My Wealthy Ex-Girlfriend Knelt and Begged Me to Come Back [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 80

“I should head home… it’s already so late.” Qiu Miaoran lowered her lashes, paused for two seconds, and after some thought, still politely refused.

“—It doesn’t seem proper.”

Ji Jiayu’s cheeks flushed slightly. Her voice came out soft and airy, the ending note sticky-sweet, “Qiu Miaoran, you’re dating me.”

“You can at least come upstairs for a drink of water…”

She’d already said it this clearly—how could she still not get it?

Ji Jiayu was nearly fuming with frustration.

Qiu Miaoran’s breath tightened, her chest inexplicably restless. She rubbed her fingers together lightly, her voice a little hoarse, “Alright…”

“Then I’ll come up… and drink some water…”

The two took the elevator up to Ji Jiayu’s floor.

The woman held her hand. Their footsteps echoed softly down the corridor,
the motion sensor lights turning on one by one as they walked. Their shadows stretched long under the lamps,
dark silhouettes entwined across the floor.

Straight ahead, then a turn.

Ji Jiayu finally stopped at her apartment door.

She suddenly remembered—the lock could record fingerprints…

She raised her hand, pressed her fingertip to the sensor.

Beep. The lock clicked open.

Ji Jiayu stood at the doorway but didn’t step in.

Instead, she took Qiu Miaoran’s hand, pressed her thumb to the sensor, then tapped a few buttons, recording her fingerprint into the system.

Qiu Miaoran felt her wrist being held, her throat working nervously as she swallowed.

It had been so long since she last stood at Ji Jiayu’s door.

But this time, it wasn’t sneaking in with others, and it wouldn’t end with the girl kicking her out.

This time, Ji Jiayu herself had invited her in.

So late at night—bringing her home like this, what did it mean…?

And recording her fingerprint too?

Did this mean…

…they were going to live together?

Qiu Miaoran’s heart gave a little leap.

“All done.” Ji Jiayu released her wrist, smiling brightly as she glanced at Qiu Miaoran. “Girlfriend, I’m going on a business trip in a couple of days. I’ll need you to take care of my plants. I always trouble Xiaoyao with it, and I feel a bit bad…”

“You won’t find it troublesome, right?”

Qiu Miaoran’s lashes fluttered. Her fingers brushed lightly along the doorframe. Her black eyes fixed on the girl, her voice lowered, husky with a trace of teasing:

“Not troublesome at all.”

“It’s my honor.”

They stepped inside. The lock clicked shut behind them.

“Go turn on the water heater first,” Ji Jiayu gestured with a finger toward the bedroom wardrobe.

“I’ll find you some clothes to change into.”

Holding a cup in her hand, Qiu Miaoran lifted it slightly, taking a sip of water. Her eyes lowered, her tone faintly teasing, “Didn’t you say…”

“…I was only here for water?”

“It’s nearly midnight. Don’t tell me you still plan on going home to light incense, Miss Bodhisattva?” Ji Jiayu arched a brow, her voice playful.

“I don’t believe in Buddha…” Qiu Miaoran shook her head. Her grip on the cup tightened slightly, her voice calm and measured, her expression sobering.

“Incense is for peace of mind.”

“That’s true—you definitely don’t believe in Buddha.” Ji Jiayu gave her a sidelong glance, lips curving, eyes bending into a sly crescent. Her already dazzling features seemed touched with a new flirtatious charm.

“You’re no Guanyin—just a false Guanyin.”

“You’ve broken the precepts of desire so many times already.”

After all, between them, what should and shouldn’t be done—

—they’d already done many times over.

“Cough…” Qiu Miaoran’s sip of water caught in her throat. She choked, coughed twice, and quickly set the cup down. “I’ll… go turn on the water heater.”

Her intentions were far too obvious.

And now, embarrassed, she hurried off to the bathroom to busy herself.

Two minutes later, she’d turned it on and came back out.

“Here.” Ji Jiayu handed her a spare electric toothbrush head and a silky camisole sleep dress. “A spare brush head.”

“And this—you can wear it tonight.”

Qiu Miaoran lowered her gaze to the camisole in her hands. She fell silent for a moment before taking it, her fingers pinching the delicate straps, shaking the fabric lightly. “…You want me to wear this?”

“It’s a little short.”

“You’re taller than me—of course it’ll be short.” Ji Jiayu arched a brow, giving a little hum. “You wear my clothes, they’ll all be short…”

“…But I don’t really wear pink.” Qiu Miaoran pressed her lips together, still wanting to refuse. The dress Ji Jiayu had given her was a blush-pink satin camisole… far too girlish.

