My Wealthy Ex-Girlfriend Knelt and Begged Me to Come Back [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 25

Song Tingyu let go of Ji Jiayu’s skirt. The silky fabric slipped down through her fingers. She straightened up, took back the handle of the umbrella, and continued holding it over Ji Jiayu.

“Alright, I’ll hold the umbrella.”

But in her mind, she kept replaying the image of the girl’s calves, the top of her feet peeking out beneath the high heels…

And her knees, soaked in rain, turning faintly pink.

Just imagining it was unbearably tempting.

“Where do you live?” Song Tingyu suddenly cleared her throat, shifting the umbrella a little more toward Ji Jiayu. “I’ll take you back.”

Ji Jiayu lifted her hand and pointed toward the hotel.

At the hotel entrance, Song Tingyu closed the umbrella. As the metal joints folded with a soft click,

“I’m here, you can go now,” Ji Jiayu said. She turned her head and suddenly caught sight of Song Tingyu’s right shoulder—completely soaked through, drenched by the rain.

“Your shoulder… it’s completely wet.”

Song Tingyu also glanced sideways and noticed it, letting out a small “ah.”

“Maybe I wasn’t paying attention while holding the umbrella earlier.”

She hesitated, then asked tentatively, “Can I go up and borrow your hair dryer?”

Her eyes flicked upward, secretly searching Ji Jiayu’s reaction.

Ji Jiayu gave a small nod.

Song Tingyu followed her inside the hotel.

The tangled knot in her chest loosened just a little.

【Ji Jiayu agreed…】

【She still cares about me.】

【At least I still have a place in her heart.】

That’s what Song Tingyu thought.

At the front desk, when Ji Jiayu went to collect her reserved room, the receptionist glanced up at the two of them, then checked the booking list on the computer.

“Miss Ji, is she with you? I’ll need both IDs to register if it’s a double stay…”

Ji Jiayu shook her head, retrieving her ID from the counter and slipping it back into her wallet. “We’re not together. She’ll leave soon.”

Suddenly, Song Tingyu spoke: “I’d like to stay here too… do you still have rooms available?”

Ji Jiayu turned her eyes sideways toward her.

“There should still be rooms,” the receptionist answered reflexively, lowering her head to check the booking system—

But the last few available rooms had just been taken, within the past five minutes.

Looking up with a polite smile, she said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re fully booked tonight.”

Song Tingyu’s grip on the umbrella handle tightened slowly. “Oh, alright then…”

Water dripped from the tip of the umbrella, tap, onto the tiles.

She was reminded of a time during their junior year in college—

The two of them had gone out to play, but came back too late to get into the dorm. They had sheepishly run off-campus to a tiny inn to stay the night.

It had rained that day too.

Ji Jiayu’s skirt was soaked through. She came out of the bathroom wearing Song Tingyu’s white shirt, her whole body faintly steaming with warmth.

Back then, they had just started dating. Nothing happened. They simply lay on the bed together until morning.

But Song Tingyu never forgot how, when she turned her head,

her face buried itself in Ji Jiayu’s hair, scattered across the pillow, and she breathed in the faint fragrance of her shampoo.

The girl’s body smelled sweet.

Song Tingyu’s eyes grew distant in thought.

“Miss, please put the umbrella in a bag so it doesn’t drip on the floor. Wet tiles get slippery,” the receptionist reminded.

“Ah, thank you.” Song Tingyu blinked back into awareness, took the plastic bag, shook it open, and slid the umbrella inside.

They entered the elevator together.

The elevator stopped at the 19th floor.

Ding. The hotel room door unlocked with a beep.

“You were in the rain longer—go take a shower first,” Song Tingyu said behind her. “Later I’ll borrow the hair dryer, okay?”

Ji Jiayu carried her clothes into the bathroom. After a while, she came out briefly with the hotel’s dryer and a towel in hand, handing them over to Song Tingyu. “Here. Dry your clothes first, won’t take long.”

Song Tingyu accepted them. “Alright.”

Click. The bathroom door closed.

Ji Jiayu’s demeanor was natural, completely unguarded.

She was open and composed.

—After all, this was only an ex. A clean break long ago. There was no need to avoid suspicion.

By the window, on the low tatami, Song Tingyu sat with one hand on her knee, fingers tightening nervously, rubbing against the fabric.

