Chapter 6

The next evening.
Mu Jinpei had just finished his work and closed his laptop. He instructed Chuzheng to bring out the oil paintings borrowed from Ji Xingyao.

Chuzheng opened the bookshelf and asked for his boss’s opinion:
“Should we have Teacher Pei roughly estimate the value, or get a professional appraiser?”

Mu Jinpei was about to light a cigarette. But seeing Chuzheng already taking out the painting tube, he put the cigarette back into the pack and said,
“No need for an appraisal.”

Chuzheng didn’t say anything more—he realized he had misunderstood.
Mu Jinpei hadn’t brought these paintings back to evaluate their monetary worth for negotiating the revenue split with Ji Xingyao. He had brought them back purely to enjoy.

After tidying up the desk, Chuzheng carefully laid out the first three paintings.

Having worked all day, Mu Jinpei finally found a moment to ask about last night’s charity auction.
“What did you buy?”

Chuzheng replied,
“A set of jewelry and two vases—all given to Teacher Pei.”

Mu Jinpei nodded.

Chuzheng looked at him, the words stuck in his throat. He didn’t know how best to say what was on his mind.
Last night at the auction, he ran into Xu Rui—the former secretary of M.K.’s executive office and the only woman in their entire team. She was highly capable and came from a prestigious background.

Over the years, the only woman their cold and distant boss had ever shown genuine warmth toward was Xu Rui. Not only Chuzheng, but the entire team had felt that something was different about her. Xu Rui, naturally, had feelings for him.

But Mu Jinpei had no interest in romance. Xu Rui’s affections were never returned, and with no promise from him and no hope in sight, she eventually left M.K., cutting ties completely.
She later returned to China and got engaged shortly after.

What Chuzheng hadn’t expected was that Xu Rui’s fiancé turned out to be Qi Chen—Chairman Qi’s son.

“President Mu,” Chuzheng hesitated, “There’s something I’m not sure I should say.”

Mu Jinpei was still focused on the paintings. After a moment, he looked up and fixed his gaze on Chuzheng.
“When did you become so wishy-washy?”

Chuzheng’s voice lowered noticeably.
“I saw Xu Rui at the charity dinner last night.”

Mu Jinpei gave a neutral “Mm.”
Then went back to viewing the painting.

Having followed his boss for nearly ten years, Chuzheng still couldn’t tell what emotion, if any, was hidden in that single syllable.

He didn’t dare say anything more.

Being an outsider to the art world, Chuzheng couldn’t understand how someone could spend an hour and a half studying just one painting.

Mu Jinpei was completely absorbed, while Chuzheng stood silently beside him, waiting.

Night had fallen.

Chuzheng began packing away the other two paintings. The boss had promised to go home for dinner with Teacher Pei tonight, and it was getting late.
He probably wouldn’t even finish viewing the one still in his hands.

Mu Jinpei finally looked up,
“What time is it?”

Chuzheng: “Seven-thirty.”

Mu Jinpei instructed him to pack up the last painting as well.
“Put it on top. I’ll continue next week.”
He added, “We’ll stop by the gallery on the way to pick up my mother before heading home.”

Beijing’s traffic seemed to always be congested.
Mu Jinpei stared out the window for a while. Cars were packed bumper to bumper—nothing worth looking at. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes to rest.

It had been a week since returning to China, and he still suffered from insomnia—unable to sleep until just before dawn, getting only a few hours of rest. The headaches were getting worse.

The trap he had set for Ji Changsheng would take at least two years to fully spring.
He couldn’t afford to collapse before it was even complete.

There was one thing Mu Jinpei could never figure out—whenever he was around Ji Xingyao, his headaches disappeared.
Last night’s dinner could’ve ended quickly, but they ended up eating for over two hours. Afterwards, he had the driver circle the Beijing ring road once before finally taking her home near midnight.

Maybe it was just a coincidence—he happened not to have a headache, and happened to be with her—so he assumed being with her relieved his pain.
That was the only explanation that made sense.

Outside the main entrance of the M.K. Gallery, a business van was already parked, so their driver had to pull over to the side. Mu Jinpei and Chuzheng got out—only to see Xu Rui walking out of the gallery lobby.

Both Xu Rui and Chuzheng froze in surprise.
Only Mu Jinpei remained unperturbed as always.

Xu Rui instinctively stopped walking. The few meters between them, lit by the entry lights, were enough for her to clearly see his expression—but Mu Jinpei was always calm and unreadable.
Trying to read emotions on his face was nearly impossible.

She thought for a moment—it had been two years and three months since she last saw him.

Mu Jinpei walked over.

“Why are you here?”
“Long time no see.”

They spoke almost at the same time.

