My Wealthy Ex-Girlfriend Knelt and Begged Me to Come Back [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 68

“Little miss, there are a few cars following behind you…”
The ride-hailing driver kept his hands on the steering wheel, tilted his head slightly, and said to the two in the back seat,
“Should I call the police?”

“No need…” Ji Jiayu shook her head. “They’re friends. But thank you for reminding me.”

The driver froze for a moment, then said, “Alright.”

Ji Chen chuckled as well.
“They… are kind of amusing.”

“Mm…” Ji Jiayu’s lips curved upward, her eyes bending as she looked at Ji Chen.
“They’re just like children. I don’t really know what exactly they’re competing over.”

Ji Chen’s prosthetic left leg didn’t affect her much in daily life. But she usually wore long pants—even throughout the whole summer, she only wore thin chiffon trousers.
It looked as though she didn’t care, but in truth… she still did, at least a little.

“Sis… are you going tomorrow as well?” Ji Jiayu hesitated for a moment before softly asking,
“Can you… soak in the hot spring?”

Ji Chen lifted her brows slightly, the smile on her face stiffening for a second. She touched her cheek before replying slowly,
“Of course I can… We don’t have to be in the hot spring the whole time anyway.”

“That’s true.” Ji Jiayu lowered her lashes, pressing her lips together.

Behind their ordinary black Buick, three luxury cars followed in a row. The little convoy drove grandly into Xicheng District, near a high-end residential community.

“Do you want to come up?” Ji Jiayu stepped out of the car and shut the door with a thud.
“You haven’t been to my place yet, have you?”

Ji Chen was taken aback for a moment, her lashes trembling. Her tone carried slight hesitation.
“I thought… a celebrity’s home needed to be kept secret.”

“Can I come to your place too?”

Ji Jiayu nodded.
“If you’d like to, of course you can…”

Not far behind them, footsteps shuffled quickly.

“Sis, I want to come too…”

“Now that you mention it, I’ve never been either, Jiayu.”

Qiu Miaoran: “…”

Her face darkened, brows furrowed with suppressed anger. She suddenly recalled that time Ji Jiayu mistook her for a stalker, driving her out of the apartment and even throwing her shoes after her.

Since then, Qiu Miaoran hadn’t once gone back to the apartment next door to Ji Jiayu’s.
She didn’t dare. She was afraid.

Afraid that the next time Ji Jiayu saw her, she’d again look at her like she was some kind of creep—with that expression that was almost disappointment.

She feared Ji Jiayu would be disappointed in her.
Feared the fragile bond they had managed to preserve would shatter completely.

“So you all want to come, huh…? Then let’s go together.”
Ji Jiayu stood there, watching as the four women carried her bags and suitcase.

Ah… why were they suddenly all treating her so well…

Anyway, she would be leaving for the filming crew soon. Her home address wasn’t something especially important.

What mattered was… these four wouldn’t casually tell others.
She could sort of trust them.

That day, Ji Jiayu wore a fishtail dress, the hem finished with flowing fringe, perfectly exposing her knees and her long, slender legs.

She walked at the front, with four people following behind. Yet she carried herself with calm composure, not the slightest awkwardness, as they surrounded her and she swiped her access card at the gate of the community.

Like a princess opening the gates to her castle—even though it was just an 80-square-meter apartment.

Some residents passing by were stunned.
Even though this was a high-end apartment complex, three unfamiliar luxury cars parked outside the garage looked suspicious. Anyone who didn’t know better would think some rich second-generation kids were hosting a wild party.

The four women followed Ji Jiayu, each more nervous than the last.

This was Ji Jiayu’s home.

Who wouldn’t want to see what her home was like?

Ji Chen still wore her warm, gentle smile.

Lin Qiaoxuan had been here before. Coming a second time, openly this time, made her look positively excited.

Song Tingyu was sweating at the temples, her heartbeat speeding up.

Qiu Miaoran silently clenched her hands, glancing sideways at the women beside her. Their shoulders almost touched, and their eyes sparkled with eager anticipation.

Her breath grew heavier, her dark phoenix eyes deepening with an inky weight that refused to disperse.

Why?

Once, she could see Ji Jiayu every day and night, even sleep in the same bed.

Now, even visiting her home was so difficult.
And if she did come… she had to come along with these people?

Right now, it was exactly like what Ji Jiayu had once said:
“Assistant Li kept a whole ‘female assistants’ roster for you, and I was just one page of it.”

This was Ji Jiayu’s indirect way of telling her…

Qiu Miaoran, you’re no different from the other three.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. A suffocating weight pressed on her heart, making every breath heavy.

But heavy or not, she had to bear it. After all, it had been her own choice—
her choice to be “just friends” with Ji Jiayu.

She had no one else to blame.

The elevator chimed open.

They followed Ji Jiayu to her front door.

She dug out her keys, holding the black one as she slipped it into the lock.

Click. The door swung open.

Everyone held their breath as they looked into the 80-square-meter apartment.

Bright windows, clean living room. Not luxurious, but warm.

Squatting at the entrance where the shoe cabinet stood, Ji Jiayu pulled out a pair of cute panda slippers.

She changed into them, then turned and glanced at the three still outside.
“Oh… I only have one extra pair. Not enough for everyone. You can wear shoe covers, or go barefoot. I’ll clean up after you leave.”

The three hesitated to step in, almost afraid of dirtying her floor. They lined up to put on shoe covers at the door.

Qiu Miaoran crouched down too, but then lowered the shoe covers she was holding. She paused, then slid on the only pair of slippers Ji Jiayu had taken out. Coincidentally, they were the perfect size.

