My Wealthy Ex-Girlfriend Knelt and Begged Me to Come Back [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 12

Ji Jiayu had never typed so fast in her life. She immediately sent her reply in the chat box.

[Ji Jiayu]: I’ll come back right now.
[Ji Jiayu]: Can you send a car to pick me up, please? [/Little Fox Spirit Crying Emoji]
[Qiu]: .
[Ji Jiayu]: [My Location]

Half an hour later, Assistant Li pushed open the door of the KTV private room. The scene before his eyes made him freeze on the spot.

Ji Jiayu was propping up a drunk girl by the arm, helping her stand.

Her arms were so slender, fragile as if they could break like twigs—yet somehow she was managing to support a completely wasted adult?

For a moment, Assistant Li thought, maybe… Miss Ji wasn’t as weak as she looked on the surface?

Ji Jiayu lifted her delicate jaw and looked at him standing dumbly at the door. “What are you staring at? Come help!”

“Oh, oh—right.”

“First get all three of them into the car,” Ji Jiayu instructed. “When girls get this drunk, if you don’t personally make sure they get home, it’s very dangerous.”

“Got it.”

“And then book a room.”

“Okay…” He agreed instinctively, then hesitated, “Huh?”

Miss Ji was an exceptional beauty—every lowered lash and lifted glance carried a kind of allure that could make a man’s heart tremble.

To spend just one night with someone like her—it would be… intoxicating.

But if he dared open a hotel room with Ji Jiayu, President Qiu would probably kill him on the spot.

“Hurry up and drive,” Ji Jiayu said as she lowered her head and tapped on her phone. “I’ll book a hotel room on the app, and we’ll just put them in there.”

Assistant Li instantly flushed with shame for what he had just been thinking. “Right, yes. We’ll get them to the hotel first, then I’ll drive you back.”

—

An hour later, Assistant Li dropped Ji Jiayu off at Qiushui Residence.

He still had work left to report, but President Qiu had already gone into the study and hadn’t come out for a long while.

“You can go now, Assistant Li,” Ji Jiayu said, noticing him lingering on the staircase landing, his hand rubbing at the banister so anxiously it was as though he’d rub the wood smooth.

Assistant Li lifted the folder in his hand.

“Give it to me, I’ll bring it in for you.” Ji Jiayu reached out her hand.

“But President Qiu said—when she’s in the study, no one is allowed to disturb her.” His hand, half-extended with the folder, paused in midair. “That rule can’t be broken.”

“Just this once, let her in,” Aunt Chen said quietly. Her eyes had long since seen through the vicissitudes of the world.

From the moment President Qiu let Ji Jiayu move into this house, many rules had already been broken.

President Qiu’s boundaries seemed to be lowering—
But only for one particular person.

Ji Jiayu took the folder, knocked softly at the door.

No reply.

“Knock, knock.” She rapped again, lighter this time.

A voice came from within. Qiu Miaoran’s voice. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Ji Jiayu’s voice sounded small and shy through the door.

“Come in,” Qiu Miaoran said after a pause, then added, “Quietly.”

—

For the first time, Ji Jiayu was allowed into the study—a space that had always been President Qiu’s exclusive domain.

The furnishings weren’t much different from the other rooms.

But the atmosphere was different.

Every inch of the tiled floor seemed steeped in a woodsy fragrance. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood.

Ji Jiayu stepped inside, held out the folder she had taken. “Assistant Li asked me to bring this to you.”

Qiu Miaoran didn’t take it. “I’ll look at it later.”

On the desk before her was a brass incense burner. Its lid lay to the side. Inside, the white ash had been pressed flat, and the dark incense powder had set into neat, intricate patterns—unfathomable Sanskrit script.

Ji Jiayu stayed where she was, folder still in hand, standing across from Qiu Miaoran.

The other woman’s slender fingers picked up a stick of incense. With a click, the silver lighter opened, flame touching the tip. Slowly she set it into the burner, letting it catch.

A wisp of smoke curled upward.

No wonder—Qiu Miaoran always carried that faint woody fragrance.
Not perfume. She had been steeped in it.

“Give it here.” Qiu Miaoran turned slightly toward Ji Jiayu and held out her hand.

Ji Jiayu noticed she wasn’t wearing glasses. Her brow bones were defined, her nose straight and high, her eyes narrow and deep. Silent, her apricot-colored lips were pressed faintly together.

Ink-black hair fell over her shoulders, pale porcelain neck and collarbones faintly visible at the V of her shirt.

Just her neck and shoulders carried an inexplicable sensuality.

But the whole aura she exuded was glacial, precise, untouched by human warmth.