Xu Rui answered first, “I came to deliver the auction items to Teacher Pei from last night’s charity event.”
Then she nodded politely to Chuzheng, “Long time no see.”
She had seen him at the auction, but didn’t bother to greet him. No need.

Mu Jinpei asked, “Why are you the one delivering the pieces?” He had no idea what she was doing these days.
Before she could answer, he added, “Come inside for tea.”

They entered the meeting room. Chuzheng instructed someone to bring tea, closed the door, and left.

Xu Rui replied to his earlier question:
“Teacher Pei is my father-in-law’s esteemed guest. He asked me to personally deliver the items.”
She added, “My father-in-law is the chairman of Ruichen Group.”

He had heard she got engaged two years ago. “How’s it going?” he asked, mildly concerned.

Xu Rui paused, then said, “Not good, not bad.”

Her fiancé Qi Chen—was trash.
But her in-laws treated her well, and the two families got along. She had grown up with Qi Chen; no matter how unruly he was, he couldn’t escape the palm of her hand.

Qi Chen only cared about racing and had no interest in business. Chairman Qi had given up on him and focused entirely on grooming Xu Rui as a successor.
Asking her to deliver the items to Teacher Pei today was actually a way to increase her exposure to the business world and build connections.
She just hadn’t expected to run into Mu Jinpei.

Xu Rui didn’t want to talk about herself any longer. She looked directly at him:
“I heard you and Ji Xingyao are together. Is it true?”

Mu Jinpei wasn’t surprised she had heard—after all, the woman he used Ji Xingyao to reject had mutual friends with Xu Rui.

A knock on the door interrupted them—someone brought in two cups of tea.
Their conversation paused.

When the door closed again, Xu Rui didn’t touch her tea.
She just stared at Mu Jinpei. Clearly, he had no intention of answering her question.

Having worked under him for five years, she knew better than anyone—if he didn’t want to answer, no one could make him.

The air between them grew heavy.

Then Mu Jinpei finally spoke, his tone calm and detached:
“I’m not with her.”

A rare explanation from him—it surprised Xu Rui. But not being together now didn’t mean never. She pressed further:
“Your revenge target is Ji Changsheng and the Ji Group. Why involve Ji Xingyao?”

Mu Jinpei gripped his tea cup, running his thumb hard along the rim.

Years ago, on the anniversary of his birth mother’s death, after a few glasses of red wine, he had told Xu Rui about his family background—his origins, and the grievances with the Ji family.
She was one of the few people who knew he had set a trap for Ji Changsheng.

Xu Rui pushed again: “Are you really going to drag Ji Xingyao into this?”

Still no answer from him—but he looked up and met her gaze. His eyes were cold.
The light in the room cast his angular face half in light, half in shadow. The contour of his nose created a deep, chasm-like shadow—no escape, no retreat.

Even Xu Rui felt uneasy under that gaze.
She spoke carefully, “Ji Xingyao is such a gifted, bright young woman—barely in her twenties. Her best years are just beginning. Can you really bear to…”
She didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

She had grieved over what he and his mother had endured. She understood the weight he carried all these years.
But still… she exhaled deeply in her heart.

Mu Jinpei finally asked, “Do you know Ji Xingyao?”

Xu Rui answered honestly, “I was at the Autumn Auction—sat right behind her.”
She hadn’t gone to the charity dinner because she heard Mu Jinpei would be there.

She looked into his unfathomable eyes.
“You… really plan to use Ji Xingyao to bring down the Ji Group?”

Mu Jinpei said coldly,
“I don’t need to use a woman to deal with the Ji Group.”

Xu Rui immediately apologized: “Sorry, poor wording.”
She believed him—he wasn’t the kind to manipulate women to achieve business goals.

If he was getting close to Ji Xingyao, it wasn’t about using her.
It was revenge against Ji Changsheng—to return the emotional torment his mother had suffered in full.

She didn’t want him to act on impulse.
“Ji Changsheng is scum and deserves to die a thousand deaths. Ji Group’s downfall is his own fault. But Ji Xingyao isn’t to blame. Back then, Ji Changsheng didn’t even know her mother—hadn’t even had Ji Xingyao yet.
When the day comes and she learns the truth… wouldn’t that feel worse than death?
You’ll destroy a painter.”

Mu Jinpei fell silent again.
Xu Rui didn’t know about the entanglements between Ji Changsheng and his biological father’s side.
He had only ever told her about his identity and his mother’s tragic love.

But the grudge against the Ji family was a deep wound—one that bled for over 20 years without ever healing.
It contained not only his mother’s pain but the deaths of several members of his family.

Even in his dreams, that pain never faded. It never would.

