My Wealthy Ex-Girlfriend Knelt and Begged Me to Come Back [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 67

Ji Jiayu’s lips were suddenly covered. The suffocating pressure made her uncomfortable, her breathing heavy and muffled. Her red lips parted slightly, revealing neat, white teeth—then she bit down hard on the intruder’s finger.

“Miss—” Qiu Miaoran winced as pain shot through her fingertip, loosening her hold on the girl in her arms.

“Why are you biting?”

The girl biting her was like a furious kitten, snapping at her with feral energy.

Ji Jiayu clearly didn’t like being held. Her rejection was obvious.

Even though her push wasn’t strong, Qiu Miaoran allowed herself to be easily shoved away. She pulled off her black baseball cap and mask, revealing a low, magnetic voice, soft and flowing like spring water, laced with a pampering laugh:

“You can bite me all you want… It’s just so hard to see you. The Lin family stationed bodyguards near the hospital just to keep me out…”

“Oh.” Ji Jiayu’s eyes lingered on her, and she gave a small pout.

“Maybe it’s because my mom doesn’t want me to see you—it’d just annoy her, wouldn’t it?”

Lin Wan had once told her: “Qiu Miaoran looks like nothing but trouble.”

Qiu Miaoran was still holding a paper box in one hand. She set it down, then moved closer, blocking Ji Jiayu at the doorway.

“I heard you’re being discharged tonight?”

“Mm. Yes.” Ji Jiayu’s long lashes quivered. Her tone was cold. “And why are you here?”

“The Qi family acquired the hot spring resort. I borrowed it from Qi Shan for tomorrow—it’s Sunday. Jiayu, do you want to go? To celebrate your discharge…”

Qiu Miaoran’s gaze softened, adding slowly, “Besides, the medicinal baths will help with your recovery.”

Her eyes drifted downward, lingering on Ji Jiayu’s delicate face.

Her lips looked fuller and rosier than when she’d first been hospitalized, a healthy pink glow. Her cheeks remained small and porcelain-white, flawless, with a translucent girlish clarity.

“No… I don’t want to go to a hot spring.” Ji Jiayu shook her head, rejecting her.

“Why not?”

Ji Jiayu let out a small laugh, blinking, her gaze carrying a trace of mockery.

“Don’t I have the right to say no, Qiu Miaoran? I don’t want to go with you. Isn’t that enough?”

Qiu Miaoran lowered her eyes. Without her gold-rimmed glasses today, her narrow phoenix eyes looked dim, shadows weighing down her gaze.

Rejected again.

Did Ji Jiayu really hate her that much? Was spending even a moment together too much?

Qiu Miaoran clenched her fingers tightly, head bowed like an abandoned dog. Her voice came faintly, murmuring as though to herself:

“Do you really… hate me that much?”

Ji Jiayu stood in her striped blue-and-white pants, pale feet in slippers, toenails painted crimson. Her toes rubbed gently against the soles. Had her words been too harsh just now? Would they really hurt Qiu Miaoran that badly…?

After a moment’s hesitation, she cleared her throat lightly.

“At least give me a reason. My mom doesn’t let me go out with… strange people.”

“Strange people?” Qiu Miaoran coughed, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Yes. Exactly. Strange people. And by that, I mean you, Qiu Miaoran.”

Ji Jiayu’s eyes, so pure and clear, met hers. Her delicate face was clean and innocent, yet her words came sharp, edged with sarcasm.

“When I was in trouble—what did you do? You offended my entire family, didn’t you? They even wanted me to terminate my contract, Qiu President…”

Qiu Miaoran braced one pale hand against the door, caging Ji Jiayu in. Her gaze lingered a moment too long on those lush lips, before sliding upward into her eyes. Her throat worked, swallowing before she spoke in a husky voice:

“Ji Jiayu, I was the one who brought you to the hospital. As a friend, doesn’t that mean you owe me?”

“Even so, do you still hate me?”

Ji Jiayu blinked. So it had been Qiu Miaoran who’d sent her here…

That face in her fading memory before she’d blacked out—was it Qiu Miaoran’s?

Slowly, she reached forward. Her fingertip pressed lightly against Qiu Miaoran’s chest, slipping something into her shirt pocket.

“Then consider this me owing you… I’ll go tomorrow, Miaoran.”

Miaoran.

She called her by name, not “President Qiu.”

The distance between them seemed to shrink again.

