Limited-Time Attachment - Chapter 12

During the day, a rejected Jiang Linzhi had asked out of curiosity what Song Ming actually wanted. Song Ming hadn’t been able to give an answer.

If she thought about it carefully, her relationship with Jiang Linzhi had always been decent.

They had met when Song Ming was young, and their eventual breakup hadn’t been messy. Over the years, they had kept in sporadic contact and possessed a vague understanding of one another yet, Jiang Linzhi was entirely unaware of Zhou Jibai’s existence.

Even Song Ming didn’t quite understand the psychology behind why she had kept Zhou Jibai so hidden all these years. Even now, she was unwilling to bring her up.

They had clearly broken up, and she didn’t even feel nostalgic, so why was she still instinctively avoiding the subject?

Ruan Jinjin reminded her of someone from the past, and she didn’t like that. But Jiang Linzhi was the complete polar opposite of Zhou Jibai, so why did she also feel weary when Jiang approached?

Song Ming picked up the book of poetry she had brought back from the villa. She didn’t open it to read the contents, but instead slowly turned and stroked the cover, puzzled by how much influence a relatively short relationship could still exert over a person.

Holding the poetry book, Song Ming’s gaze fell on her phone several times, but she never reached for it.

If there is no love, there should be no lingering thoughts.

At three in the morning, the sky was already beginning to pale, but Song Ming still hadn’t fallen asleep.

After tossing and turning all night, a frustrated and sleepless Song Ming ripped off her black eye mask and tossed it aside.

Propping her forehead with one hand, she took two slow, deep breaths, unable to stop herself from glancing at the phone resting nearby.

Having not slept all night, faint bloodshot streaks appeared in her eyes. The phone, which she usually couldn’t be bothered to look at, seemed to have suddenly gained a magical pull, repeatedly intruding through the cracks of her logic to remind her of its presence.

I’m just asking, it doesn’t mean anything, Song Ming thought. After all, if Zhou Jibai comes back, many things will change.

Song Ming got out of bed. Without even putting on shoes, she walked barefoot and dialed an overseas number.

The person on the other end seemed to have just finished work and picked up quickly. “Hello, President Song?”

“It’s me,” Song Ming said, her voice deep. Her throat was a bit hoarse, carrying a trace of suppressed irritation.

Hearing this, the person on the other end thought something major had happened and immediately turned serious. “Please, go ahead.”

Song Ming paused, suddenly unsure how to start.

“President Song?” the voice prompted curiously.

“Zhou…” Perhaps because of the night long agitation, Song Ming’s vocal cords suddenly caught. She cleared her throat before she could speak.

Her voice dropped lower. “Zhou Jibai… is she returning to the country?”

Song Ming only then realized how unfamiliar that name sounded when she spoke it aloud.

Two years had truly passed.

The executive across the ocean was a bit baffled, wondering why the boss was asking about an ex-girlfriend’s whereabouts in the middle of the night, but they carefully checked the records before giving a cautious report: “President Zhou’s business has been developing steadily over the past two years. There hasn’t been any indication of an intent to return domestically. I just checked her company’s recent schedule, the difficulty of coordinating with domestic operations is very high.”

It wasn’t her. As Song Ming listened to the subordinate’s report, her anxiety receded like a tide, leaving only a cold, clear thought:

She isn’t coming back.

Song Ming was silent for a moment, then suddenly gave a soft laugh.

What was so bad about that? It would be best if they never met for the rest of their lives.

“Is there a problem, President Song?” The subordinate asked, hearing her laugh and feeling uncertain.

“No,” Song Ming returned to her calm self. “You’ve done well. Keep a close eye on the business over there.”

The subordinate hesitated. “And regarding President Zhou…”

“Just keep it normal,” Song Ming replied indifferently. “No need to deliberately avoid her.”

The subordinate acknowledged this, then added one more question: “Did you ask about President Zhou today because of the internal management changes at the Zhong Corporation? Will our next strategic direction involve them?”

Song Ming’s composure froze for a split second.

“Mm,” she answered vaguely. “It’s still in the planning stages.”

The pre-shooting activities for Jiaxin Advertising began. After being MIA for several days, Song Ming finally showed up.

The moment he saw her, Ji Shan breathed a sigh of relief. “My ancestor, you finally decided to show.”

Ji Shan had been truly afraid that Song Ming would flake on a whim, ghosting both Jiaxin and himself. Fortunately, she had come.

“What’s with the fuss?” Song Ming gave him a fleeting look. “Didn’t I say I would come?”

Ji Shan blinked. “Are you in a better mood?”

“My mood has never been bad,” Song Ming answered lazily, tossing her equipment bag to him.

Ji Shan scrambled to catch it, muttering, “Good heavens, is this the kind of thing you just throw around for fun?”

Song Ming ignored him and walked straight toward the car arranged by Yue Xi. Ji Shan followed her, pacing around several times before finally sitting down next to her.

“What are you doing?” Song Ming looked up from her phone screen and eyed him up and down.

“Going to the set,” Ji Shan said, holding the bag with a straight face.

After a moment of silence, Song Ming realized his intention. She leaned back and said with a half-smile, “You’re the boss of a top-tier studio. Do you really need to go out on a field shoot yourself?”

Ji Shan gave a dry laugh. “There are a lot of people and a lot of moving parts. I’m just worried they won’t understand your habits and will accidentally upset you.”

Song Ming settled into the seat, saying with lazy certainty, “Don’t worry, they won’t.”

The car pulled up smoothly at the shooting location. Ji Shan was suddenly surprised to find Lin Yu there. Lin Yu’s presence at the scene seemed even more ridiculous than his own.

The driver opened the door, and Lin Yu came forward to greet them. “Welcome, welcome. You’ve had a long trip, President Song. The roads are quite congested at this hour.”

“It was fine,” Song Ming replied casually. “Not too crowded.”

“That’s excellent,” Lin Yu said naturally. “President Wu happens to have a trip to Europe this week and won’t be back until Sunday. I’ll be following up on the work for the next few days. If you have any needs, just let me know directly. Would you like to rest first?”

Ji Shan was stunned by Lin Yu’s polite and attentive manner. He followed behind silently, momentarily confused as to who was actually the client in this situation.

“No need,” Song Ming replied naturally. “Let’s get straight to work.”

“Alright, then let me show you around the environment,” Lin Yu said, personally leading the way and guiding Song Ming’s team into the shooting venue.