My Queen, My Rules - 15

Dispute

---

…?

For several seconds, Ji Mingshu couldn't comprehend what Gu Kaiyang was saying.

At the name ‘Zhang Baoshu’, only the character ‘Shu’, which was homophonic with her name, left a faint trailing echo in her mind.

“What? Who and Cen Sen?”

The question had just left her lips when she remembered Gu Kaiyang’s modifier—that shameless woman.

Her expression froze, and then, without a word, she took a phone from her bag and opened Weibo.

The news hadn’t spread publicly yet; there was no trace of it on her homepage. Besides, Zhang Baoshu was, at best, a D-list celebrity. Who would bother caring about the love life of such an obscure minor star without paid promotion?

Ji Mingshu stared at the search bar, unsure what to type, momentarily lost.

When had she first become consciously aware she would one day enter a marriage of alliance? She couldn’t quite recall.

Nor could she remember when the sordid affairs of the wealthy elite had become numbingly ordinary to her.

There were just far too many such stories.

In her own Ji family, the uncle she’d always respected kept three mistresses on the side, one of whom was three years younger than her.

Her aunt never interfered, always maintaining a feudal first-wife stance of ‘you can fly as many colorful flags as you want outside, but the red flag at home must never fall.’

Her parents, who left behind only the vaguest impressions, bore no resemblance to the loving couple she had once subconsciously imagined either.

As an adult, she learned by chance that her birth had served merely as proof of functional fertility, an obligation fulfilled for their respective families. Afterward, they washed their hands of her entirely.

Later, they died in an accident during a trip staged to feign marital bliss—a belated karmic retribution, perhaps.

To outsiders, Ji Mingshu was an orphan who had lost both parents, yet her uncles and aunts doted on her excessively, cherishing her like a pearl in their palms. What incredible fortune she must've cultivated in a past life.

And it was true. Both uncles treated her like their own daughter. Growing up, none of her cousins had lived with her level of luxury and comfort.

But she'd also known from an early age that ‘like their own’ wasn’t the same as being ‘their own’. This kindness came at a price: her future marriage.

So when she married Cen Sen, she was already prepared for a loveless union meant simply to endure.

No abundant love, but abundant money. In a way, it seemed fair.

Yet standing here now, suddenly learning of her husband’s infidelity, she felt first bewildered, then strangely panicked and hurt.

“Shushu, you… don’t cry, please don’t cry…” Gu Kaiyang coaxed her softly, flustered and stumbling over her words. Seeing Ji Mingshu sway slightly, she hurriedly helped her sit on the sofa.

Ji Mingshu wasn’t on the verge of tears. Sitting, she instinctively crossed her legs to one side, placed her hands lightly on her knees, and straightened her back, assuming her usual elegant posture. Only her gaze was vacant, her hands trembled faintly.

After about a minute, she suddenly said, “Show me what was caught.”

Gu Kaiyang didn’t move.

Ji Mingshu: “It’s fine. Show me.”

If she wanted to see it, it was only a matter of time. Gu Kaiyang knew this well. After a long silence, her fingers finally moved.

The leak consisted of a video and several photos. The headline, in fact, had nothing to do with Cen Sen. It claimed Zhang Baoshu was having a late-night secret rendezvous with First Young Master Zhang of Fengchang Cultural Tourism, describing them as ‘intimate’ and ‘suspected to be dating’.

The accompanying article detailed Fengchang Cultural Tourism’s substantial background and Young Master Zhang’s illustrious record of romantic conquests. But among the evidence, aside from blurry, unidentifiable paparazzi shots, the rest were ten consecutive photos of Zhang Baoshu and Cen Sen in front of a car.

The paparazzo’s professionalism was clearly lacking, failing to distinguish between Zhang Qi and Cen Sen, yet penning thousands of words of analysis with gusto.

The photos didn’t capture Cen Sen’s face directly, but his car model, the wedding ring and watch on his hand, his smiling profile, and Zhou Jiaheng standing not far away were all strong identifiers.

And Ji Mingshu, who knew his touch intimately, recognized his figure at a glance.

He was actually smiling.

Smiling at some minor celebrity whose name she’d never even heard.

Was he always this gentle and considerate with other women? Did he tell them in bed that his wife was just a boring trophy?

Ji Mingshu’s mind felt like it was about to explode.

Seeing the images was entirely different from just hearing the news.

There was also a video of them spending an intimate eight hours at Zhang Baoshu’s apartment. Ji Mingshu had no courage left to click on it. Her hand holding the phone trembled; she didn’t know how she controlled herself from hurling it against the wall.

She suddenly remembered their wedding. To comply with their families’ demands, they held a traditional Chinese ceremony she hated.

At the time, she thought, she didn’t like the man anyway, what did the wedding style matter? Just make do.

She’d been nonchalant and accepting then. And before the wedding, she and Cen Sen had agreed on three rules for their married life.

The first rule was: their image as a loving couple must never crack. No matter what they did outside, they could never cause a scandal that openly humiliated the other.

Cen Sen’s assurance back then had been brief: just two words, “I won’t.” And she’d believed him.

Who would have thought that in just three short years, this solemn promise would derail.

Who would have thought that when this moment truly arrived, her heart would ache with a dull, swelling pain. It wasn’t just the shock and anger of being publicly humiliated by this dog man; more than that, it was a stifling sensation akin to grievances and suffocating heaviness. If asked to articulate it, she couldn’t.

Seeing her like this, Gu Kaiyang felt wretched too.

They met while studying abroad. Gu Kaiyang was the poor student whose family had scraped together everything to send her overseas, leaving no room for slacking. Ji Mingshu was the celebrated darling of fortune.

When Gu Kaiyang first arrived, she'd heard rumors in the international student circle: Ji Mingshu from Interior Design had casually bought an apartment just to achieve the best effect for her project. They said her family background was impossibly lofty.

