Chapter 40:

On the day they got their marriage certificate, the weather was exceptionally clear. The past few days had been gloomy, with the sun hiding behind clouds and mist. A light rain had fallen yesterday, but today the skies had cleared. The sky looked as if it had been washed with a high-pressure hose—an incredibly vivid blue.

The sky was high, the clouds sparse, the breeze gentle, and the sun just right.

For Ji Xingyao, today was double the joy. In the morning, she got their marriage certificate with Mu Jinpei. By evening, with such perfect weather, she could enjoy a beautiful sunset—a symbol of everlasting love.

The process of getting the certificate was faster than she expected: fill out forms, take photos, and the certificate was in their hands. She didn’t even have time to properly admire it before eagerly snapping a picture to send to Uncle Zhang and her father.

She’d wanted to surprise them, so she hadn’t revealed anything in advance.

When Uncle Zhang saw the certificate, he was stunned for a while. After confirming it wasn’t a prank, the weight he’d carried in his heart for almost a year was finally lifted.

He thought that Mu Jinpei, like himself, had ultimately been moved by Ji Xingyao’s pure and kind nature to give up his hatred. The feud between the Gu and Ji families had been going on for ages—right and wrong wasn’t something that could be clarified in a few words.

Of course, Ji Changsheng’s ruthlessness was unforgivable.

But what mattered most now was that Mu Jinpei had let go of the hatred that had weighed on his heart, and could finally live his own life, rather than being consumed by revenge.

He replied to Ji Xingyao: [“Our Yaoyao is all grown up.”]

Uncle Zhang wasn’t good with words, and even worse at expressing emotion. As always, he said it plainly—but Ji Xingyao felt warmth and a touch of sadness.

She figured Uncle Zhang must be feeling a bit of loss—because she had grown up.

On the way back from the civil affairs bureau, Mu Jinpei kept looking at the marriage certificate over and over again, like it was a priceless treasure, reluctant to let it go.

Ji Xingyao leaned on him and teased, “Do you want to stare at it until it’s burned into your eyes?” She held the certificate up to his face.

Mu Jinpei wanted to say that if he could, he would.

He took pictures of both certificates and uploaded them as attachments to the letter he had written to his future daughter. This fleeting happiness and these memories would eventually become a past he could never return to, and a future he could never reach.

He could already foresee how painful it would be later—like a branding iron pressing into his heart, making life worse than death.

But what could he do?

His mother’s death, his grandparents’ accident, the fate of his entire family—so many graves he could never get past.

The days after their marriage were sweet like sugar, and they passed like quicksand—impossible to hold onto.

At the end of December, Mu Jinpei had to return to New York. The South African project had run into problems. M.K. had invested billions into it, and if something went wrong, it would inevitably impact the company.

Xie Junyi, as the project lead, would be held accountable by the board. After all, it was Xie who had taken the risk and gone against protocol to help him. Mu Jinpei had to go back to take charge and support him when it mattered most.

That morning, Ji Xingyao hadn’t gone to her studio. She’d woken up late and wasn’t feeling great.

Mu Jinpei’s flight was in the afternoon, but he made another trip home before leaving. When he returned to Beijing again, it would be the start of a storm.

“Yaoyao?”

He was used to calling out the moment he walked through the door. She would usually run to him, and he’d scoop her up with one arm. But today, after calling a few times, there was no response.

“Yaoyao?”

He walked in, calling as he went.

Ji Xingyao had fallen asleep curled up on the couch by the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathed in warm sunlight. A book had fallen onto the floor—one of the Spanish storybooks he’d asked Shu Zheng to print for her.

“Yaoyao.” He crouched beside the sofa. Normally, he wouldn’t have the heart to wake her when she slept so soundly. But today, he wanted to talk to her.

Ji Xingyao slowly opened her eyes, dazed and squinting in the bright light. “Hubby? You’re back?”

Mu Jinpei wrapped her in his arms. “I’m leaving this afternoon.”

“Oh.” It took her two seconds to fully process that. “How long will you be gone?” She looked up at him, eyes filled with reluctance.

Mu Jinpei didn’t know. “There’s some trouble at the company. I’m going to handle it and will come back as soon as I can.”

