My Queen, My Rules - 11

Bribe

---

The voice was perfectly modulated, pitched low with that familiar, quiet calm.

Ji Mingshu's mind went blank.

No. Way.

What was he doing here?

As if to prove a point, Cen Sen knocked again.

"If you don't open up, I'm calling someone."

"Don't!" Ji Mingshu's reflexes took over.

Jiang Chun, seizing her moment, called into the men's room, "Ji Mingshu, you can come out now! Your husband cleared the place! There's no one out here!"

Ji Mingshu: “……”

For heaven's sake! Compared to letting this dog man see me in this state, I'd rather just bolt out of here before he showed up, consequences be damned. Or just flushed myself into the sewer, ceasing to exist on earth.

This girl had stood outside for God knows how long, accomplished absolutely nothing, and now she'd summoned the one person she wanted to see her like this the least. What was she even doing? Where was her brain?? Did getting dumped come with a built-in intelligence debuff or something?

Cen Sen was clearly not a patient man. Hearing no response and no movement, he started to give an order. "Zhou Jiaheng—"

"Wait!"

Ji Mingshu raised her voice to drown him out, and stretched a hand up, fumbling awkwardly for the latch.

A second later, the stall door swung gently open.

Cen Sen looked down to find Ji Mingshu, small and pitiful and helpless, crouched on the floor.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees, her face buried deep in the crook of her elbow. But even through the strands of her hair, Cen Sen could clearly see the furious red of her ears.

Before he could speak, Ji Mingshu's muffled voice emerged. "My legs are asleep. I can't stand up."

Preemptively strike. She was good at that.

Cen Sen's expression was unreadable. He didn't respond.

Ji Mingshu waited. Nothing. She didn't know if this dog man was just letting her hang there, pretending not to get it, or if he was truly so dense he didn't get her hint. Finally, she swallowed her pride and issued a direct order. "Carry me."

Cen Sen still didn't move. 

Ji Mingshu's heart hammered, terrified he'd decided to deny her this face-saving measure.

Then, after a few agonizing seconds of silence, he finally moved.

Slowly, deliberately, he unbuttoned his suit jacket, took it off, and draped it over her head, covering her completely.

Then he bent down, sliding one arm around her thin shoulders and the other under her knees, and lifted her smoothly into his arms.

The moment her body left the ground, the numbness in her legs peaked. It felt like millions of tiny insects were stinging her from the inside out. And of course, Cen Sen just had to adjust his grip, jostling her, making it ten times worse. Was he doing it on purpose?

He'd cleared the bathroom, so it was silent inside. But the moment they stepped out, the noise rushed back; a chaotic mix of chatter, laughter, and the rumble of suitcase wheels.

Deeply self-conscious, Ji Mingshu felt like everyone was pointing and whispering at her. For now, she couldn’t care about the inevitable mockery she'd face from Cen Sen later, her body instinctively curled deeper into his chest, arms looped around his neck, silent and timid as a quail.

Cen Sen smelled faintly of fir. Clean, sharp, cool. Pressed against him, Ji Mingshu found herself breathing it in.

Cen Sen noticed, glancing down at her, but said nothing.

Outside, Jiang Chun was handing over their luggage to Zhou Jiaheng. Seeing Cen Sen carrying a completely covered-up Ji Mingshu in a full-on, maximum-boyfriend-power princess carry, she felt a stab of pure envy. In her head, she internally gave her ex, Yan Yu, two big, imaginary scissors.

She'd always thought Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen were the classic arranged marriage couple. Put on a show when needed, ignore each other the rest of the time.

But witnessing this scene, she realised jealousy had blinded her. Making assumptions about someone else's unhappy marriage without knowing anything was… so vicious. She was a kind person, really! When had she become so vicious?

All the way to the parking garage, Jiang Chun walked behind them, deep in self-reflection.

Settling into the backseat of her car, she watched as Cen Sen carried Ji Mingshu into their vehicle and drove away. She tore off the couple's watch matching Yan Yu's from her wrist, fuming. Another day, another lemon tree blooming. Die, scumbag. Die.

---

Outside, the sun was a blinding sheet of gold. It was mid summer in the capital, the heat searing, the air thick and dry.

In the car, Ji Mingshu stayed silent, her head still covered by Cen Sen's jacket.

Cen Sen left her to it, taking calls with business partners.

He'd just finished a work call when the family line rang. He glanced at the caller ID, then at Ji Mingshu, and put it on speaker.

"A-Sen! Did you pick up Xiao Shu?"

Hearing Old Madam Cen’s robust voice, Ji Mingshu's ears perked up.

Cen Sen hummed in acknowledgment. "Got her."

“Then hurry over!” Old Madam Cen urged. “Nanny Zhou made a feast today, all your favorites!"

Wait. Dinner at Nanqiao Hutong? In her current stinking, wretched state? No way! 

Ji Mingshu's head popped out from under the jacket, shaking it frantically at Cen Sen.

Cen Sen just looked at her, his gaze level, saying nothing.

Thinking fast, Ji Mingshu scooted closer and tentatively started kneading his shoulders and patting his back.

After enjoying about fifteen seconds of this amateur massage, Cen Sen switched the phone to his other hand. "Grandma, I have a last-minute meeting tonight, and Xiao Shu is jet-lagged and a bit tired. She's already asleep in the car."

"Oh, I see." The old lady was understanding. "Then you take Xiao Shu home to rest first. Come another time."