Qiu Miaoran accepted the folder, flipped it open, glanced at the first page—Project Due Diligence Report—then turned a few sheets. Her lashes lowered, veiling her dark eyes.

“Why did it break?”

The girl’s voice was light, soft, carrying a honeyed sweetness.

“What broke?” Qiu Miaoran’s lashes trembled as she slowly lifted her gaze toward Ji Jiayu across the desk.

The girl stood with her hands behind her back, rising on tiptoe, lips caught between her teeth, her pale neck stretched straight. Those moist, bright eyes fixed on the incense burner.

“Your incense. It broke,” Ji Jiayu pointed out.

She leaned forward on tiptoe to peer in, curiosity alight. The warm yellow lamplight gilded her lifted strands of hair with a golden glow, making her seem especially lively.

Qiu Miaoran set down the folder, sliding it onto a bookshelf. Her voice was calm, still water.

“The ash got damp. I’ll just light a new one.”

“Oh… I see.” Ji Jiayu let out a little “oh,” waved her small hand. “Then I’ll go back to rest. You can burn another one. Haha—”

“Good night… see you tomorrow~”

She said it—good night.

It was the first time anyone had ever told Qiu Miaoran good night.

Qiu Miaoran turned her face. “Mm… good night.”

In her sight—

Ji Jiayu walked to the door, small hand twisting the knob, easing it open a crack. She slipped out, closing it quietly behind her.

Qiu Miaoran’s gaze lingered on the door for a long moment before drifting back.

In her mind—

Her ankle. That fine golden anklet swinging against the bone, like a caged nightingale’s tether.

So slender, so pale. It looked as if it could snap with the slightest pressure.

She’d gone shopping today—to buy herself an anklet?

Qiu Miaoran sat dazed, realizing only after a while that she had been staring at the doorframe far too long…

The incense pattern had broken.

Incense was meant to still the heart.

But her heart—was no longer still.

—

Tiansheng Hotel, Jinling Hall.

“This is President Qiu.”

Qiu Miaoran wore an ivory-white suit, broad-shouldered, high-waisted, with a silk blouse beneath. A silk pocket square peeked from her jacket. A chain from her gold-rimmed glasses swayed faintly.

Ji Jiayu’s arm was looped around hers, their bodies pressed close, the girl’s delicate curves faintly felt through the fabric.

“This is Director Wu from Fangda Pictures’ Series A financing.”

“We’ve worked with President Qiu before—our company’s successful IPO is thanks to Qiushui Capital’s support,” Director Wu said obsequiously. “I wonder, for future expansions, could we look forward to more collaboration?”

Invest or not?

Of course it depended on ROI, market prospects, risk control, and economies of scale.

Ridiculous—how could such a decision be made by casual conversation?

Qiu Miaoran looked at the barren scalp of Director Wu. “Depends on the circumstances.”

She gave him no face at all.

Director Wu’s smile froze, turning stiff.

Assistant Li rushed in to smooth things over:

“What President Qiu means is—whether we follow up with investment depends on the project’s planning specifics. Perhaps Director Wu could send us the drafts later, and we’ll discuss further.”

“Of course, of course.” Director Wu forced a laugh.

After he left, another man arrived.

“This is the project lead from Runtai Medical, and their proxy, young President Song.”

Song Zheng had just been appointed acting CEO of Runtai Medical. A young man.

His hair was shorn so short his scalp was a pale bluish fuzz. His whole presence carried a rebellious, dangerous edge.

“President Song,” Qiu Miaoran said lightly, “you look very young.”

“Haha, so do you,” he smirked.

There was a scar down his cheek, long and sharp. He leaned closer toward Ji Jiayu. “Tsk…”

“President Qiu’s companion tonight is truly stunning.”

Ji Jiayu wore a little black cocktail dress, its front laced with crisscross ties, making her skin glow pale. The strapless cut dipped low, a faint shadow vanishing into the silk fabric.

The fabric draped with weight, accentuating her petite but well-proportioned frame, her curves particularly enticing.

The man leaned closer, reeking of heavy cologne, his masculine presence oppressive, familiar yet nauseating—

Her chest tightened. Her head throbbed. Panic. Disgust.

She wanted to escape.

Ji Jiayu clung tighter to Qiu Miaoran’s arm, shrinking back, pressing her small frame even closer. “Good evening, President Song.”

“Well now… what’s this? Little beauty—” Song Zheng tugged at his collar, stepped in closer, leaning toward her.

“Haven’t we met before? Why do you look so familiar?”

His voice was low, almost gentle.

But his eyes betrayed him—aggressive, predatory.

His gaze swept from head to toe, lingering at Ji Jiayu’s chest, then crawling back upward. Wolfish, devouring.

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