Chapter 4

That same afternoon, Mu Jinpei went to the M.K Gallery and informed Pei Yu about his meeting with Ji Xingyao regarding the agency agreement. He also shared the terms he had proposed.

Pei Yu closed the art catalog in her hands. Her focus was elsewhere: “You like Xingyao.” Her tone was certain.

Mu Jinpei remained expressionless. “Mom, you’re getting off track. I’m talking business.” He deliberately emphasized, “This concerns the future operations of the M.K Gallery. Please take it seriously.”

Pei Yu laughed. “Now you’re even lecturing me all serious and proper.”

She leaned back into her swivel chair, fully relaxed. “Even I like Xingyao. There’s no reason you wouldn’t. Women are already smitten with her—let alone men like you.”

Mu Jinpei brushed past the key point. “Since you appreciate her, signing her is my way of being a filial son.”

Pei Yu laughed even harder, only further convinced that her son liked Xingyao.

This so-called agency talk? Just an excuse. Clearly, he just wanted to see Xingyao again.

“Well then, since you gave her a week to consider, next week I’ll ask Jiale to go with you to meet her again. If that doesn’t work, I’ll personally make the invitation. Don’t worry—Xingyao is destined to be your wife.”

“If you really don’t know how to date, I’ll recommend a few films. You could learn a thing or two.” Pei Yu was in high spirits and talked more than usual, genuinely happy for her son.

Mu Jinpei got up and placed the coffee in front of her. “Mom, your coffee’s getting cold.”

Pei Yu slapped his arm lightly. “Don’t change the subject!”

Mu Jinpei didn’t want to talk about love—whether or not he liked Ji Xingyao. And even more, he didn’t want to get into it with his mother.

The entanglements between him and the Ji family were not something he could lie to his mother about. He had never once considered using her, not even telling a single white lie.

“Mom, when are you going back? Dad asked me about it yesterday,” he shifted the topic.

Pei Yu’s enthusiasm visibly dimmed. She picked up her coffee and took a slow sip. “There’s still a lot to do here. Your dad’s not a child—he can take care of himself.”

Mu Jinpei explained, “He’s just worried about you. He’s afraid you won’t eat or sleep properly.”

Pei Yu replied lightly, “At my age? That’s just sentimental nonsense.” She opened the art catalog again. “I’ve got work to do—need to finish this and respond to some clients.”

Clearly, she didn’t want to talk more about his father—her tone made that clear.

Mu Jinpei left her office and went upstairs.

The third floor of the M.K Gallery had a studio reserved just for Mu Jinpei. Before he came to Beijing, his mother often sent him photos of it.
“If you don’t come see it soon, I’ll use it myself,” she’d tease during video calls.

The studio’s interior had been designed to his taste. Pei Yu had even established the Beijing branch of M.K Gallery with him in mind. She knew he had emotional baggage tied to this city—his nightmares often took place here.

She wanted him to face it and untangle those knots in his heart.

But what Pei Yu didn’t know… was what his heart knot truly was.

This wasn’t just the city where his biological mother had died—it was the place where all his grudges and pain had begun.

Mu Jinpei didn’t ask any of the gallery staff to accompany him—he went upstairs alone. The studio had everything he needed: a full range of painting tools.

Located at the far east end of the corridor, the studio faced the street.
One entire wall was a floor-to-ceiling window, with a cozy sofa placed right beside it.
The soundproofing was excellent. Once the window was closed and the blackout curtains drawn, it felt completely cut off from the world.

Mu Jinpei sat on the sofa for a while.

He thought about the past. About his birth mother—her face had long faded from memory. Now, he didn’t even have a single photo of her.
Then he thought about his adoptive parents.

To outsiders, Mu Wenhuai and Pei Yu were the picture of a perfect couple—married for years and still as loving as ever. But what he saw was a relationship that was all appearances and no substance.

Mu Wenhuai’s affection toward Pei Yu had always been consistent, but Pei Yu’s feelings for Mu Wenhuai were more of mutual respect than genuine love.
He didn’t know the exact reason.

Mu Wenhuai and Pei Yu were the only warmth he had in his life. He wanted them to stay well, so he chose to deceive himself and never pry into their private affairs.

Knock knock.

A knock came at the door.

