The Cold CEO Chases His White Moonlight - Chapter 24

The next day, Ji Zhiwei took half a day off.

Holding the ID card she had obtained from Gu Yunhui the previous month, she tried to open a new bank account.

The bank staff took a long time processing her request. By the time they finally came back to her, the morning was almost over. They informed Ji Zhiwei that they couldn’t open an account for her.

“Why? Is my asset insufficient? Or is there a problem with my employment proof?” Ji Zhiwei frowned.

If she wanted to escape, she couldn’t keep using the bank card Gu Yunhui had given her.

It would also be best if her salary from the film crew could be deposited into a new account.

The bank employee seemed visibly troubled. “No, neither. It’s just, our bank can’t process this for you.”

After going back and forth for a while, the staff still refused to give Ji Zhiwei a concrete reason.

Ji Zhiwei was starting to get angry, but the employee continued to dodge her questions.

I’ll try another bank another day. She sighed and turned to leave.

“Miss Ji,” the employee suddenly called out to her.

“You might want to think about whether your family has any special requirements, or if you’ve offended someone.” The staff member left it at that.

Ji Zhiweii’s heart sank.

Haven’t I offended Gu Yunhui? The only person she considered family, the sister she once adored, had hated her from the moment they reunited.

And, as expected, Gu Yunhui’s message arrived in the afternoon.

[Yun: Are you short on money?]

So it really was her. Even opening a bank account couldn’t be hidden from her.

Ji Zhiwei slipped into the restroom the crew had prepared for her, wrapped herself in a blanket, and replied.

[Gardenia: No, not at all.]

[Yun: Then why were you trying to open a new account?]

Ji Zhiwei’s expression turned cold.

[Gardenia: The crew will be paying salaries soon, so I wanted a separate account.] She made up a random excuse.

Gu Yunhui seemed to buy it. [You could’ve just used the one I gave you. But fine, if you really want a new one, I’ll take you to open it another day.]

What else could Ji Zhiwei say?

[Thank you.] She typed out the two words, staring at their conversation as Gu Yunhui’s voice echoed in her mind.

Of course, I’ll play with her properly, torment her a little, and then throw her away.

Even a simple “thank you” felt mocking now.

What am I thanking her for? For controlling my financial freedom? For taking away my identification documents?

If she hadn’t tried, she wouldn’t have realized just how powerless she was as an adult. Without Gu Yunhui, she literally couldn’t survive.

She was certain that if she stayed in the capital, she wouldn’t be able to find a decent job without Gu Yunhui’s permission.

Even her ID card had been “kept safe” by Gu Yunhui before.

It wasn’t imprisonment yet it was.

Gu Yunhui had truly tethered her, this little canary, like a pet by her side playing with her when she was happy, amusing herself with her when she wasn’t.

And like a loyal dog, Ji Zhiwei remained devoted to a master who didn’t love her.

Just how much did I love Gu Yunhui back then to not notice any of this?

Even her choice to attend Film University was likely influenced by Gu Yunhui’s connection to President Fu, making it easier to control her.

And this role she had been given? No need to even mention Ye Pingsheng and Gu Yunhui were close.

Gu Yunhui hadn’t even needed to sweet-talk her much. Ji Zhiwei had willingly handed over her soul. How pathetic.

Suddenly, she felt exhausted.

Leaning against the wall, Ji Zhiwei found she had no tears left to cry.

Even though everything seems to be moving in a better direction.

She had landed the role of the second female lead in Director Ye’s period drama, received personal guidance from the esteemed actress Lu Peijiu, topped her school’s academic rankings, and even had talent agencies eyeing her with offers to increase her pay.

How had things come to this?

Ji Zhiwei clutched the pendant, suddenly reminded of Jing Tian and the overwhelming nausea she felt when Jing Tian confessed to her so intense she wanted to flee.

Being confessed to by someone she disliked was truly agonizing.

Ji Zhiwei didn’t know what to do.

On one hand, she wanted Gu Yunhui to suffer the same pain to deliberately confess her feelings and disgust her in return.

On the other hand, she felt that stooping so low, disregarding her own dignity, was simply pathetic.

Perhaps there was another layer she refused to acknowledge that she genuinely wanted to confess, to tell Gu Yunhui how she felt. She was still clinging to an impossible hope.

Fingering the pendant, Ji Zhiwei felt more than just a little dazed.

That afternoon, Ji Zhiwei’s performance was, unsurprisingly, a mess.

Director Pingsheng was so furious she nearly rolled up the script to smack Ji Zhiwei’s head, only to be stopped by Lu Peijiu.

“Xiao Weiwei, is something bothering you? Your focus is all over the place,” Lu Peijiu asked patiently, having mentored the younger actress for nearly a month.

“…It’s nothing. I just need to adjust a little.” Ji Zhiwei forced a smile, unaware of how much she resembled Gu Yunhui in that moment.

“Do you need help getting into character?” Lu Peijiu asked, her lips twitching slightly at the sight.

“No, thank you for your concern, Teacher Lu.” Ji Zhiwei retreated to a corner.

The TV series had a tight shooting schedule. While she had downtime, others still had scenes to film.

She wondered if Lu Peijiu was under Gu Yunhui’s orders to keep an eye on her. Ji Zhiwei stared blankly at the script.

