My Wealthy Ex-Girlfriend Knelt and Begged Me to Come Back [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 6

“Let’s go to the hospital first,” Qiu Miaoran corrected herself.

She lowered her head, took out her phone, and dialed a number.
“Put the project investment on hold for now. Something’s come up here.”

…

Ji Jiayu was hospitalized.

On the way to the hospital, her consciousness was a little blurry. She couldn’t remember who had taken her there, who had helped her register.

Lying on the hospital bed, just before falling asleep, her mind was in disarray—
her ex-girlfriend who went abroad,
Qiu Miaoran, who had once sent her to the hospital a year ago,
and that person…

She had grown up in an orphanage.

It was a privately run orphanage with poor facilities and hygiene, where children lacked proper education.

Human nature at its ugliest was on full display there.

Food, toys—
everything was a resource that had to be fought for.

Growing up in those conditions, of course she hadn’t been some pure, gentle, selfless child.

But the things Ji Jiayu loved to fight for most were books and stationery.

She wanted a way out.

Until one day, a university student came to the orphanage.

Among all the children, she picked Ji Jiayu. She often came to visit her, then sponsored her through junior high, senior high…

And finally, supported her through college.

Acting—
she wanted that person to see her on screen.

She lived for those hands that had pulled her out of the mud.

…

Click— the door to the ward opened.

On the snow-white bed, the afternoon sunlight spilled warmly across the sheets. Long black hair scattered across the pillow, the strands catching a faint golden glow in the light.

Up close, one could see the small face buried beneath the covers, her skin pale and translucent under the sunlight, her lips moving faintly—

“Jiejie…”

“I miss you so much.”

Qiu Miaoran froze beside the bed. She had been about to wake her, but her raised hand stopped midair. Her fingers curled slightly into her palm, a sudden panic rising in her chest.

Ji Jiayu, even in her dreams, was thinking of her?

…

When Ji Jiayu opened her eyes, there was white all around—the bed linens, the walls—and someone was standing beside the bed.

The figure stood against the light, their face hard to make out. A slim black coat narrowed neatly at the waist, emphasizing the slender figure. Long legs straightened beneath, a thin gold-rimmed pair of glasses glinting faintly as the chain beneath them swayed in the sunlight.

Her shadow fell across the pillow, pressing over Ji Jiayu’s own.

Somehow, the scene felt strangely familiar.

Qiu Miaoran stood with her arms crossed, dark eyes narrowing slightly.

“You miss me that much?”

“President Qiu… why are you here?” Ji Jiayu’s voice came out a little hoarse, perhaps from lying down too long. “When did you arrive?”

The other woman handed her a glass of water.

Ji Jiayu accepted it, raising her gaze slowly. In her light hazel eyes, the other’s reflection shimmered.

“What did I just say?”

“You were calling for me in your dream—‘jiejie… jiejie…’” Qiu Miaoran’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Why don’t you call again?”

Ji Jiayu’s movements with the water glass faltered. She swallowed slowly, lips pressing against the rim of the cup. The gesture made her look inexplicably cute.

“President Qiu, really. Isn’t one younger ‘sister’ enough for you? Now you want me to call you ‘jiejie’ too?”

“Who did you see—Chen Yiying? Or someone else…” Qiu Miaoran noticed Ji Jiayu nod slightly, and went on, “She can be willful, still a child at heart. Don’t take it to heart.”

Her protective stance was clear.

“How do you feel?”

“Low blood sugar.”

“Just low blood sugar?”

Of course not. The doctor had said the cranial CT showed an unknown shadow—possibly a sequela from the car accident. In severe cases, it might cause temporary memory loss. He recommended recording important events.

“Mm, yes, just low blood sugar.” She brushed back her hair, exposing a slender, pale neck. “It’s rare for President Qiu to grace me with your presence. I’ll rest a bit longer—you can head back to the company now.”

“Have you eaten?” Qiu Miaoran asked. “Shall we eat together?”

“Not yet.” Ji Jiayu shook her head, her fingers tugging lightly at the edge of the blanket. After hesitating, she added softly, “I can grab a taxi later, no need to hold you up.”

A considerate mistress should know—
never to waste the benefactor’s time.

She lowered her head, a few strands of hair sliding over her shoulders. In this posture, she looked even more fragile, more pitiable.

“…”

“Then let me put it another way.” Qiu Miaoran’s hand at her side clenched and released. After a pause to think, she finally said:

“I’d like to invite Miss Ji to dinner with me. Would that be alright?”

The words, formal and stiff, sounded oddly awkward coming from the usually composed Qiu President.

Almost clumsy.

Ji Jiayu set the glass back on the bedside table, lifted her lips in a smile, then turned down the blanket. Her slender legs swung down, pale ankles dangling lightly above the floor.

“Alright.”

Her voice was soft, with a trace of delight she couldn’t quite hide.

…

In the northern part of the city, near the old walls, stood a private club. Normally, it required advance reservation and was always fully booked. Today, however, it welcomed only two guests—
the whole place was reserved.

Orchestral music flowed softly in the air, the lighting dim and atmospheric.

The two of them sat at the very center.

The wide table was decorated with a vivid bouquet that separated them.

The scrape of chair legs sounded suddenly.

Ji Jiayu dragged her chair around, moving from across the distance to right beside Qiu Miaoran.

“Too far.”

A uniformed waiter quickly stepped up to assist her, moving the chair to her desired spot.

“You don’t… need to do it yourself,” Qiu Miaoran said evenly, though her fingertips brushed against the table surface unconsciously.

Before the waiter came, Ji Jiayu’s pink lips had pressed together, her hazel eyes darting hesitantly—

that fleeting look, so lively and charming.

She was adorable.