Ji Xingyao hugged him tighter to comfort him.

Mu Jinpei picked up the book from the floor. “You can’t even read it—why are you flipping through it?”

“I was looking up the words while I read. I managed a small section over lunch, felt really accomplished.” She asked, “So what’s the story actually about?”

She wasn’t interested in the story itself—just the parts involving the helicopter. Once she understood it thoroughly, she could address the trauma at its root and help him heal.

Mu Jinpei hesitated. Even if he didn’t tell her now, she would learn the truth eventually when everything came to light. After a moment, he told her:

“The main character’s family was on a helicopter that crashed on the outskirts of Manhattan. Their business rivals had tampered with the aircraft and bribed the investigators.”

There were nine people on board. None survived.

The investigator assigned to the crash later died under mysterious circumstances, and the truth was completely buried.

Ji Xingyao hugged him tighter. The story must be even darker than he’d let on—filled with hatred and the worst sides of human nature. No wonder it left him traumatized as a child.

And the Mu family wasn’t peaceful either. God knows what kind of power struggles were happening behind the scenes for control of M.K. He must have seen himself as the protagonist—afraid his aunt’s family would sabotage the helicopter.

“It’s okay now. I’ll fly from now on, and Uncle Zhang will handle the pre-flight checks.”

Mu Jinpei, voice hoarse, said, “Thank you.”

It was getting late. He had to head to the airport.

He leaned his face toward her. “Kiss me.”

Ji Xingyao laughed. She noticed he’d become more clingy—and was even asking for kisses. She gave him dozens—on his lips, his cheeks, and his jaw.

When she was done, she yawned.

Mu Jinpei stroked her forehead. “Why are you so sleepy today?”

Ji Xingyao didn’t know either. She’d been tired nonstop since yesterday, no matter how much she slept. She thought for a moment and said, “Maybe… too much exercise.”

Ever since they got married, they’d been intimate several times a night—and sometimes even in the morning. Her body felt like it had been steamrolled.

Mu Jinpei: “Then take it easy these next few days. Don’t go to the studio if you’re tired, and don’t stay up late.”

“Okay, I promise to be good.”

“Safe flight. Call me when you arrive.” Ji Xingyao closed her eyes and drifted off again.

Warm afternoon light fell across her, and in that peaceful moment, Mu Jinpei nearly lost himself just watching her.

—

Ji Changsheng finally let down his guard against Mu Jinpei after he and Ji Xingyao got their marriage certificate. Over a year of paranoid suspicion had finally come to an end.

Throughout that year, both personally and professionally, he had never found anything suspicious about Mu Jinpei.

All business between Ji Group and M.K. had been progressing smoothly.

Because he hadn’t been fully at ease, Ji Changsheng had even ordered someone to monitor Tang Hongkang—worried he and Mu Jinpei might be colluding behind the scenes. But after a year, none of Mu Jinpei’s people had had any contact with Tang Hongkang.

As for the South African project, Ji Group’s entire investment had been paid in full, and Director Qi’s side had fulfilled their commitments as promised.

It was time for Ji Group’s annual year-end banquet again. Ji Changsheng planned to use the event to announce his daughter’s marriage certificate, and discuss with Chairman Mu where to hold the wedding.

But just as he was preparing for all this, a phone call from Tang Hongkang shattered the peace.

“Lao Ji, something’s happened.”

Ji Changsheng felt a chill run down his spine, but his face remained composed. He couldn’t help but scold Tang, “You’re not a kid—why are you panicking like this?”

Tang Hongkang couldn’t be bothered to explain further. At the moment, he was like an ant on a hot pan, clearly anxious and overwhelmed. “I want to stay calm, but… Lao Ji, the project owner ran off with the funds. They’re also wanted by the local police for other financial frauds. What’s worse is the project itself has procedural violations—it’s being forced to halt completely.”

Ji Changsheng’s lips trembled in disbelief. “What did you say?”

“All those so-called approval documents we saw were actually forged by the project owner to trick us into investing. The project progressed this far because they bribed the relevant officials and colluded with other shady groups. That entire group had issues from the start. They were deep in debt—and now the whole thing has exploded. It was all a scam!” Tang Hongkang was seething with rage and regret.

