After the Breakup, the Possessive Heiress Regretted It - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Looks Like Tomorrow Will Be a Good Day Too.

Just the thought of hearing Pei Jinyue sing again after so many years made Ji Wanmian want to skip all the way home.

But no—she caught herself. Pei Jinyue probably preferred someone calm and composed. So she restrained the bounce in her step and tried her best to appear the kind of person Pei Jinyue might like.

Finally, they were almost home.

Ji Wanmian had never felt that walk was so long before.

Standing at the door, she was so excited that even her hand trembled as she tried to turn the key.

Pei Jinyue didn’t say a word—she simply watched Ji Wanmian’s expression quietly from behind.

After closing the door, Ji Wanmian didn’t bring up the singing right away. Instead, she pretended to be busy: tidied up the room, went to the bathroom to remove her makeup, then sat at her desk. Looking at her work, she sighed softly and muttered, “Ah, I forgot to play some music.”

Pei Jinyue leaned against the sofa, silently observing Ji Wanmian’s obvious little act. She cleared her throat lightly.

Just as she was about to search for lyrics on her phone, she noticed Ji Wanmian had somehow snuck over and was now sitting obediently in front of her—resting her chin in her hands, blinking her eyes, quietly waiting.

Looks like there was no getting out of it tonight.

Pei Jinyue pulled up the lyrics on her phone. Ever since she heard Pei Yan’s comment about her being “unfocused,” she hadn’t sung in a long time.

Though she didn’t feel as much as others seemed to, music was one of the few ways she could actually feel emotions.

And yet even that outlet had been taken from her.

As Pei Jinyue tried to recall the melody, she caught a glimpse of Ji Wanmian smiling uncontrollably—even though she hadn’t sung a word yet, that person was already beaming, eyes crinkled and lips lifted with joy.

Maybe sensing her gaze, Ji Wanmian quickly tried to hide her smile, covering her mouth with her hand.

But the happiness still spilled out through her eyes.

How could someone be this happy?

Pei Jinyue never really understood Ji Wanmian’s emotions.

But perhaps there was no need to understand—just remembering that doing these things made her happy was enough.

Winter nights were quiet. As if everyone, not wanting to brave the cold, had gone to bed early. Outside, only the occasional soft noise broke the silence—nothing that would interrupt Pei Jinyue’s private “concert.”

She sat on the sofa. No microphone, no stage—just a phone, and one listener.

Before the lyrics even started, she hummed a few notes.

Even just a couple of hums sounded this beautiful?

Ji Wanmian clutched her chest, overwhelmed. She wanted to sigh in admiration, but didn’t want to interrupt, so she kept her thoughts to herself and focused on listening.

Listening to the normally aloof Pei Jinyue sing lyrics full of emotion.

Music had a way of stirring memories.

As Ji Wanmian watched the woman singing in front of her, it felt like she was back in college, watching Pei Jinyue hum softly by the lakeside.

In those moments, Ji Wanmian felt so close to her. All the vast distance between their backgrounds seemed to melt away. There was no “Miss Pei”—just a girl quietly gazing at the water, unable to help but hum a tune.

Maybe Pei Jinyue was always meant to be this beautiful.

The melody and lyrics were so familiar that even as she sang, Pei Jinyue’s mind drifted.

She remembered how Pei Yan had shattered her dreams, dismissed her passion, and dragged her toward the path of what she was “supposed” to be.

No one cared that she had said—clearly—that she wasn’t interested in that life.

Her voice had been ignored, and in the end, they’d blamed her for being unreasonable and difficult.

Her singing slowly came to a stop.

Silence returned.

But it didn’t last long—within seconds, Ji Wanmian broke it with an awestruck “Wow.” If not for the worry of disturbing the neighbors, she would’ve shouted, “Pei Jinyue, you sing so beautifully!”

She lowered her voice, but packed even more praise into her words: “You sing so well—it’s the most beautiful voice I’ve heard in years. Every second of it felt like a rare miracle.”

Pei Jinyue put her phone down. Listening to Ji Wanmian’s gushing, she couldn’t help but feel genuinely pleased. She’d only meant to sing casually, just to make her happy—she hadn’t expected Ji Wanmian to be this moved.

“It sounded that good?” Pei Jinyue asked. She knew she could stay on pitch, but she worried about lacking emotional depth. Conveying feeling in a song was important, too.

Honestly, the moment she spoke, she already knew what answer she’d get from the wide-eyed girl staring at her.

“Not just good—it was amazing!” Ji Wanmian blurted out without thinking. “It was so good I almost cried.”

“Was the song that sad?” Pei Jinyue frowned slightly. The melody didn’t feel all that sorrowful to her.

“It’s not because it was sad,” Ji Wanmian said as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, “It’s just… it was so beautiful. So beautiful it made me want to cry.”

So that’s what it means to be moved to tears?

Pei Jinyue looked at Ji Wanmian and thought silently: So, to cry from happiness doesn’t require overwhelming joy—it just takes a moment like this.

Suddenly, Ji Wanmian let out a sigh, glanced at her unfinished work on the desk, and mumbled glumly, “But thinking about how I’ve got to work overtime after such a beautiful moment… it’s kinda painful.”

It wasn’t that she wanted to be working in the middle of the night, but if she wanted to go out and have fun tomorrow, she had to get things done today.

Sometimes she really didn’t want to work… well, most of the time, really.

Pei Jinyue didn’t try to stop her. She just said, “Go ahead. I’ll keep singing.”

Just seven words—but to Ji Wanmian, they meant more than a thousand.

She felt so motivated!

Ji Wanmian sat down, tied her hair up, rolled up her sleeves, picked up her pen, opened her laptop—time to work!

Sketches, thumbnails, line art—none of it felt exhausting, not with Pei Jinyue sitting beside her.

She sang; Ji Wanmian drew.

This scene—Ji Wanmian had never even dared dream it.

And yet, it had come true so effortlessly.

Everything felt too good to be real.

Even after all that had happened today—even after Pei Jinyue had truly come to sleep beside her—Ji Wanmian still felt like she might wake up at any moment and find it had all been a fantasy.

In the quiet moments before sleep, Ji Wanmian reached out again and again to touch Pei Jinyue, as if trying to confirm it was all real.

But no matter how much she longed to, she still didn’t have the courage to wrap her arms around her from behind. Even though she knew that just holding the person she loved would bring her peace enough to sleep.

So she only dared to look, to touch softly—loving her silently in a way that Pei Jinyue wouldn’t notice.

Just like how she had once stood behind her, too scared to step forward.

Later, Ji Wanmian rolled over, turning her back to Pei Jinyue.

She never expected that Pei Jinyue would be the one to move closer.

Pei Jinyue slowly leaned in—

So light, so silent.

Ji Wanmian worried that maybe she had woken her by shifting positions. She hesitated, wondering if she should say something, when she heard a sleepy mumble behind her: “Rings… tomorrow…”

So Pei Jinyue was looking forward to the rings too.

Ji Wanmian couldn’t help but smile softly—and fell asleep in peace.

It looked like tomorrow would be a good day too.