Chapter 3 

Running into Ji Xingyao again in Luo Song’s office was something Mu Jinpei hadn’t expected. A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes but disappeared in an instant.

“What a coincidence.” Rarely, Mu Jinpei took the initiative to greet her.

Ji Xingyao smiled faintly. Running into someone she knew in this kind of setting felt very awkward.

Luo Song glanced between the two of them. “You two know each other?”

Mu Jinpei gave a soft “Mm.” “We met at the banquet last night. My mother bought one of Miss Ji’s paintings.”

Until now, Luo Song hadn’t known what Ji Xingyao did for a living—just that she was very busy, often staying up all night, living with an upside-down schedule. He’d only met her three or four times, each just for a short consultation.

He had too many patients to remember them all. If Mu Jinpei hadn’t called her “Miss Ji” just now, he wouldn’t even have remembered her surname.

Meeting a male acquaintance in a gynecologist’s office was bound to be embarrassing. Luo Song tactfully eased the awkwardness. “Seems like now that the painting’s sold, your stress has lessened quite a bit.”

He turned to Mu Jinpei. “Young people these days have it tough. They put too much pressure on themselves and mess up their endocrine systems.”

Mu Jinpei replied, “The more outstanding someone is, the harsher they are on themselves.” As he spoke, he stood up. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I need to make a call in the car.”

He took the excuse to leave.

As he passed by her, Ji Xingyao once again felt that sharp, imposing aura from Mu Jinpei.

She was wearing flat shoes today and only came up to his shoulder.

The door closed.

Ji Xingyao said gratefully, “Thank you, Dr. Luo.”

Luo Song knew exactly why she was thanking him—he’d smoothed over the awkwardness between her and Mu Jinpei. He smiled, “Of course.” Then he got down to business. “What’s bothering you today?”

Ji Xingyao replied, “Nothing, actually. I just had the first day of my period last night, and it hurt like hell, but I feel much better now. Dr. Luo, do I still need to continue with the treatment?”

Luo Song said, “You can pause it for now. With your condition, the key is self-regulation. First, reduce stress, and make sure to get enough sleep. If you just rely on medication without improving your habits, it won’t work.”

Ji Xingyao nodded, taking his advice seriously.

Luo Song’s tone softened. “I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you. Such great accomplishments at such a young age.”

Ji Xingyao thanked him. He was very busy, and a nurse soon came looking for him. She took her leave.

Downstairs, as she walked toward the parking lot, she took out her phone and messaged her mom:
[Mom, I’m heading your way now. I’ve seen the doctor—everything’s fine.]

“Hey, beautiful, excuse me for a second.”

A sudden voice interrupted her. Ji Xingyao instinctively looked up and saw a young man standing in front of her, looking flippant from head to toe—both hairstyle and outfit screamed playboy.

“Hi, I’m Qi Chen,” the man said. His narrow eyes nearly turned into crescents when he smiled, looking completely innocent and harmless. He immediately handed over his business card.

Ji Xingyao wasn’t sure what he was trying to do. His intentions unclear, she didn’t take the card—but glanced at it reflexively.

The card was extremely simple:
Vice General Manager, Ruichen Group – Qi Chen

Ji Xingyao had heard of Ruichen Group—a well-known publicly listed company. The chairman’s surname was Qi, a business associate of her father and Uncle Tang. She had even met the chairman before.

This man in front of her—also surnamed Qi, name matching the company’s, and bearing some resemblance to Chairman Qi—was likely his son.

And the eldest son of Ruichen had long been engaged. Rumor had it he was a notorious playboy.

Turns out, the rumors were true.

Qi Chen stood there holding out his business card so long his hand was sore. He gave it a good shake. Normally, women would’ve taken the card already. Was this some kind of “hard to get” routine?

Any woman who used the internet would know who he was.

He’d started racing at eighteen and had become famous over the years. Another reason he was well-known: several of his childhood friends were celebrities.

As for the “Vice General Manager” title—just for show, it sounded fancy and helped him meet girls.

Qi Chen opened his phone. “What’s your WeChat? I’ll add you.”

Ji Xingyao’s face showed no emotion. “Sorry.”

She walked around him and left without hesitation.

“Fine, fine, fine—let’s say you’re just playing hard to get, I’ll go along with it. That okay now?” Qi Chen caught up and blocked Ji Xingyao’s path, pulling up his QR code. “Here, I’ll take the initiative to give you my WeChat.” For someone this pretty, he was willing to be patient.

Ji Xingyao stopped in her tracks. “I have a boyfriend.”

