The Person I Love Who Has Been Missing For Three Years - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Ming Jin Truly Doesn’t Want Her Anymore

She dreamed about the scene of their last argument.

Song Xiangwan participated in a variety show and met a new group of friends. After filming concluded, the host, Sister Lin, invited everyone out for dinner.

There were about twenty people, lively and boisterous, playing games in a private room. Song Xiangwan lost a few rounds and was consequently forced to drink several glasses of wine.

There were foreign artists in that episode, and before leaving, they enthusiastically pulled Song Xiangwan in for the bise (cheek kiss). Dazed by the alcohol, Song Xiangwan vaguely exchanged cheek kisses several times.

Still tipsy, she saw her car arrive from a distance and stumbled onto the back seat.

When she looked up, she met a pair of cold, light brown eyes: it was Ming Jin. Ming Jin had been on a business trip and said she would return the day after tomorrow, but she was back today.

The person in the car wore a black shirt, her long black hair cascaded down, and her light brown pupils held a coldness that made her pale complexion seem aloof and unapproachable.

Song Xiangwan knew she was in the wrong and didn’t dare speak much. She was just feeling hot and restless, so she opened the window and leaned against it to feel the wind.

Before she could enjoy the breeze, Ming Jin raised her hand and closed it.

She turned her head, ready to argue, but heard Ming Jin’s calm voice: “It’s cold at night. You are not allowed to catch a cold.”

Song Xiangwan mumbled a few complaints but didn’t resist, instead leaning her head on Ming Jin’s lap and vaguely falling asleep.

When she woke up, they had returned to Clearwater Bay. The light turned on, and Song Xiangwan squinted, complaining that it was too harsh.

But she received no reply from Ming Jin, only meeting a pair of eyes as cold as water.

Ming Jin took off her outer jacket and sat down on the sofa, looking up at her. Her eyes were icy: “Who were you messing around with again?”

“I wasn’t messing around. They’re all friends from the industry,” Song Xiangwan said, taking off her own jacket and slumping onto the sofa. “Ming Jin, pour me a glass of water.”

In the typical relationship between a canary and a sugar daddy/mistress, the canary is usually cautious, but they were different; Song Xiangwan was used to bossing Ming Jin around.

She waited a minute, saw no reaction from Ming Jin, and became dissatisfied: “You’re angry again? What’s there to be angry about? Can’t I have friends?”

“I already told you before the party. It was Sister Lin’s gathering, and there were no shady people, just friends.”

“I reported to you already, what more do you want?”

Ming Jin’s eyes were dark and unclear. She raised her hand and pressed against Song Xiangwan’s chin: “Song Xiangwan, then tell me, what is that kiss mark on your face?”

Song Xiangwan’s fuzzy mind instantly cleared up. Kiss mark? What kiss mark?

She remembered the two foreign artists pulling her in for the bise before she left. Perhaps it was rubbed onto her then.

She reached up to wipe it, but didn’t feel guilty. She just said, “It’s a cheek kiss. A bise. It’s a custom, you know. Foreigners are that enthusiastic.”

“If there’s a next time, you won’t need to film or go to any variety shows.” Ming Jin took a tissue from the table and aggressively wiped the mark off her face. She used so much force that all of Song Xiangwan’s foundation came off, leaving her skin slightly red.

“Why? Why can’t you let me go?” Song Xiangwan screamed, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

“I don’t need you to earn this money,” Ming Jin said in a deep voice. “I will give you any amount of money you want. I don’t lack these small peanuts.”

For Ming Jin, the heir of the Ming family in Haicheng, the small amount of money Song Xiangwan earned in the entertainment industry was indeed peanuts, not worth mentioning. One could even say that the money she poured into paving the way for Song Xiangwan was far more than what Song Xiangwan earned herself.

“This is my dream. I already have no freedom; are you going to strip away my dream too?” Song Xiangwan clenched her fingers tightly, her nails digging into her palm.

She had already been drinking, and now, enraged, a blush spread across the corners of her eyes, making her look wronged and moist with emotion.

Ming Jin’s eyes softened slightly, but her tone remained cold: “I accept your dream, but I do not accept you socializing indiscriminately outside.”

