Chapter 31:

Unknowingly, Ji Xingyao had been slowly eroding Mu Jinpei’s rationality.
“Step Into Your World” wasn’t something she had just casually said—only now did he fully understand its meaning.

She had always thought he was lonely. And she had always wanted to step into his world.

Mu Jinpei looked into Ji Xingyao’s eyes—her gaze was soft and gentle. He didn’t want to wake from it.

The doorbell rang.

“Think carefully about somewhere that suits my request,” Ji Xingyao said as she walked to answer the door.

It was Uncle Zhang at the door, motioning for her to come out.

After the door closed, Ji Xingyao spoke. “Here to give me the car keys?”

“Mm.” Uncle Zhang handed her a file folder—it contained the paperwork for the sports car and the keys. He reached out and ruffled her hair gently, saying nothing.

Back inside, Mu Jinpei was setting up a canvas. Ji Xingyao handed him the folder directly.

“What’s this?”

“A gift,” she emphasized. “A Valentine’s Day gift—I’m giving it to you early.”

Feeling the car keys inside, Mu Jinpei instantly understood what Uncle Zhang had gone to Tianjin for yesterday—and why he hadn’t wanted to say what it was.

It had been Ji Xingyao’s surprise for him, and Uncle Zhang had kept her secret.

He loved speed—especially when hatred weighed on him so heavily it was hard to breathe. Racing was his only release. In those moments of acceleration, life and death hung by a thread.

With the pedal to the floor, there was just a hair’s breadth between him and death.

Only then did it feel like he truly grasped what it meant to be alive.

But when the road ended and the car gradually slowed—

All the hatred and resentment came rushing back, untouched.

“People who love racing usually fall into two categories. One: pure passion, like Qi Chen. For him, racing is life,” Ji Xingyao said. “Then there’s the second kind—too lonely, carrying too much inside, shouldering everything alone. Racing is just an outlet.”

“I always felt you were the second kind,” she added, reaching out to him. “From now on, I’ll race with you—let’s make speed a shared interest, not just an escape.”

Mu Jinpei pulled her into his arms, his voice low and hoarse. “Thank you.”
As for where to take her to feel loneliness—he’d already thought of it.
“We’ll go back to New York for Valentine’s Day.”

Ji Xingyao asked, “Is there something important you have to deal with?”

“No,” Mu Jinpei said. “I just want to take you somewhere.”

Shu Zheng received Mu Jinpei’s request to book a flight to New York on February 12. He reminded his boss, “Xu Rui’s wedding is right after Valentine’s Day. Will you be back in time?”

Mu Jinpei replied, “I won’t make it.”
After a pause, he added, “You stay in Beijing and attend on my behalf.”

Shu Zheng wanted to say more but swallowed his words.

On the eve of Chinese New Year, Beijing was hit by heavy snow.

Ji Xingyao got up on time to go to her studio. Xie Yuncheng’s secretary had called earlier, asking to stop by and pick out a few paintings. Later, Xie Yuncheng himself called and set an appointment for today.

He arrived early and waited downstairs.

Ji Xingyao wasn’t wearing makeup today—it was cold, and she didn’t feel like getting up early to dress up, especially since she wasn’t meeting Mu Jinpei. There wasn’t much motivation.

She got out of the car wrapped in a thick down coat and quickly walked into the building.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

Xie Yuncheng smiled faintly. “I was afraid if I came late, you wouldn’t have the patience to wait and wouldn’t sell me the paintings.”

Ji Xingyao smiled. “Honestly, you might be right.”

They were familiar strangers—connected through Xingyao No.1—so it wasn’t awkward.

In the elevator, Ji Xingyao brought up the paintings available. “Only still lifes—I told your secretary, he should’ve passed that on?”

Xie Yuncheng nodded. He was indeed here for still lifes. His father liked them, and with his birthday just days away, this was his way of showing appreciation—for the gift of life, if nothing else.

