Chapter 327: It is not the right time yet
For just a fleeting heartbeat, something like disgust flickered in Hua Ling’s eyes—quick and sharp, like the strike of a knife.
But the moment passed as swiftly as it had come.
Her lashes lowered slightly, masking her expression, and when she looked up again the disgust had been replaced by a soft, honeyed smile.
"Why don’t we sit down first?" she said sweetly.
She moved with effortless grace across the room, her long fingers deftly reaching for the decanter on the table. She poured the man a generous drink, then filled her own glass as well.
As she placed the glass before him, her eyes lifted to meet his, sparkling with a look of confidence and flattery that seemed almost natural.
"Don’t worry," Hua Ling said lightly, her tone warm, coaxing, almost teasing.
"Our plan will succeed. Hua Jing won’t be able to run for long... and very soon, she’ll be yours."
The man’s smile widened, a glint of greed and anticipation darkening his gaze as he accepted the drink from her hand.
...
After leaving the café, Hua Jing didn’t head straight home.
She had no particular destination in mind; instead, she simply drove through the city streets, letting her eyes take in everything that had changed during the year she’d been gone—first in a coma, then caught up in the strange, otherworldly life she had lived in the ancient era.
Tall glass towers now pierced the skyline in places that had once been open lots. Neon lights and new storefronts dotted the streets. The roads felt busier than ever, yet the city’s rhythm was still familiar—the impatient honking of horns at traffic lights, the snarl of cars on the highways, the endless stream of pedestrians rushing about.
As her car climbed onto the elevated highway, Hua Jing slowed a little and let the wind from her half-lowered window brush against her face.
The view from up there had always been her favorite—the broad sweep of the river, the bridges arched like silver ribbons, and, in the distance, the older districts of the capital blending with the newer steel-and-glass skyline.
A soft smile touched her lips.
Back when she had been at the height of her career, the nation’s top star, she had barely ever had the chance to enjoy such simple moments. Her life had been a rush of film sets, red carpets, award ceremonies, and endless schedules. Even when she had been in the car, it had usually been for work, her eyes on scripts or her phone.
Now, having almost lost everything—her life, her future, even her sense of self—she found these ordinary sights precious.
The thought brought her back to that moment of awakening, to the day she had opened her eyes in Yellow Garden, Fu Jing Rong’s private estate.
She had seen the endless stretch of blooming yellow flowers surrounding the quiet house. The sight had been so serene, so heartbreakingly beautiful, that she had lain there for a long time just listening to the wind stirring the petals.
She appreciated it more now—every petal, every moment.
By the time she returned home, the sky was brushed with the soft gold of an early spring evening.
Yellow Garden glowed warmly in the light. The season had turned; the air carried a gentle warmth after the long winter, and the flowers swayed in the faint breeze. The garden was in full bloom, the soft yellow blossoms catching the last of the sunlight as if holding onto the day for just a little longer.
Hua Jing stepped out of the car, her heels sinking slightly into the gravel path as she made her way through the garden.
She paused at the center of the courtyard, the gentle fragrance of the flowers drifting around her. The sky above was clear, streaked faintly with rose-colored clouds, and the city’s distant hum felt far away, as though it belonged to another world.
She let herself breathe in deeply, her gaze lingering on the flowers that danced around her in the breeze.
For a brief, quiet moment, she forgot about Hua Ling’s threats, about the hidden dangers still waiting in the shadows.
She stood there, simply feeling the warmth of spring and the weight of this second chance at life.
Somewhere in the distance, she could almost hear Fu Jing Rong’s deep voice telling her to take care of herself, to cherish what she had.
He was at the office now, buried under the mountain of work that had piled up during his own absence—both with Fu Hua Entertainment, which was thriving again, and with the vast Fu Group conglomerate that had needed careful restructuring after his year-long coma.
Hua Jing’s lips curved into a soft, private smile.
She had once thought that the world owed her more time. Now she knew every day was a gift.
She reached down and brushed her fingers lightly over the petals of the nearest flower, the yellow bloom bright against her pale skin, and whispered to herself:
"It’s good to be home."
The golden light of the setting sun spilled over the garden, casting long shadows across the sea of yellow blossoms. Hua Jing stood quietly in the middle of it all, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the sky blushed in shades of rose and amber. The spring air was warm against her skin, carrying the soft fragrance of flowers.
Behind her came the faint sound of hurried footsteps on the gravel path.
She didn’t need to turn around. Her lips curved slightly, as though she had already known who it was.
In the next heartbeat, a strong arm wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her into a firm, protective embrace.
The man’s tall frame towered over her, his chin resting gently on the crown of her head as if he had found the one place in the world where he could rest. His fingers interlocked with hers just below her stomach, holding her close, almost possessively.
Hua Jing let out a soft breath and placed her hands over his, leaning back into the warmth of his chest. Her shoulders relaxed as though, in that embrace, she could finally let go of everything that weighed on her.
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
They simply stood there, two figures silhouetted against the orange glow of the evening sky, watching the sun sink lower, as though time itself had slowed.
Fu Jing Rong was the first to break the silence.
His deep voice came softly, right beside her ear.
"Do you miss it?"
Hua Jing’s lashes trembled at the question.
She didn’t need to ask what he meant.
He was asking about the life she had left behind—the lights, the cameras, the world of showbiz that had once been her entire existence.
Her eyes lingered on the distant skyline as the memory of that life brushed against her heart. The red carpets, the screaming fans, the dizzying rush of fame—those things had once defined her. She had loved acting; the stage and the screen had been her world.
A faint smile appeared on her lips, one touched by a hint of wistfulness.
"A little," she admitted softly.
"But after everything that happened... all I want for now is a bit of peace. A quiet life, even if it’s just for a while."
Fu Jing Rong tightened his hold around her ever so slightly, the muscles of his arms shifting against her back. He didn’t respond aloud, but his gaze shifted past her, to the horizon, his mind wandering.
Ever since the Blue Award Ceremony, the memory of that night had lingered with him.
He hadn’t realized just how powerful her presence still was—how much she meant to the public—until he had watched the videos later.
Outside the massive stadium, thousands of fans had gathered.
Some had waited for days, braving the weather just to catch a glimpse of her.
When she had appeared, their screams had risen like a wave, their banners held high, some of them even crying as if seeing her alive and well had been the answer to a long, desperate prayer.
He had stood beside her that night, outwardly composed, but later, watching the footage again in private, he had felt a strange mix of awe and heaviness.
A whole year had passed since the accident.
A whole year during which she had been gone from the world, and yet these people—her fans—had never left.
They had waited.
Some of them had been with her since the very beginning, when she had been just a rising actress taking on small roles. Others had found her later, during her climb to stardom. But all of them had stayed loyal even through the dark days of scandal and tragedy.
It had made Fu Jing Rong marvel—not at her fame, but at the unshakable bond between her and those who loved her.
And in that moment, he had understood why she had once loved the stage so much.
Now, as he stood behind her, he caught a fleeting glimmer in her eyes, something that passed too quickly to name. Regret? Longing? Perhaps both.
But when she turned her head slightly to look at him, the look was gone, replaced by the calm smile he knew so well. The sunlight fell softly over her face, painting her features in a warm glow.
"It’s not the right time yet,"