It was his assistant, Chu Zheng, there to report. Ji Changsheng’s suspicions had been temporarily eased—but only for now. Once Ji Changsheng started doubting someone, he’d never fully trust them again without thorough investigation.
They couldn’t afford to let their guard down.

Mu Jinpei rubbed his temples—his headache was returning. It hadn’t hurt at all during lunch with Ji Xingyao.
“Feng Liang called you again?”

Feng Liang was someone he had planted beside Ji Changsheng.
Highly competent and extremely discreet, Feng Liang had become one of Ji Changsheng’s most trusted aides after years of honing his skills.

Chu Zheng replied, “He called about ten minutes ago—just said, ‘Everything is arranged.’”

Mu Jinpei paused to think. “Even though Feng Liang has earned Ji Changsheng’s trust, Ji Changsheng is extremely cautious by nature. He won’t truly trust anyone completely. Avoid any private contact with Feng Liang from now on—we don’t want to tip him off.”

Chu Zheng didn’t dare make assumptions about his boss’s intent. “President Mu, do you mean…?”

Mu Jinpei said, “Prepare two projects for collaboration with the Ji Group. From now on, only deal with them publicly, company to company.”

Chu Zheng responded, “Understood. I’ll get started right away.”

Mu Jinpei stood up and pulled open the curtains.
The street below was packed with traffic, completely gridlocked, and crowds bustled along the sidewalks.

Chu Zheng asked for further instructions, “President Mu, what would you like to arrange next?”
Mu Jinpei looked out, his tone calm and unhurried, “Nothing for now. I’ll wait for them to come to me.”

---

Ji Xingyao didn’t go to the dance troupe to find her mother. Instead, she headed straight to Ji Group to discuss the agency matter with her father.

Ji Changsheng was reviewing the investigation report related to Mu Jinpei. There were only five or six pages, but he had read through them over and over—at least five times—without missing a single punctuation mark.

The report confirmed that Mu Jinpei was indeed the son of Mu Wenhuai and Pei Yu. The doctor who had performed Pei Yu’s cesarean delivery had already retired but was still alive and had been contacted.

Ji Changsheng pressed hard on his brow. He had felt uneasy since yesterday.

Feng Liang folded the pages and said, “Chairman Ji, maybe once you’ve calmed down in a few days, you can go over everything again. I’ll also have someone continue investigating more thoroughly.”
Then he turned on the shredder and fed the documents in—turning them into a pile of paper shreds.

Ji Changsheng muttered, “This is my heartache.” Twenty-five years, and it still hadn’t healed.

Feng Liang didn’t ask for details but reminded him, “Chairman, Xingyao should be arriving soon.”

Ji Changsheng glanced at his watch. It had been almost half an hour since her call.
Feng Liang left the office and instructed the personal assistant to make a cup of coffee for Ji Xingyao.

Only when he was with his daughter did Ji Changsheng feel some of the shadows in his heart temporarily fade.
He personally brought in the coffee made by the assistant. Just as he was about to prepare some fruit, Ji Xingyao arrived.

“Dad, I can’t have cold things—you forgot?”
Ji Changsheng tapped his own forehead, “Daddy’s just been swamped and muddled.” He explained instinctively, “I’ve been in meetings all morning—my head’s filled with nothing but numbers.”

He asked with concern, “You saw the doctor, right? How are you feeling now?”
Ji Xingyao replied, “Much better. The doctor said I don’t need to continue the medication.”

Ji Changsheng kept the coffee for himself and poured a cup of hot water for his daughter.

Ji Xingyao sat beside him and sought his opinion. “Dad, what do you think about me signing with M.K Gallery to represent my artwork?”
“That would be a dream come true, wouldn’t it?” Ji Changsheng didn’t want to deal with Mu Jinpei, didn’t want to see those eyes of his, and still hadn’t completely dismissed his suspicions—but compared to his daughter’s dream, those discomforts meant nothing.

“Do you want me to ask your Uncle Tang to have Jiale help make the connection?” Ji Changsheng didn’t want to dampen her enthusiasm, but he had to say, “M.K is a high-tier platform. With your current reputation, it’s unlikely. They may not be interested.”

Ji Xingyao was full of confidence. “No need to trouble Uncle Tang. I’ve already talked with M.K Gallery. Maybe it’s thanks to the buzz from last night’s painting—Pei Yu agreed to represent my work. But the commission split is far below what I expected.”