He stared at the tea cup in front of him.
Steam curled softly from the rim.

Xu Rui spoke from the heart:
“One day, you’ll regret hurting her like this.
Because she’s just like the you from back then—an innocent child.
I don’t want you to finally get revenge, only to spend the rest of your life drowning in guilt.

The one at fault… was Ji Changsheng—”

Mu Jinpei cut her off:
“You said earlier your situation was ‘not good, not bad.’ What did you mean?”

Xu Rui frowned with helpless frustration.
“Can you stop changing the subject?”

Mu Jinpei lifted the cup to his lips, but it was too hot. He moved it away without taking a sip.

Xu Rui felt she had overstepped—
but of course, she knew she could never change him.
No one could make him forget his hatred.

“I won’t bother you anymore. I still have work at the office,” she said with a slight bow, picking up her bag to leave.

“Xu Rui.”
Mu Jinpei called out to her back.

Her hand was already on the doorknob. She paused but didn’t turn around.

Mu Jinpei’s voice was soft, yet each word carried an unmistakable force that allowed no refusal:
“Once you walk out of this room, forget everything you just heard. I will not let the plan against Ji Group harm Rui Chen Group in the slightest. You just quietly be an observer. Don’t sympathize with anyone, and don’t interfere with any of my decisions.”

Xu Rui gripped the handle tightly.
In the end, she said nothing.

The door closed.
Her footsteps faded away.

Mu Jinpei sat alone in the meeting room for a long time.

The tea had gone cold.

Pei Yu knew Xu Rui. Xu Rui had worked at M.K for five years and had been one of Mu Jinpei’s most capable assistants. She later resigned and returned to China, saying it was to take over the family business.
A former subordinate catching up with her old boss—nothing unusual.

Pei Yu checked the time—it had been nearly an hour.
She closed her laptop and called for Chu Zheng.

“Is Jinpei still talking with Xu Rui? Go ask him if I should book a restaurant to treat Xu Rui to dinner tonight.”
Chu Zheng: “Xu Rui already left.”
He had to lie. “Mr. Mu is on the phone in the meeting room.”

Hearing that he was on a call, Pei Yu simply said, “Tell Jinpei to come down. He can talk on the phone in the car.”

Chu Zheng had no choice but to knock on the door.
It took three knocks before a voice responded.

Mu Jinpei really was on a call, but not about work.
“Tomorrow’s the weekend, I’m off. What time will you be at the studio?”

Upon hearing “studio,” Chu Zheng didn’t need to guess—it was clear the boss planned to meet Ji Xingyao.

For some reason, the phrase “a day apart feels like three autumns” came to mind.
But his boss was infamous for being cold and emotionless—he could be ruthlessly indifferent even toward someone like Xu Rui, let alone a woman he had only known for a few days like Ji Xingyao.

Even with that logic, Chu Zheng still felt vaguely uneasy.
The boss showing up at the studio like clockwork every day, no matter the intention, felt… excessive.

Mu Jinpei ended the call and glanced at Chu Zheng.
“You’ve been in Beijing for over a week now—still jet-lagged?”

Chu Zheng: “…”
That was clearly a jab at his absent-mindedness.

Mu Jinpei instructed,
“You don’t need to follow me tomorrow. Go make some rounds with Ji Changsheng’s competitors.”

Chu Zheng asked,
“Should we consider investing in one of Ji Group’s rivals?”

Mu Jinpei pulled on his overcoat.
“Try a project worth a few hundred million.”

Chu Zheng understood.

Pei Yu had already come downstairs and was waiting in the lobby.
“You’ve been on the phone that long?”

Mu Jinpei said,
“Ended up talking to Dad too.”
It was true—before calling Ji Xingyao, his father, Mu Wenhuai, had phoned first, asking about his mother’s condition.

His father also mentioned wanting to return to China soon to visit.

Pei Yu didn’t respond to that and instead changed the subject,
“Tonight Mom’s cooking supper for you herself.”

Mu Jinpei hesitated.
To this day, his greatest wish in life was simply for his parents to be well—both emotionally and physically.

Pei Yu asked gently,
“How are things going with Xingyao? Are you going to close the agency contract or not?”

Mu Jinpei deflected,
“Mom, tonight I’ll cook supper for you.”

The mother and son both smiled wryly.
There are always topics one doesn’t want to touch.

---

Night fell.
A cold, round moon hung high in the sky.
The closest star beside it shone brightly and alone.

Ji Xingyao turned off her bedroom lights and leaned against the window to gaze at the night view.
She lived on the top floor—over forty stories up. Her father had bought the entire floor, with Uncle Zhang living next door.

She liked high floors, whether for her home or her studio.