She usually wore silver-gray or black ones.

“What’s wrong with pink? You looking down on it?” Ji Jiayu narrowed her eyes at the dress, pushing it closer to her. The more she resisted, the more Ji Jiayu wanted to see her wear it.

“I don’t have much clean laundry left. If you really don’t want to wear it…”

Ji Jiayu paused deliberately, her tone exaggerated, “—then just go bare.”

“Close the curtains, doesn’t matter either way.”

Her words carried a clear, teasing edge.

Something stirred faintly in Qiu Miaoran’s chest. She suddenly took the dress, reached out with her other hand, and gently ruffled Ji Jiayu’s hair.

Her tongue clicked softly, her tone indulgent: “Such a sharp tongue.”

When she finished washing up, she stepped out wearing the camisole.

Sure enough, it was a little short, the hem above her knees, leaving a long expanse of pale legs exposed.

Her figure was graceful and tall.

Her hair still damp, black strands clung to her slender neck, trailing down to her collarbone. Droplets slid off the ends, staining the satin fabric with small darkened patches.

A mature woman in a blush-pink camisole had a charm all her own.

“You can shower now,” Qiu Miaoran lowered her eyes, lashes fanned and defined. She looked at Ji Jiayu softly, “Where’s the hair dryer?”

Ji Jiayu pulled it from a drawer and handed it over. “Here.”

As Qiu Miaoran reached for it, Ji Jiayu’s fingers curled, grazing lightly against the back of her hand. “So soft it’s practically dripping.”

“Looks good on you.”

Qiu Miaoran pulled her hand back quickly, tightening her grip on the dryer. The spot her hand had been brushed still tingled faintly.

She bent to plug it in, pressed the switch, and dried her hair.

The hum of the dryer filled her ears, blending with the soft patter of water from the bathroom.

The shower ran.

Then stopped.

Footsteps in slippers shuffled on damp tiles—tap, tap.

Qiu Miaoran shut off the dryer, suddenly parched, and gulped down water from the cup. She wandered into the bedroom.

She stopped by the bed, her gaze sweeping across the pale pink checkered duvet and soft white pillows.

This was Ji Jiayu’s bed…

She leaned forward slightly, her fingertips brushing the edge of the quilt, caressing the smooth cotton surface. It carried the sweet, delicate scent of Ji Jiayu herself.

Sounds from the bathroom signaled the girl’s approach.

Qiu Miaoran’s fingers trembled faintly. She pulled her hand back and set her cup down on the nightstand.

And then—she noticed something sitting there.

Footsteps came closer.

Ji Jiayu padded in with a towel in her hands, drying her hair. She saw Qiu Miaoran standing by her bed and spoke quickly, “You came in… Don’t touch that.”

Her tone carried a rare urgency.

It was a small, pure white gourd-shaped object, sitting quietly on the nightstand like a pretty ornament.

“This?” Qiu Miaoran bent down slightly, curious. “What’s wrong with it…”

Her pale fingers reached out and tapped it lightly.

Something clicked—and the thing began vibrating. A low buzzing filled the air.

Ji Jiayu’s ears burned red, heat spreading all the way to her cheeks and down her neck. Her eyes misted instantly, like a kitten caught off guard, bristling and flustered.

She darted forward in a rush, slippers slapping against the floor. “Give it back.”

“Hm?” Qiu Miaoran held the object, brow arched. “It moves?”

Ji Jiayu’s whole face went crimson, mortified to death. “Stop playing with it!”

She reached out for it.

But Qiu Miaoran raised her arm higher, just out of reach. Her eyes narrowed, dark and glinting as she stared her down. Her voice came out low and rough, every word pressed:

“What is this?”

“You already… know, don’t you?” Ji Jiayu bit her lip, unable to bring herself to say it clearly. “That thing.”

Qiu Miaoran gave a deliberate “Oh,” stressing every syllable.

“That. Thing.”

She clicked the switch off, set it back down on the nightstand. Picking up the dryer again, she motioned to the chair. “Come sit.”

Before turning it on, her voice slipped out, calm but edged:

“Relax. I won’t touch you tonight.”

“You can.” Ji Jiayu’s voice was soft, trembling faintly at the end.

“I don’t want to. You’ve got that, don’t you?” Qiu Miaoran’s finger gestured at the toy, her voice dipping slyly. “Or… you could show me how you use it?”