“How much?”
“Fifty-fifty.”

“That’s pretty low,” Ji Changsheng said, patting her hand. “Still, it’s already very good. Even with a fifty-fifty split, there are plenty of people who’d fight tooth and nail just to get in. It’s not about the money—it’s about having access to a high-end platform like M.K.”

After a brief pause, Ji Xingyao said, “True, but I still want to earn more—to cover the rent for the studio, Uncle Zhang’s salary, and my medical expenses.”

Ji Changsheng was full of comfort and his daughter was finally no longer completely absorbed in her own world of painting. Now she understood the importance of negotiating with M.K, of fighting for greater benefits for herself.

“Then take your time negotiating with M.K. See if you can push for a 60-40 split.”

Ji Xingyao nodded.

Still a bit uneasy, Ji Changsheng offered, “Do you want Dad to negotiate on your behalf?”

Ji Xingyao refused without hesitation. “Dad, please let me handle it myself. If you don’t let go, I’ll never grow up.”

With Tang Jiale working at M.K and Pei Yu’s strong reputation in the industry, Ji Changsheng was reassured and trusted his daughter to handle this independently.

Ji Xingyao had already made up her mind, but she didn’t rush to reply to Mu Jinpei.

The deadline hadn’t arrived yet. On the fifth day, she received a message from him:
[Are you busy? Let’s have dinner tonight.]

Mu Jinpei had just returned to his office from a business lunch. Over the past few days, many people had approached him to discuss partnerships—but not the one he was waiting for.

His assistant, Chu Zheng, followed him in and shut the door.

Regarding Ji Changsheng, Chu Zheng shared his opinion: “Ji Changsheng is shrewd and strategic. Even if he’s no longer suspicious of you and is open to working together, he won’t make the first move.”

Ji Changsheng knew very well that the party who initiates the conversation is always at a disadvantage during negotiations.

Mu Jinpei replied, “No rush.” He had plenty of time to wait for him out.

Chu Zheng reminded him, “President Mu, Chairman Qi of Ruichen Group is hosting a charity gala tonight. It starts at 7 PM.” They received the invitation a few days ago, and Chu Zheng had mentioned it in case his boss forgot.

Ruichen Group had solid strength and a good reputation in the industry.
But Mu Jinpei had already asked Ji Xingyao to dinner and didn’t want to stand her up.

Mu Jinpei said, “You go in my place. Make sure to bid on a few items during the auction to show support for Chairman Qi.”

Chu Zheng: “Understood.”

Mu Jinpei glanced at his phone again—still no reply from Ji Xingyao.

She had seen the message long ago but didn’t want to appear too eager. Staring at the screen for a while, she finally replied:
[I’m busy right now.]

Mu Jinpei: [I’ll come pick you up when you’re done. Send me the address.]

Ji Xingyao sent the location to him, then messaged Uncle Zhang:
[Uncle Zhang, sorry to trouble you, but could you please come upstairs to help tidy up the studio? Someone from M.K Gallery is coming by soon to discuss the representation of my work, and we’ll be having dinner afterward.

Uncle Zhang quickly understood—it must be Mu Jinpei.
[Alright, I’m coming up now.]

Ji Xingyao’s studio was over 200 square meters, divided into a workspace and a rest area. Normally, Uncle Zhang handled the cleaning, and Ji Xingyao also did some organizing during her breaks. She hadn’t hired a cleaner.

The studio was packed with various artworks and materials. To outsiders, it looked messy and chaotic, almost impossible to organize.

During her creative process for the Xingyao series, whenever she ran out of inspiration or felt exhausted, she would paint still-life works. Many of the vases and bottles in her studio were worth millions—purchased by Ji Changsheng at auctions.

Having been with her for so long, Uncle Zhang knew Ji Xingyao’s preferences for arranging everything.

The door opened.

Ji Xingyao turned around. “Uncle Zhang, does it look messy in here?”

Uncle Zhang thought for a moment about how to give a more artistic answer. After a pause, he said, “It’s messy in just the right way.”

Ji Xingyao couldn’t help but laugh.

Uncle Zhang rolled up his sleeves and went to the restroom to get clean cloth.

