My Queen, My Rules - 23
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These traps weren’t necessarily meant to screw anyone over. They were just standard, petty tactics Party A used to ensure they held all the cards. If Party B had any real bargaining power, they wouldn’t have been handed such a contract to begin with.
Li Che’s contract, for example, had no such issues.
Amending a few clauses wasn’t a big loss. Plus, Li Che had personally asked. They had to give him face.
So, right on the brink of Ji Mingshu’s princess tantrum, the production team promptly delivered a revised contract that met her approval.
The producer knew exactly when to butter up, a true master of flexibility. One second he was mentally cursing, "Sign it or leave it," and the next, he was standing before Ji Mingshu, the picture of approachable amiability, treating her, a mere non-celebrity participant, with the utmost patience and courtesy.
Ji Mingshu’s mind was fixated on one thing: defying Cen Sen. He didn't want her to join? Well, then she absolutely must.
The contract was fixed, and the producer had apologized. She couldn’t be bothered to nitpick any minor details. With a flourish of her pen, she signed her name at the bottom of the document.
Formal recording would begin a week later. After signing, the producer briefed her and Li Che on the group assignments and general procedures, kindly assuring them they could contact him directly with any issues. He even personally escorted them to the elevator.
The doors slid shut, gradually obscuring the producer’s unremarkable face. Li Che turned slightly. "Miss Ji, it's been a while," he initiated politely.
"It has," Ji Mingshu replied with equal courtesy, adding, "Thank you for your help with the contract earlier."
Li Che smiled. "It was nothing."
Accustomed to others smoothing her path, Ji Mingshu also considered it nothing. She gave a slight nod, offering no further pleasantries.
An abrupt, dead silence fell in the elevator.
Li Che’s entourage—his executive manager, assistant, and legal counsel—instinctively glanced at her.
It had been a while since anyone treated Li Che with such cold indifference. A genuine, soul-deep question arose within them: Girl, aren't you going to make small talk, ask for his WeChat, an autograph, or a selfie?
Li Che wasn't a top-tier mainstream star, but among young idols, his popularity was firmly in the upper echelon.
Backed by powerful connections, his fashion and acting resources far outstripped those of his peers.
With his separation from Meng Xiaowei already on the agenda, his future prospects were nothing to sneeze at.
Wherever Li Che went, he was surrounded by fawning admirers. Ji Mingshu’s atypical cold shoulder left his staff feeling profoundly uncomfortable.
Li Che himself didn't seem bothered. When Ji Mingshu didn't speak again, he gently picked up the conversation himself. "It’s actually quite a pity. The producer said you and I were originally slated to be partners, but the sponsor had their own considerations, so the groups were rearranged.”
"Is that so. What a pity," Ji Mingshu said.
What difference does it make who I'm grouped with? I'm here to outshine everyone anyway.
The entourage: "..."
Is she an anti-fan or a black fan? Does she have to be so dismissive?
The conversation died once more, and the elevator lapsed back into silence. Fortunately, it descended quickly, sparing them prolonged awkwardness.
Arriving at the B1 underground parking level, Ji Mingshu’s star aura eclipsed even Li Che’s. With a curt “Goodbye,” she donned her sunglasses and strode out, ignoring everyone.
Li Che's team wore expressions of utter speechlessness. Li Che himself was momentarily taken aback, then chuckled.
Once inside their van, his staff erupted into discussion:
“That Miss Ji has some serious airs. You’d think she was the celebrity. Acting all high and mighty. Seriously, you see something new every day.”
“Is she signed with some company, preparing to debut? Her looks are pretty outstanding.”
“No idea. Her family background must be decent. Remember that last magazine cover A-Che and Xiaowei did for Zero Degree? I heard Xiaowei's dress for that shoot was borrowed from her."
“Yeah, she’s decked out head-to-toe in Dior. That handbag is a Birkin in a rare skin. She's definitely loaded."
"Her watch looks very VCA, but I've never seen that dial before. Either it's a fake or custom."
Their curiosity eventually turned to Li Che. He admitted he wasn’t sure of her background either.
Hell, even Meng Xiaowei only knew she came from money and was close with Gu Kaiyang. She didn’t even know Ji Mingshu was married—hence her misguided suggestion to the producer to set her up in a CP with Li Che.
After much discussion, they reached no conclusion, firmly suspecting Ji Mingshu’s attitude was either a deliberate snub to Li Che or a reverse-psychology ploy to grab his attention.
To be honest, Ji Mingshu wasn’t intentionally giving Li Che the cold shoulder, nor was it some weird ploy to get his attention.
She’d simply seen too much—celebrities cozying up at banquets, sleeping their way up, wearing one face in public, another in private. The novelty had long worn off.