In a few days, they would be traveling to another city for filming, a place surrounded by mountains and rivers, with breathtaking scenery perfect for a period drama.

Ji Zhiwei decided to give herself one more chance.

As for what kind of chance, or why she couldn’t make sense of it.

She mechanically pulled out her phone and texted Gu Yunhui.

[Zhizi: Sister Yun, the crew is heading to Yun City next week. Will you come visit me?]

After sending it, she finally regained her composure, and her acting returned to normal.

Gu Yunhui didn’t reply until that evening, a simple question: What date?

Ji Zhiwei sent her the schedule, then sank into an agonizing cycle of hesitation and waiting.

“Xiao Wei, it’s been raining a lot there lately. Don’t forget to bring an umbrella,” Zhang Shuyue reminded Ji Zhiwei as she packed.

“Don’t we have a few scenes that require rain?”

Ji Zhiwei had previously wondered how they’d handle the rainy scenes, only to realize Director Ye had already accounted for it in the schedule.

“Exactly. Yun City is a bit unusual lots of rain in spring and winter, sometimes even flash floods. Didn’t Director Ye warn us not to wander off? The filming locations are safe.”

Ji Zhiwei made a mental note.

She probably wouldn’t have time to wander anyway. The shooting schedule was packed, and she might only get to explore Yun City after filming wrapped.

Not that she was in the mood for sightseeing.

The crew chartered a plane, and they all flew to Yun City together.

When they arrived, Yun City was already drizzling.

Seizing the opportunity, Director Ye immediately dragged the actors out to film a scene before letting them rest.

As Ye Pingsheng put it, the rain would get heavier in the coming days, and they’d need to shoot different scenes then.

Ji Zhiwei found it fascinating filming hinged on whether the weather cooperated. It was her first time experiencing something like this.

She had arranged to meet Gu Yunhui on the third day after their arrival.

These past few days, Gu Yunhui kept appearing in her dreams, haunting her relentlessly to the point where Ji Zhiwei was almost afraid to sleep.

She feared that the moment she closed her eyes, she would see that face, the one that had once consumed her thoughts now luring her with the most dangerous allure, the most captivating voice, tempting her into unspeakable acts.

Even after seeing Gu Yunhui’s true nature, she still had those dreams.

In them, they were so entwined, so sweet, as if Gu Yunhui truly loved her.

But upon waking, she was left with nothing but nausea. Lately, Ji Zhiwei hadn’t been eating much, so all she could retch up was bitter bile.

Dreams really were the opposite of reality.

After jolting awake yet again, Ji Zhiwei soaked a towel in cold water and pressed it to her face, trying to steady her emotions.

It would all be over soon.

She stared at the torrential rain outside the window, her heart chilling along with the temperature.

One last meeting with Gu Yunhui, and then they could sever all ties.

At least, that was what she naively believed would happen.

But with the rain pouring so heavily, would Gu Yunhui even show up?

Ji Zhiwei had no answer, nor the courage to ask her.

On the day of their meeting, Ji Zhiwei slipped away during lunch to keep the appointment.

Not only Zhang Shuyue but also Lu Peijiu and Director Ye had warned her to be careful.

Though the rain had lightened today, it had been falling nonstop for nearly a week. With streams and rivers swelling in the mountains, who knew what dangers lurked?

Lu Peijiu had even asked if she needed a bodyguard.

Ji Zhiwei politely declined. She was going to see Gu Yunhui, she didn’t want anyone else around.

They had arranged to meet at a restaurant. Ji Zhiwei arrived early, exhausted but forcing herself to stay awake, determined to wait for the other woman.

But even an hour past their agreed time, Gu Yunhui was nowhere to be seen.

Again. Ji Zhiwei checked her phone, no new messages from Gu Yunhui.

It was always like this. Promises made, then broken, with no apology afterward, as if Gu Yunhui hadn’t been the one to stand her up.

In Gu Yunhui’s eyes, Ji Zhiwei was probably nothing more than a caged canary, a plaything certainly not an equal.

How utterly despicable.

Ji Zhiwei had taken a few hours off from filming, determined to wait it out.

But someone who wasn’t coming wouldn’t appear no matter how long she waited.

The tea had gone cold, the sky darkened, and the rain refused to let up.

Two hours passed. Ji Zhiwei finally gave up.

She had already thrown out all the documents Gu Yunhui had left in the study.

Gu Yunhui likely hadn’t returned to the villa and hadn’t noticed.

By the time she did, Ji Zhiwei no longer cared to confront her.

Whether the news got out, whether she was pushed away or discarded, none of it mattered anymore.

Ji Zhiwei was exhausted.

She left the restaurant without an umbrella, retracing her steps back to the film set from memory.

Fatigue weighed on her, body and soul alike. It wasn’t until halfway there that she realized something was wrong.

The unfamiliar scenery around her made her pause, she was lost.

Her phone had no signal. And in the distance, a low, ominous rumble echoed, shaking the ground beneath her, sending birds and animals scattering in panic.

Ji Zhiwei froze, catching a glimpse of an overwhelming surge of water in the distance.

She remembered Yuncheng had been drenched in rain lately, and the mountains were full of water sources.

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