Limited-Time Attachment - Chapter 18

“Regarding the direction of the post-production promotional coordination for the new advertisement, what are your thoughts, President Song?”

The new conference room in the Jiaxin filming area was spacious and brightly lit, with cleverly trimmed, cute greenery placed in the corners and along the windowsills.

Zhou Jibai wore a beige-apricot casual business suit, looking relaxed and confident. Her silk V-neck shirt clung to her body, complementing her cold, white skin. Her tawny long hair was pinned up, giving her a sophisticated and capable appearance.

On both sides of the conference table sat representatives from the brand and Jiaxin executives. Zhou Jibai sat at the head of the table, looking naturally toward Song Ming.

Song Ming was blended in with the group from the “Yuexi” studio, idly fiddling with the documents in front of her.

“President Song.”

Song Ming’s fingers, which were folding the paper, paused. She felt that her ex-girlfriend was determined not to let her slack off today.

Song Ming looked at Zhou Jibai: “Me?”

Her voice was deeper than Zhou Jibai’s, her tone lazy. Her exotic grey-green eyes bypassed the irrelevant personnel and landed on Zhou Jibai’s face.

Zhou Jibai curled her lips into a slight smile: “Yes, you.”

Her expression was flawless, her smile perfectly measured, unfamiliar and polite, the exact degree of someone who had entirely forgotten the past.

Hmph, if she were actually willing to forget, that would be for the best, Song Ming thought. Her gaze dropped slightly, landing wantonly on Zhou Jibai’s lips. That watery lip gloss… it was probably peach-flavored.

Detecting the landing point of Song Ming’s gaze, Zhou Jibai kept her smile unchanged, but her eyes grew a few degrees colder.

“I’ve been out of management for a long time,” Song Ming’s gaze continued downward, landing on the collarbone exposed by the neckline, as she offered a lazy, perfunctory response. “I’m not very familiar with the latest strategies. President Lin and President Xu are more professional.”

The mentioned Lin Yu and the brand executives laughed awkwardly, not daring to make a sound. Normally, neither Zhou Jibai nor Song Ming would attend such a low-level meeting. Yet today, one appeared as a photographer while the other showed up as the new person in charge of Jiaxin, converging at the same conference table at this specific time.

A meeting of little value was somehow being conducted amidst surging undercurrents.

Song Ming also felt this was quite tedious. If she stayed any longer, Zhou Jibai would inevitably find more trouble for her. Everyone thought Zhou Jibai was as gentle as spring water, only she knew how ruthless this woman was to her core.

And at certain times, she was also… hiss. Song Ming cut off her train of thought just in time. She unlocked her buzzing phone, took a quick look, swiped past the messages without caring about a single one, and stood up. She looked at Zhou Jibai and smiled.

“Excuse me, President Zhou. I have something I need to handle.”

Hearing this, Zhou Jibai raised her head from the documents. Her beautiful eyes quietly watched Song Ming, her expression indifferent. Across the distance of a few meters, her displeasure was made extremely clear.

Song Ming’s finger pressed against the table subconsciously twitched. In her bones, she had a penchant for seeking thrills. For instance, that look of disapproval from a certain someone used to be her favorite. She loved to approach when this inherently proud woman put on that expression, personally coaxing out a sob and watching her fail to maintain her cold facade.

Stop. Don’t think about things you shouldn’t, Song Ming told herself, closing her eyes. This is the ex-girlfriend.

“Apologies.” Song Ming looked at Zhou Jibai with a dismissive smile, turned, and walked out of the conference room.

“What were you doing today? Even I couldn’t stand to watch it,” Ji Shan said, sitting next to Song Ming and shaking a dice cup.

Song Ming exhaled a cloud of smoke. With one hand holding a cigarette, she unceremoniously picked up the glass in front of her and took a sip of alcohol. The ice ball swirled in the glass, and the watch strap on her wrist reflected fragments of light.

“What’s wrong?” Song Ming asked lazily.

Ji Shan had a complicated look on his face: “It’s just… sigh, wasn’t that a bit too much? Not giving President Zhou any face?”

Song Ming didn’t speak, watching the three people opposite them shout out numbers.

Ji Shan continued: “If you treated anyone else like that, no one would care. But with President Zhou… it just feels off. In just this half-day, I’ve heard several people gossiping about it.”

Song Ming turned her head: “Just for such a small thing?”

Ji Shan studied Song Ming’s expression and wisely played the innocent bystander to clear himself: “I don’t understand why they’re so bored either. Instead of working, they’re out here spreading gossip.”

Song Ming remained silent for a moment, looked away, and expressionlessly crushed her cigarette out in her glass.

Ji Shan: “…”

Song Ming felt that since Zhou Jibai chose to return and chose to sabotage her right before coming back, she should have been prepared for what she’d have to face. Whatever the consequences, it had nothing to do with her; that was for Zhou Jibai to bear herself.

Yes, there was no need for her to worry.

“Why is your face so dark?” Ji Shan, completely out of the loop, asked in confusion. “Did you drink too much? Should I call a designated driver for you?”

Song Ming’s jaw tightened, and her brow furrowed. For the first time, she found Ji Shan incredibly annoying: “You…”

Before Song Ming could speak, the phone on the table suddenly vibrated. The buzzing sound was quite piercing.

Song Ming shot Ji Shan a dark look and picked up the phone.

Ji Shan didn’t understand. Seeing Song Ming stare at the phone without answering for a long time, he asked casually, “Who is it?”

The flash of nameless anger vanished without a trace. Song Ming regained her total composure and said flatly, “Yu Zhaowan.”

“Huh?” Ji Shan was startled. “What is she calling you for this late?”

“What business is it of yours?” Song Ming grabbed her coat and stood up. “Move.”

Ji Shan’s brain, halfway soaked in alcohol, wasn’t very clear. He instinctively followed up: “Hey, where are you going? You really don’t want a driver?”

Song Ming didn’t even look back.

The only answer Ji Shan got was a stray beam of colored light from the hallway as the private room door opened and closed, and Song Ming’s figure vanished.