“Was it necessary to attend that alcohol-fueled gathering? I can secure all the resources you need. Do you need to go out and drink with people?”

“That’s my freedom. You can’t control me,” Song Xiangwan said, getting up to walk toward the bedroom.

But Ming Jin instantly stood up and grabbed her arm. She used force and threw the half-drunk Song Xiangwan onto the sofa: “Song Xiangwan, are you trying to gloss over this again?”

Without waiting for Song Xiangwan to speak, Ming Jin took her phone out of her bag.

Song Xiangwan reached out to snatch it: “What are you doing? Are you going to check my phone now?”

“I’m messaging Jiang Lin that you won’t be recording the second episode next week. The penalty fee will be billed directly to me; you don’t have to worry about it.”

Ming Jin strongly disliked this program. Each episode involved more than ten people in chaotic outdoor activities, where running, jumping, and games inevitably led to physical contact. Usually, Ming Jin screened Song Xiangwan’s work, and programs like this would never have reached her.

But this time, Song Xiangwan sought out Jiang Lin herself, secretly signed a contract for twelve permanent episodes, concealing it from Ming Jin.

“I’m going to go.” Song Xiangwan gripped one half of the phone, her knuckles turning white from the effort, resisting Ming Jin’s strength, preventing the message from being sent.

“I want to go, Ming Jin, I beg you, just give me some freedom,” her voice was nasal, as if she were about to cry.

Ming Jin finally couldn’t help but soften and released her grip, allowing Song Xiangwan to snatch the phone back.

She looked at Song Xiangwan and slowly said: “Wanwan, you don’t know what kind of person Jiang Lin is, or what her intentions are for setting up these kinds of gatherings.”

“Fine, I agree to you participating in the program, but two extra assistants must be added to follow you the entire time. Also, you are forbidden from attending any social gatherings after the show.”

Ming Jin still backed down. As always, the moment Song Xiangwan looked wronged, pathetic, and about to cry, she couldn’t help but yield.

“No way,” Song Xiangwan was not satisfied with this result. “No one else brings assistants. If I bring several all at once, what will that look like? They’ll say I’m acting like a diva.”

“No one will dare to say that,” Ming Jin reached out and stroked her head. “Wanwan, no one dares to criticize you. I can make everyone shut up.”

“Including making me shut up?” Song Xiangwan looked up, countering her again.

Normally, she wasn’t timid when talking back, but having drunk alcohol, she was even more headstrong, and her words were barbed.

“The first time we met at a dinner party, the dignified President Ming invited me to a private room and asked me to be her canary.”

“I wanted to speak, and I wanted to say no, but she used every method to make me shut up.”

“President Ming, does ‘making everyone shut up’ include making me shut up?”

“Did you respect my freedom? Did you ask for my opinion?”

“Why are you always like this? Do I have to listen to everything you say?”

“Right, President Ming paid money, so I should obediently serve my person in bed and not say a single word…”

“Song Xiangwan, do you know what you are saying?” Ming Jin cut her off, feeling a raging headache.

“I know. I’m going to that show. I don’t want those assistants monitoring me like I’m a prisoner.” Song Xiangwan stared straight at her, challenging her.

“No means no,” Ming Jin’s eyes were deep. “If you absolutely refuse to bring anyone, then you won’t go to the show.”

“I will arrange new work with your agent. Until you go on set, you won’t go anywhere. You will stay home.”

Song Xiangwan knew she couldn’t win this argument. Ming Jin would soften, but she was also firm. If she didn’t want Song Xiangwan to take a job, she truly couldn’t go.

Song Xiangwan was shaking slightly with anger. Meeting Ming Jin’s light brown eyes, she pressed her lips tight, glaring at her with a knitted brow.

She worked desperately, taking on new dramas, endorsements, and variety shows, precisely because she didn’t want to stay home. When she was kept confined here, she always felt like a powerless canary.

To the outside world, she was a glamorous, A-list actress. But at home, she was nothing but a mere plaything Ming Jin had taken a fancy to and kept.

She didn’t want to stay home, but Ming Jin insisted on keeping her home.

She resisted every time, but it was always useless. The Ming family was the most influential in the whole of Haicheng. The person President Ming set her sights on had no chance of running away.