Even through the thin bathroom door, she could hear the shower running in a steady hua-la rush,

And the faint sound of slippers moving on the tiles.

She could almost picture it—Ji Jiayu in the shower,

the texture of pale skin under warm water, droplets sliding down her shoulders, dripping lightly onto the floor.

Inside, the girl she had longed for over two years was bathing.

Torment.

This was sheer torment.

Song Tingyu bent down, plugging in the dryer. The motor roared to life with a steady whoosh, drowning out every sound from inside the bathroom.

…

Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door opened. The air instantly filled with steam, damp with the scent of body wash.

Ji Jiayu came out in a cream-colored pajama set: a frilled camisole top with satin pants. Her hair was still wet, dripping down her shoulders.

A white towel was draped over her head as she padded out in slippers.

“Drink some hot water first,” Song Tingyu walked over and offered her a cup. “You were caught in the rain—don’t catch another cold.”

Ji Jiayu accepted it, took two sips. “You finished with the dryer?”

Song Tingyu asked tentatively, “Should I dry your hair for you?”

“The dryer—give it here.” Ji Jiayu held out her hand. “I’ll do it myself.”

The rejection was plain.

Song Tingyu held the dryer but didn’t hand it over. “Jiayu…”

“You went abroad and got married, didn’t you?” Ji Jiayu interrupted her directly.

“At that banquet, you weren’t wearing this ring. You were wearing a wedding ring, weren’t you?”

Tonight Song Tingyu had only a simple band, but at the banquet, she’d worn a diamond ring. Ji Jiayu had seen it clearly.

“…So you did notice that day.” Song Tingyu’s fingers trembled slightly. Her chest hollowed out. She set the dryer aside.

Her finger rubbed slowly over the plain band.

“I’ll divorce. Jiayu, you know I don’t like men.”

“I know things haven’t been easy for you… Just wait for me. I’ll have everything prepared, then I’ll take you away, okay?”

Take you away? How ridiculous.

In Song Tingyu’s eyes, she was just a pretty vase without agency.

Now that she thought about it, Song Tingyu and Qiu Miaoran were the same—both from wealthy families, both domineering, both thinking from above, never asking what Ji Jiayu wanted.

Ji Jiayu bent down and pulled the dryer out of Song Tingyu’s hand. “Tingyu, we ended things. A year ago.”

“Don’t push too hard. You’ll only make it harder for yourself.”

The feelings she once had for Song Tingyu had died completely the moment she was abandoned.

What remained was only nostalgia—for the shadow of an older sister on a motorbike.

Song Tingyu dropped her head on the tatami, collapsing like she’d lost her bones.

The dryer roared on, filling the room with the familiar sweet fragrance of Ji Jiayu’s shampoo—

A scent that made people crave more.

After a few minutes, the dryer fell silent.

Ji Jiayu’s hair was dry. She tossed the towel over her shoulder, bent down to unplug the dryer—

But suddenly, her wrist was seized.

The hand holding her was cool to the touch.

“Tingyu?”

Clatter. The dryer slipped from her hands, crashing onto the floor.

Caught off guard, she was pulled down, stumbling back against the tatami, landing on the wooden floor.

Soft—so it didn’t hurt.

The towel slid off her shoulder, baring the skin beneath.

Her freshly bathed skin gleamed like jade, white and smooth, her collarbone starkly visible.

If one touched it, it would surely feel exquisite.

Song Tingyu’s throat tightened. She felt parched. Her fingers trembled as they clutched Ji Jiayu’s wrist, tingling at the tips.

Ji Jiayu’s lips parted, her light eyes blinking once as she murmured in soft reproach, “What are you doing?”

Song Tingyu leaned down, bracing herself on the tatami, bending close. “Jiayu, I…”

“Can we still be friends?”

She was unwilling. Bitterly unwilling.

Unlike Qiu Miaoran, Song Tingyu was still too young. She couldn’t hide her emotions—all her desperation was written on her face.

Like a hungry wolf, her fiery passion, her blazing longing—completely obvious.

The light behind her cast her shadow down across Ji Jiayu, slowly covering her head.

Ji Jiayu tilted her chin up, looking into the face suddenly so close.

Warm breath fanned across her bare shoulder.