Ji Changsheng’s eyes turned bloodshot, his voice full of fury. “How did you conduct your due diligence?! Didn’t you say they had official backing?” He couldn’t help but shout.

Tang Hongkang: “They did—but the entire group is now in trouble.”

“What about Xie Junyi? What the hell is M.K.’s overseas division doing? They couldn’t even uncover this? Or… are they—”

As he spoke, a chill ran down Ji Changsheng’s spine.

Or what?

Were they in on it too, just waiting for him to take the bait?

Otherwise, with M.K.’s capabilities, how could they have failed to uncover the truth and still invested so heavily?

“Lao Ji?” Tang Hongkang waited for a while, but there was complete silence on the other end. He started to panic. “Lao Ji, say something!”

Anyone would struggle to handle this kind of blow. Even a seasoned fox like Ji Changsheng had been split apart by this ruthless sword.

He never expected his worst fear would still come true. He had guarded against everything over the past year, but still fell into this astronomical trap.

Only he was the real prey. From the start, his hundreds of billions in investment were doomed to vanish.

It wasn’t that M.K.’s overseas division had failed in their duties, or that Xie Junyi and Mu Jinpei had been careless—they had known the truth but chose to ignore it.

Xie Junyi had known the project owner’s group had issues, had known they would eventually implode, but he and Mu Jinpei still pushed Ji Changsheng into the trap, even if it meant sacrificing themselves to get it done.

Mu Jinpei had truly gone all-in to bring him down.

Knock knock—urgent banging on the door.

Feng Liang entered to report: hundreds of people had gathered downstairs at the company headquarters—representatives from suppliers—demanding overdue payments and threatening to halt supply.

And that wasn’t all. Many senior executives had submitted resignation letters.

Ji Changsheng’s ears rang. It suddenly felt like a hand was clenching his throat, choking the air out of him. The pressure on his chest grew heavier and heavier. Instinctively, he began to struggle, but the more he fought, the weaker he felt. He was on the verge of suffocating—and no one could help him.

He stared at Feng Liang. “What did you just say? We were cooperating just fine—why are they suddenly demanding payment? Wasn’t it monthly billing? And what’s this about resignations?!”

His final shred of rationality collapsed like a flood, drowning him completely.

Feng Liang said quietly, “The group’s had problems for a while now, but Vice Chairman Tang has been suppressing the reports.”

Ji Changsheng’s sharp gaze pierced straight at Feng Liang. “You knew too, didn’t you?”

Feng Liang lowered his head without answering.

That was an admission.

Ji Changsheng’s heart sank into an icy abyss. All his past suspicions were confirmed. It wasn’t paranoia—it was his sixth sense screaming at him.

But it was because he had trusted Feng Liang that things had come to this.

The skyscraper had collapsed in an instant. No one could stop it now.

He slumped into his chair, his voice filled with unspeakable sorrow. “Feng Liang, I’ve never treated you unfairly all these years. Can you really say you’re not betraying your conscience?”

Feng Liang wasn’t surprised Ji Changsheng had figured out he was one of Mu Jinpei’s people. Ji had long harbored suspicions—he just never found solid evidence.

This past year, Feng Liang had walked on a knife’s edge, carefully weighing every action, every word, perfecting his acting to the highest level. One slip, and he would’ve ruined all of Mu Jinpei’s plans.

He knew that even a small misstep would have disastrous consequences. It felt like a blade was hanging over his head every single day. This year had been nothing short of torture.

Since Mu Jinpei returned to Beijing, Ji Changsheng had been constantly testing him—but Mu had passed every single one.

To be fair, in all the years working at Ji Group, Ji Changsheng had never treated him poorly. But Feng Liang had accepted someone else’s trust and couldn’t betray that.

“Heh.” Ji Changsheng let out a cold laugh. “Where’s Mu Jinpei?”

Feng Liang replied, “He’s gone to New York.”

Ji Changsheng pressed a book hard against his chest. Everything that had happened to the Gu family twenty-six years ago was now playing out on him, one scene at a time.

So Mu Jinpei was really the Gu family’s child. That child hadn’t died. Over twenty years ago, Uncle Zhang had given him false news.

