My Queen, My Rules - 2

Sleep

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At Ji Mingshu's retort, silence descended over the car once again, and the atmosphere in the back seat grew even more strained.

The driver barely dared to breathe. After dropping Gu Kaiyang off at Xinggang International, he made a U-turn and headed toward Mingshui Manor in the northern part of the city.

The night sky, washed clean by rain, was a deep, unadulterated black. The Bentley glided along the elevated highway. Neither Ji Mingshu nor Cen Sen spoke again for the rest of the drive.

Villa Thirteen at Mingshui Manor was their marital home, and ever since their wedding, it had been where they lived together.

When the front door opened, spotless furniture greeted them beneath bright ceiling lights. Even the wooden partition in the entryway was free of a single speck of dust.

Cen Sen swept the room with a glance. "Haven't been staying here lately?" Though phrased as a question, it sounded more like a statement.

"That's right. I've been out keeping a handsome boy-toy."

Leaning against the wall with her arms folded, Ji Mingshu answered lazily, her voice light and carefree.

Cen Sen's gaze remained calm.

Ji Mingshu lifted one corner of her lips into an amused smile, tilted her head, and looked him straight in the eye without yielding an inch.

Some people just loved putting on a show. As if he didn't already have countless eyes reporting every move she made, even if she so much as nibbled on a blade of grass back in the country. Yet he still asked whether she'd been living at home.

Two years apart, and he still didn't find this sort of empty courtesy ridiculous.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment. It was Cen Sen who looked away first. He'd never had much patience for meaningless conversations, especially not with the wife he privately believed had been dazzled into losing all common sense by one too many diamonds.

Despite the automatic climate control, the house felt unusually cold, perhaps because no one had truly lived in it for so long.

Undoing the buttons of his shirt as he climbed the stairs, Cen Sen headed for the second floor. Watching him from across the room, Ji Mingshu kicked off her heels and let out a faint, derisive snort.

Their marital affection might be nominal, but they had always shared the same bedroom. The master suite upstairs was spacious, with another door leading into an even more expansive walk-in closet.

When Ji Mingshu entered the bedroom, Cen Sen was just pushing open the closet door.

Wardrobes lined every wall, while display counters for watches and jewelry occupied the center. Spotlights blazed overhead, illuminating the dazzling array of pieces behind the glass.

Cen Sen stood at the entrance with his hands in his pockets.

He stood there for a long moment without moving.

Ji Mingshu didn't bother walking over. Instead, she stood before the full-length mirror in the bedroom, working on the straps of her evening gown.

"Mingshu."

"Hm?" She looked at him through the reflection.

"Clean this up."

Cen Sen shifted sideways, giving her a clear view into the closet. As he tugged off his tie, wrinkling his collar in the process, his brow furrowed slightly as well.

Only then did Ji Mingshu notice that the entire floor of the walk-in closet was buried beneath shopping bags and gift boxes. There wasn't even enough room to set foot inside.

A little surprised, she walked over and picked up the nearest gift bag. "Oh, right. These must be the gifts the brands sent. There are so many already."

After Cen Sen left for Australia, she had spent most of her time traveling abroad. Even when she did return to the capital, she usually stayed in an apartment downtown.

Every luxury brand still had Mingshui Manor listed as her address. She had been too lazy to update it, so everything continued arriving here.

The housekeeper had called to ask what should be done with the deliveries. Busy at the time, Ji Mingshu had casually told her to leave everything in the walk-in closet.

Who knew they'd pile up until there was no room left?

"Well. This is a bit much. Sorry about that. I'll tidy it up."

Though the words sounded apologetic, not a trace of remorse could be found anywhere from the tips of her hair to her painted toes.

In fact, she made no move to clean anything.

Instead, she cheerfully unfolded an expensive shawl, held it up for inspection, and mused, "This is too thick. Maybe if I ever go to Antarctica, I can bring it along and wrap it around a penguin."

"..."

Years of self-restraint had almost erased Cen Sen's ability to roll his eyes.

