President Ji’s Cat - Chapter 17

Seeing her mother’s hesitant expression, Ji Chufeng felt a surge of irrepressible anger. She set down her cutlery, her eyes clouded with irritation.

“Stop trying to speak for him! Have you forgotten how he treated you?!” Ji Chufeng said sharply. “If it weren’t for him, I should have had a younger brother. Have you forgotten all the suffering and grievances you endured? If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have been separated. This is his karma!”

Her mother was always so merciful. Despite all the years that had passed, she still wanted to mend the relationship between father and daughter.

Back then, her mother chose to retreat from a peak career to marry and have children—and what did she get in return? Ji Chufeng hated Ji Shengjun for forcing her to stay by his side while he enjoyed domestic bliss with a mistress and a cheap son. When it came to Xu Xiayun’s manipulations, the man who was usually so shrewd in business acted like an idiot, choosing unconditional trust over his own family.

She technically had a father, yet she grew up like an orphan. Ji Shengjun didn’t deserve her forgiveness in this lifetime.

Yu Rou fell silent at her daughter’s questioning, lowering her head. Seeing this, Xie Qiu wrapped an arm around her shoulder, patting her comfortingly. She looked at Ji Chufeng with a reproachful gaze, losing her temper with her for the first time. “Chufeng!” she scolded.

“…” Seeing her mother’s dejected state, Ji Chufeng felt a pang of regret. It wasn’t worth upsetting her mother over such a man. She took two deep breaths; when she spoke again, her voice had softened, the sharp edges gone. “In any case, don’t mention him to me again.”

The meal was ruined, and she was in no mood to stay. Ji Chufeng said her goodbyes, grabbed her things, and left.

Sitting in her car, Ji Chufeng pulled up her chat with Yu Rou and stared at it for a long time. Finally, she sent a dry message: [I’m sorry].

They were once husband and wife; even if they were divorced, there had been love there. She realized she could never truly empathize with her mother’s perspective. She knew her mother no longer wanted to dwell on the past and simply hoped she wouldn’t live her life carrying hatred for her biological father. But every time the topic of that man came up, Ji Chufeng couldn’t restrain her emotions, and it always ended in a fallout.

She exhaled sharply, exited Yu Rou’s chat, and noticed a red “1” notification on Fu Sixue’s avatar. She clicked on it.

Ji Chufeng reread their chat history, her furrowed brows relaxing slightly. The last message was from half an hour ago, asking when she would be free for dinner.

Seems she’s more anxious than I am, Ji Chufeng thought. Though, it was likely just Fu Sixue wanting to “settle the debt.”

Because of the scene at the restaurant, Ji Chufeng had barely eaten before running out. She was far from full. After a moment’s thought, she sent a voice message.

“I’m free now. Do you want to go out to eat?” Her voice was steady, but slightly raspy from the night breeze.

As soon as the message sent, she saw Fu Sixue’s name change to “Typing…”, then back to her name. After a few rounds of starting and stopping, it changed to “Recording audio…”

[Fu Sixue]: “I just finished eating.” She paused, seemingly choosing her next words carefully. After three seconds of silence, she continued: “If you’re hungry, I can accompany you.”

Ji Chufeng barely registered the rest of the ten-second clip; her mind latched onto the phrase: “I can accompany you.”

Perhaps, subconsciously, she really did need someone’s company right now.

For some reason, the corners of her mouth curled up uncontrollably. Ji Chufeng caught a glimpse of her reflection and was startled by her own expression. She swallowed, suppressed the grin, and brought the phone to her lips, slowing her pace as she spoke: “No need. Eating is only fun when two people do it together. Let’s make it tomorrow.”

Her voice sounded different than usual—infused with an imperceptible softness.

She was realizing that Fu Sixue was so different from the person described in those scandals. They said Fu Sixue was an ungrateful wretch who kicked her parents away after they made her famous; they said she was a diva on set who berated staff over trifles; they said she was bitter, arrogant, and rude.

Was that really Fu Sixue?

If she were profit-driven, Fengyu Media had endless resources waiting for her; she wouldn’t have left, nor would she have insisted on paying penalties to brands to mitigate their losses. If she didn’t care about others, why would she try to shoulder all the malicious abuse herself when they were photographed? If she were rude, why would she care so much about her dining partner’s dietary restrictions? If she were arrogant, why would she offer to sit and watch someone else eat when she was already full?

Which one was the real Fu Sixue?

Ji Chufeng believed the “Fu Sixue” in the tabloids was definitely not her.

On the other end, seeing that Ji Chufeng didn’t insist, Fu Sixue quickly finalized the plans for tomorrow’s dinner.

She let out a long sigh of relief, looking very much like someone who had just completed a daunting task. Corresponding with President Ji felt like a major event; she had been worried Ji Chufeng would say something frivolous. Fortunately, she hadn’t. From their recent interactions, the President seemed quite well-behaved, not nearly as shocking as their first encounter.

Fu Sixue set her phone down and walked to the balcony, staring blankly at the deep blue night sky.

When the photos of her and Ji Chufeng first leaked, her mental state had been on the verge of collapse. She had even considered quitting the industry. She had truly tried hard these past few years, wanting to climb back up, but there was always an invisible wall pressing her down. Perhaps leaving was the wiser choice.

But after hearing Ji Chufeng’s words, she felt an indescribable stir in her heart. She had grown so used to being ignored. She had assumed Ji Chufeng would be like the previous manager—handling things coldly, distancing herself, and letting the situation ferment until it broke her. That’s why Fu Sixue wanted to strike first by leaving, even if the penalty fees would leave her with almost nothing.

Yet Ji Chufeng was certain she could make a comeback.

It had been so long since anyone had believed in her. Lately, all she received were veiled mocks from peers and juniors; the “friends” she once had vanished as her star faded. Over time, she had grown philosophical about it. Fourteen years in this circle, yet not a single true friend.

When a person in adversity finds a literal life-saving straw, they want to grab it. Ji Chufeng was that straw, but Fu Sixue intended to limit their connection to this thank-you dinner.

As for anything else…

She didn’t want too much entanglement with Ji Chufeng. That night was an accident, and it had to remain an accident. That was the only way she could face President Ji with a calm heart.