My Queen, My Rules - 13
Heart
Inside the pub, the music still thumped, the lights still swirled, but that single slap seemed to carry its own spotlight. Every eye in the vicinity turned toward Ji Mingshu.
—Hear that? Sounds like it takes just one to me.
—It does. And loudly too.
The onlookers silently agreed.
The little white lotus recently starred in a low-budget historical idol web drama. A brainless, fun little show, not much in the way of logic, but it had generated a considerable buzz. It was a modest hit, and as the second female lead, her face was now vaguely familiar.
When all the heads turned, many recognized her. The furtive clicks of phone cameras mingled with the rising tide of whispers.
Honestly, no one cared much about the reason for the slap. They were more shocked that someone had thrown hands at Young Master Zhang’s birthday party. Was this chick trying to show him up, or just looking for trouble?
Zhang Baoshu, sitting not far away, was completely stunned.
Earlier, from a distance, she hadn't been able to make out Ji Mingshu's face. Now, seeing her up close, she found herself, unconsciously, agreeing with Cen Sen's words that night.
With a luminous pearl beside you, who needs the flicker of a firefly?
And so, amidst all the noise and chaos, a strange silence descended, stretching for a good ten seconds.
The little white lotus's friend snapped out of it first. She threw a protective arm around her and jabbed a finger at Ji Mingshu. "What's your problem?! Who do you think you are, hitting someone like that?!"
"Yeah!" another friend chimed in. "Can't you use your words like a civilized person? Have you no manners?!"
The little white lotus herself stayed silent, just biting her lip, putting on a pitiful, confused act.
But recognition soon dawned. That day in Paris, this was the woman who'd stood up for Jiang Chun, who'd forced Yan Yu to apologize.
Back then, Yan Yu had backed down. So this woman... probably had some serious backgrounds.
At this thought, she pressed her lips together, lowered her head, and said nothing. She executed the classic white lotus playbook in one seamless performance.
Her friends, oblivious, continued their righteous indignation, as if they’d suffered a great injustice, taking turns to boldly demand an explanation from Ji Mingshu.
Ji Mingshu didn't even glance at them. She took the warm towel Little Earth Goose had miraculously produced from somewhere and wiped her hands in slow, deliberate motions. Every line of her face, every arch of her eyebrow, radiated an unapologetic arrogance: I’ll slap you if I want to. What are you gonna do about it?
If anyone here had ever dealt with Cen Sen, they might have noticed: The couple shared that same lofty contempt, as if dealing with the lesser species.
Within moments, Zhang Lin came over upon hearing the commotion.
The little white lotus's friend, ever the opportunist, immediately switched to a sweeter tone. "Boss Zhang, what’s with this girl? She just walks up and starts hitting people, and on your birthday, too! Isn’t this just disrespecting you?"
Zhang Lin's skin crawled for a second at her cloying tone. He looked left and right, trying to figure out how these completely unrelated women had ended up in a conflict.
Thankfully, he hadn't started drinking yet. His mind was clear. Once he'd figured out who'd hit whom, he breathed a sigh of relief.
He turned to Ji Mingshu, all solicitous concerns. "Sister Shu, your hand okay? Does it hurt? Should I have someone bring some ointment?”
Ji Mingshu laughed softly. "I'm fine. Sorry about this. It's your birthday. I should've just let it go."
She really hadn't meant to crash his party. But as luck would have it, she and Jiang Chun had been on their way to the bathroom, and that little white lotus's bitchy little "it takes two hands to clap" comment had landed right in her ear. She'd acted without thinking.
Zhang Lin waved a dismissive hand. "Pfft, it's no big deal! Sis, as long as you're happy, that's all that matters!"
He summoned a server for a fresh towel for Ji Mingshu to wrap her hand in, a stream of flattering nonsense pouring from his lips.
In between, he glanced at the little white lotus and her friends. He didn’t do anything to them, after all, it was his birthday, He didn't want to kill the vibe completely.
But some people just don't know when to quit. Ji Mingshu was ready to let it go, but as she turned away, someone behind her made a point of letting out a loud, disdainful snort.
Ji Mingshu paused mid-step and looked back.
It was the little white lotus's friend, her nose turned high, refusing to meet Ji Mingshu's eyes.
The little white lotus herself was still clutching her slapped cheek, tears welling dramatically in her eyes, yet never falling.
Ji Mingshu found it amusing. "You're a mistress. Did you really think you'd never get slapped? Your professional attitude is seriously lacking.”
Zhang Lin's affable mask slipped. He turned, scowling at the group. "What is wrong with you people? Who the hell brought this trash in? Are you trying to jinx the next decade of my life? It's my birthday, and you're over here acting like someone died. What did I ever do to you?"
