Chapter 9
“Xiaoying?”
Pei Songji’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t known Ji Shuhuai knew his secretary, let alone so intimately.
“You two know each other?” he asked.
“Yes, at the…” Ji Shuhuai began, a smile playing on his lips.
But Jing Ciying interrupted, “Yes, we know each other,” glancing at Ji Shuhuai with a pleading look.
Ji Shuhuai, understanding his unspoken request, simply nodded in agreement. “We know each other.”
Pei Songji was initially just surprised, but their interaction hinted at something more than a casual acquaintance. It wasn’t unusual for people to connect outside of professional circles, but a strange feeling settled in his stomach.
Today was about business, and with so many people present, he couldn’t pry. He suppressed his curiosity and focused on the negotiations.
The two companies had been in talks for a while, but Ji Shuhuai’s sudden illness had stalled the process. He had only recently returned to work.
Pei Songji discreetly observed Ji Shuhuai. He looked much thinner than before, his face pale, as if recovering from a serious illness or a devastating blow.
People in their circle rarely disclosed personal matters, so Pei Songji didn’t know what had happened.
But judging by his appearance, it must have been something significant.
He didn’t care about the details.
He only cared about…
His gaze shifted to Jing Ciying.
Why did Jing Ciying look so concerned?
The negotiations concluded in the evening, and Ji Shuhuai, as the host, arranged dinner.
Business discussions often continued over drinks, so alcohol was inevitable.
As the lowest-ranking person present, and the designated driver, Jing Ciying poured the drinks.
The negotiations had gone well, and both Pei Songji and Ji Shuhuai seemed to be in good spirits.
Jing Ciying assumed the drinking was purely celebratory, but as the night progressed, he noticed a subtle tension between them. Pei Songji seemed to be deliberately challenging Ji Shuhuai, requesting refills despite his usually moderate alcohol tolerance. Ji Shuhuai didn’t refuse, which worried Jing Ciying.
Ji Shuhuai looked much thinner, wearing the same clothes as the last time they met in the stairwell. The clothes hung loosely on his frame. His skin was unusually pale, dark circles under his eyes, suggesting a difficult period.
Jing Ciying didn’t know Ji Shuhuai’s drinking capacity, but he sensed it wasn’t high. Yet, he matched Pei Songji drink for drink.
Jing Ciying tried to intervene, but they ignored him. As expected, both ended up drunk.
Fortunately, Ji Shuhuai was only mildly intoxicated and called his driver. Jing Ciying only needed to take care of Pei Songji.
Ji Shuhuai’s driver arrived, and Pei Songji, despite his own drunkenness, insisted on escorting Ji Shuhuai out.
“Goodbye, Mr. Ji,” Jing Ciying said outside the hotel.
Ji Shuhuai, though drunk, retained some composure, offering a polite smile. “Goodbye, Xiaoying.”
The late autumn wind carried a winter chill, rustling Ji Shuhuai’s clothes, which seemed too large for him despite being tailored.
Although they had known each other for a while, they were still just acquaintances. Jing Ciying didn’t know the details of his recent hardship, but it was evident in his appearance.
He must have been through a lot, the reason unspoken.
Although their situations were different, Jing Ciying, thinking of his own sister, understood the pain Ji Shuhuai must be feeling.
He couldn’t help himself. “Mr. Ji,” he called out as Ji Shuhuai was about to get into the car.
Ji Shuhuai turned, a smile appearing on his face, even in his drunken state.
But the smile was fragile, as if it might crumble at any moment.
“If…” Jing Ciying hesitated, knowing he was overstepping, but he continued, “If Mr. Lu were still here, he would want you to take care of yourself.”
“He would be worried about you.”
Ji Shuhuai’s smile faltered at the mention of the name, a crack appearing in his composure. The crack widened, and the smile finally disappeared.
He quickly regained his composure, attempting to smile again, but the attempt was strained, filled with bitterness.
“I…” He started to speak, his eyes reddening. He turned away, trying to compose himself, but the alcohol slowed his movements. He stood there for a moment, his face partially hidden in shadow, an expression that was both a smile and a sob.
“I know. Thank you, Xiaoying.”
He got into the car, said goodbye, and closed the window.
As the window rolled up, obscuring Ji Shuhuai’s face, Jing Ciying wondered if he had said too much.
But it was too late for regrets. He turned back to the hotel.
Pei Songji was very drunk. He had to get him home.
Back in the private room, Pei Songji was fast asleep. Jing Ciying sighed and helped him up.
Pei Songji leaned heavily on him, his head resting on Jing Ciying’s shoulder. He could feel his warm breath on his neck.
Jing Ciying tried to create some distance but gave up, maneuvering him into the car.
The journey wasn’t long, but it was an effort.
He paused outside the car to catch his breath before leaning in to fasten Pei Songji’s seatbelt. His wrist was suddenly grabbed.
He recoiled, but a strong force pulled him back, almost into Pei Songji’s arms.
Startled, he looked up to see Pei Songji’s eyes open, staring at him with a drunken haze.
Jing Ciying wanted to yell at him but, fearing repercussions, forced himself to remain calm. “Mr. Pei, you’re drunk. Let me take you home.”
He tried to free his wrist, but Pei Songji continued to stare.
“Mr. Pei?” he called out again.
Pei Songji finally responded, mumbling as if in a daze, “You know each other?”
“What?” Jing Ciying leaned closer.
Pei Songji continued, “How… how do you know each other?”
Jing Ciying finally understood the question and was surprised by Pei Songji’s sudden interest.
Then it dawned on him. He was Pei Songji’s personal secretary. Although Pei Songji was currently collaborating with Huaisi, business alliances were fickle. Today’s friend could be tomorrow’s enemy.
Was he worried about leaked information?
But Jing Ciying didn’t have access to any sensitive data.
Perhaps Pei Songji’s concerns were more… superstitious.
Maybe he feared a conspiracy against the God of Wealth statue in his office.
Jing Ciying, convinced he had deciphered the reason, started to reassure him.
“We met purely by…”
Pei Songji had fallen asleep again.
He shouldn’t have bothered explaining.
Jing Ciying got Pei Songji home, changed him into his pajamas, and started wiping his face with a warm cloth.
Pei Songji stirred, his eyes fluttering open.
He squinted against the bright light, seeming half-awake.
“Mr. Pei,” Jing Ciying said tentatively.
Pei Songji’s gaze focused on him.
“Are you feeling unwell? Would you like some hangover soup?”
Pei Songji didn’t respond, just continued staring at him.
“Mr. Pei?” Seeing his dazed state, Jing Ciying decided to get him the soup without waiting for a response.
As he turned to leave, his wrist was grabbed, and a strong force pulled him down onto the bed, into Pei Songji’s arms.
Jing Ciying’s first thought was, “I’m doomed.”
Pei Songji was obsessed with cleanliness, especially his bedding. He would definitely replace the sheets, having been slept on.
He just hoped he wouldn’t have to pay for a new bed. Pei Songji’s beds cost a fortune. He couldn’t afford it.
He tried to get up, but Pei Songji’s arm tightened around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Mr. Pei?” He dreaded the consequences when Pei Songji woke up and found him in his bed. He struggled to get up.
Despite being only slightly taller than Pei Songji, he was no match for his strength. The more he struggled, the tighter the embrace became.
Exhausted from the day’s events and the effort of getting Pei Songji home, he gave up, deciding to wait until he fell asleep.
He closed his eyes, intending to sneak out later. But he was too tired and drifted off to sleep.
When Pei Songji woke up, he felt something in his arms.
He looked down to see Jing Ciying sleeping against his chest.
