My Wealthy Ex-Girlfriend Knelt and Begged Me to Come Back [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 13

“I must have mistaken you for someone else, we haven’t met before.” Ji Jiayu’s voice was soft, delicate, carrying that timid quality unique to young girls.

She tugged at the corners of her lips in a smile.

“It’s my first time following President Qiu here. You just looked familiar, so I felt a sense of closeness.”

“Oh? Is that so… well, I also find you quite close and pleasant.” He squinted his eyes as he smiled, leaning in closer, thoughts in his mind turning indecent.

In the circles of the wealthy, exchanging female companions was not unusual.

Song Zheng had played with many men’s companions, but a little girl like this—so delicate, skin pale like fine jade, slim, yet with full curves, a perky figure, and a dainty face with a fragile charm—

Such a rare temptation.

When she timidly cast him a glance, it was enough to make his throat dry, his mouth water.

“The due diligence report has already been received.”
Qiu Miaoran loosened her hand from Ji Jiayu’s waist, pushing her subtly behind her to shield her from view.

“We should move on and talk about the project details.”

“This way please, President Song.” Assistant Li hurriedly stepped forward to lead the way.

Ji Jiayu felt as though she had just caught a breath of relief.

She stepped back slightly. “You two go ahead and talk. It’s not really convenient for me to intrude.”

But even though she had never met that man before—

His scent felt all too familiar.
The moment she smelled it, she reacted instinctively: waves of dizziness, an unsettling palpitating panic.

Ji Jiayu raised a hand, her fingertips icy, gently pressing to her forehead. The banquet hall’s lights seemed to sway chaotically before her eyes.

She lowered her gaze, her chest heaving as she struggled to steady her breathing.

Nausea, disgust—her ears roared with a “whoom, whoom,” like the screech of tires skidding violently against asphalt.

Fighting the sick feeling, Ji Jiayu walked over to the refreshment table and asked a server for soda water with ice and lemon.

She drank a little, and only then did the nausea gradually subside.

Leaning against the table, she shivered faintly as the strong air-conditioning overhead swept across her shoulders.

“Jiayu… is that you?” A female voice sounded from behind, one that was achingly familiar.

Ji Jiayu turned sharply. Strands of black hair fell across her pale little face, her lips bright red and trembling ever so slightly.

That voice—she knew it well. Once, in the darkness beneath the dormitory trees, the owner of that voice had held her tightly, lips brushing her ear, whispering against her skin:

“Senior sister will love you…”

The woman wore a fitted black skirt suit, heavy makeup, vivid red lips, adorned with gemstone earrings, necklaces, a delicate watch—every detail radiating wealth and refinement.

The moment she recognized Ji Jiayu’s face, her fingers clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms, numbing her fingertips.

In the next instant, the woman stepped quickly around the refreshment table, so fast that Ji Jiayu couldn’t even react before her wrist was seized—her grip firm, unrelenting.

“It really is you.”

“Jiayu, you’ve gotten… so much thinner.”

Ji Jiayu lowered her gaze. On that slender left hand gripping her wrist, a flawless diamond wedding ring sparkled blindingly on the fourth finger.

After going abroad—
Song Tingyu had gotten married.

“Let go.” Ji Jiayu sighed softly.

But Song Tingyu only held tighter, as if releasing her meant Ji Jiayu would vanish forever. “Are you… are you doing well?”

Her voice shook, broken, betraying panic she couldn’t hide.

“I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t know that once I went abroad, I wouldn’t be able to come back. I swear—”

Already, people at the banquet were glancing toward them. Their little scene was attracting attention.

“Tingyu.” Ji Jiayu sighed again. “You’re hurting me.”

At that, Song Tingyu finally loosened her grip. “I didn’t… I never meant to abandon you.”

“This isn’t the place for that kind of talk. Calm down first. I’m a little hungry… did you see where the crème brûlée was?” Ji Jiayu gently rubbed her wrist. The grip had been painful.

“Yes.” Song Tingyu rubbed her fingers absently, as though still recalling the delicate feel of her wrist—soft skin, the faint ridge of her bone…

“Where?” Ji Jiayu blinked, her gaze moist and glimmering, staring straight at her with eyes like wet glass. “Could you help me get one?”

“…Alright. I’ll get it for you.” Song Tingyu turned away, trying to remember where she’d spotted the dessert table, with its cakes and caramel custards.

She returned, carrying a small enamel dish of crème brûlée and a spoon—

But by the refreshment table, Ji Jiayu was gone.

…

The moment Song Tingyu turned her back, Ji Jiayu had slipped soundlessly into the crowd.

“Excuse me, where’s the restroom?”