Startled, the little white lotus's perfectly calibrated tears finally spilled over.
Zhang Lin was so angry he saw stars. He gave up on words, just gesturing wildly for someone to get this bad luck omens the hell out of his sight.
The surrounding crowd was dead silent. Whether they were just processing what had happened or simply awed by Zhang Lin's gloriously illogical double standard, no one could say.
---
Jiang Chun didn't come back to earth until the party was long over.
She pulled Ji Mingshu aside and asked, blunt as ever. "Why is Zhang Lin fawning all over you like that? Isn’t the Zhang family pretty powerful? They don't need to suck up to anyone. It was honestly embarrassing to watch."
"His brother doesn't have to," Ji Mingshu said lightly. "But he's not Madam Zhang's son."
Jiang Chun's face went blank. "Wait, what? He's not? But... isn’t he really doted on in the Zhang family?"
"Being doted on and being illegitimate aren't mutually exclusive. Didn't you take logic?"
“Nope,” Jiang Chun replied in earnest.
Ji Mingshu choked back a retort, asking, "How long have you lived in Beijing? How do you know nothing?"
She was genuinely astonished by this Little Earth Goose’s ignorance.
But Jiang Chun wore her ignorance like a badge of honor. She clung to Ji Mingshu's arm, adopting a 'I'm clueless and proud of it’ expression. "No one ever told me before! You know everything, you should teach me!"
"No."
"You stood up for me! Aren't we best friends now? Haven't you heard the saying, 'Once a sister, sisters for life'?"
Never heard of it. And who said I'm sisters with you, you Little Earth Goose.
Ji Mingshu shot her a look of ‘please cease this friendship fraud immediately’.
But Jiang Chun clung tighter, even threatening to tell everyone about the men's room incident, and physically dragged her toward her car, insisting on showing off the luxury apartment she'd bought in the city center.
All the way there, Jiang Chun pestered Ji Mingshu for high society secrets, listening with her mouth hanging open.
In the elevator to her apartment, they were discussing a famously "perfect" couple in their circle.
Jiang Chun gasped. "Is it really that messy? I thought they were so in love! So, if what you're saying is true, everyone's just... using each other? No one's actually in love?"
Ji Mingshu was about to nod, to share the harsh truth that reality was a mess, when—
Jiang Chun swiped her elevator card, then corrected herself. "No, that's not right. You and Cen Sen are great. He obviously adores you."
…?
For once, Ji Mingshu was at a loss for words.
---
Jiang Chun's apartment wasn't far from Bocui Tianhua. About ten minutes by car. The same prime location, but the commercial district was denser here, noisier at night.
Jiang Chun loved it, though. All her favorite bubble tea shops were within a 500-meter radius.
The moment she walked in, Ji Mingshu was struck dumb.
Jiang Chun proudly gave her the tour. "So? What do you think? Look here, and here. I had a designer redo everything. It came as a 'luxury finish,' but the original layout was so ugly and impractical."
"Could anything be uglier than what you changed it to?” Ji Mingshu stared at a wall of closet doors covered in plastic flowers straight out of a 90s rural wedding. "Are you planning to run a countryside inn here?”
Looking at the monstrosity Jiang Chun treasured so dearly, she didn't even know where to step.
Jiang Chun, stubbornly proud, dragged her reluctant visitor around, trying to convince her of the apartment's merits and reform her elite aesthetic.
Ji Mingshu stopped in front of the bookshelf. She scanned the titles: My Private Beauty Secrets, How to Win His Heart, The Making of an Elegant Woman, 100 Ways to Raise Your EQ, The Cold-Hearted CEO’s Scatterbrained Angel…
Seeing Ji Mingshu's gaze land on the one with "CEO" in the title, Jiang Chun actually pulled it out and shoved it into her hands. "The title's a bit much, I know, but it's actually pretty good. Give it a try."
Ji Mingshu recoiled as if from a plague. "Get that away from me. I don't read this stuff. What is wrong with your taste?"
Jiang Chun: “Really? What girl doesn’t read romance novels? You’re so weird.”
I read romance novels, just not this ancient, brainless fluff! Ji Mingshu silently retorted, her face a careful blank.
Jiang Chun wasn't giving up. "I mostly read on my phone now. You should download the Jinjiang app. The stories there are pretty good."
Ji Mingshu didn't respond.
After the tour from hell, they collapsed on the couch to chat.
Ji Mingshu never had much concept of time. As long as she wasn’t tired, she could stay up till dawn.
