unbuttoning his white coat, fumbling with the last button and needing two tries to undo it.
Not even caring that Mu Jinpei was still there, he grabbed his car keys and strode out the door.
…
By the time Mu Jinpei and Ji Xingyao left the hospital, it was already dark. Streetlights lit up, stretching all the way down the road.
“Where to for our date?” Ji Xingyao asked.
Mu Jinpei replied, “Your apartment. I’ll tidy up your living room, rearrange everything for you.”
“Thanks.” Ji Xingyao liked this kind of date. She unscrewed her coffee tumbler, which still had half a cup left. “For your hard work, I’ll let you try some.”
She warned him specifically, “Just one sip. No more.”
Mu Jinpei met her gaze—and then took two sips.
Ji Xingyao: “…”
Back at the apartment, Ji Xingyao handed her keycard to the driver ahead of time so the car could drive straight to the elevator in the underground parking lot.
It was a private elevator. Once the doors closed, Ji Xingyao stood on tiptoe and leaned in close to his lips but stopped two centimeters short.
Mu Jinpei closed the distance, capturing her lips in a firm kiss.
He was still holding her coffee tumbler, using his other arm to lift her clean off the ground.
Ji Xingyao loved it when he held her like this—suspended in the air, so close, so intoxicating.
Inside the apartment, Ji Xingyao turned on all the lights while Mu Jinpei took off his coat and began rearranging the living room.
Ji Xingyao lazily curled up on the sofa and opened a journal from the M.K. gallery. Her eyes drifted to Mu Jinpei repeatedly. She was entranced by how seriously he set the scenes sometimes she could even guess which item he would pick up next. That kind of unspoken connection felt magical.
She set the journal aside and walked over barefoot.
Mu Jinpei was crouched in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, arranging small potted plants and dried flowers into a display.
It looked like a jumble of planters, but from different angles, each one could be the focal point of a painting—only to fade into the background in another.
They seemed connected, yet each one was quietly isolated.
“What’s the theme?” Ji Xingyao asked, resting one hand on his shoulder.
Mu Jinpei replied, “A flower, a world.”
Ji Xingyao gazed at the tiny potted plants for a while, then lifted her right foot—the one that had been scraped by her shoes. It was fully healed now, no trace of a scar.
Mu Jinpei gently ran his hand over the top of her foot. “Not cold?”
“I’m used to it. I don’t wear shoes at home.” She asked, “If you include my foot in this scene, what theme would you think of?”
Mu Jinpei tickled the sole of her foot. “Mischief.”
Ji Xingyao, ticklish, laughed and pulled her foot away. Then she stuck it out again. “Your theme is ‘A Flower, A World.’ Then I’m ‘Stepping into Your World.’ Someday I’ll model for you—paint this scene and give it to me.”
Mu Jinpei looked up at her. The smile in her eyes lit up his own.
The first time he saw her at the autumn auction gala, she seemed like a cold, aloof fairy untouched by the mortal world.
Now, she had come down to earth.
Ji Xingyao teased, “See how generous I am? Volunteering to be your model.”
Mu Jinpei didn’t reply. He cupped her foot with one hand. “Come by when you have time, I’ll paint it for you. You can relax nearby—I’ll have everything set up.”
Ji Xingyao glanced around, already guessing which pot he’d choose next, and stood in front of it to block him.
Mu Jinpei: “…” He stood up, picked her up, and moved her out of the way.
The whole evening went on like this. Every time he needed something, she blocked it. He rearranged four different setups and had to carry her over twenty times.
Once he finished, Mu Jinpei brewed coffee for her.
While it was brewing, Ji Xingyao turned off the living room lights.
“Mu Jinpei.”
“Hmm?”
“Come here.”
“What now?” He wiped his hands and walked over.
Ji Xingyao pulled the curtains open and pointed outside.
The night sky was beautiful—light clouds, a bright moon, a scattering of stars.
Backlit, the sharp contours of his jawline stood out in striking contrast.
Ji Xingyao stood on tiptoe and kissed his jaw.
Mu Jinpei lifted her off the ground again with one arm—her toes just barely left the floor.
Outside the window, the stars kept the moon company.
Inside, he looked only at her.
…
It was nearly midnight when Mu Jinpei finally left, after making sure Ji Xingyao had fallen asleep.
Chu Zheng had been waiting in the car downstairs. He still had one thing to remind his boss about. It had come to mind earlier when he was ordered to buy flowers. “Mr. Mu, New Year’s is coming up. Don’t forget to prepare a gift for Miss Ji.”
He was genuinely worried his boss would default to his old thinking—that New Year’s was just a holiday, not a gift-giving occasion.
Years of influence from his adoptive father had taught Mu Jinpei that gifts were expected on holidays. No matter the occasion, Mu Wenhuai would always prepare something for Pei Yu—even for Children’s Day.
Mu Jinpei began thinking seriously about what to give Ji Xingyao.
Chu Zheng added, “There’s only a few days left. Anything ordered overseas won’t arrive in time.”
Mu Jinpei glanced up at the apartment windows, already dark, and a plan began to form. “I’ll design it myself. Contact some high-end tailors here in Beijing.”
Chu Zheng: “Understood.” He assumed it would be a custom dress. “What kind of fabric and color should I prepare?”
Mu Jinpei replied, “It’s not for a dress.”
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