My Queen, My Rules - 2

Sleep

---

Ji Mingshu's retort plunged the car back into dead silence. The atmosphere in the backseat grew even more charged.

The chauffeur barely dared to breathe. He dropped Gu Kaiyang at Xinggang International, then turned the car back toward Mingshui Manor in the northern part of the city.

The night sky, washed clean by rain, was a deep, unadulterated black. The Bentley sped along the elevated highway. For the entire journey, Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen exchanged not another word.

Mingshui Manor, Building 13, was their marital home. They'd lived here since the wedding.

As the door swung open, the scene was one of pristine order: spotless furniture, bright ceiling lights, not a speck of dust on the wooden room pider in the entryway.

Cen Sen's gaze swept the room. "You haven't been staying here lately?" It wasn't really a question; it was a statement of fact.

"Yeah. Been out pampering a boy-toy."

Ji Mingshu leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Her voice was light, almost airy.

Cen Sen's gaze was steady.

Ji Mingshu smiled, a quick, clever quirk of her lips. She tilted her head, eyes lifting to meet his. She didn't flinch, didn't look away.

Some people just loved playing games. As if he didn't know whether she'd been staying here or not. He had eyes everywhere; even if she so much as nibbled on a blade of grass back in the country, he would get the report. 

Two years apart, and he still couldn't spare them from these redundant perfunctory. 

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 pointless subjects, especially with his wife whose brain he was convinced had been addled by one too many shiny objects.

Perhaps from lack of human presence, the house felt cold even with the climate control.

Cen Sen started unbuttoning his cuffs as he headed for the stairs. Ji Mingshu watched him go from a distance, kicked off her heels, and let out a small, derisive snort.

Their marital affection might be nominal, but they'd never had separate bedrooms. The master bedroom on the second floor was spacious, with a 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 the walls on all four sides. In the center were displays for watches and jewelry. Spotlights blazed to life, illuminating a dazzling array of pieces behind the glass.

Cen Sen stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, not moving for a long moment.

Ji Mingshu didn't go over. She stood before the full-length mirror in the bedroom, working on the ties of her gown.

"Mingshu."

"Hm?" She glanced at him in the mirror.

"Tidy it up."

He half-turned, clearing the doorway. He'd pulled his tie loose, wrinkling his collar slightly, his brows furrowed along with it.

Now Ji Mingshu saw it. The walk-in closet was covered, floor to ceiling, with gift bags and boxes. There was nowhere to step.

Surprised, she walked over and picked up one of the bags near the door, rifling through it. Then she remembered. "Ah. Gifts from brands, I guess. There are so many already."

After Cen Sen left for Australia, she'd spent most of her time traveling abroad. When she did return to the capital, she stayed at her downtown apartment. The address on file with all the major brands was still Mingshui Manor. She'd never bothered to change it, so the gifts just kept coming here.

The housekeeper had called once to ask what to do with them, but she'd been busy with something else and said to just put them in the closet. Who knew they’d pile up like this?

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

Ji Mingshu said she was sorry, but not a single hair on her head to the tip of her toes suggested she felt the least bit apologetic. Or that she had any intention of actually clearing it up.

If anything, she seemed amused. She pulled a shawl from one of the boxes, draping it over her arm as she examined it. "This shawl is so thick. Next time I go to Antarctica, I'll bring it. The penguins can share."

"..."

Years of rigid self-control had trained any instinct to roll his eyes out of Cen Sen. His expression was blank. His voice, which had started with a veneer of patient civility, went flat and cold. "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."

She let the shawl drop. It pooled over her bare ankles. Then, she extended her toes toward him, slid from his ankle, trailing slowly up along his calf, coming to rest against his inner leg.

It seems like a seduction, but more of a provocation.

Cen Sen looked at her, a long, deep look. Then his tone shifted abruptly. "If you can't even wait after shower, you only had to say so."

The smile vanished from her lips. She spun around, kicked her way through the minefield of gifts, yanked a set of his pajamas from the wardrobe, crumpled them into a ball, and hurled it into his arms like she was disposing of non-recyclable waste.

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

He was silent for a moment, thinking: "Mingshu, do you have problem with me? Let’s talk.”

In the blink of an eye, he'd slipped back into that calm, composed demeanor. 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 ago, Ji Mingshu saw Zhao Yang post on Moments. Just four words: Washing the dust off. Below it, a photo of a private club room. The shot was of Jiang Che and Chen Xingyu, but in a dim corner, Cen Sen's platinum watch had accidentally made it into the frame.

That watch was a wedding gift from the Cen elders. His had a dial engraved with the Little Prince; hers, a rose. A VCA private commission. One of a kind.

So he'd been back at least three days.

Three days. Not one phone call. Not one message. He'd gone straight to Xingcheng to carouse with his good-for-nothing friends.

If she didn't know about his romantic history, and exactly what he was like in bed, she'd really have to start wondering if she'd accidentally married a closeted gay man and woken up as a beard.