A server pointed her down the corridor. “Straight ahead, to your right.”

The click of high heels echoed sharply on the tiles.

There were footsteps behind her. Someone was following.

Her heartbeat sped up, a nervous dread pressing at her chest.

She quickened her pace, stepping into the restroom.

By the sinks, a tall, slender woman stood in a perfectly tailored cream-colored suit.

Qiu Miaoran turned off the faucet, pulled a tissue to dry her hands with deliberate care.

She glanced sideways at Ji Jiayu rushing in. Blue light reflected off the gold-rimmed glasses on her nose, the delicate golden chain swinging lightly.

“What’s wrong? Why so hurried—”

Ji Jiayu walked straight to her, slipping her arms around Qiu Miaoran’s neck.

Her fingertips were icy against the nape of her neck, making Qiu Miaoran shiver. Lowering her gaze at the sudden closeness, she couldn’t resist teasing:

“Why are your hands so cold? Were you frightened by President Song?”

Ji Jiayu murmured a soft “Mm,” her arms tightening around her neck, her shoulders trembling slightly as she whispered, frail and spoiled, “He looks so scary…”

Her complaints, like a kitten’s mewl, tugged warm at the heart.

Her body pressed soft and yielding against her, carrying a faint sweet scent.

Qiu Miaoran slowly wrapped her arms around her slender waist. Her body was tense, every muscle drawn taut, yet she could feel Ji Jiayu’s chill, her small shoulders quivering faintly.

Qiu Miaoran blinked, her mind catching on one thought—

She’s trembling in my arms.

The door creaked open.

Someone was coming in.

Ji Jiayu’s arms suddenly tightened around her neck. Her hazel eyes narrowed, glazed with a languid shimmer.

“Miaoran, love me…”

That burning affection overflowed from her watery gaze.

For a moment, Qiu Miaoran was stunned, a feather brushing her heart in the lightest, most ticklish way.

Had she already come to love her so deeply, in less than a year?

Ji Jiayu pushed her back against the sink.

Caught off guard, Qiu Miaoran slipped, her back hitting the cold marble.

The girl rose on tiptoe, leaning in completely, lips pressing softly against hers—warm and pliant, like custard. She kissed cautiously yet hungrily, clinging close, her soft curves pressing hotly against her.

The taste was sweet—soda water on her lips.

Her breaths filled her ears.

The door clicked shut again.

When Ji Jiayu had pushed her, she had used all her strength.

From the corner of her eye, she’d seen the figure at the doorway. Someone had followed her here.

So she kissed Qiu Miaoran even harder—
Whether to escape, or to strike back.

If it hadn’t been true love back then, she wouldn’t have chased after her when she left, wouldn’t have caused that car accident…

Old scars, if torn open now, could only bring fresh pain.

By the time it was over, Ji Jiayu was spent, limp in Qiu Miaoran’s embrace.

Qiu Miaoran touched her own lips, reddened where the lipstick had been kissed away, still faintly sore.

“Tsk.” She reached out, fingertip brushing against Ji Jiayu’s lip corner, rubbing lightly.

“Learning new tricks, are you?”

Her lips tickled under the touch, but Ji Jiayu didn’t avoid it. She parted her lips slightly, nibbling gently at Qiu Miaoran’s finger, planting a kiss on the tip.

Qiu Miaoran’s fingertips tingled, her heart prickling with an itch. She froze for a moment, then quickly pulled her hand back.

“So you’ve learned to bite?”

Like a little kitten, baring its tiny teeth against its master’s finger—biting lightly, timidly showing affection.

Ji Jiayu sniffled softly, her voice low and fragile, like a small creature’s whimper. “Does President Qiu want it? I want it now…”

“No.” Qiu Miaoran rejected her instantly.

Ji Jiayu lowered her head, strands of hair falling to curtain half her face, leaving only the sharp tip of her chin showing. Her lips pouted, pink and moist. “Okay…”

She said okay—but everything about her radiated disappointment.

“Not now. Not here.” Qiu Miaoran’s hand curled at her side before reaching up to tug her along.

She pulled Ji Jiayu out, into the elevator.

“What’s President Qiu going to do?”

“Exactly what you wanted to do.”

“Ding—” The elevator stopped at the hotel’s upper floors.

She led Ji Jiayu to the middle suite on the top floor—the presidential suite.

The two stood close.

The sound of a zipper unfastening.

Qiu Miaoran drew a black card from her wallet. Her arm slid past Ji Jiayu’s elbow, brushing her waist, the motion nearly caging her entirely in her arms.

Behind her, Qiu Miaoran’s warmth; on her nape, her hot breath. Before her, the sealed door.

“Ding—” The suite door unlocked and opened.

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