His expression remained perfectly blank, though his voice cooled noticeably, losing the patience it had carried moments earlier.

"Move your things. I need to get my pajamas."

Ji Mingshu stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed. "Lost patience in less than three sentences. President Cen's patience really isn't up to much."

Her hand lowered, the shawl draped over her bare ankles.

Then, almost lazily, she extended one foot, tracing upward along his ankle before letting her toes linger against the inside of his calf in a slow, deliberate caress.

It looked like seduction, but felt much more like a provocation.

Cen Sen gave her a long, meaningful look. His tone shifted abruptly. "If you're so impatient you can't even wait until after I've showered, you can just say so."

Her smile vanished instantly. She spun around, kicked her way through the minefield of gifts, yanked a set of men's pajamas from the wardrobe, crumpled them into a ball, and threw them into his chest as though tossing away unrecyclable trash.

Cen Sen caught the pajamas, but he was in no hurry to shower now.

After a thoughtful pause, he asked, "Mingshu, are you unhappy with me about something? Let's talk."

In the blink of an eye, he had returned to his usual calm, composed self. He wasn't wearing his glasses tonight. Otherwise, he would've looked like a young professor benevolently offering to enlighten a struggling student.

Ji Mingshu scoffed. "I didn't realize President Cen valued my opinion so much."

Three days earlier, Ji Mingshu had seen a post on Zhao Yang's social media. It contained only a few words: Welcome home.

Attached was a photo taken inside a private club. Jiang Che and Chen Xingyu were clearly visible, and tucked away in the dim corner, part of Cen Sen's platinum watch had accidentally made its way into the frame.

The platinum watch was a wedding gift from the Cen family's elders. His featured the Little Prince on its face, hers featured a rose. A one-of-a-kind custom pair from Van Cleef & Arpels.

Which meant he had returned to China at least three days ago.

Three whole days. Not a phone call. Not a single message. Instead, he had gone straight to Xingcheng to carouse with his good-for-nothing friends.

If she hadn't known about his colorful romantic history and exactly what he was like in bed, she might have seriously wondered whether she'd accidentally married a closeted man in a fraudulent marriage and become an unwitting beard overnight.

Listening to her accusations, Cen Sen finally understood why she had been finding fault with everything he did tonight.

He considered it for a moment before saying, "Given the nature of our relationship, I assumed you wouldn't be interested in my schedule. But if you are, I can have my assistant send you my itinerary every day from now on."

"..."

Who the hell wanted his schedule? Was she his mother, obliged to watch over his every step in case he got lost? And why did it sound so condescending, like he was generously throwing her a favor?

Ji Mingshu was fit to be tied. The urge to point at his nose and curse him rose to the tip of her tongue.

But remembering something at the last second, she silently repeated, "Don't get angry. Don't get angry." Then she closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down.

Ji Mingshu had been blessed with flawless fair skin from birth. Even for tonight's gala, her makeup had been light and delicate. Standing beneath the hallway lights, her vivid red lips were pressed into a straight line. She looked radiant, luminous, and impossibly beautiful.

Having known her for nearly twenty years, Cen Sen had never had much appreciation for her pampered, spoiled temperament.

But he had also never denied that she had been breathtaking ever since childhood.

Bright eyes.

Perfect teeth.

The kind of beauty that stunned at first glance.

Beauty always inspired a certain softness. Seeing the anger practically rising from the top of her head, Cen Sen did something almost unheard of.

He took the initiative to concede. "Alright. Let's say this one's on me."

"'Let's say'? What 'let's say'? It is on you!"

The irritation she had only just managed to suppress flared back to life, reignited by his distinctly straight-faced version of "Fine, I'll humor you."

Their marriage was, pure and simple, a union arranged to maximize both families' interests. Neither of them had found the other to be an ideal spouse.

But children born into families like theirs understood from an early age that marriage was rarely theirs to choose.

After all, you couldn't enjoy everything your family gave you, then suddenly decide love and freedom mattered more when it came time to fulfill your responsibilities.