"Mn."

“Don’t work too hard. Take care of yourself,” Old Madam Cen added.

Cen Sen agreed with another "Mn."

Only when the call ended did Ji Mingshu finally relax, immediately cease her massage and retreat to her side of the seat as if nothing had happened.

Cen Sen, accustomed to her convenient displays of affection, didn't seem fazed. Ji Mingshu, however, felt a tiny pang of guilt and kept her face glued to the window, refusing to turn around.

But the more she watched the scenery fly by, the more she realized something was off.

Wait, isn't this already the way back to Mingshui Manor?

She whipped her head around to glare at Cen Sen, but he'd already leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed, resting.

He'd been out of town on business for the past two days, only flying back to the capital from Xingcheng two hours ago. Getting off the airport expressway, he'd gotten a call from Nanqiao Hutong and learned Ji Mingshu was returning today.

He had Zhou Jiaheng check the flight times. Coincidentally, the flight from Paris had just landed.

So, he instructed the driver to turn back to the airport, planning to pick up Ji Mingshu and go to Nanqiao Hutong for dinner together.

He'd originally stayed in the car and sent Zhou Jiaheng in to get her. But instead of retrieving Ji Mingshu, Zhou Jiaheng had called him, and the next thing he heard was a girl's voice on the other end shouting, "President Cen! Your wife is trapped in the men's room and can't get out!"

Recalling the scene, Cen Sen rubbed his brow reflexively.

By the time they reached Mingshui Manor, dusk was falling. Ji Mingshu, still wrapped in the suit jacket, marched inside, sunglasses firmly on, lips pressed tight.

She took the stairs fast, heading straight for the master bath to run a shower.

Cen Sen glanced up at the sound of running water, then continued changing his shoes.

He was just getting water from the fridge when a miserable shriek echoed from upstairs. "Aaaaaahhh!!!"

It wasn't a scream of fear or an accident. Though only one long syllable, Cen Sen could clearly decipher the profound despair and regret woven into it: "How could I have done something so stupid??", "My glorious reputation, ruined in a single day!!", "Mom, let me die again!!!"

He gave a quiet chuckle and took another sip of water.

Cen Sen held a video conference downstairs for another two hours.

Hearing no further sound from upstairs, he went up to check and found Ji Mingshu still holed up in the bathroom.

He knocked on the door. “Ji Mingshu?”

“What.”

"Developing an addiction to staying in bathrooms?”

The moment the words left his mouth, the glass door slid open with force.

Ji Mingshu stood there with a towel wrapped around her hair and another around her body. Without makeup, her face was clean and fresh, tinged pink from the steam. Her collarbones, arms, and calves were pale and delicate, giving her an odd touch of innocent and alluring.

She walked out barefoot, deliberately stepping right up to him. "Smell me. Do I still stink?"

She couldn't tell if the men's room had permanently ruined her sense of smell, but she felt like she reeked from head to toe.

Cen Sen's voice dropped slightly "There's still a smell."

"?"

Ji Mingshu immediately tried to sniff herself again.

Cen Sen, having gone days without release, wasn't exactly resistant to temptation. His Adam's apple bobbed. Suddenly, he pulled her close, one hand sliding down her back from her spine to the base of her tailbone as he murmured against her ear. "Trying to bribe me?"

"???"

What kind of logic is that?

Ji Mingshu's mind blanked for a second. Then the world spun; she was lifted into the air and then thrown onto the bed.

It wasn't until she was under him, a chill spreading on her skin as her towel came loose, that she understood. He thought she was deliberately seducing him, bribing him, into never mentioning the men's restroom incident again???

Great. Truly a top graduate from Harvard. What excellent logic. Why hadn't she thought of that?

Ji Mingshu wrapped her arms around Cen Sen's neck and asked righteously, "So, if I'm bribing you, will you accept?"

Desire was plain in his eyes. His voice was a rough, low growl.

"I accept."

The bribe turned out to be rather substantial.

Ji Mingshu felt like she'd been thoroughly wined and dined, ravaged to the brink and back several times. She'd already soaked in the bath for ages before this, and somehow the battlefield had migrated back to the bathroom. After two back-to-back soaking sessions, she now felt like a prune.

Late at night, Ji Mingshu woke up. Cen Sen wasn't beside her.

She was hungry.

She'd come home, showered, and then "serviced the benefactor." Now she was in bed, her stomach practically touching her spine.

After about five minutes of struggling, she dragged her wobbly legs down the stairs to find something to eat. As she descended, a delicious aroma wafted up from the kitchen island.

Looking over, she saw Cen Sen, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, was plating something with a clean, practiced motion.

"That smells amazing, what are you making?" She hurried over. "Ribs and rice?"

Cen Sen hummed in assent, rolling his sleeves down and carrying the beautifully plated dish towards the dining table.

Ji Mingshu followed, eyes wide and hopeful.

Cen Sen glanced back at her. "I didn't make you any."

"?"

"Why?"

The second the words left her mouth, she knew it was a mistake. She braced herself for him to deliver some cheesy R-rated novel line: ‘Heh. Little vixen. Didn’t I satisfy you enough earlier?’

But reality, as always, was far less dramatic. The thought had barely flickered through her mind when Cen Sen spoke.

"I figured after spending all that time in the men's room, you wouldn't have much of an appetite."

Is this what he called ‘accepting’ her bribe?

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