Limited-Time Attachment - Chapter 49

Zhou Jibai’s words carried a sharp sting.

Provoked by the retort, Song Ming’s temper flared. She frowned and looked away, feeling a sudden urge to reach for a cigarette.

The anger accumulated from their previous argument had yet to dissipate. Recalling what Zhou Jibai had said still left Song Ming feeling vaguely resentful. Yet, no matter how unwilling she was, now was not the time to throw a tantrum or bicker over who was right.

Softening her tone slightly, Song Ming said, “Regarding the marriage alliance… it was my oversight.”

Zhou Jibai’s eyelashes fluttered. After a moment of silence, she let out a self-deprecating curl of her lips. “You actually know how to say something soft for once?”

Song Ming gazed at the distant flowering trees and remained silent.

In the dim light, Song Ming’s profile was sharp and beautiful, her grey-green eyes as quiet as lake water. The rain continued to fall, the distance between them was neither close nor far, separated only by a thin curtain of rain.

“Since President Song has opened her mouth, I assume you’ve thought of how to compensate me?”

Zhou Jibai looked at Song Ming, her light brown eyes as transparent as glass. Perhaps because the autumn rain was too cold, her complexion wasn’t great, her soft, vermillion lips lacked color, turning a pale shade of pink.

Song Ming frowned slightly.

Their relationship had once been incredibly intimate, their understanding of each other reached the deepest levels. Whether her former lover was truly seeking an emotional response or preparing to negotiate terms, Song Ming could tell the difference.

Is this revenge?

“How do you want to be compensated?” Song Ming asked calmly.

Regarding the marriage alliance, Song Ming would never back down. Zhong Zhengcheng could keep dreaming. It didn’t matter if Zhou Jibai was willing to cooperate or how she chose to do so… Song Ming’s decisions were hers alone to execute.

As for the current compensation…

As long as Zhou Jibai spoke up, Song Ming would agree to anything.

Song Ming’s hand was in her pocket, repeatedly rubbing the steel casing of her lighter. Long standing investments and plans flashed through her mind, calculating the rough valuation of funds and resources she could deploy immediately.

She could have anything she wanted.

With Zhou Jibai by her side, Song Ming truly couldn’t restrain herself from doing something, yet at the final moment, she was always the one who couldn’t follow through with the blow.

She couldn’t bring herself to truly hurt Zhou Jibai, even though the hatred was real.

When they were separated by oceans and Zhou Jibai was out of sight, it was barely tolerable. Song Ming could pretend the person didn’t exist. Now, with the woman wandering right in front of her and occasionally provoking her, it was different.

Song Ming truly wanted to seize her, pin her down, and slowly grind that stubborn temper into nothingness, then demand to know if she dared to keep stepping on her landmines.

But in the end, Song Ming didn’t. Such a beautiful and proud person, if you broke her, she’d be ruined.

So, Song Ming suppressed her temper, dealing with Zhou Jibai in a lazy, detached manner. Only Song Ming knew how frustrated she was during those days of slow, hidden psychological warfare.

If she didn’t do something soon, Song Ming feared she would truly lose her patience.

“Song Ming, I’ve already found MIRC.”

Ignoring the topic of compensation, Zhou Jibai made this abrupt statement.

Song Ming froze.

MIRC was the parent company of the overseas investment firm she had used as a shell to inject capital into Yuexi.

“You should know my style,” Zhou Jibai said, holding her umbrella with a cold expression. “I spent two years abroad and left many people behind. Your subordinates are indeed cautious, but you seem to have forgotten to tell certain local overseas executives to remain silent about their former boss even after resigning.”

…The lighter in her pocket was gripped tight. The warmth in Song Ming’s expression vanished completely.

Zhou Jibai looked at Song Ming, took out her phone, unlocked the screen, and held it out. “I can’t do much more, but if Chairman Song found out that MIRC has more than one actual controller, I imagine he’d have plenty to do. Want to see the evidence first?”

Song Ming didn’t even glance at the screen. She grabbed Zhou Jibai’s wrist and pulled her close with a single tug.

The two umbrellas collided, splashing rainwater everywhere.

Zhou Jibai hesitated for a fraction of a second before simply letting go of her umbrella and stepping under Song Ming’s.

Because of the splashing rain, both were a bit disheveled. A lock of hair hanging by Song Ming’s cheek was wet, and a drop of water clung to her eyelashes. Her eyes, however, held a sharp, icy chill, clearly suppressing a deep rage.

“You’re threatening me,” Song Ming hissed through gritted teeth, staring at Zhou Jibai.

