My Queen, My Rules - 19

Attentive

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As the saying goes, three women together can stage a whole drama. With Ji Mingshu, Gu Kaiyang, and Jiang Chun gathered in one place, the production might as well have been titled Close Friends in a Republic-Era Spy Thriller.

Li Wenyin hadn’t even set off from across the ocean, yet Gu Kaiyang and Jiang Chun had already drafted a whole list of tricky interview questions meant to make her suffer.

Since Gu Kaiyang only knew Li Wenyin in a one-sided way through Ji Mingshu’s occasional grumblings, and theoretically, Li Wenyin probably didn’t even know she was Ji Mingshu’s close friend, Jiang Chun went a step further and assigned Gu Kaiyang a spy role: infiltrate the enemy camp to uncover the real purpose behind Li Wenyin’s return and any backup plans she might have.

But the role came with an extremely high difficulty level and a near-certain risk of immediate exposure. Both Ji Mingshu and Gu Kaiyang voted it down.

While the three of them clutched their vicious supporting-female-character scripts and relentlessly dissed the white-lotus heroine Li Wenyin, the cover shoot wrapped up before they knew it.

After the shoot, the actress took a few sips of water through a straw, leaned over to check the shots on the camera, and exchanged a few words with the photographer.

Turning around and spotting Gu Kaiyang and Ji Mingshu, she smiled and walked over to greet them—and Jiang Chun, whom she didn’t know.

The actress was Meng Xiaowei. She was smooth and socially adept, with high emotional intelligence.

Her fashion connections were solid; she and Gu Kaiyang were semi-acquainted, and she often ran into Ji Mingshu at various fashion shows, exhibitions, and galas.

Ji Mingshu had a fairly good impression of her. They weren’t from the same circle, but they could still hold a conversation.

As they chatted, Meng Xiaowei suddenly remembered something. “Oh, right, Mingshu, you studied interior design in college, didn’t you? I heard you did Chris Chou’s Milan show a couple of years back. That show was amazing; it left a big impression on me.”

Having someone praise the only truly presentable work since her graduation naturally pleased Ji Mingshu immensely.

But to maintain the demeanor of ‘Young Miss Ji, who is praised daily and long used to it,’ she only gave a light, nonchalant laugh and offered a few breezy, modest words.

Meng Xiaowei continued, “Actually, my friend is a variety show producer at Xingcheng TV. They’re planning a new design-focused show called Designer’s Abode. It pairs non-celebrity designers with celebrities to collaborate on interior projects.

“They originally invited a designer from Taiwan, but she has some problematic political views, so the production team wants to replace her. I think you’d be perfect for it. I just don’t know if you’d be interested.”

Ji Mingshu blinked. “A space design show? Me?”

“Yes! Mingshu, you’re so talented, and your looks are so outstanding. I’m sure the production team will be thrilled with you.”

Meng Xiaowei smiled sweetly, her eyes full of sincerity.

Gu Kaiyang & Jiang Chun: “…”

Usually, they only remembered to praise Little Canary Ji’s looks and forgot to mention her substance. They had truly lost, miserably, at the art of flattery this time.

Exchanging a look, they both silently resolved to reflect deeply on this.

Meng Xiaowei continued her persuasion, each compliment landing perfectly on Ji Mingshu’s sweet spot without seeming overly grating.

Moreover, her eyes were especially persuasive. When she looked at someone while speaking, she seemed extraordinarily sincere. With that skill, she could probably talk someone into believing the dead were alive. If she sold health supplements, she’d be the annual sales champion.

It had been quite a while since Ji Mingshu heard praise delivered so exquisitely. She felt a little floaty, but she’d seen enough of the world not to just agree to anything at the first bit of flattery.

Their social circles actually brushed right up against the entertainment industry. If they wanted to debut as celebrities, it wouldn’t be so difficult.

In the past, old-money families were conservative, looking down on performers and absolutely forbidding their children from appearing in public.

But times had changed. In recent years, massive capital had flowed into the entertainment industry. Many of the so-called ‘performers’ despised by the older generation had started playing the capital game, and some were playing it very well, with a portion of them clearly emerging as new money.

In a society where money reigned supreme, those with wealth and resources called the shots. An empty shell of old-family prestige, with no substance behind it, commanded no real respect.

Besides, since the nineties, power had shifted and reshuffled. In cities like Beijing and Shanghai, there was hardly any traditional old money left.

Seeing Ji Mingshu fall silent, Meng Xiaowei thought she might have concerns about being on camera and added gently, “The program requires a certain quota of non-celebrity participants, but the screen time actually allocated won’t be that much. You can rest assured about that.”

“I just really think this show suits you. And there’ll be other designers joining too. You might find it interesting.”

“Anyway, think it over. If you’re interested, just let me know anytime.” She turned and waved to her CP partner. “Li Che, come here a sec.”

Li Che was a relatively well-known fresh-faced idol over the past two years, the only male star who could maintain a fanbase even while tied up in a CP pairing. His official age was twenty-four; actually twenty-six. But he had a clean, boy-next-door look with a sunny vibe that made him appear younger than his age.

Li Che walked over, drinking water as he came.

When he reached them, Meng Xiaowei introduced him to Ji Mingshu. “This is my friend, Li Che. He’s joining Designer’s Abode too. You should get to know each other; maybe you’ll get to work together in the future.”