It was Jiang Chun who suddenly pointed out, "Hey, it's almost midnight. Shouldn't you text your husband? Let him know you're out late? He'll be worried."
Ji Mingshu's immediate internal response was, “He's not my boss, why the hell would I report to him?” But to preserve Little Earth Goose's last shred of faith in marital bliss, she hummed perfunctorily and opened WeChat.
Her chat history with Cen Sen was still on that string of over-the-top compliments.
Jiang Chun caught a glimpse, not catching the whole thing. She sighed, amazed and envious. "I had no idea your husband is so sweet with words."
Ji Mingshu: “…”
She considered: if she directly followed Jiang Chun’s suggestion and informed Cen Sen she would be late, his logical brain would probably conclude she was sending a cryptic SOS and been kidnapped.
So. How to bring it up naturally?
She remembered the noodles he'd made.
Ji Mingshu: [What did you eat tonight, yam?]
She admired her handiwork. Perfect. A normal, casual opener. Nothing weirdly enthusiastic about it. And the cute tone would give Jiang Chun the illusion of a deeply affectionate marriage.
About three minutes later, Cen Sen actually replied.
Cen Sen: [Didn't eat yam.]
Jiang Chun's eyes went heart-shaped. "Oh my god, your husband is so adorable! So this is what he's like in private? I would never have guessed!”
She quickly nudged Ji Mingshu. "He says he didn't eat! He's totally angling for you to comfort him! Quick, say something back!"
Ji Mingshu's spine tingled. This version of Cen Sen was so unexpectedly cute it felt like his account had been hacked.
Then another message came through.
Cen Sen: [Ate bamboo shoots.]
Jiang Chun and Ji Mingshu: “…”
An awkward silence filled the ugly apartment. They simultaneously went through a series of mental stages: complete bewilderment, a dawning comprehension, and finally, full realization.
They looked at each other for a long three seconds. In Jiang Chun's eyes, Ji Mingshu saw a complex cocktail of emotions: superiority and disbelief. They clearly said, ‘Don’t ever call me rustic anymore, your husband is more rustic than me’, and ‘Doesn't your husband’s job require him to be, you know, online?’
Well, I’ll be damned.
Feeling humble.jpg
---
There was a business dinner with Japanese partners tonight. Half the dishes were local, half catered to the clients' tastes. Cen Sen hadn't cared for most of it, only taking a few bites of the braised bamboo shoots.
The dinner ended late. The cold wind blew away most of the alcohol's haze. No stars dotted the night sky.
When he got home, he found Ji Mingshu was already there.
Earlier, when she'd textedhe’d asked Zhou Jiaheng where the young lady had been that evening.
Zhou Jiaheng said she’d attended Zhang Lin’s birthday party and later went to Jiang Chun’s apartment.
Cen Sen had assumed she wouldn't be back tonight. Party animal that she was.
Ji Mingshu hadn't planned to come back, honestly. But one, Jiang Chun's apartment was too ugly to sleep in, and two, she'd finally gotten some dirt on Cen Sen and wanted to lie in wait so she could mock him properly.
Who would have thought she'd fell asleep while reading in bed after her shower?
Cen Sen glanced at her but paid her no mind.
After his shower, she'd shifted, now taking up most of the bed in a new, sprawling position. Her phone was still clutched tightly in her hand.
He walked over, easily picked her up, rearranged her into a more civilized sleeping posture, and reached for the phone.
That's when she woke up.
Bleary-eyed, she looked at him, then at the screen. Not fully conscious, she just rolled over and went back to sleep.
The roll loosened her grip on the phone. And that one glance had been enough for facial recognition to unlock it.
When Cen Shen picked it up, the screen was still on the webpage she'd been reading before falling asleep.
Well, not exactly a webpage. It was a pushed ad for one of those trashy novels.
Cen Sen glanced at it.
"When Shangguan Haoran took Mu Ziwei's corneas and kidneys, Mu Ziwei’s heart had already died. Three years later, Mu Ziwei returned to City B, wanting nothing but a quiet life. But the cold, hard, ruthless Empire's Commander held her close. 'Woman, you think you can escape? Not in this lifetime.' Fear filled Mu Ziwei’s eyes. ‘You’ve taken my corneas and my kidneys, isn’t that enough?' 'No,' he said. 'I want your heart.'..."
Cen Sen paused. Then, for reasons unknown even to himself, he tapped on the first image and scrolled through.
Ji Mingshu seemed to be sleeping restlessly. She'd rolled one way, then back. Now she was curled up, her little blanket wrapped tight, one bare arm flung out, her hand resting protectively over her heart.
Cen Sen: “…”
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