Ji Jiayu’s hand tangled in her damp hair. Her gaze cut sharp at Qiu Miaoran’s face, cold and unamused. “Qiu Miaoran…”

The memory flashed—years ago, when Qiu had forced her in a hotel, punishing her, making her shame herself under Qiu’s eyes…

Her lashes quivered, fingers clenched tightly against her knees.

“You don’t want me anymore?” she asked quietly.

“…No.”

Qiu Miaoran pressed her lips together. She pulled Ji Jiayu gently to sit on the chair, her fingers softly twining strands of her black hair.

“I was just teasing. Don’t be mad. If you don’t want to, then we won’t.”

“Little Fish, I’ll never do that again. Never.”

A flicker of fear rose in her chest—terrified of pushing too far.

If Ji Jiayu ran again… she couldn’t take it.

Even if her body ached for her, she’d restrain it.

She switched the dryer on, blowing warm air over the girl’s hair, her touch patient and careful.

“I’ll keep myself in check.”

Her movements were endlessly gentle.

The warmth lulled Ji Jiayu into comfort, easing her irritation. Her hair dried, soft and smooth.

She stood, ready to turn off the lights and sleep.

“Where do I sleep?” Qiu Miaoran asked faintly, her eyes fixed on her. “Still banished to the couch?”

Ji Jiayu slipped into bed, holding the blanket edge, voice low, “Sleep wherever you want.”

“Your choice.”

“…”

What choice was that?

Qiu Miaoran hesitated a long moment. Finally, she walked to the bed, lifted the other corner of the blanket, and lay down beside her.

“This is better. The sofa’s too hard.”

Ji Jiayu turned her back, lips curling in a hidden smile.

She inched closer little by little.

Until an arm suddenly wrapped around her waist.

Qiu Miaoran pulled her close from behind. “What’s wrong… don’t dare face me?”

“Scared?”

Ji Jiayu rolled over, her hazel-brown eyes glistening in the dark. Though the room was dim, her gaze shone, soft and wet like a small animal. “Who’s scared?”

Qiu Miaoran’s lips pressed into a tight line. Her hand gripped Ji Jiayu’s waist as she lowered her head, breath brushing hot and damp.

Their lips brushed, noses nuzzling, breath mingling with the sweet scent of shared body wash.

The quiet dark filled with the faint sounds of kissing, barely audible yet searing hot.

Qiu Miaoran’s hand paused—she’d felt something beneath.

She pulled back slightly, brows knitting. Her tone turned discontent, “You’re on your period. Why didn’t you say?”

And still teasing her?

Her heart nearly lost to temptation—only to realize this.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Ji Jiayu looped her arms around Qiu’s neck, leaning close, whispering warm air at her ear. “It’s the last two days.”

“…”

Qiu Miaoran’s lashes dropped. She gently pried Ji Jiayu’s arms away, flipped back the blanket, and got out of bed.

Ji Jiayu’s heart sank.

—What now? Why was she suddenly angry again?

She bit her lip, torn on whether to get up and coax her.

But why should she? She hadn’t done anything wrong.

The mattress creaked.

Frowning, Ji Jiayu turned away gloomily, facing the door.

Forget it. Sleep. Just sleep.

Then—soft footsteps padded back.

The blanket lifted.

Ji Jiayu’s lashes trembled. She felt the mattress dip, then an arm slid around her waist from behind.

Qiu Miaoran pulled her into her embrace, tucking a hot water bottle gently against her belly.

Ji Jiayu chuckled softly, brushing her fingers along Qiu’s arm, tracing over faint veins, sliding up to her elbow. “Told you it doesn’t hurt much…”

Qiu Miaoran’s brows knit faintly. Holding the bottle firmly against her, she murmured, “Keep your hands still.”

Ji Jiayu obediently let go, settling back into her arms.

That night, she fell asleep pressed against her, warmth seeping into her body.

After a whole day of running around, the faint ache at her lower belly faded away.

Morning light.

The phone on the nightstand lit up, blaring loudly, shattering the tranquil air.

Qiu Miaoran’s eyes opened. She slipped an arm out from the covers, picked up the phone, answered softly,

“Hello.”

“…Who are you?” On the other end, Rong-jie clutched the phone, her voice trembling with urgency. “Why are you answering? That’s Jiayu’s phone…”

“I am.” The woman paused, lips parting to release three clear syllables.

“Qiu Miaoran.”

Agent Rong-jie’s expression faltered, her voice shaking even harder. “President Qiu?”

Qiu Miaoran’s reply was low, her voice hoarse with the lingering air of entanglement:

“You’re disturbing her sleep.”

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