Wen Li took a long while to recover before she could drag herself into the bathroom.
She stood at the sink and looked up at the mirror, and immediately sucked in a sharp breath.
Her neck was covered in dense red marks. Even the spot behind her ears hadn’t been spared. Her skin was pale, which only made the marks look more alarming, as if someone had grabbed her by the throat and gnawed on her all night.
“Ji Zongting…” Wen Li ground the name between her teeth, over and over, wishing she could storm into the Ji Group building right now and claw his face open in front of a whole crowd.
She dug a high-collared silk blouse out of the walk-in closet and adjusted it in front of the mirror, tugging it this way and that, fussing for ages before she barely managed to hide the marks.
Just as she was fastening the collar button, something surfaced in her mind.
Fragments of memory from the middle of last night floated up in pieces.
She remembered being carried into the bathroom, sleepy and furious, and how she seemed to have raised a hand and raked it hard across his face. Her fingertips had indeed touched something warm, and then came Ji Zongting’s very soft intake of breath.
Wen Li stared at herself in the mirror, and the corner of her mouth slowly curved upward.
That claw of mine wasn’t light. There’s no way he can hide the mark.
Going to work with a mark like that, Ji Zongting has far more to be embarrassed about than I do.
Just thinking about it put her in a fine mood.
“Serves him right.” Wen Li hummed smugly at the mirror.
She went downstairs in high spirits, ate breakfast, picked up her bag, and headed out.
At Haishi’s CBD, in the Ji Group headquarters tower.
The conference room on the sixty-eighth floor was dead silent. Both sides of the long table were lined with executives from every department, all sitting bolt upright, yet their gazes seemed pulled by invisible hooks, drifting helplessly toward the man in the seat of honor.
Ji Zongting sat at the head of the table in a crisp suit, the dark gray bespoke tailoring tracing the clean lines of his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His shirt collar was buttoned meticulously to the top, and every inch of him radiated a cold, unapproachable presence.
Yet at this very moment, on that noble, severe face that no one dared look at directly, two thin red marks were clearly etched across his left cheek, slanting from cheekbone to jaw as if scraped by something sharp. There were more on his neck, a small red mark half-hidden at the edge of his collar.
Everyone present was sharp as a tack. Who couldn’t tell those were marks left by a woman’s nails?
But this was Ji Zongting. The Ji family heir, Ji Zongting, famous for never touching women, renowned for his cold ruthlessness. Who would dare put their claws on his face?
Everyone’s insides were churning, but their faces stayed perfectly composed. They used every ounce of acting skill they had to keep from showing their gossipy glee.
“…That concludes this quarter’s R&D progress report from the technology department.” The technology director wiped the sweat from his forehead and closed his folder.
Ji Zongting gave a slight nod, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.
The executives all lowered their heads in unison, pretending to flip through the notebooks in front of them, each one keeping his eyes down and his mind strictly on his own business, terrified of meeting his gaze.
“It seems you all have something to say.” Ji Zongting’s tone was flat, giving away neither pleasure nor displeasure.
Everyone shook their heads in unison, so synchronized it looked rehearsed. “No, no.”
Of course, someone had to go off script.
A recently hired hotshot in the tech department, early thirties, a wizard at R&D but hopelessly blunt when it came to social graces, had been staring at the red marks on Ji Zongting’s face for a full half hour. Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He pushed up his glasses and spoke with utter seriousness. “Mr. Ji, you have a cat at home, don’t you? Did it scratch your face?”
The conference room went so silent you could hear a pin drop.
Every executive turned to stone. One man’s pen slipped through his fingers and he didn’t dare bend to pick it up.
The pen spinning between Ji Zongting’s fingers paused. He raised his eyes to the tech hotshot, and the corner of his mouth tugged faintly.
“Not a kitten.” His tone was breezy. “It’s my wife.”
The tech hotshot blinked, scratched the back of his head, looking a bit awkward. “Oh… so it’s Madam Ji. Seems Madam Ji has quite the temper.”
At that, the curve of Ji Zongting’s mouth seemed to deepen, a flicker of amusement passing through his eyes. He lowered his gaze, his voice low, and corrected him. “My wife is young. I was the one bullying her. She’s… very good.”
The moment those words landed, the air in the conference room turned strangely charged.
The executives’ collective poker faces collapsed on the spot. Some eyes went wide. Some nearly choked on their own spit. Others whipped their heads down and bit their lips hard, terrified of making an inappropriate sound.
The same sentence was roaring through everyone’s mind. Mr. Ji, did someone put a hex on you today?!
The moment he finished speaking, Ji Zongting’s expression returned to its usual severity, as if that bombshell of a sentence had been nothing but a collective hallucination.
But soon, everyone realized it wasn’t a hallucination.
He turned his head toward his assistant, Chen Ping, and gave his instructions. “Send Madam’s photo to the front desk downstairs later. From now on, when Madam comes to the company, no one is to stop her. She takes the private elevator.”
Chen Ping nodded quickly. “Yes, Mr. Ji.”
The executives exchanged glances, each one inwardly marveling. The old house is on fire. Mr. Ji is showing off his love. Whoever this Madam Ji is, she managed to conquer this living King of Hell. She must be a god among gods.
At the same time, a black Maybach was gliding smoothly toward the office building where Qingxin Entertainment was located.
Wen Li sat in the back seat, completely unaware of the drama unfolding at Ji Group headquarters, where the boss was setting the pace for public displays of affection.
She checked the time on her phone. It was already ten. My second day on the job, and I’m already giving the staff the impression I’m slacking off. All Ji Zongting’s fault.
At Qingxin Entertainment, Su Xiangwan stepped into Sister Liu’s office.
“Sit, Xiangwan.” Sister Liu gestured for her to close the door and got straight to the point. “Did you hear about Chang’an Crossing?”
Su Xiangwan sat on the sofa and nodded. “I heard. Ms. Wen turned down the script.”
Sister Liu slapped the contract down on the coffee table. “This is a resource we spent two months fighting tooth and nail for. How can we just give it up? Xiangwan, let’s go fight for it today. While she’s still new and hasn’t found her footing, we might still be able to get the role back. If we really can’t…”
She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “Then we might as well terminate the contract. We can take the role privately. Someone on Director He’s side told me they want you, not Qingxin Entertainment.”
Su Xiangwan was silent for a few seconds without responding.
Su Xiangwan was twenty-six this year, five years since her debut. She had a gentle, elegant beauty, the kind that put people at ease at first glance. An oval face, willow-leaf brows, and when she smiled, her eyes curved, giving her a natural warmth.
She thought for a moment, then looked up at Sister Liu and spoke in a gentle voice. “Sister Liu, Qingxin has always treated me well. Why take it that far?”
Sister Liu blinked. “What do you have in mind?”
Su Xiangwan smiled gently. “Didn’t Ms. Wen say she’d give me a better script today? Let’s see that script first.”