Qiu Miaoran’s heart stirred. She could smell the girl’s shampoo mingled with the faint sterility of hospital disinfectant.

No perfume, no makeup—yet her scent alone was intoxicating.

Her throat tightened again, itchy with desire. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

The two stood so close. Closer than they had in a long, long time. Their breaths tangled, warm against necks, heat spreading from chest to chest.

Just proximity was enough to make the heart ache with longing.

Qiu Miaoran’s hand curled against the door. She gazed at Ji Jiayu’s doe-like eyes. “What did you give me?”

“Why don’t you check for yourself?” Ji Jiayu tilted her head.

Qiu Miaoran reached into her pocket, drawing out a small foil packet. The sealed plastic looked exactly like a finger cot.

Her throat worked again, heat rushing to her ears. Her handsome, cool face betrayed little, but her flushed earlobes burned pink.

Her brows drew low, voice trembling with suppressed tension. “Why would you have… this in a hospital?”

“Pfft.” Ji Jiayu laughed, covering her lips with her hand, shoulders shaking. “What’s going on in that head of yours, President Qiu? Look closely.”

Looking again, Qiu Miaoran realized—it was just a disposable plastic glove that came with the box of pastries. But the packaging did look misleading.

Her fingers clenched. She glanced at Ji Jiayu’s trembling shoulders, her teasing laughter.

“Is this funny to you?”

Ji Jiayu lowered her hand, arching her brows. Her tone carried playful provocation.

“Watching you embarrass yourself? Yeah, it’s funny. What else could be filling your head besides dirty trash?”

The words struck like a spark to dry tinder.

She was toying with her.

The packet slipped from Qiu Miaoran’s fingers. Her long hand suddenly clamped over Ji Jiayu’s head, and she leaned in like someone who’d lost control—pressing lips to hers, biting, sucking, grinding.

Those lips were soft, sweet, like rose-scented pudding—how could anyone resist tasting?

Ji Jiayu’s fingers slid up to her collarbone, pressing gently against her chest, pushing her back.

The fevered kiss stopped.

Her lips, glistening like dew-dropped roses, parted. “Now you know restraint? But before, when you forced me, didn’t it feel good?”

Qiu Miaoran shut her eyes. Her chest heaved, breath ragged, voice hoarse.

“If you don’t want this… then don’t tease me. Don’t… We’re still friends…”

Ji Jiayu laughed lightly, as though at some cruel joke. Her eyes shone bright as glass. She rested a hand on Qiu Miaoran’s shoulder.

“You’re just like those people chasing my hype, accusing me of marketing myself. No different at all. Qiu Miaoran, you’re ridiculous. You kiss me, then blame me for seducing you?”

“Why don’t you control your own mouth… and your brain?”

Darkness clouded Qiu Miaoran’s eyes, bottomless as a midnight sea.

“I…”

“Forget it. Don’t explain.” Ji Jiayu’s hand pushed her back. She plucked a strand of hair from Qiu Miaoran’s collar, twirling it around her crimson fingertip.

She raised it to her lips, blowing a soft breath.

The strand fluttered down, carrying the sweetness of her sigh.

Her voice was gentle as a feather falling, but her words pierced deep:

“You’ll never change. You can’t control your thoughts. Isn’t human desire uncontrollable?”

“And your mouth—still the same as before. Always biting, never kissing. Qiu Miaoran, I endured you for two years, and your kissing is terrible. Like a dog gnawing—unpleasant, every time.”

Qiu Miaoran froze, lashes trembling.

She couldn’t believe what she just heard. Ji Jiayu had said her kissing was bad. That she’d endured it for two years.

Was it really… that bad?

While she stood dazed, Ji Jiayu opened the door and slipped out. She still needed water, a trip to the bathroom, and she had a half-finished movie waiting.

Actress Wei Ying’s performance in it was worth studying—her acting was truly impressive.

Ji Jiayu poured herself a glass of water, then returned to her VIP room.

But now, a third person was inside.

Her lashes fluttered. Panic flickered across her face. “When did you get here? How long have you been—”

“Since you said ‘hot spring.’ I’m sorry, sis, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Lin Qiaoxuan fidgeted, voice small. “I was at the door and overheard…”

Ji Jiayu calmed quickly, pointing to the stool beside the bed. “Then sit.”

Qiu Miaoran thought she meant her, stepping toward the stool.

“Not you.” Ji Jiayu’s voice softened. “My sister. Sit, Qiaoxuan. President Qiu, there’s only one stool. Please stand.”

