My Wealthy Ex-Girlfriend Knelt and Begged Me to Come Back [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 2

“Thank you, President Qiu.”

The moment Ji Jiayu spoke, she realized the two of them seemed a little too close.

She wanted to step back. She managed half a step, but before she could retreat fully, a hand seized her wrist, slender fingers gripping tightly.

“President Wang?” Qiu Miaoran glanced at the man at the table.

“I’m taking her.”

Her voice was icy, clearly laced with displeasure.

Ji Jiayu’s lashes fluttered, a watery sheen rising in her light brown eyes. She looked like a small animal caught in a hunter’s snare—panicked, helpless—as she was dragged out of the banquet hall.

No one noticed that when Ji Jiayu turned her head, the corners of her lips curved upward, and her eyes glittered with hidden light.

Tonight, she was determined to win.

Of course, no one dared to stop them.

With the power of the Qiu Group, not a whisper of tonight’s events would ever leak.

The man called “President Wang,” who had just been forcing drinks earlier, now trembled slightly.

That woman… she belonged to President Qiu? And the drugged glass of wine just now—Qiu had drunk it instead?

What should he do now?!

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Hands shaking, he answered.

The secretary’s voice came through—

“President Wang, our billion-dollar partnership… it’s over. Qiushui Venture is pulling their investment! The funding chain has snapped!”

A heavy thud—the phone slipped from his hand onto the floor.

The manager’s agent stood stunned, jaw nearly dropping off.

When… did Ji Jiayu stumble into such good fortune?

Qiu Miaoran, the real controller of Qiushui Venture Capital, a rising investment conglomerate—by twenty-nine, she had already been crowned the youngest celebrity on China’s rich list.

To ordinary people, President Qiu was like a goddess high above the clouds—completely untouchable.

Bang! The hotel room door slammed shut.

Ji Jiayu’s wrist was still caught, her back pressed firmly against the cold door panel. The other’s breath—warm, carrying the faint aroma of wine—brushed her neck and shoulders, tickling. Her toes curled against the floor, tension running through her feet.

Everything was perfectly arranged—

She’d slapped back her trash manager, humiliated the trainees who bullied her, staged the “hero saves the beauty” scene, played weakness at the right time.

In the end, Qiu Miaoran had drunk her wine.

That wine had been spiked—an aphrodisiac. Ji Jiayu knew it all along.

She hadn’t expected Qiu Miaoran to be so conservative, so old-fashioned—bringing her all the way up to a hotel suite.

Perhaps it was the drug, or perhaps the alcohol, but what followed unfolded naturally.

By dawn, between dimness and first light, curtains stirred, shadows flickered on the ceiling.

Ji Jiayu’s eyes half-closed, her hair tumbling to tickle her neck. The faint scent of shower gel mixed with sweat as drops slid down from above.

A shimmering silver number appeared above Qiu Miaoran’s head.

In her ear, the mechanical female voice spoke:

【Life Extension Value +3】

Ji Jiayu smacked her lips, muttering under her breath: “That’s it?”

——Just that little?

“Hm?” The woman’s low, husky voice sounded beside her ear. Without her gold-rimmed glasses, her phoenix eyes were even darker, unfathomable. “Not enough?”

She’d misunderstood. For a first time, it was already plenty.

“I’m thirsty,” Ji Jiayu whispered weakly, lips dry and reddened like a small animal’s whimper, “My lips are so dry.”

Qiu Miaoran fixed her gaze on her, noting the smudged lipstick, lips swollen and glistening like opium poppies—deadly, alluring.

Her breath hitched. For a moment, her heart stopped.

She picked up the glass of water on the bedside, drank a sip, and leaned down to feed her mouth-to-mouth.

Tonight’s night breeze was unusually tender.

Soon, the beautiful girl’s voice broke into sobs, thin and trembling, like a nightingale crying in the wind.

Ji Jiayu clung to Qiu Miaoran, arms weak and delicate as jade, fingers twining through the other woman’s black hair.

Locks of hair wrapped her fingertips as she traced circles, lips parting faintly to mouth a soundless:

“Thank you… Bodhisattva.”

Ji Jiayu had first met this “Bodhisattva” a year ago—during the darkest period of her life.

Her college girlfriend had suddenly gone abroad and gotten engaged.

Heartbroken, Ji Jiayu chased her ex to the airport—only to be hit by a car, leaving her in a coma for half a year.

Hospitalized, everything was white—sheets, curtains, walls.

But in her dreams, one woman was painted in other colors.

Bathed in golden sunlight, she leaned down, wearing titanium glasses with a fine golden chain glinting against the pillow, studying Ji Jiayu’s face as she slept.

Others addressed her respectfully as “President Qiu.”

In her haze, Ji Jiayu realized—it was this woman who had saved her, who had paid for the best private ICU ward, who had covered her astronomical medical bills.

She appeared often in the hospital, sometimes to see Ji Jiayu, sometimes speaking quietly with doctors.

A true Bodhisattva.

Why save her? Why spend so much on a stranger?

Ji Jiayu didn’t know how she could ever repay her.

During recovery, whenever Qiu Miaoran appeared, Ji Jiayu began hearing the system’s mechanical voice, seeing 【Life Extension Value】 above her head.

At first, she didn’t believe it—systems? Life points? Utter nonsense.

Until one day, overhearing doctors saying things like “can’t risk another craniotomy,” “unstable neural stimulation,” “low recovery rate.”

Later, the system even predicted things before they happened.

Gradually, Ji Jiayu had no choice but to believe.

If she wanted to live, she had to cling to Qiu Miaoran.