As a wide-eyed freshman back then, Gu Kaiyang had been awestruck. She’d never would've imagined the legendary figure everyone talked about would actively seek her out.

In all their years of friendship, Ji Mingshu had always been the brightest star in the sky.

Spending time with Ji Mingshu, Gu Kaiyang felt that the existence of such beauty in the world was a wondrous thing.

She never wanted to see the day that star fell.

She walked silently to Ji Mingshu’s side, wanting to offer some comfort.

But Ji Mingshu didn’t lift her head, just murmured, “Let me be.”

Gu Kaiyang turned to look out the window, pressed a hand to her forehead, dragged it down her face, and exhaled soundlessly.

After a moment, she quietly left the office.

As she left, she kept the door cracked only a sliver, not wanting anyone outside to see Ji Mingshu as she was now.

Her little fairy deserved to be forever beautiful and vibrant.

“Hey, wasn’t your group shooting the Zhang Baoshu and Eason duo cover today?”

In the heavy, low-pressure atmosphere of the editorial bullpen under Gu Kaiyang’s watch, someone barged in, tactlessly bringing up the sensitive topic.

Then, as if remembering something, the intruder added, “Right, could it be canceled because of that Zhang Baoshu thing? That man wasn’t Young Master Zhang, was he? It was President Cen from Junyi.” She looked at Gu Kaiyang. “Oh, isn’t President Cen the husband of that rich, pretty princess friend of yours? How can you just sit here? Shouldn’t you be comforting her? Or do these wealthy socialites actually enjoy a bit of greenery on their heads?”

The malice was palpable.

“Shi Qing, I don’t want to argue with you today. You’d better get out now.” Gu Kaiyang’s gaze shifted from her screen, landing coldly and dismissively on the newcomer, her words equally icy.

Where there’s work, there’s office politics. The rivalry between Gu Kaiyang and Shi Qing started from day one at the magazine, escalating from covert to overt, a bitter, seemingly endless feud.

Whenever Gu Kaiyang hung out with Ji Mingshu and work topics came up, she’d curse Shi Qing a few times. Over time, Ji Mingshu had also taken note of this person.

On a few occasions when they’d crossed paths at the magazine, Ji Mingshu had casually dissed Shi Qing’s outdated style, saying she was doomed to work on men’s magazines forever, leading to Shi Qing secretly being mocked around the office for a period.

While Shi Qing didn’t dare confront Ji Mingshu outright, she kept a meticulous mental tally, dreaming of the day she could make Gu Kaiyang and Ji Mingshu pay back every slight with interest.

Now was clearly that ‘day.’

“Truth hurts, does it? She’s not even here, why are you still brown-nosing? Just clinging to her money, aren’t you? Speaking of which, why hasn’t she hooked you up with some rich, handsome guy so you can marry into money too? Sounds easy. So what if you grow a little grass on your head? For money, what wouldn’t you sacrifice?”

Shi Qing was on a roll, her expression particularly ugly.

Gu Kaiyang slammed her keyboard down with a ‘smack’, ready to lunge and fight. A junior editor nearby hurriedly held her back, urging, “Sister Gu, forget it, just let it go.”

Shi Qing had been suppressed by Gu Kaiyang at the magazine all year. Finally having a chance to vent her resentment, she naturally intensified her attacks.

“You want to hit me? Go ahead! Come on, hit me!”

“What did I say that was wrong? Isn’t Ji Mingshu usually so arrogant? Looking down on everyone, all high and mighty, just because her husband has some stinking money? Don’t think I don’t know what she really is to the Ji family! The Ji family raising her is no different from raising ‘Yangzhou Thin Horse¹’, just with a more respectable title. What right does she have to act so superior? Does she dare get a divorce? Bet she won’t even dare squeak!”

(¹: It describes young girls, often from poor families, who were purchased, trained in arts, and then sold as concubines or entertainers to wealthy merchants and scholars.) 

Gu Kaiyang’s eyes reddened with rage. “Let go of me! Don’t any of you fucking hold me back! I swear if I don’t tear this bitch apart today, my surname isn’t Gu!!”

Before Gu Kaiyang’s words fully faded, the deputy editor’s office door was shoved open with a ‘bang!’

Ji Mingshu wore a pair of strappy high heels today. The heels were meticulously shaped into the brand’s logo letters, tapping a rhythmic click-clack on the marble floor. The satin ribbons, slightly lustrous, were tied around her slender, pale ankles, exuding a cold, refined beauty.

Clicking steadily in those heels, she walked up to Shi Qing. Her gaze traveled slowly from head to toe, then she reached out, tilting Shi Qing’s chin slightly.

“What exactly are you?”

She had reapplied her lipstick, a matte true red, her lip line flawless and precise. Her words were light, slow, and cold.

Just as Shi Qing had said, her very presence radiated an innate haughtiness.

Ji Mingshu: “Your bag is fake. Your ring is a T-brand knockoff commissioned from a picture. You have zero respect for design, how are you even qualified to work at a magazine?”

The moment she was exposed, Shi Qing’s mind went blank with a hum. Shame and anger flushed her skin red from behind her ears down her neck.

“You can’t stand me, is that it? So you jump at the chance to humiliate me the moment I falter? But remember this: no matter how far I, Ji Mingshu, might fall, it will never be your turn to comment.”

Her hand, tilting Shi Qing’s chin, abruptly released. As if finding it filthy, she casually pulled a tissue from a nearby desk and wiped her fingers.

The office fell dead silent.

After wiping her hands, Ji Mingshu put on her sunglasses, picked up the documents she’d printed in Gu Kaiyang’s office, and walked out without another expression.

---

← Previous | Table of Contents | Next →

0