Qi Chen grinned. “So what? You can always break up. Besides, I’m just asking to be friends—hang out if we’ve got time.” He said it like it was nothing: “I have a fiancée too. Been engaged for a while. Doesn’t get in the way.”

Ji Xingyao couldn’t be bothered and walked around him again.

But Qi Chen refused to give up and blocked her again.

Exasperated, Ji Xingyao said, “My dad is Ji Changsheng. If you don’t know who that is, go ask Chairman Qi.”

Instead of backing off, Qi Chen got even more excited. “You should’ve said so earlier! That just means we definitely need to know each other.” Once again, he shoved the business card and QR code in front of her.

Ji Xingyao couldn’t figure out what had gotten into him. He showed no regard for the business ties between his father and hers. Then again, it totally fit the profile of a spoiled rich second-generation heir—pampered rotten by the family elders.

Without wasting another word, she tapped out 110 on her phone (China’s emergency number) and said coldly, “Move.”

Qi Chen didn’t retreat—in fact, he laughed and urged her, “Come on, go ahead and call the cops. Honestly, I want to spend a few days locked up. Better than seeing my fiancée every day. If you help me get rid of her, I’ll even treat you to dinner when I get out.”

Ji Xingyao: “…”

She hadn’t actually intended to call the police—just to scare him off. Who knew he’d be this shameless?

Qi Chen wasn’t really the clingy, obsessive type. Once he heard she was Ji Changsheng’s daughter, a new idea struck him—maybe he could use this to cause a scene. If she reported him to his family, maybe his fiancée would break off the engagement. That was his only goal now: to get out of a meaningless marriage.

He grinned obnoxiously. “Still not calling the cops?”

Ji Xingyao had never met someone this shameless. From middle school until now, she’d had more admirers than she could count—but never one like Qi Chen.

She pulled up Zhang Bo’s number.

Just then, a low, deep voice called out: “Xingyao, I’m over here.”

Ji Xingyao paused, startled, and canceled the call she hadn’t made yet.

That one line made her think she was hearing things.

She looked in the direction of the voice—and it was really Mu Jinpei.

Just now, he had called her Xingyao—and somehow, it didn’t feel off at all.

Mu Jinpei opened the car door and stepped out.

Qi Chen was caught off guard too.

So her boyfriend had come to the hospital with her.

For a moment, he forgot all about Ji Xingyao and started silently comparing his height with Mu Jinpei’s.

Before today, Qi Chen had felt pretty good about himself: nearly 180 cm tall, good-looking, rich family background—plenty of women threw themselves at him.

But the man walking toward them now made him feel like garbage.

Qi Chen had never been in the business world and had no idea who Mu Jinpei was.

Mu Jinpei walked over and stood beside Ji Xingyao. “A friend of yours?”

Ji Xingyao shook her head.

In the next second, Mu Jinpei’s sharp gaze fell directly on Qi Chen.

Everything Qi Chen had done just now, all his pestering, Mu Jinpei had seen.

That icy look stabbed into him like a blade. Qi Chen’s spine went cold, and he gave a sheepish smile. “Just asking for directions. Sorry to bother you.”

Fearing a beating, he turned and scurried off like a whipped dog.

Mentally cursing his luck.

Qi Chen dashed into the inpatient building.

Silence fell between Mu Jinpei and Ji Xingyao—for a moment—because of the way he’d rescued her, calling out:
“Xingyao, I’m over here.”

Ji Xingyao steadied herself and said, “Thank you.”

“A small favor,” Mu Jinpei replied lightly, as he always did, calm and composed. He asked, “You came to the hospital alone?”

Ji Xingyao replied, “Uncle Zhang is waiting in the car, in parking area B.”

Mu Jinpei nodded. When he looked at her, Ji Xingyao instinctively averted her gaze, staring off at the nearby shrubbery instead.

Another awkward silence fell between them.

Mu Jinpei gestured upstairs. “I still need to see Luo Song.”

Ji Xingyao understood. “Go ahead.”

Mu Jinpei walked past her and away. Once his figure was out of her peripheral vision, she glanced back in his direction—only for Mu Jinpei to suddenly turn around, as if sensing her gaze. She tried to look away, but it was too late.

Mu Jinpei asked, “Busy today?” As soon as he said it, he realized it was a bit abrupt, so he added, “If you’re interested, we could talk about the representation rights to your oil paintings. I’m representing M.K. Gallery.”

Since its founding, M.K. Gallery had only represented works by master artists in the industry. For someone at her level, getting a spot with M.K. was almost out of reach.