“…Oh.” Qiu Miaoran left the room, fetched another stool, and sat pressed close to Ji Jiayu’s leg.

“Good timing. Qiu brought snacks. I’m fasting tonight—you both know that.” Ji Jiayu lifted the ornate pastry box. “Qiaoxuan, want some?”

“No, I—” Lin Qiaoxuan was about to refuse, but caught sight of Qiu Miaoran’s thunderous face, like someone owed her millions.

“Actually… sure. Can I?”

“Of course.” Ji Jiayu nodded.

Lin Qiaoxuan accepted a slice of matcha mille-crêpe—luxury brand, delicate and not too sweet. Just her taste.

Taking a small bite, she chewed slowly, then smiled deliberately toward Qiu Miaoran. “Thanks, President Qiu. It’s delicious.”

Qiu Miaoran’s face stayed cold. “Mm.”

Lin Qiaoxuan turned back, fork still in her mouth, and suddenly grasped Ji Jiayu’s hand.

“Sis… about that hot spring resort you mentioned—where is it?”

Ice filled Qiu Miaoran’s eyes. Her jaw tightened.

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask President Qiu. Do you want to go?” Ji Jiayu asked.

Lin Qiaoxuan nodded eagerly. “Yes!”

“Then tomorrow, let’s go together.”

Her lips curled in triumph. “Great~”

Footsteps approached the door.

“I’m here to pick you up, Jiayu.” A warm voice came before the door opened.

Ji Chen slipped inside, smiling. “Ah… everyone’s here.”

A few minutes later, Song Tingyu entered too. “Xiaoyu, you’re leaving tonight?”

“Oh right,” Lin Qiaoxuan added, “President Qiu invited us all to the hot spring resort tomorrow.”

“Hot spring resort? I’ll come too,” Song Tingyu said immediately.

“Then I should rest as well,” Ji Chen added. “I’ve got free time tomorrow.”

Qiu Miaoran hadn’t expected it. She’d invited only Ji Jiayu—yet now four people insisted on joining.

After a month of recovery, Ji Jiayu’s torn ligament had long healed.

The four bustled about, helping pack her things, making the VIP ward feel crowded.

“This is too heavy, I’ll take it.”

“I’ll go downstairs and handle the discharge paperwork.”

“Xiaoyu, don’t carry that, I’ll do it.”

“Give me the bag, I’ll hold it.”

“No need.” Ji Jiayu sidestepped Qiu Miaoran’s hand. “That one has my cards. Give it to Ji Chen for the paperwork.”

“No need, sis. Mom already paid your bills. Ji Chen just needs to pick up the forms,” Lin Qiaoxuan said quickly.

“Alright then. Thank you.” Ji Jiayu let go of her suitcase.

Walking at the front, she looked like a true princess, surrounded by four women. Her little shoes tapped softly on the stairs—tap tap—until she reached the hospital doors.

And then—

A disheveled woman leapt from the shadows.

It was Feng Yalan, unhinged with jealousy, resembling a warped version of Ji Jiayu herself.

Her madness peaked as she lunged forward, dagger flashing.

“Die, you bitch!”

But the knife never touched Ji Jiayu.

Ji Chen, Qiu Miaoran, Lin Qiaoxuan, and Song Tingyu closed ranks, shielding her instantly.

Together they wrested the weapon away. Qiu Miaoran twisted Feng Yalan’s arm back, restraining her with brutal efficiency.

Ji Chen assisted, and the two dragged the madwoman back into the hospital—straight into the psychiatric wing.

“Let me go! Let go!”

“I’m not crazy! Ji Jiayu’s the bitch!!”

“You’re all insane!”

Feng Yalan screamed, but no one listened.

She was too far gone—paranoid, delusional, violent. Keeping her free would only risk more harm.

When Ji Chen and Qiu Miaoran returned, the group left together.

Outside, three luxury cars lined up.

Qiu Miaoran swung open the silver Rolls-Royce. “Jiayu, the passenger seat will always be yours.”

Song Tingyu lowered the window of a black Bentley. “No bike today. I brought my car. Hop in, I’ll take you for a ride.”

The door of a Porsche Panamera lifted. Lin Qiaoxuan leaned out coquettishly. “Sis, it’s always been me taking you home.”

Only Ji Chen stayed in place, lips curved in a helpless smile.

“Xiaoyu, I can’t drive… but I did call a rideshare.”

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