“I’ll wear these,” Qiu Miaoran said, brows slightly raised, her voice low.
“They fit me exactly.”

Her tone carried a hint of smugness—
as if the slippers had been bought for her, as if it proved she was different from the others.

Ji Jiayu glanced at her.
“Oh, those were for Xiaoyao. She often comes pick me up for work.”

“Guess Xiaoyao’s feet are pretty big…”

—Was she implying Qiu Miaoran had big feet?

Qiu Miaoran: “…”

The sofa was narrow, obviously not enough for four.

Ji Jiayu turned and brought out a small stool from the bedroom.
“There isn’t enough space… who’s taking this one?”

Qiu Miaoran let out a soft hum, naturally taking the stool. Her fingers brushed Ji Jiayu’s lightly—tingling faintly—before she quietly withdrew her hand.

Ji Jiayu arranged the others on the sofa.
“There’s water over there—it’s purified. Do you want coffee? I can make some for you. I don’t have a coffee machine, just instant…”

These women, spoiled from childhood, were usually picky—
what origin of beans, what extraction time, all so particular.

Yet now, none of them minded.

“Instant is fine. In the lab, when I don’t have time, I often drink instant too.” Ji Chen got up to pour herself some warm water, her voice gentle. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Yeah, we can get it ourselves,” Song Tingyu said. “You don’t have to serve us.”

Lin Qiaoxuan, seated in the corner of the sofa, blinked her bright eyes.
“Sis, I want coffee. Can you make me a cup?”

“Sure.” Ji Jiayu smiled softly.
“It’s not freshly brewed though—hope you’ll still like it.”

“I will.” Lin Qiaoxuan’s lips curved sweetly, her eyes tilting.
“Coffee from you will definitely taste better than freshly ground~”

Qiu Miaoran had been about to say “I’ll make my own,” but clearly Ji Jiayu fell most easily for Lin Qiaoxuan’s sweet coaxing.

The girl preferred softness over toughness.

So Qiu Miaoran stayed quiet.

Ji Jiayu scooped some instant coffee into a paper cup, bent down at the dispenser to add hot water, then turned back to ask,
“Do you want milk? I also bought coconut milk earlier.”

“I do,” Lin Qiaoxuan answered softly.

Ji Jiayu carried the cup and opened the small bottle of condensed coconut milk. White liquid flowed gently into the cup, blending with the black coffee into a light brown.

Qiu Miaoran cleared her throat.
“I want coffee too…”

“You do, President Qiu?”

Under the gaze of those clear eyes, Qiu Miaoran inexplicably grew nervous.

Her legs pressed together, her fingers twitching against her knees.

She gave a faint nod. “I’ll have some.”

“Then make it yourself. Everything’s right here.” Ji Jiayu’s long lashes fluttered, her gaze puzzled. “You’re not missing a hand—why would you need someone else to pour you water?”

“President Qiu, seriously… how can you even need someone else to get you a drink?” Lin Qiaoxuan chimed in.

And she added one more jab:
“Jiayu is my sister, not yours.”

Qiu Miaoran’s face stayed cold. Her narrow phoenix eyes flickered faintly, features still sharp and distant, but the gloom between her brows only deepened.

She pressed her lips together, said nothing, then stood up, grabbed a paper cup, and poured herself some water.

Then she sat back at the tea table almost sulking.

By then, Ji Jiayu was no longer looking at her at all. Instead, she turned to ask the others,
“Since you’re all here, what should we have for dinner? I only know how to make fried rice or noodles… maybe we can order takeout instead?”

Ji Chen opened her laptop on the table.
“You cook. Fried rice or noodles is fine.”

“Sis, I want fried rice.” Lin Qiaoxuan’s eyes sparkled with puppy-like eagerness, her voice obedient.

Qiu Miaoran pressed her lips tighter, saying nothing—just gripping her paper cup harder.

“Then I’ll make fried rice…”

Ji Jiayu walked into the kitchen.

It was small, but equipped with all the basics. She switched on the exhaust fan, set the rice cooker, then reached for the apron hanging nearby.

She pulled it over her head, then reached behind to tie it—

When someone stepped up close behind her.

A slender hand caught the apron strap, fingers tugging twice before knotting it into a bow.

The person stood close, their faint sandalwood scent brushing against her.

“I want something else,” a woman’s low voice came from behind, deep as a cello string.
“Make something different for me, Jiayu.”

—Something not the same as the others.

“I’m not just cooking for you, President Qiu,” Ji Jiayu stiffened slightly, set a pan on the stove, lit the fire, and poured oil.
“Besides, I only know how to make fried rice and noodles.”

“You only know fried rice and noodles? Then back at home…” Qiu Miaoran paused, changing home into my home.
“Back at my place, who made those dishes?”

She still remembered—
back then, Ji Jiayu had been so docile, always cooking for her like a kitten desperate for affection.

Yet she had never eaten a single one.

She hadn’t cherished it then. Now she regretted it—wanted to taste Ji Jiayu’s cooking.

Ji Jiayu blinked. In her heart, she thought:
If I weren’t hosting all these people right now, President Qiu, I wouldn’t even give you a single grain of fried rice.

She remembered what Qiu Miaoran had just said about “the meals from before.”

Oh. Back at Qiushui Residence, she had cooked too, hadn’t she?

Did Qiu Miaoran really believe she had lovingly prepared her meals?

Her lips curved suddenly, her light brown eyes shimmering.

“That was takeout… or pre-made meals from the supermarket. If you want some, you can just buy them at the convenience store. The taste should be about the same as boxed food.”

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