Ji Jiayu finally got her wish, settling right by her side.

The waiter opened a bottle of wine, poured it into the decanter, then left them alone. Unless serving, no one disturbed the guests.

Surprisingly, this time Qiu Miaoran spoke more than usual.

“Foie gras.”

The richness spread slowly across the tongue.

“Steak tartare—raw beef.”

“That one is… baked escargot.”

Clearly, she was nervous, grasping for topics.

Even President Qiu could get nervous?

“Boeuf bourguignon—beef stewed in red wine.”

“President Qiu, maybe don’t keep listing them,” Ji Jiayu teased with a smile. “You’re killing my appetite… though this one’s delicious.”

Qiu Miaoran followed her gaze—it was the boeuf bourguignon—and murmured, “This dish, I can make.”

“You can cook?” Ji Jiayu dabbed at her lips with a napkin, her crimson fingertips brushing her mouth as her tone held a hint of surprise, and shyness too.

“I want to taste yours… would you cook it for me, President Qiu?”

“What should I do? I feel like I’d rather watch you cook it instead…” she said, almost playfully.

Never before had any “female companion” asked Qiu Miaoran to cook. No one would dare.

If her assistant Li had been here, he’d have been shocked at Ji Jiayu’s audacity.

And yet, unexpectedly, a small flicker of anticipation stirred in her heart. Qiu Miaoran tapped the table lightly. “I can.”

Ji Jiayu reached for the decanter and poured herself a glass.

Qiu Miaoran raised a brow, faintly surprised. “I thought you couldn’t drink?”

It had been because she’d blocked the wine for Ji Jiayu—
that they had ended up in bed that night.

Ji Jiayu swirled the stem gently, sipping the sweet aperitif. Her lips glistened with moisture, redder and softer than the roses in the vase.

“It depends who I’m with. With you… I’m willing to drink.”

“I like it. So I’m willing.”

Her words, low and soft, melted into the orchestra in the background, tugging at the heart.

The atmosphere grew heavier with intimacy.

Clink—

The sound of metal dropping to the floor.

“Ah, it fell.” Qiu Miaoran realized her fork had slipped.

Ji Jiayu leaned in closer, body tilting toward her. She held out a silver fork in her pale hand, sliding it slowly across under the table. “Do you need mine?”

The fork handle brushed lightly over the stiff fabric of her dark gray skirt, carrying the coolness of metal—

as if the touch of her fingertips skimmed past.

Abruptly, a chair scraped against the floor, harsh in the quiet.

“Sorry.”

Out of nowhere, Qiu Miaoran stood straight up.

As though something had been triggered—
a forbidden switch.

“Miss Ji, you don’t need to do that…” Her back was taut, posture rigid like a bowstring drawn tight. Her throat worked as she swallowed, then continued,

“You don’t need to give too much.”

At banquets, many men and women had pressed themselves close to her. But never like this.

This—this was different.

It was like something inside her had been touched.
Like desire rising, urgent and restless.

Sometimes, Ji Jiayu made her heart race uncontrollably.

“Don’t need to give too much?” Ji Jiayu tilted her head slightly, drawing back her fork. Her voice carried faint surprise.

“But the contract you gave me—it was written very clearly, wasn’t it? Didn’t you have many companions before?”

“What I give you… is it really more than them?”

Qiu Miaoran frowned, not answering directly.

Different…

Ji Jiayu was different from them.

Those “companions” were like decorations, something to show off at banquets.

But Ji Jiayu—
she wanted to know her more, not just make easy promises.

The waiter came to replace Qiu Miaoran’s fork.

“Thank you,” she said softly, sitting back down.

After a long silence, she finally admitted, “I don’t know… how to enter a relationship.”

Ji Jiayu scooped up a spoonful of crème brûlée. Her lips parted slightly as she savored the sweetness.

Then she held the little golden spoon to her mouth, a childish gesture that only made her more endearing. Her clear, pure eyes glimmered, so tempting.

Qiu Miaoran’s fingers trembled as she pulled her gaze away. The caramel custard melted on her tongue, and she heard the girl’s sweetly expectant voice:

“Looks like I misunderstood that contract. President Qiu, are you actually…”

“…wanting to date me?”

Her voice was sweeter than the dessert itself. Enchanting.

Like a little temptress.

Qiu Miaoran’s chewing slowed, mechanical. She didn’t even like sweets, but now she swallowed with parched throat, as though restraining some emotion. Her body leaned subtly away from the table.

“You don’t want to?” Ji Jiayu asked softly.

After a long pause, Qiu Miaoran nodded, her throat tight. “Mm. Miss Ji…”

Ji Jiayu’s smile widened, showing neat white teeth, the picture of innocent joy, like a girl in first love. “Then don’t call me Miss Ji anymore.

“I told you before—call me Jiayu.”

She had always called her companions by their surnames—“Miss Chen,” “Miss Zhou.”

When Ji Jiayu had once asked her to change, she hadn’t. But now, she would have to try.

Qiu Miaoran tried the two syllables. On her tongue, they felt strangely unfamiliar.

“Jiayu.”

“Miaoran. There’s something in your hair.” Ji Jiayu leaned closer.

Qiu Miaoran didn’t move. At this distance, her nose caught a faint, sweet fragrance—

a girlish scent.

Her wrist brushed forward, so delicate it looked like it might snap, pale skin traced with faint veins. Her soft fingers lifted a lock of Qiu Miaoran’s hair. “Looks like a breadcrumb.”

Her fingertip grazed lightly. Warm breath brushed against Qiu Miaoran’s ear, ticklish.

“Relax.”

Qiu Miaoran stayed still, waiting quietly as the girl fiddled with her hair. For some reason, the ear her breath touched was—

burning hot.

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