In terms of strategy, ruthlessness, and patience—he was no match for Mu Jinpei. He had planned this so meticulously. For an entire year, Ji had been completely in the dark, unable to find a single weak point.

And now, even if Ji Group collapsed, he had no proof that any of this was orchestrated by Mu Jinpei.

When Tang Hongkang called him earlier, he had still held onto a sliver of hope—that even if the funding chain broke, the Ji family still had connections and relatives who could help them pull through.

But now… there was no point. No one to beg, no way to recover. This was what Mu Jinpei had waited for. The day Ji Group went bankrupt. There was no way he’d leave a chance for a comeback.

The fact that Feng Liang had come to him to confess today meant that everything was already in place.

Ji Changsheng clutched his aching chest. “He married Xingyao just to give me a false sense of security and make me release the third round of funding?”

Feng Liang answered truthfully, “I don’t know.”

Ji Changsheng squinted, his heart spasming in pain.

After a long while, his face turned from ashen to deathly pale. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. Still, he forced himself to speak. “Give Mu Jinpei a message from me. I’ll apply for bankruptcy on the grounds of poor management and insolvency. Tell him not to drag the rest of the Ji family down with me.”

His voice trembled with deep pain, eyes reddening. “No matter what conditions he proposes, I’ll agree—just please, don’t hurt Xingyao. She doesn’t know anything.”

—

Near dusk, Ji Xingyao was at the hospital.

She held a lab report in her hands, feeling completely drained.

It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, she and Mu Jinpei were having a baby. But the blood test showed her HCG levels were too low, and they didn’t know if the pregnancy could be sustained.

“Xingyao?”

She looked up—Luo Song had arrived. She quickly stood. “Sorry to bother you again. I just… don’t feel reassured when it’s anyone else.” More than anything, she was here to find reassurance and comfort.

Luo Song opened his office door and gestured for her to go in.

She handed him the report. “The numbers still aren’t doubling well. Does this mean…”

“Don’t overthink, and don’t pressure yourself,” Luo Song said, pouring her a glass of warm water. “We’ll monitor the situation. Everyone’s different.”

A few days ago, Ji Xingyao had some intermittent bleeding, and it didn’t feel like her usual period. That’s when she came to the hospital and discovered she was pregnant.

“When will Mu Jinpei be back?” Luo Song asked.

“Not sure yet. He’s busy with work.” She’d heard there was a serious issue with one of his projects.

Luo Song offered, “Do you want me to call him? He really shouldn’t focus on work alone right now.”

Ji Xingyao quickly waved him off. “No, I’m not that dramatic. If it turns out we can’t keep the baby, he’ll be even more upset. I’ll wait until he’s done handling things before, I tell him.”

After leaving the hospital, Ji Xingyao asked Uncle Zhang to drive around the city for a bit before going home.

Being alone at home felt too lonely, and she hadn’t been in the mood to paint these past few days.

She wondered whether the trouble at M.K. had been resolved. When she searched for related news, strange error codes kept appearing.

“Uncle Zhang, is there something wrong with my phone?”

“Let me see.” Uncle Zhang took her phone while waiting at a red light. It wasn’t a phone issue—he had set up a program to block all news related to M.K. and Ji Group from her phone. Any searches would just show various error codes.

“It’s probably M.K.’s PR team trying to prevent the situation from escalating and affecting stock prices.”

That explanation made sense, and Ji Xingyao didn’t suspect a thing. She sent a message to Mu Jinpei:
[Morning]

—

In New York, the first light of dawn was shining.

Mu Jinpei didn’t sleep all night. He stood on the viewing terrace, looking out at the garden. He was waiting for Ji Changsheng’s call—Feng Liang had just reported that Ji Changsheng knew the truth.

There were things Mu Jinpei wanted to say to Ji Changsheng personally, so he had Feng Liang lend him a phone. Even now, he was being cautious, he didn’t want to risk any recordings or unexpected moves.

Soon, the call came through.

Once connected, there was a long, suffocating silence.

The grudges of the past surged like a flood, dragging them both under. Both Ji Changsheng and Mu Jinpei felt like they were drowning—gasping for air, tangled in weeds they couldn’t escape.