Ming Jin was genuinely angry. She allowed her to film and become a star. She truly did not understand the value of working in the entertainment industry, relying on one’s looks to socialize, engaging in superficial exchanges for that small amount of money.

She didn’t understand, but she knew Song Xiangwan liked it, so she invested money and resources to support her. But Song Xiangwan repeatedly put herself in risky situations, which she could not tolerate.

The two were stuck in a stalemate, neither willing to concede or back down.

Song Xiangwan grabbed the water on the table, drank it in one go, and leaned back on the sofa, looking listless: “President Ming, please leave. I don’t have the energy to serve you today.”

She avoided looking at Ming Jin, only staring at the night outside the window, her jaw tightly clenched, clearly stating her angry stance.

Ming Jin exhaled deeply, turned, and walked out the door.

The door closed with a bang, leaving only Song Xiangwan alone in the house, quiet and deadly silent.

Song Xiangwan sat for a while and sent a message to Jiang Lin apologizing, saying she couldn’t record the subsequent episodes due to personal schedule issues. Ming Jin definitely wouldn’t let her go. Rather than losing face later, it was better to withdraw now.

Jiang Lin expressed regret and tried to persuade her twice, but said nothing more, only apologizing that she had drunk a bit too much today and telling Song Xiangwan to get some sleep.

Song Xiangwan removed her makeup, took a bath, and fell asleep in bed.

The argument was over; she wasn’t going to bottle up her anger. President Ming walked out quite dramatically, but she would have to come back herself.

For five years, she was used to it: she would chase her away after an argument, and then, within a couple of days, Ming Jin would take the initiative to apologize.

“A new Japanese restaurant you like has opened. I’ll take you there later.” “I’ve got you a new script. See if you like it.” “I saw a necklace that I thought would suit you. I’ve bought it and will bring it over tonight.”

President Ming never said “I’m sorry,” but she would always find opportunities to talk to her. When President Ming initiated contact, it meant the fight was over, and neither of them could bring it up again.

This time, Song Xiangwan felt it was no different from before. In a couple of days, once President Ming calmed down, she would actively seek her out.

However, the wait lasted three years. Ming Jin completely vanished without a trace.

The first month, Song Xiangwan lived freely and comfortably. No one was managing her, and she was happy and unconstrained.

The second month, Song Xiangwan received a new script from her agent—a major production by a famous director. She was a little puzzled as to why her agent, and not Ming Jin, was the one who approached her, but she didn’t think much of it and immediately joined the cast.

Filming was completed six months later. Five days after leaving the set, her agent said she had secured a new job for her.

When Ming Jin was around, Song Xiangwan wished for work every day and wanted to constantly be out. Ming Jin, however, would control her, telling her agent to make her rest for a while.

This time, there was no rest, and she immediately went from one set to the next without a break, which was highly unusual.

Finally, after a year, Song Xiangwan’s resources hadn’t diminished, and she was living the life of a normal female artist, but she felt something was wrong.

Ming Jin had disappeared. Since the day they argued and she chased Ming Jin away, she hadn’t seen her again. She hadn’t even appeared in the local news in Haicheng.

She held onto her pride, waiting for Ming Jin to back down, and instead of calling Ming Jin, she called Ming Jin’s secretary. She wanted to ask what President Ming was busy with, what it meant to keep a canary at home but then ignore her, and if she was finally free from having to serve her sugar daddy/mistress.

However, the call didn’t go through; the number had been disconnected.

She called every person she knew who was associated with Ming Jin, but none of the calls connected.

Finally, she called Ming Jin herself. It was still a disconnected number.

Song Xiangwan caused a scene at the management company, demanding to terminate her contract. Rongxing was a small agency, with Song Xiangwan as its only artist, a company Ming Jin had started for her.

She thought that if she made a fuss, Ming Jin would have to meet with her to discuss the contract termination.

Unexpectedly, before she could say two full sentences, the company readily let her go. They didn’t even ask for a breach of contract fee.

Ming Jin truly didn’t want her anymore. When she walked out of Rongxing with the termination contract, Song Xiangwan felt like she was floating on clouds, vaguely like she was dreaming.