The apartment was unusually quiet—so quiet it felt like she was the only person left in the world.

Mu Jinpei had arranged to meet her at the studio tomorrow, to finish the still-life painting of the vase he owed her.
Which meant she’d be bailing on her mother again—she had promised to watch her mother’s dance troupe rehearsal. Promised it every time, broke it every time.

Ji Xingyao picked up her phone and messaged her mother to ask for a reschedule—she’d go the day after tomorrow instead.

Yin He replied with a single emoji: [��]
Ji Xingyao smiled and typed:
[Mom, I’m not standing you up on purpose—I really do have things to take care of.]
Yin He: [Mom understands ��]

Ji Xingyao promised: [The day after tomorrow, I’ll definitely come.]

“Am I right or not? She’s the most unreliable child. Do you really expect her to willingly go with you to the dance troupe?” Ji Changsheng sighed.

Yin He placed her phone on the bedside table and replied while pressing on her face mask, “What worries me now is that she’s developing social anxiety, staying home too long and not wanting to see anyone.”

Ji Changsheng felt the same way.
He was also worried that one day, their daughter might reject marriage altogether, thinking it too troublesome.

He asked his wife, “Do you know any boys around Xingyao’s age who’d be a good match? Someone with a good character and a cheerful personality to hang out with her. Maybe then she can slowly overcome her psychological barriers.”

Yin He couldn’t think of anyone right away. “Don’t you have a ton of friends?”

Ji Changsheng replied, “I’ll ask Old Tang and Old Qi another day.”

Yin He’s phone buzzed again—it was still Ji Xingyao:
[Mom, goodnight. Love you and Dad ❤]

Yin He: [Sleep early. Goodnight ❤]

Ji Xingyao was already lying in bed but not sleepy.
She turned the lights back on, took out paper and pen, and began sketching ideas for her next painting.

Outside the window, the lone star accompanied the moon.
The city was gradually quieting down.

---

The next morning, Ji Xingyao woke earlier than usual.
She spent quite a while on her makeup and arrived downstairs at the studio close to 9:00.
She had agreed to meet Mu Jinpei at 9:30 the night before—but to her surprise, he was already waiting.

Today, Mu Jinpei wore a black trench coat, exuding elegance and an effortlessly commanding presence.
Just standing there, he was an eye-catching figure.

The women working overtime in the office building couldn’t help but steal glances—some even looked back three times as they walked past.

They whispered to each other, clearly discussing him.

Mu Jinpei paid no attention to the women walking by.
His gaze remained steady and forward-facing.
Ji Xingyao wore a long skirt today, paired with a caramel-colored coat.

She looked very different from the time she wore a white blouse.
She was ever-changing—girl-next-door one moment, seductive the next; at times cool and aloof, at others warm and inviting.

As Ji Xingyao approached, just as she was about to apologize for being late, Mu Jinpei spoke first:
“I got the time wrong. I thought it was 8:30.”

They entered the building together.

Mu Jinpei carried a tote bag. Ji Xingyao glanced at it but didn’t ask.

“My seal,” Mu Jinpei explained on his own.

Ji Xingyao smiled softly. “Honored to finally see it in person.”

Looks like he planned to finish the still-life painting of the vase in just one day.
She hadn’t seen his artwork before, so she had no idea what his skill level was.

Inside the elevator, it was just the two of them—too quiet.

Mu Jinpei started a conversation:
“Any ideas for your next piece?”

Ji Xingyao nodded. “I’ve been experimenting with makeup recently, trying to find different versions of myself. Once I find the top three looks, I’ll start painting.”

Mu Jinpei turned to look at her face.
Under his gaze, Ji Xingyao felt awkward; he always liked looking at her eyes.

“This makeup is different from the last few times,” he remarked.

“It’s a caramel-toned look today,” she replied.

Mu Jinpei didn’t know much about makeup, so he didn’t press further.
Instead, he asked, “Still painting yourself?”

Ji Xingyao’s eyes fell on the elevator buttons, her tone light but her words sharp:
“I’d love to paint someone else, especially their back. I’ve been longing for that. But unfortunately, someone don’t think I’m skilled enough, so I have no choice but to keep using myself as the model.

Mu Jinpei once again got shaded—
“someone” was clearly referring to him.
She still hadn’t let go of the grudge over his refusal to model for her.

The elevator reached floor 52 and came to a smooth stop.
The doors opened slowly.

Ji Xingyao walked out first.
Mu Jinpei watched her cheerful silhouette, and realized his headache was gone.
When he’d seen her downstairs earlier, the pain had already eased, and now it was completely gone.

So many times, now—just seeing her made the pain disappear.
It seemed like the “coincidence” excuse no longer held water.