Ji Xingyao couldn’t help feeling tempted and agreed.

Mu Jinpei said, “You can wait in my car—I’ll be down in half an hour at most.” He then messaged his driver.

Before she could head over, the driver had already come down and opened the rear door. Ji Xingyao informed Uncle Zhang that she was going to discuss business with Mu Jinpei and even sent him the car’s license plate number.

Mu Jinpei wasn’t just visiting Luo Song to catch up—his headache was severe. He asked what medication he should take or if Luo could recommend a top neurosurgeon for a check-up.

Rubbing his temples, he muttered, “I’m not sure if it’s the jet lag.”

“Your family’s medical team didn’t find anything before. Other doctors probably won’t either. Most likely, it’s psychological—or you’ve been overthinking and not resting enough. Wait a couple days, and if it still hurts, get a scan done,” Luo Song said.

He knew a bit about Mu Jinpei’s background but nothing about the feud with the Ji family—Mu Jinpei had never brought it up. What he did know was that Mu Jinpei disliked this city and had for a long time.

Last month, when Mu Jinpei suddenly said he wanted to return to China to invest, Luo Song thought he was just speaking offhand.

“Why the sudden decision to return?” Luo asked.

“To root out the cause of my troubles,” Mu Jinpei replied without elaborating.

Luo Song never pried into others’ business. He simply said, “Hope the cure works.”

—

Ji Xingyao sent her mother a message, saying she wouldn’t make it over right away.

Mu Jinpei returned much sooner than expected. Ji Xingyao had assumed he asked her to wait in the car for a brief discussion—after all, people at his level usually had tightly packed schedules.

But as soon as he got in the car, he said, “I’m not familiar with Beijing. You pick the restaurant.”

Ji Xingyao wasn’t familiar with Beijing’s dining scene either. Before studying abroad, she’d been a middle schooler—her meals were all at home, and her spare time was entirely devoted to art.

Since returning a few months ago, she’d gone nowhere except home and her studio.

She suggested, “Why don’t we go somewhere near the auction venue from yesterday?”

Mu Jinpei agreed and told the driver to head that way.

Silence settled in the car again.

Ji Xingyao felt a vague pressure—maybe it was his height, or maybe it was his cold, reserved demeanor.

Though they sat less than a meter apart, it still felt distant.

Mu Jinpei looked at her in profile. She was gazing out the window. Just sitting there, she was like a painting—quiet and lovely.

“You’re friends with Jialei?” he asked.

Ji Xingyao turned her head, a beat slower than usual. “Mm, I’ve known her since I was little.” It seemed his relationship with Jialei wasn’t ordinary, since he called her by her nickname.

“So it was Jialei who strongly recommended me, right?” she asked.

Otherwise, someone at her level really wasn’t worthy of M.K. Gallery’s attention.

Mu Jinpei replied, “No one recommended you. My mom appreciates your work.” He paused. “I don’t know Jialei.”

So it must’ve been Pei Yu who mentioned her connection to Jialei.

Mu Jinpei asked, “Is Jialei her actual name or just a company nickname?”

Ji Xingyao replied, “Her real name—surname Tang.”

Mu Jinpei nodded, indicating he understood.

Only now did Ji Xingyao realize that when he brought up Sister Jialei earlier, it was just to find something to talk to her about. They weren’t familiar, and truly had little to say to each other.

“Beijing has changed so much, I barely recognize many places,” Mu Jinpei said, casually looking out the window on Ji Xingyao’s side.

“I can barely recognize it either,” Ji Xingyao replied, then asked, “You’ve been here before?”

He was born in Beijing—for him, it was a place full of nightmares. Mu Jinpei gave a vague response: “I saw it when I was little.”

His phone rang, cutting their conversation short.

It was a work call, and he spoke in Spanish, which Ji Xingyao couldn’t understand at all. She hadn’t been in Beijing for six or seven years and quietly took in the scenery outside.

They arrived at a specialty restaurant early; it wasn’t crowded yet.

Mu Jinpei and Ji Xingyao chose a quiet seat inside and sat across from each other. Mu Jinpei took off his suit jacket—underneath, his white shirt was crisp and wrinkle-free. He called the waiter to order.

The waiter told them they could order by scanning a QR code.

Mu Jinpei asked, “What do I use to scan? Do I need to download the restaurant’s app?”