Ji Xingyao’s voice called out, “Uncle Zhang, you don’t need to stay with me tonight. You can go wander around or maybe watch a movie. There are a lot of action films showing lately. I’ll book you some tickets—watch a few.”

Uncle Zhang came out with cleaned cloth. He hadn’t stepped into a movie theater in years. These past years, his life had been reduced to driving and taking care of Ji Xingyao. While they were abroad, he had also taken it upon himself to ensure her safety. His only hobby was organizing the various antiques and art pieces in her studio.

“I’m just a rough old man. I don’t really appreciate movies.”

Ji Xingyao pointed at the antiques. “You can understand these—how are you a rough old man?”

Uncle Zhang said, “That’s just from seeing too much of it over time.”

Ji Xingyao picked up the thread, “Exactly—watch more and you’ll get it.” She moved some magazines aside and started wiping the coffee table.

Uncle Zhang wasn’t great with words and couldn’t outtalk her. He focused on his work, carefully placing the vases back in their original positions.

Before they knew it, over three hours had passed, and the studio had been completely transformed.

Uncle Zhang watered all the plants, then closed the door and left.

Ji Xingyao stood at the entrance of the studio, took a photo with her phone, then snapped a few shots of each corner. She flipped through them one by one—no sign of any dirty spots.

Ding-dong. The doorbell rang.

Ji Xingyao froze. It was only five o’clock—Mu Jinpei was here already?

Almost instantly, a message popped up on her phone.
Mu Jinpei: [Open the door. It’s me.]

She opened the door, and their eyes met.

Mu Jinpei paused slightly. The Ji Xingyao in front of him was different from the previous two times they’d met.

Ji Xingyao smiled, “Don’t recognize me?”

She gestured to invite him in.

“It’s not that I don’t recognize you,” Mu Jinpei replied as he stepped inside. “It’s an honor to see the real you in your everyday life.”

Ji Xingyao casually closed the door behind him.

She realized that people with high emotional intelligence always knew how to make even the most ordinary words ripple through your heart.

“I don’t socialize much. I stay in the studio all day, so I just dress for comfort.” She walked over to the bar cabinet to make coffee. “Mr. Mu, make yourself at home.”

Mu Jinpei didn’t head toward her work area. Instead, he walked to the windows.

The studio was open and spacious, with two floor-to-ceiling windows. The warm glow of the setting sun poured into the room.

They were on the 52nd floor, with an unobstructed view. Looking out, the entire city’s splendor lay beneath them.

Mu Jinpei had always liked being high up—the feeling of overlooking everything was different. Yet, his villa only had three floors, and the M.K Gallery building only had three as well.

He turned around to look at Ji Xingyao, who was at the wine cabinet, making coffee. Her movements were clumsy, but she was serious and focused. This must be the most authentic version of her.

At the gala, she had arrived dressed to the nines—elegant, glamorous, with a touch of icy aloofness.

At the hospital, she had been well put together, delicate and stunning.

Today, she had shed all glamor. No makeup, her hair done casually, wearing a pair of light blue jeans and a relaxed white shirt. The shirt was tucked into her pants, looking crisp and neat.

Compared to the last two times, she was less striking but fresher and more radiant.

Every version of her was breathtaking in its own way.

Ji Xingyao thought Mu Jinpei was here to discuss the agency rights for her artworks. While the coffee was still brewing, she took the opportunity to bring out her other organized pieces.

Mu Jinpei stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing out the window.

Ji Xingyao paused in her steps—he was looking at the view, and she was looking at him.
The sunset outside was stunning, with the evening glow spilling across the western sky.

Even with his upright posture, a trace of loneliness was unmistakable in his figure.

“Mr. Mu.”

Mu Jinpei snapped out of his thoughts and turned around.

Ji Xingyao pointed toward the coffee table. “These are my works from the past few years. I hope you’ll be willing to offer some guidance.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Mu Jinpei replied, sitting down on the sofa and beginning to examine the first painting. He knew she wasn’t showing him the pieces for free, there was something she wanted to negotiate. So, he got straight to the point: “And then?”

Ji Xingyao sat across from him. “Then you look at the second one.”

Mu Jinpei: “…”

It was the first time someone had left him speechless. He looked up at Ji Xingyao, but she deliberately avoided his gaze and looked at the painting in his hands instead.