So Ji Jiayu changed—or rather, unleashed the side of herself long buried.

What was more important than life itself?

After discharge, she staged frequent “coincidences,” “chance encounters.”

But Qiu Miaoran was impossibly hard to approach—the 【Life Extension Value】 hovered miserably around 20%.

At last, she plotted this “rescue” tonight.

That night, Ji Jiayu slept late, and lightly.

In the presidential suite.

When Ji Jiayu opened her eyes, the bed beside her was already empty.

The system chimed:

【Ding~ Congratulations, Host, entering the next stage—Cohabitation with the President】

Cohabitation with the President?

Ji Jiayu sniffed faintly—the air still carried the sweet, metallic tang of last night.

Her phone buzzed. A strange number flashed on the screen. It was already nine in the morning.

She answered, voice husky from exhaustion, colored with a trace of intimacy—like she had caught a cold.

“Hello? May I ask who’s calling?”

“Miss Ji? I’m President Qiu’s assistant. She arranged for movers to help you today. What time works for you?”

Moving in immediately? Sleep together, then take responsibility—so stiff, so old-fashioned.

“Today?” Ji Jiayu paused, then replied, “Two in the afternoon, by the west gate of XX Residence, near Film Academy.”

“Very well, Miss Ji. See you this afternoon.”

She hung up, slipped into hotel slippers, and went to wash up.

Checking her phone, she found new emails—termination contracts, even an apology letter from her ex-manager Sun-jie.

Her oppressive contract had been voided, and without penalties.

All it took was one night with President Qiu.

Brushing her teeth, she glanced at her reflection—eyes pink, lids swollen from crying, lips bruised, her collarbone marked.

“…Tch.” She sucked in a breath.

Endure it. She needed those 【Life Points】.

And truthfully, even without the system, she’d still want to claim this woman.

A year ago, she had already noticed—Qiu Miaoran’s face resembled her.

The one she kept buried deep, never to speak of.

Though stiff and restrained, in bed Qiu Miaoran was surprisingly considerate—yet devastating, almost making her regret her seduction.

Last night’s expensive gown was ruined. A gift bag sat nearby—new clothes, clearly chosen by Qiu.

She put on the cotton white dress, modest and retro, cinching her slim waist, hem brushing just below her knees.

It suited Qiu Miaoran’s taste—simple, conservative.

Before leaving, she checked WeChat.

【Qiu Miaoran】: Someone will pick you up. Wait in front of the hotel.
【Qiu Miaoran】: Miss Ji, about last night… I apologize.

Seven minutes ago.

So suddenly warm? Qiu had never texted her first before.

Quickly, Ji Jiayu typed:

【Ji Jiayu】: No need, I’m taking a taxi back.
【Ji Jiayu】: Already in the car. Work must be busy lately? What would you like for dinner tonight? I’ll cook.

Of course, she couldn’t cook—takeout dressed on plates would have to do.

But there was no reply.

The system chimed softly: 【Life Extension Value +1】

So it depended on Qiu’s emotions. She’d read her message, felt something—but hadn’t replied.

Secretly delighted, Ji Jiayu thought, so reserved, so shy.

By afternoon, movers helped pack.

At the west gate, SUVs arrived, led by Qiu’s special assistant, Li.

He smiled politely. “Miss Ji, I’ll help you with the move.”

Ji Jiayu, in a red camisole, skin pale as porcelain, smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Assistant Li.”

Her dimples and almond-shaped eyes sparkled in the sun, so soft and sweet.

For a moment, Li froze—before reminding himself: She’s the President’s woman.

He pointed at her old things. “These aren’t necessary. Better to toss them—everything is ready at your new home.”

Ji Jiayu stopped him, clutching a small cactus. “Not this one. Please give it back.”

“…A cactus? You can buy another…”

She shook her head, tucking the little plant into her box. “This one’s different. It’s called Little Snowball. It blooms red flowers… very pretty.”

The cactus had survived despite neglect—unlike its owner, once withered on a hospital bed.

She couldn’t throw it away.

Soon, they arrived at her new residence: Qiushui Mansion, an upscale villa on an artificial lake.

“Your fingerprints are recorded. Here’s the access card.”

Assistant Li explained the house rules—third floor was Qiu’s master suite, fourth floor locked, study off-limits. Essentials were prepared, the fridge stocked.

When he left, Ji Jiayu checked her phone again.

Still no reply.

She plated takeout neatly, waiting quietly.

By the time Qiu returned late that night, Ji Jiayu, in a cream slip dress, had dozed off curled on the sofa.

The sound of the door woke her.

She lifted her head, smiling sweetly, eyes misty: “I’ll go reheat the food.”

Qiu, framed in the doorway light, froze for a heartbeat—an unfamiliar warmth rushing in.

Like coming home.

Ji Jiayu’s presence in the mansion felt… like a waiting wife.

Later, Ji Jiayu stepped onto the balcony.

There stood Qiu Miaoran, leaning against the railing, long fingers holding a slim lady’s cigarette, red lips grazing the filter. Smoke curled around her sharp brows and phoenix eyes, blurring her silhouette against the vast night.

Ji Jiayu halted—she had never seen Qiu smoke.

At once, Qiu went to stub it out.

But Ji Jiayu darted forward, tilting her head down, lips brushing the inside of Qiu’s fingers as she stole the cigarette from her hand.

Soft. Dangerous.

Qiu’s lashes quivered. The touch lingered like a spark.

With fumbling innocence, Ji Jiayu copied her, holding the cigarette between slender fingers, leaning forward.

“I want to try too… okay?”

Her voice lingered in a drawl, sweet and coaxing.

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