The oxygen in their lungs thinned. Death felt close.

Eventually, Ji Changsheng spoke. “How did you buy off Uncle Zhang?”

He didn’t care why Tang Hongkang had betrayed him. He wasn’t bothered that Feng Liang had turned against him. What truly gnawed at him was Zhang Bo—how had he changed sides? Zhang Bo had once saved his life.

Over the years, Zhang Bo’s love for Xingyao rivaled his own as her father.

Zhang Bo had never cared much for money; he had spent nearly everything on Xingyao. What could’ve made him commit such a betrayal?

For once, Mu Jinpei responded with a rare moment of empathy. “Because Uncle Zhang’s father used to be our family’s driver. And the woman he loved… was my mother. Also, his father died in that same helicopter crash.”

Ji Changsheng laughed bitterly. So, it had all been a plot from the very beginning. The time Uncle Zhang “rescued” him during a robbery overseas had been nothing but a staged performance.

There was still one thing he didn’t understand. “How did the Mu family end up adopting you? Even if they were to adopt, it’d be an infant—not a two-year-old.”

Mu Jinpei: “You ask too many questions.”

He wasn’t in a generous mood, and he wasn’t going to answer just because Ji Changsheng asked.

As for why Pei Yu had adopted him, it was because Mu Jinpei’s great-grandmother had been Pei Yu’s first art teacher. When Pei Yu was accepted into a university abroad, it had been her who pulled strings for a recommendation letter.

After the Gu family’s tragedy, Pei Yu went to visit his great-grandmother. She ended up adopting Mu Jinpei and brought the elderly woman to live in New York with them, taking care of her until she passed.

Ji Changsheng understood that things had reached a point of no return. Mu Jinpei had invested so much time and energy into this revenge and had taken the lead himself—it was obvious he wanted him dead. Even so, Ji still clung to a shred of hope.

“You can do whatever you want to me, but could you…”

Mu Jinpei immediately cut him off, already knowing where he was going. He didn’t want to hear Ji Xingyao’s name right now—he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stay cold. “Ji Changsheng, what are you still hoping for?! My mother killed herself because of you. My whole family died because of you. The fact that I’m not making you pay in blood is already the greatest mercy I can offer. And you still dare to beg?”

If it hadn’t been for the warmth and guidance from Mu Wenhuai and Pei Yu growing up—if they hadn’t saved his soul, he would have taken Ji Changsheng’s life long ago.

Ji Changsheng froze. “Mu Jinpei, it’s true I deceived your mother and caused the Gu family’s bankruptcy—but the helicopter crash had nothing to do with me! What did Tang Hongkang tell you to turn you against me? How did he slander me?”

Mu Jinpei had no interest in debating right or wrong. It was meaningless to him.

He had known the truth long before. He didn’t need Tang Hongkang to tell him anything. In fact, he and Tang Hongkang had never even spoken privately.

He understood Ji Changsheng’s desperate denial—after all, a murderer would never confess so easily.

The only reason he took this call was to state one thing clearly. “It’s not impossible for me to spare your relatives in the Ji family—but you’d better cooperate and begin the bankruptcy process for the Ji Group immediately.”

What Ji Changsheng wanted to know was: “Exactly how much external debt did you make Tang Hongkang stick me with? Once my personal assets are frozen, will it even be enough to pay back?”

Mu Jinpei’s voice was cold: “Not even close. You won’t be able to repay it in this lifetime.”

Veins bulged on Ji Changsheng’s forehead. “Then it’ll ruin Xing—”

Before he could even finish saying “Xingyao,” Mu Jinpei cut him off again: “Go repent to my birth mother’s family. To my father’s family. And one more thing, don’t ever show your face in the business world again. Also, Professor Yin He deserves to know what kind of man you really are.”

With that, he hung up.

Right after, Xingyao’s message came in:
[Morning]

Mu Jinpei sat still for a long while before replying:
[What are you up to?]

Xingyao:
[Wandering aimlessly, looking for inspiration. Hubby, when are you coming back? I miss you.]

Mu Jinpei gently traced the words “hubby” on the screen with his finger.
If only time could freeze at this moment—how wonderful that would be.