He asked, “Your figure paintings are signed with M.K. Gallery?”

Ji Xingyao replied, “Yes, exclusive representation.”

There was a moment of silence in the elevator.

At the studio, Ji Xingyao hung up her coat and started making coffee.

Xie Yuncheng unbuttoned his trench coat but didn’t take it off.

He had guessed that her studio would be filled with valuable pieces, but still, it caught him off guard. Out of courtesy, he didn’t wander around and went straight to the sofa in the reception area.

Looking out the window, the city was blanketed in white—it felt like a winter wonderland.

Before the coffee was ready, Ji Xingyao brought out a tube of paintings—these were the still lifes that Shu Zheng had just returned yesterday after Mu Jinpei borrowed them.

She pointed to the ones hanging on the wall. “Feel free to choose.”

Xie Yuncheng browsed them carefully. Ji Xingyao brought him coffee. He looked up and asked, “Why not hire an assistant?”

“To save money.”

He gave her a sideways glance, speechless.

Ji Xingyao sat beside him. “When you have time, I’ll properly play host.”

Xie Yuncheng looked down at the paintings. “We’re family—you don’t have to be so formal.”

Ji Xingyao, thinking of setting him up with Tang Jialai, casually said, “It’s been a while since I’ve gathered with some friends. One of them’s in the art field too—would be good to exchange ideas.”

Xie Yuncheng looked up. “Tang Jialai, right?” Before Ji Xingyao could reply, he added, “No need. I’m not interested—definitely not happening.”

Ji Xingyao hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. He could’ve declined more gracefully—no need to act like Tang Jialai was throwing herself at him.

She gave a subtle smile. “Do you hold such a grudge because she dumped you back then?”

Xie Yuncheng: “…”

Ji Xingyao smoothly changed the subject, tilting her chin toward a painting in front of him. “See anything you like?”

He placed the one he’d chosen aside. “What’s the price for this one?”

Ji Xingyao didn’t go easy just because he was related to Mu Jinpei. She was all business:
“500,000 yuan. Non-negotiable.”

Xie Yuncheng said slowly, “500,000?”

His tone clearly suggested he thought it wasn’t worth that much.

Ji Xingyao replied calmly but confidently, “My figure paintings sold for 300,000 several years ago. That’s not even talking about still lifes.”

“You’re in luck—at the spring auction next year, these will start at 500,000.”

Xie Yuncheng said, “I’m only interested in your figure works. This one is for my dad—as a birthday gift.”
500,000 it is. He couldn’t be bothered to bargain.

“Send me your account details.”

Ji Xingyao sent him a screenshot with her studio name and account number. She also added a note:
[Still Life, “Yesterday’s Rose”, ¥500,000.00]

After receiving the info, Xie Yuncheng glanced at her. When it came to business, she didn’t hesitate.
He forwarded the message to his secretary and instructed them to transfer the money immediately.

Ji Xingyao wrapped up the painting, then picked out another one. “This one’s a gift for your father—wishing him a happy birthday and good health.”

Rather than lowering her price, she’d rather give one away.
Xie Yuncheng accepted without fuss. “I’ll thank you on his behalf.”

Then he asked about her plans to learn to fly. “Why the sudden interest in flying helicopters?”

Ji Xingyao said, “I’m interested in everything—I just don’t have the time.” She looked over at him. “I heard that flight school is under your name. I might need your help finding a good instructor.”

Xie Yuncheng: “No problem.”

He didn’t stay long—picked up the paintings and left.

Once he was gone, the studio quieted. Ji Xingyao sat at her worktable to refocus.

She’d be in New York with Mu Jinpei for Valentine’s Day, staying at least a week.

Then she’d begin training for her pilot license—which, even with talent, would take at least six months.

There were still several pieces she hadn’t finished. She picked up her phone and sent Mu Jinpei a message:

[I’m going into painting seclusion until February 11. Love you.]

