My Wealthy Ex-Girlfriend Knelt and Begged Me to Come Back [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 3

Qiu Miaoran’s brows furrowed slightly. She reached out to snatch the cigarette from her hand.

“Don’t pick up bad habits.”

Ji Jiayu quickly pulled her cigarette-holding fingers back, dodging Qiu Miaoran’s grasp. The distance between them narrowed again. Ji Jiayu’s pert nose brushed against the other’s cheek, the contact faint and fleeting.

The evening breeze drifted by. Qiu Miaoran pressed her lips into a tight line, catching the faint sweetness on the girl’s body—like candy, clean and pure.

It must be the scent of her shower gel.

She lifted her gaze and met Ji Jiayu’s eyes. The girl’s eyes were crystal-clear.

Ji Jiayu’s eyes curved with a sly arc, like a mischievous little fox.

Unintentionally, Ji Jiayu’s lips brushed against the base of her fingers.

Qiu Miaoran’s fingers curled slightly, as if they still carried the softness of the girl’s lips.

Holding the slender cigarette, Ji Jiayu brought it to her lips, the faint imprint of red still there. She drew in a light breath. The taste wasn’t what she had imagined—her nose and throat stung at once.

“Cough, cough…”

So harsh. Truly harsh. A sour pain spread through her nasal cavity.

Tears welled in Ji Jiayu’s eyes from coughing. Her nose flushed red, her cheeks tinged pink. In her pale irises, light shimmered, making her eyes watery and bright.

Her fingers curled as she covered her lips weakly, her cough soft and fragile—

Like a little fox that tried to steal a bite but got its paw hurt instead.

The cigarette between her fingers was snatched away and stubbed out. Ash flickered as it scattered onto the ground.

Ji Jiayu looked up, tears clinging to her long lashes. Through her blurred vision, she saw red words floating above Qiu Miaoran’s head:

【Life Value +1】

What on earth was worth getting excited about? What exactly was this woman feeling pleased about?

This woman really was so repressed…

Annoyed, Ji Jiayu slid a step closer. She hooked her arm around the other’s neck, leaning in. Her eyes narrowed slightly, star-like flecks glowing within, her gaze bright.

Her arms looped around Qiu Miaoran’s neck. She stood on tiptoe, stopping just a breath away from her lips, tilting her delicate chin upward as if she were acting spoiled:

“You’re letting me move in so quickly? But I don’t like sleeping in beds others have slept in…”

“Does President Qiu often bring people home?”

“I’ve never brought anyone home.” Qiu Miaoran’s expression didn’t change, her dark phoenix eyes still cool. She raised her hand, prying Ji Jiayu’s arms away from her neck.

“Don’t cling too much.” Her tone, colder than before, betrayed her dissatisfaction as her eyes lowered to meet Ji Jiayu’s.

“There are many rooms here. Pick whichever one you like.”

“I already picked. The one with you…” Ji Jiayu teased deliberately. “Can I stay in your room?”

Qiu Miaoran’s lips pressed tight, then loosened. She didn’t reply. Her slender fingers pressed down hard, grinding the cigarette butt into nothing before tossing it into the trash.

Her face looked darker.

Ji Jiayu blinked her long lashes, her gaze sparkling with the joy of a successful prank. Her lips curved, dimples appearing faintly at her cheeks. “I was lying. I didn’t go into your room. I live next door.”

“I know you don’t like people going into your room.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Qiu Miaoran suddenly asked.

“I’m not.” But as soon as she spoke, Ji Jiayu’s stomach growled. Her expression froze, awkwardness written all over her face.

“Still claiming you’re not hungry?”

She had prepared a whole table of food, waiting for her to come home—yet she herself was still hungry.

Qiu Miaoran outwardly looked calm and composed, but above her head floated words only Ji Jiayu could see:

【Life Value +1】

Beside it, Ji Jiayu’s life bar ticked slightly upward.

“Let’s eat. I’m hungry too.”

Ji Jiayu bit her lip, the redness paling from the pressure. “But I want to eat something else first.”

Qiu Miaoran swallowed quietly, the skin at her throat moving, eyes dimming with shadow. “No.”

Before she could finish, a pale finger pressed lightly against her lips.

Ji Jiayu exhaled softly. “Shh.”

