Chapter 341: Let us meet...
Fu Jingrong was still in his office, the weight of the previous confrontation pressing down on him like an invisible storm.
Papers lay scattered across his desk, the faint hum of the air conditioner the only sound that filled the large space.
Outside the tall glass windows, the city glowed in the distance—its lights glittering like broken stars.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, mind replaying the expression on Fu Ling’s face. The disbelief, the pain, the silent tears. Even though he told himself it was necessary, that cold image refused to fade.
He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, as if trying to release the heaviness in his chest. His phone buzzed once. A message from his assistant flashed on the screen, reminding him of an upcoming meeting. He didn’t bother replying. His thoughts were miles away.
While he sat alone in that glass-walled kingdom of power and regret, elsewhere, Hua Jing was sitting quietly at home. Her long hair was loosely tied, a thin blanket draped around her shoulders. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp on the coffee table. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself a moment of calm.
Then her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen and immediately recognized the number. Her lips curved into a soft chuckle.
Of course it would be him.
She remembered vividly how she had been managed by Blue Entertainment before her accident, and seeing this number reminded her that Mao Li had clearly been keeping track of things. Whatever she had done recently, whatever ripples her return had caused, it seemed he could not stay idle.
She picked up the phone with an amused expression. "Hello?"
A smooth, familiar voice came through. "Hua Jing."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, though the smile on her lips remained. "President Mao," she replied softly, tilting her head. "Long time no see."
There was a pause. Then he said simply, "Let’s meet."
Before she could respond, the call ended. Almost immediately, a text message arrived—an address to a high-end restaurant, known for its private rooms and discretion. Hua Jing’s lips curved into a sly smile. She knew this place well, from her days under Blue Entertainment’s management—when meetings, negotiations, and discussions about her career had been held there.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she rose from the couch. She took a quick shower, dressed in a simple yet elegant cream-colored dress, tied her hair loosely, and added a long beige coat. Her makeup was minimal, just enough to highlight her features and hide the fatigue lingering from her coma. She did not want to attract attention tonight.
The drive to the restaurant was quiet. The city lights blurred past as she thought of the man waiting for her. Mao Li. Calm. Controlled. Observant. Someone who would notice every detail, read every expression.
When she arrived, the valet greeted her with a polite bow. "Good evening, Miss."
She stepped out, the soft glow of the lanterns casting delicate shadows across her figure. Heads turned briefly, then looked away—uncertain if they had recognized her or not. She moved with a quiet confidence, slipping past the lobby into the private corridor that led to the reserved rooms.
And there, waiting for her with a glass of red wine in hand, was Mao Li.
He rose immediately when he saw her, a polite smile on his lips. "Hua Jing," he said, eyes taking her in. "You’re even more beautiful than I remembered."
Hua Jing returned the smile, lowering her gaze as she walked in. "Long time no see, President Mao," she said, her voice soft yet measured, carrying that quiet steel she had cultivated over the past year.
The private room exuded an air of luxury—soft lighting, rich mahogany furniture, and the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air. Every detail reflected careful planning, comfort, and discretion.
Hua Jing took her seat, her gaze calm but alert. The soft clink of his wine glass on the table punctuated the silence. The air between them was heavy, charged with the unspoken, the anticipation of what was to come.
Mao Li’s eyes flickered briefly, as if weighing her carefully, before settling. "I didn’t expect your performance to have such... impact,"
Mao Li said, his voice smooth and almost friendly.
Hua Jing’s lips curved, a soft chuckle slipping past — yet there was no warmth in it. The sound was hollow, cold, and even though Mao Li couldn’t quite tell what it meant, he felt a strange weight behind it.
"Is that so?" she asked, her tone polite but distant.
Mao Li adjusted his rimmed glasses, the faint reflection of the chandelier flashing across the lenses. He nodded, smiling faintly, as though he were discussing some trivial business matter.
Hua Jing almost laughed for real this time. She understood exactly what kind of "impact" he was referring to.
Ever since the accident — ever since she had fallen into that year-long coma — Blue Entertainment had cut all ties with her. The very night she was meant to receive her Lifetime Achievement Award, they had handed it to Hua Ling instead, crowning her the company’s new "Lifetime Artist."
That woman had enjoyed immense success during Hua Jing’s absence, standing on stages that once belonged to her, smiling with the same practiced grace, accepting awards meant for someone else.
So when she heard Mao Li’s smooth tone and saw the faint curl of a smile on his lips, something inside her twisted. The hypocrisy was almost nauseating.
But Hua Jing feigned ignorance.
"Well," she said lightly, her voice like silk hiding blades, "I’ve always had a loyal fan base. It’s only natural they’d react when I appeared again."
Mao Li chuckled. The sound was just as fake as her smile.
The air in the private room was heavy with hidden motives. Two people, two agendas, one table. The wine between them was untouched, yet it felt as though poison floated in the air.
Hua Jing leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, her calm gaze never leaving him. "You called me here to talk about the impact I made?"