Then she introduced Ji Mingshu to Li Che. “This is Miss Ji Mingshu, a very talented interior designer.”

Li Che smiled and extended a hand. “Hi, I’m Li Che.”

“A pleasure. Ji Mingshu.”

Li Che was polite, giving only a light, brief handshake before greeting Gu Kaiyang and Jiang Chun just as courteously.

The two celebrities had other schedules to attend to, so they didn’t chat for long. Before leaving, Ji Mingshu gave Meng Xiaowei an answer: “I’ll think about the show and let you know.”

Meng Xiaowei nodded agreeably.

Evening came. Sunset hues flowed slowly across the sky, the colors deepening, tinged with a faint ambiguity, gentle and lingering.

Cen Sen’s car pulled up right on time outside the Zero Degree magazine office.

Ji Mingshu had been out all day in high heels and was exhausted. As soon as she got into the car, she asked, “What’s for dinner?”

Cen Sen said, “We’ll cook at home.”

“You’ll cook?”

Cen Sen glanced at her but didn’t respond. His expression, however, clearly retorted: Who else would?

Ji Mingshu was speechless for a second, rubbing her calf. “What are you making?”

“Stir-fried bamboo shoots, blanched lettuce, braised pork ribs.”

Braised pork ribs?

Her stomach growled a little louder.

Cen Sen hadn’t had much work today. Before picking up Ji Mingshu, he’d detoured to a supermarket and sent Zhou Jiaheng to buy groceries, specifically instructing him to get tender ribs.

Back at Mingshui Manor, Ji Mingshu lounged on the sofa scrolling through her phone, occasionally peeking toward the kitchen to check on the braised ribs’ progress.

She had to admit this Dog Man was smart. He’d always learned faster than anyone else. After joining the group, he quickly demonstrated exceptional work ability. Even cooking at home, he looked clean and skilled.

From a distance, his tall, lean figure standing by the kitchen island formed a picturesque scene of its own.

Up close, his shirt cuffs were rolled up, forming soft folds. His hands were slender, his knuckles defined, and he handled the ingredients with swift, almost aesthetic efficiency. It was pleasing to watch.

Ji Mingshu lived simply: good food, good drinks, money to spend—and she was content.

When the braised ribs were served, she enthusiastically took a photo, added a food filter, and posted it to her Moments with the caption: Hubby’s ribs / heart.

One could say this was the first time she had genuinely shown off real marital affection, after two years of her million-dollar editor wildly photoshopping their pictures.

She ate with equal relish. Although she picked up each small piece with refined restraint, her speed was second to none. Before she knew it, she’d polished off the entire plate by herself.

From start to finish, it never occurred to her to wonder why Cen Sen had, uncharacteristically, offered to pick her up that day, or why, after picking her up, he’d volunteered to cook her favorite braised ribs.

It wasn’t until later that night, when they were watching a movie in the home theater and Cen Sen pressed her down and started getting handsy, that Ji Mingshu faintly sensed his true motive.

Now that she thought about it, it really had been a while since they’d last done it.

For some reason, when Cen Sen kissed her, Ji Mingshu found him… irresistibly sexy in a restrained way. His kisses fell densely, his breath warm, and the back of her ears involuntarily flushed.

It felt strange.

Before, Ji Mingshu hadn’t disliked his closeness. He was clean, never rough; intimacy never felt uncomfortable with him.

But she wouldn’t say she particularly liked it or craved it either. It was more like fulfilling a marital duty, a monthly check-in.

This time, though, being with him, she felt a little delight, a little shyness.

Especially when she saw desire churning in his eyes, the rims tinged red, that delight and shyness seemed to deepen unconsciously.

Late at night, in the steam-filled bathroom, Ji Mingshu was held in Cen Sen’s arms as they showered together.

Her body felt sore and tired. She wasn’t sleepy, but curled in Cen Sen’s embrace, she kept yawning, again and again, until tears welled up.

“Sleepy?”

“Not sleepy.”

Perhaps intimacy strengthened dependence and attachment. The thing she’d been holding back for days suddenly surfaced, and she said it with full conviction.

Poking Cen Sen’s Adam’s apple, she asked, “That day Shu Yang said your ex was coming back. Today Gu Kaiyang told me their magazine is doing a feature on your ex. What are your thoughts?”

“Li Wenyin?”

“You remember the name pretty clearly.”

Cen Sen paused. “I have no thoughts.”

Ji Mingshu wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but forcing him to make some strange promise would only make it seem like she cared too much, too pathetic.

After thinking for a moment, she emphasized, “Better be. If you dare cheat and I find out, I’ll divorce you. Just wait and see.”

Cen Sen found that he didn’t like hearing the word divorce. He gave a vague “Mm,” not wanting to dwell on the topic.

They’d soaked long enough. He drained the tub, stood, wrapped Ji Mingshu in a thick, soft robe, and lifted her out.

On the way back to bed, Cen Sen noticed Ji Mingshu’s lowered lashes, her fingers toying with the robe’s tie. She didn’t look happy.

For some reason, after setting her down, he kept one hand on her waist and braced the other beside her ear, suddenly returning to the earlier topic. “You said it yourself, she’s an ex-girlfriend. You should know I’m not someone who likes revisiting the past.”

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