In the next moment, her hand was caught—Qiu Miaoran’s grip tight, her palm damp with sweat. By her ear came the other’s voice, low, husky, tinged with suppressed tremor:

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Ji Jiayu lowered her gaze, avoiding her eyes, her lashes dropping as she stared at her lips.

“Since I’ve moved in, I’ll do whatever you say.”

“But really, you don’t need to hold yourself back.” Ji Jiayu leaned closer, letting her shoulder strap slip casually down.

“After all, I am your…”

After all, she was her what?

The words stopped halfway, sounding all the more tender.

Even Ji Jiayu herself didn’t know what she was to Qiu Miaoran. They had barely met, barely spent time together.

The two moved from the balcony into the house.

“Swish—”

The curtains drew shut, blocking out the heavy night beyond the glass doors.

It was midsummer. The air conditioner was set to 24 degrees, yet the room still felt hot.

Maybe because their hearts were burning.

Hearts restless and stirred, long since rippled by the girl’s soft whispers.

“Click—”

The lights snapped off, plunging the living room into darkness.

“President Qiu,” her voice soft and alluring, the end note curling like a hook. She leaned closer, her satin slip wrinkling, shoulder straps sliding loosely, nearly slipping off. Below her collarbone stretched pale, delicate skin.

The trick was clumsy, yes—

But Ji Jiayu’s looks… were captivating enough.

Her hair, dark as seaweed, swayed in the breeze, lips red, skin pale as snow.

Like a fox-spirit from old tales, one that fed on human souls.

A single glance could steal a person’s heart away.

“President Qiu saved my life and let me move in. Isn’t this what you wanted from me?”

Otherwise, why bring her here?

Qiu Miaoran pressed her lips tightly, silent, her gaze lowered to the girl. Even in the dark, her eyes were clear.

Tall and slender, her narrow waist and long legs tensed against the wall like a straight pine. Her ears burned red from the girl’s breath, veins throbbing faintly at her temple, a thin sweat beading her nose.

Ji Jiayu rose on tiptoe, drawing closer. “Doesn’t President Qiu want this?”

When others called her “President Qiu,” it wasn’t the same. From the girl’s lips, the title was soft and sweet, enough to make the heart itch.

Her soft hair brushed against Qiu Miaoran’s chest.

Her heart itched more.

At the last second, Qiu Miaoran tilted her head slightly.

Ji Jiayu froze. She hadn’t expected her to dodge—

The kiss missed her lips, skimming across the corner instead.

That fleeting, unbearable touch—warm and velvet-soft—

Like a gentle scrape across her heart, tingling.

Qiu Miaoran raised her hand, fingers curved as she brushed a strand of hair from Ji Jiayu’s cheek. “No. I don’t want this, Miss Ji…”

“Last night was only an accident. The people involved have already been dealt with. Letting you stay here was never meant that way…”

Never to treat her like some plaything.

The scent of sweetness filled her nose.

Qiu Miaoran didn’t push her away. Her long fingers carefully lifted the fallen strap back up.

“Please respect yourself, Miss Ji.”

Her tone was distant, obvious in its boundaries.

Ji Jiayu’s heart wavered. Was she implying she was shameless… and lacking self-respect?

The kite string pulled too tight. Maybe it was time to loosen it.

From her suit jacket, Qiu Miaoran drew out a silk scarf, flicking it open lightly. She draped it over Ji Jiayu’s shoulders, covering her bare skin.

“The air conditioning is low. Don’t catch a cold.”

Even her rejection carried the grace of someone raised in a wealthy family.

Ji Jiayu clicked her tongue softly, gathering the scarf around her shoulders. The warmth of Qiu Miaoran’s fingertips still lingered there.

Her lifted chin lowered slowly. Strands of hair fell, covering half her face. She sneered faintly:

“President Qiu, saying so much… how rare.”

Then silence.

Until the click of a lock sounded at the door. Someone had entered, turning on the light.

A middle-aged woman walked in—slightly plump, kindly featured. Aunt Chen, who looked after Qiu Miaoran.

The lights flooded the living room, illuminating the two who stood so close together.

“President Qiu,” Aunt Chen called, her eyes pausing on the slim young woman in the room. After a moment of thought, she asked, “And this is… Miss Lin?”

Ji Jiayu turned her head toward her, eyes curving as she smiled faintly.

Clearly, the woman had mistaken her.

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