The scent of Song Tingyu’s perfume—ocean-fresh, once familiar—now felt cloying.

So close she could see the smoky eye shadow. And beneath it, faintly visible under heavy makeup, a pale bruise along the brow bone.

“Tingyu… what happened to your face?”

“…Nothing,” Song Tingyu replied reflexively, freezing mid-motion, the haze in her eyes scattering. She pulled back slightly.

She turned away to avoid Ji Jiayu’s gaze. “Just a small accident. Bumped into something.”

“It’s a bruise. How do you bump that spot? What if you’d injured your eye?” Ji Jiayu’s voice was filled with concern.

But in Song Tingyu’s ears, it sounded like pity.

Young as she was, Song Tingyu hated pity—especially from the woman she loved. She wanted love, not sympathy for weakness.

She coughed lightly to cover it. “It’s nothing serious. Just a little accident.”

“Jiayu… I want to ask you… If I hadn’t changed my flight that day, if I hadn’t left early, would you have gone with me?”

She desperately wanted to know.

Knock knock—

Knock knock—

The sudden knock cut her off.

Click. The room door swung open from outside.

They had forgotten to lock it.

Qiu Miaoran stepped in, clad in a gray tailored suit dress, clearly just in from the rain, her whole presence cool with damp air.

“I thought Miss Ji was too busy with filming…”

“Not answering my calls—turns out you’re busy meeting friends in a hotel?”

The word friends carried heavy emphasis.

“My phone was dead,” Ji Jiayu answered calmly, still sitting on the floor where she had fallen, one slipper off, her bare toes curling slightly. “It took too long on the road, I didn’t have time to charge it.”

Her poise was steady, as if nothing shameful had happened.

Even though the scene was incriminating—Song Tingyu still leaning close, within a distance far too intimate for mere friends.

Song Tingyu awkwardly pushed herself up from the tatami. “President Qiu, you’re here too?”

“Business trip. The Global Tech Summit.” Qiu Miaoran leaned against the doorframe, her gaze icy as it swept across Song Tingyu.

“My room’s on this floor too. I passed by and heard your voices.”

“The Global Summit? What a coincidence. I’ll be there tomorrow too,” Song Tingyu raised her brows with a smile. “We might see each other.”

Without her glasses, damp bangs shadowed Qiu Miaoran’s eyes, making her expression darker. “That’s for tomorrow.”

“For now—you should leave.” Her voice was cold.

Though the heater hummed, the air seemed to chill, a cold draft seeping through the door.

“Fair enough. It’s late,” Song Tingyu chuckled softly, heading to the door. At the threshold, she paused and glanced at Qiu Miaoran, who still leaned by the frame. “Aren’t you leaving too, President Qiu?”

“I am.”

Qiu Miaoran straightened and stepped out. Closing the door behind her, she cast one last glance back at Ji Jiayu, her eyes heavy, shadowed like rain-drenched skies.

The two women walked in silence to the corner near the stairs.

“This is me.” Qiu Miaoran pulled out her room card, swiping it with a beep.

“Too bad I didn’t book this hotel,” Song Tingyu said, raising her hand in polite farewell. “So I won’t be next door for tomorrow’s summit.”

“Mhm.” Qiu Miaoran nodded lightly, opening her door.

Click. The door shut.

Song Tingyu gave a short laugh, noting the room number—1903. Far enough from Ji Jiayu’s. Not deliberate, then.

After all, a grand CEO wouldn’t stoop to such petty tricks.

Ding. The elevator arrived at the 19th floor. Song Tingyu stepped inside and left.

……

Room 1921.

Ji Jiayu lay on the bed, face-up, phone in hand. She typed out a message—

[Ji Jiayu]: When did you get here? How long were you at the door?

[Qiu Miaoran]: Just arrived.

[Ji Jiayu]: Never thought you’d enjoy eavesdropping.

[Qiu Miaoran]: ……

[Qiu Miaoran]: I wasn’t eavesdropping. You didn’t close the door.

[Ji Jiayu]: Then tell me—what exactly did you hear?

[Qiu Miaoran]: I heard… that you care about her?

[Ji Jiayu]: I don’t…

[Qiu Miaoran]: Voice message – 1s

Ji Jiayu tapped the voice clip.

Qiu Miaoran’s husky voice came through:

“Come over.”

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