Once Ji Xingyao entered her painting “frenzy mode,” nothing could distract her—not even the slightest disturbance. During this time, she only paused to have New Year’s Eve dinner with her family, then buried herself back in the studio. She even had her phone calls rerouted to Uncle Zhang.

Yin He grew worried that this would affect her relationship with Mu Jinpei.
“Why does her honeymoon phase feel so short?”

Ji Changsheng reassured her, “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. A workaholic like Mu Jinpei probably wouldn’t want a partner clinging to him all the time. Having independent space is a good thing. Besides, he’s used to it—his mother must’ve been the same way.”

While they were talking, Feng Liang arrived.

It was only the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, and he was already back at work.

Ji Changsheng and Feng Liang went upstairs to the study. Once the door closed, Ji Changsheng said,
“If M.K. plans to invest in domestic projects, and if the opportunity is suitable, we can consider it.”

Feng Liang was caught off guard.
“Chairman Ji, you mean…?”

Ji Changsheng replied, “Begin preliminary cooperation. As for Mu Jinpei’s background—maybe I’ve just been overthinking it, imagining shadows where there are none. Mu Wenya also confirmed that Mu Jinpei is indeed Pei Yu’s biological son.”

Two days ago, he had dinner with Xie Junyi, and Mu Wenya had joined them. He intentionally brought it up with her. Mu Wenya looked completely confused, then laughed it off, saying it was nonsense.

Given how much she hated Pei Yu, it made sense she wouldn’t say anything in Mu Jinpei’s defense. But if Mu Jinpei truly were Pei Yu’s biological son, no matter how much she hated Pei Yu, she wouldn’t make up a lie saying he was adopted.

Ji Changsheng had always been suspicious by nature. Even if all the evidence proved that Mu Jinpei had nothing to do with the Gu family, he still felt like there was a giant web of lies hanging in front of him.

Maybe it was time to slowly let go of that defensive mindset—to release the preconceived judgments and try getting to know Mu Jinpei for real. Time reveals a person’s heart. The more they interacted, if something was wrong, it would eventually surface.

He decided to take a proper break over the next two weeks—go on a vacation with Yin He, clear his mind, and perhaps discover something with fresh perspective.

Feng Liang said, “I’ll keep an eye on M.K.’s latest movements.”
Then, after a pause, “And what about the South Africa project?”

Ji Changsheng said, “I had a good conversation with Xie Junyi about it.”

Feng Liang understood—Chairman Ji was moving forward with that cooperation.
He cautioned, “It’s a large investment. High risk, too.”

Of course Ji Changsheng was aware.
“That’s why we’ll bring in Old Qi to co-invest—to spread the risk.” Old Qi had already shown interest in the project.

He opened his laptop and gave Feng Liang a few instructions.

By the time they finished, night had fallen.

…

At M.K. Tower

Mu Jinpei and Shu Zheng were still working overtime. They were already aware of Ji Changsheng’s upcoming plans.

Shu Zheng still felt uneasy.
“I’m not sure if Ji Changsheng truly believes us or if this is just a move to test us.”

Mu Jinpei replied, “It doesn’t matter whether he believes or not. As long as he steps into the game, that’s enough. Over the next year, all cooperation will proceed as normal.”

Shu Zheng nodded. “Got it.”

Mu Jinpei glanced at his watch.
“You head home early tonight.” He grabbed his car keys and left.

He’d been driving himself lately—in the car Ji Xingyao had given him.

Unconsciously, he found himself parked in front of her studio building. The top floor, northernmost window was still lit. It had been nine days since he last saw her—still one more week to go before her so-called “exit from seclusion.”

He had promised not to disturb her until then, and only go pick her up when it was time to head to the airport together. But nine days had passed—no phone calls, no messages.

He pulled out his phone, held it in his hand for a long moment, then finally typed and sent a message:

[Don’t you miss me?]