Hearing Ji Mingshu's indictment, Cen Sen finally understood why she'd been picking at him all night.

He considered. "Given the nature of our relationship, I didn't think you'd be interested in my schedule. But if you are, I can have my assistant send you a daily update from now on."

"..."

Who the hell wants your schedule? Am I your mother, obliged to watch over your every step in case you get lost? And why does that sound so condescending, like he was doing a favor.

Ji Mingshu was fit to be tied. The urge to curse him out, finger in his face, was right there. But then something stopped her. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to calm down. Don't get angry. Don't get angry.

Ji Mingshu had always been beautiful, fair-skinned. Her foundation for the gala was light. Standing under the hallway light now, her bright red lips pressed into a firm line, her face was striking and clear.

He'd known her for nearly twenty years. Cen Sen had never had much appreciation for her young lady antics. But he'd never denied she was always a stunning beauty, radiant eyes, perfect teeth, the kind that stopped you in your tracks.

Beauty always inspired a certain softness. Seeing she was about to actually combust, Cen Sen, in a rare move, 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 fire she'd just banked roared back to life, fanned by that classic, infuriating male concession that screamed ‘I can't be bothered to argue with you’.

Their marriage was, pure and simple, a choice to maximize benefits for both families. Neither of them would have been their first choice for the other. But kids raised in houses like theirs learned early that marriage wasn't really theirs to decide. After all, you couldn’t very well eat from the family bowl then turn around and demand to pursue love and freedom.

Regarding the marriage itself, both Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen had both played their parts perfectly. And from day one, they'd reached an consensus on maintaining a facade of affection in public.

"You come back without a word, show up at a gala I'm at, 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 the whole world we’re strangers?!”

With each sentence, Ji Mingshu's voice got higher, as if compensating the height difference with sheer volume.

Cen Sen rubbed his temple, her voice was giving him a headache. He explained flatly. "I had lunch with Secretary Pei yesterday. It was inconvenient for him, so I did him a favor. Su Cheng is over forty. I doubt anyone would think me accompanying her was as a slight against you. And I didn't know you'd be at the gala."

Ji Mingshu did a quick mental translation: Oh, who knew you'd be there? I don't pay attention to you. Who are you, again?

And that, right there, was probably what she hated most about Cen Sen. He looked down on everyone and everything. Always rational, always calm. Or rather, always detached and indifferent.

She was a vibrant creature accustomed to being the center of attention, surrounded by adoration. She found his indifference, his world that didn't revolve around her, utterly intolerable.

The conversation died, unresolved. In the shower, Ji Mingshu closed her eyes and thought: If I could end this widow-of-a-marriage, I'd happily swear off sex for five years.

She took her time in the bathroom. Two hours later, she finally emerged.

Meticulous as she was, morning and night, her beauty routine was sacred.

They'd lived together for a while before he left for Australia, Cen Sen knew her habits well. She was, without question, the kind of extreme perfectionist who, even as she was fainting from anemia, would force herself to put on a full face of makeup before she hit the floor. A beautiful, superficial vase.

Tonight she'd changed into a dusky blue silk slip dress. Her arms and legs were bare, elegant and perfectly proportioned.

Her long, dark curls, blown dry, were soft and voluminous. As she walked barefoot across the floor, the errant ends of her hair swayed with the hem of her gown, trailing a wisp of steam from the bathroom. A touch of innocence mixed with a hint of allure.

Cen Sen looked at her. Maybe because this vase was so pleasing to the eye, a second later, he looked again.

"What are you looking at?"

Cen Sen gave a low laugh, saying nothing.

Ji Mingshu, wary for reasons she couldn't quite name, watched him like a hawk as she edged toward the bed. She sat down on the far side, then carefully swung one leg up, then the other. When he made no move, she yanked the soft duvet up to her chin, covering herself completely, leaving only her pretty, adorable head visible.

"Lights off. I'm going to sleep."

Cen Sen didn't argue. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.

In the darkness, their breaths fell one after the other. Before long, it fell into the same quiet, steady rhythm.

It had been two years since she'd shared a bed with anyone. Ji Mingshu felt strange. She tossed onto her left side, then her right, unsettled.

Cen Sen, for his part, was a perfect gentleman. He lay on his back and didn't move.

The air carried a faint, clean scent of wood—fir, maybe. The kind of scent that clings to a cloudy day.

Just as she was on the edge of sleep, Ji Mingshu suddenly sensed a close, invasive presence. Her eyes flew open. Cen Sen was over her, arms braced on either side of her waist, caging her beneath him.

In the dim light, she could make out the sharp line of his jaw. His Adam’s apple bobbed almost imperceptibly, and in his dark, steady eyes, desire swirled.

It had been a long time. Her reaction was slow. By the time his touch slid the strap from her shoulder, she was beginning to feel it too.

Outside, moonlight shimmered like water, clear and rippling. The displeasure from before bedtime was temporarily beached at its shore.

---

← Previous | Table of Contents | Next →

0