Zhou Jibai met her gaze defiantly.

…Thinking about it now, if Zhou Jibai were to investigate, she could only start with that investment in Yuexi.

Before Zhou Jibai had found anything, Song Ming had countless opportunities to ruin her, make her bankrupt, or ensure she met some other ugly end. But Song Ming had let them all pass. Forget a death blow like this. Song Ming hadn’t even wanted Zhou Jibai to suffer minor consequences.

While she was over there hesitating and being soft-hearted, Zhou Jibai’s movements had been quite swift.

That extra bit of mercy was truly laughable.

Clutching Zhou Jibai’s slender wrist, Song Ming grew even angrier. Right before her was Zhou Jibai’s beautiful, alluring face. Her light brown eyes were very calm, her brow only slightly furrowed, perhaps from pain.

Song Ming suddenly remembered that she had known all along that underestimating Zhou Jibai would lead to being plotted against, yet she had still fallen for it.

Zhou Jibai had played her part very well lately.

Looking at Song Ming, Zhou Jibai’s half-month of patience finally found an outlet. She curled her lips slightly. “Isn’t this all that’s between us? Cooperation and threats.”

“…Heh,” Song Ming stared at her, speechless with rage, before letting out a cold laugh. “Right. President Zhou is absolutely right. So now? You hold my leverage, you’ve threatened me, then what? What do you want me to do?”

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to do much,” Zhou Jibai said, her stubborn gaze revealing her personality. “Aside from resolving the engagement, there is only one thing.”

Song Ming: “What?”

“Be obedient,” Zhou Jibai said.

Song Ming was stunned.

“Listen to me,” Zhou Jibai raised her free hand and lightly hooked Song Ming’s chin, saying in an uncompromising tone, “Only listen to me. Go to work when you’re supposed to, come home immediately when you’re supposed to. You aren’t allowed to go missing, you can’t waste time fooling around, and you can’t play dictator at the company.”

Song Ming was born with a rebellious streak, the word “obedient” was foreign to her. Her tongue silently brushed against the back of her teeth as the flames of annoyance burned through the strings of her reason.

“Just be obedient?” Song Ming slowed her tone, asking in a low, suppressed voice. “You don’t need me to do anything else?”

Zhou Jibai’s eyes flickered slightly, and she frowned.

Song Ming intentionally leaned down, leaning into Zhou Jibai’s ear. “You’re holding quite a big piece of leverage. Back then, I used MIRC to trap Song Zhongtian, causing Songyun to suffer a major blow. If Song Zhongtian knew that the whole thing was directed and acted out by me, there’s no telling what he’d do. Not to mention, MIRC holds most of my assets, if this gets exposed, I won’t be able to hide anything anymore.”

“Holding something so useful, and you’re not going to make the most of it? President Zhou, you’re a businesswoman too.”

Song Ming spoke slowly, lightly blowing a breath against Zhou Jibai’s earlobe, watching as that ear, adorned with a pearl earring and white as jade, turned red.

Zhou Jibai frowned, her eyes displeased and carry a warning: “Song Ming.”

“Don’t like it?” Song Ming lowered her eyelashes to meet Zhou Jibai’s gaze, smiling faintly with total indifference. “Then how about we try something else?”

Before Zhou Jibai could answer, Song Ming dropped the umbrella, cupped the back of Zhou Jibai’s head, and kissed her.

The rain pitter-pattered, the curtain of water blocking any sight and cutting off the flow of mourners.

The cemetery was exceptionally quiet, no pedestrians were in sight. The world was a hazy blur, with only the pure black body of an off-road vehicle parked in a square of the cemetery standing out.

Continuous raindrops hammered against the car, merging into a dull thrum. Inside, the air was damp and hot.

The passenger seat had been reclined. Trench coats and jackets dampened by rain were tossed into the back seat. The thin fabric of the V-neck shirt clung to the skin after getting wet, clearly outlining the trace of a bra. The collar was wide open, the beautiful scenery half-hidden and half-exposed, catering perfectly to someone’s wicked preferences.

Both of their hair was half-wet, an indescribable ambiguity bleeding through the disarray.

Zhou Jibai half-closed her eyes, looking out through her damp curls. “The lights… turn off the lights.”

Song Ming leaned down and kissed her. “There’s no one.”

Zhou Jibai gasped, her thoughts muddled. Driven by instinct, she twisted her wrist. “Let go.”

“I’m not letting go.”

Song Ming gripped the wrist tighter. Her other hand stroked over the cool, tight silk fabric, crawling all the way up.