Regarding the marriage itself, Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen had both played their parts perfectly.

Early on, they had also reached an agreement: In public, they would be the perfect couple.

"You come back without a word, show up at a gala where I was present, bid a fortune on a necklace for Su Cheng, all without giving me a heads up! Whose face were you trying to slap? You want to tell everyone in the room that you and I were strangers?!"

Her voice rose higher with every sentence, as if compensating for the height difference with sheer volume.

Cen Sen rubbed his temple; her voice was giving him a headache. He explained flatly,

"This afternoon I had lunch with Director Pei. It was inconvenient for him to attend, so I did him a favor. Su Cheng is already in her forties. I doubt anyone would think me accompanying her was a slight against you. Besides, I didn't know you'd be attending the gala."

Ji Mingshu did a quick mental translation:

How was I supposed to know you'd be there? I wasn't paying attention to you anyway. Who are you, again?

That was precisely what she hated most about Cen Sen. Nothing and no one ever seemed important enough to truly command his attention. Always rational, always composed. Or rather, always detached and indifferent.

Ji Mingshu was a vibrant creature who had spent her entire life surrounded by admiration and affection, blooming beneath constant attention.

She found his indifference, his world that didn't revolve around her, hardest of all to tolerate.

The argument ended without resolution.

While soaking in the bath later that night, Ji Mingshu closed her eyes and thought to herself: If I could end this widow-of-a-marriage, I'd happily swear off sex for five years.

She spent a full two hours in the bathroom before finally emerging at an unhurried pace.

Meticulous as she was, Ji Mingshu never skipped her skincare routine.

Morning or night, every step of the ritual was sacred.

Before leaving for Australia, Cen Sen had lived with her long enough to know her habits well.

Without question, she belonged to the rare breed of woman who would insist on putting on a flawless face even if she were moments away from fainting from anemia.

A beautiful, and gloriously superficial vase.

Now she'd changed into a misty blue silk slip dress that revealed her slender arms and shapely calves.

Her figure was graceful, every curve balanced with effortless elegance.

Her long, dark curls, blown dry, were soft and voluminous. As she walked barefoot across the room, the loose ends of her hair swayed together with the hem of her nightdress, carrying wisps of lingering steam from the bathroom.

She looked pure, and just a little dangerously alluring.

Cen Sen looked at her once. Perhaps because this particular vase was simply too pleasing to the eye, two seconds later, he looked again.

"What are you looking at?"

Cen Sen chuckled softly but didn't answer.

Ji Mingshu, wary for reasons she couldn't quite name, watched him like a hawk as she edged toward the bed. She carefully climbed onto the bed from the very edge, lifting one leg up, then the other.

Only after confirming he made no move did she pull the comforter all the way to her chin and lie down, wrapping herself so tightly that only her pretty little face was visible.

"Turn off the light. I'm going to sleep."

Without another word, Cen Sen reached over and switched off the floor lamp.

Darkness settled around them.

Before long, their breathing unconsciously synchronized, settling into the same quiet, even cadence.

Having slept alone for two years, Ji Mingshu found sharing a bed unexpectedly uncomfortable.

She rolled to the left, then to the right. Nothing felt quite right.

Cen Sen, meanwhile, remained perfectly still from the moment he lay down.

The room carried the faint scent of wood, something like fir after rain beneath a cloudy sky.

Just as sleep was beginning to claim her, Ji Mingshu suddenly sensed someone drawing close.

When she opened her eyes, Cen Sen was already above her. One arm braced beside her waist, caging her beneath him.

In the dim light, she could just make out the clean line of his jaw. Lower down, his Adam's apple shifted almost imperceptibly. Higher still, desire churned behind those quiet, ink-dark eyes.

Having gone so long without intimacy, Ji Mingshu's reactions came sluggishly.

Only when the strap of her nightdress slipped from her shoulder did feeling slowly return.

Outside the window, moonlight pooled like water, cool and shimmering. For the moment, the unhappiness that had shadowed the evening lay forgotten upon its silver shore.

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