Ji Xingyao was familiar with this—Uncle Zhang usually ordered meals for her. She figured Mu Jinpei might not even have WeChat yet, since he had just returned to China and grew up abroad.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

Mu Jinpei didn’t insist on ordering or paying first. Instead, he poured her tea.

“Mr. Mu, take a look at the menu—anything you don’t eat?” Ji Xingyao asked, showing him her phone.

“I’m not picky,” he said.

She ordered a few of the restaurant’s signature dishes and submitted the order.

Then Mu Jinpei naturally pulled up his WeChat QR code and handed it to her. “Next time, it’s my treat.”

“You have WeChat?” she asked.

“Mm. Just registered before coming back to China,” he replied.

She added him—his username was simply “Mu Jinpei.”

They discussed the painting representation over the meal.

Mu Jinpei got straight to the point: M.K. Gallery wanted exclusive rights to all her works during the contract period—she wouldn’t be able to work with any other agency.

The revenue split: 50/50.

Ji Xingyao almost forgot that, at the end of the day, Mu Jinpei was a businessman—when it came to interests, he didn’t concede an inch. She couldn’t accept an even split. She said directly, “I’d consider a 70/30 split. But I’ll need to talk it over with my parents.”

“A 50/50 split won’t be a loss for you. M.K. will elevate your value. You need to think long-term,” he responded.

Ji Xingyao raised her cup. “Thanks. I’ll seriously consider it and get back to you in a week.”

Mu Jinpei never liked forcing anyone into a decision, and Ji Xingyao remained calm and firm in her stance. For the rest of the time, they chatted about lighter things—mostly still life painting.

“Mu Jinpei?”

The voice was filled with disbelief.

Both Ji Xingyao and Mu Jinpei turned their heads simultaneously. A stunning woman walked over, her figure highlighted by a tight-fitting dress that made her hard to ignore.

Ji Xingyao recognized her—this was the same woman who spoke with Mu Jinpei at the cocktail party.

The woman smiled charmingly. “What a coincidence, running into you even while out eating.”

She completely ignored Ji Xingyao.

Mu Jinpei replied, “Seems like your tastes are similar to Xingyao’s. She insisted on coming here.” The way he called her Xingyao sounded so natural, almost affectionate.

Only then did the woman glance at Ji Xingyao—still, she didn’t greet her. She knew exactly who Ji Xingyao was. At last night’s gala, Ji Xingyao had outshone everyone, and the socialite group chats were still buzzing about her till midnight.

Just then, Mu Jinpei picked up a grilled mushroom from his plate and brought it to Ji Xingyao’s lips, still talking to the woman. “You here with a friend?”

The woman replied, “No, alone. My office is nearby—I usually eat here.”

The grilled mushroom touched Ji Xingyao’s lips. From the look of things, it was obvious Mu Jinpei was using her to fend off the woman. But the mushroom was whole—too big for one bite.

Ji Xingyao slightly opened her mouth and took a small bite.

While feeding her, Mu Jinpei continued chatting with the woman. “If you don’t mind, want to join us for the meal?”

The woman curved her lips in a faint smile. “I might get stuffed on all this PDA. Another time—I’ll go find a seat.”

Mu Jinpei nodded and popped the remaining half of the mushroom into his own mouth.

Ji Xingyao: “…” That was the piece she had bitten.

The woman, clearly displeased, walked off.

Mu Jinpei picked up his wine glass and gently clinked it against Ji Xingyao’s water glass. “Thank you.”

Ji Xingyao echoed his earlier words: “Just a small favor.”

After the meal, the two of them took the elevator down.

Ji Xingyao looked straight ahead. Reflecting faintly in the elevator door, she could see his silhouette. A subtle scent of red wine lingered on him—especially noticeable in the confined space.

Uncle Zhang was already waiting in the parking lot, so Ji Xingyao didn’t need to ride with Mu Jinpei.

As Mu Jinpei’s car rolled up, they both paused. Even after having a meal together, they were still not close.

Mu Jinpei said, “Think about it carefully.” Then added, “Let’s meet again when we have time.”

Ji Xingyao took it as just a polite gesture and gave a brief farewell before heading toward the parking lot. Her phone buzzed was a message from her mother, Yin He, asking if she wanted to go to the dance troupe that afternoon.

Soon after, Mu Jinpei’s car pulled forward. The window rolled down, and he called out, “Ji Xingyao.”

She turned her head slightly.

Mu Jinpei reminded her, “Don’t walk while looking at your phone. Stay on the side.”

With that, the car moved past her and out of sight. But in her ears, she could still hear the words he’d said to her at the hospital:
“Xingyao, I’m here.”