Besides, meeting celebrities was far too easy for her; this profession held no special halo in her eyes.
Li Che, to her, was like that not-so-familiar elective classmate from university. No prior connection, no need for excessive warmth.
Back in her car, Ji Mingshu reported the day’s signing events to Gu Kaiyang and Jiang Chun in their group chat, and copy-pasted the same report to Cen Sen.
Her narration was purely factual, a straightforward rundown of the afternoon’s events, devoid of whiny emojis or cute stickers. Yet, the narrative somehow radiated the boundless grievances of a princess scorned.
As it turned out, sisters were infinitely more perceptive than men.
Upon hearing that the production team had sent only a lowly assistant to receive her and messed up the contract, Gu Kaiyang and Jiang Chun replied within seconds, launching into a passionate, ten-minute duet of insults.
The gist was: "The weather's getting cold, time for Xingcheng TV to go bankrupt," "Blind fools for not recognizing a princess, who wants to be on their stupid show anyway, our baby won’t suffer this insult," "How dare they treat our most delicate Little Canary Baby like this? It’s an outrage, a crime against heaven, they deserve to be executed on the spot!"
By the time the fury in the girls' chat had subsided, there was still no response from Cen Sen.
Ji Mingshu didn’t feel like returning to the hotel. She directed the driver straight to Xingcheng’s largest mall, Jinsheng International.
Jinsheng International's brand variety and stock availability were passable. She browsed for over forty minutes and spent over half a million.
Just as she finished her spree and prepared to leave, Cen Sen finally responded.
Cen Sen: [Get used to it.]
Ji Mingshu: …?
Cen Sen had just wrapped up a contract negotiation himself. It went smoothly, putting him in a decent mood.
With a moment to spare, he sent a few philosophical reminders to this pampered creature.
Cen Sen: [You're not a celebrity. Their knowledge of you is limited. It's perfectly normal for them to treat you casually.]
Cen Sen: [The preferential treatment you usually enjoy stems from your family background and from the fact that your husband is me. And for every person enjoying preferential treatment, many more are being overlooked or slighted. You should experience this feeling more often. It will do you good.]
"…"
Since when did he become so talkative?
No comfort was one thing, but why launch into these awkward life lessons?
Was he hinting at something because she’d just spent over half a million? Stingy bastard!
But, considering she had just spent a significant amount of his money, Ji Mingshu couldn’t very well turn hostile and diss her financial sponsor. So, she replied with a perfunctory, "You're absolutely right."
The moment she sent it, her expression shifted. She took a screenshot of Cen Sen's unsympathetic 'advice', ready to send it to the girls' group chat and mobilize collective forces for a full-scale humiliation campaign against this Dog Man.
She even started the ball rolling herself: "Just look at this! Is this something a human could say?"
A split second before hitting send, she froze. Something was wrong.
Wait.
This wasn’t the group chat.
How did I send it to him again?
Ji Mingshu stared blankly for two seconds, then swiftly deleted the unsent text.
But the screenshot had already gone through. Cen Sen replied with a question mark, seemingly confused about why she'd sent him a screenshot of their own conversation.
Ji Mingshu: …
Ji Mingshu: [Your phone's dying. Look at the battery icon in the top right corner.]
Hold on, that’s my battery. She quickly recalled the message and typed furiously.
Ji Mingshu: [I think what you said is very thought-provoking. I’m screenshotting it to save as a keepsake.]
Ji Mingshu: [Sincere.jpg]
Cen Sen didn’t reply for a while. He searched online for a quick way to add annotations to an image, then sent her screenshot back to her.
Ji Mingshu opened it and found that Cen Sen had drawn a red circle around the contact name at the very top of the original screenshot—Dog Man.
Major oversight. Major oversight.
Upholding the principle that one must maintain harmonious relations with one’s financial sponsor immediately after spending their money, Ji Mingshu squeezed her eyes shut and unleashed a stream of flattery.
Ji Mingshu: [You're so incredibly meticulous, your powers of observation are astounding. No wonder you got into Harvard.]
Ji Mingshu: [How did you learn to draw red circles? I don't even know how. Your learning ability is truly phenomenal. Even a casually drawn circle is so perfectly round. You must have excelled in both math and art.]
She then promptly changed his contact name and sent him a new screenshot. This time, the contact name read: Dearest Hubby, a masterful blend of modern ass-kissing artistry and the subtle, needle-like art of “are you happy now?”, perfectly designed to make the recipient vaguely uncomfortable yet unable to articulate why.
Quite pleased with her own quick wit, Ji Mingshu smiled to herself, eating her salad as she looked at her phone.
She expected Cen Sen to reply with “childish” or simply ignore her. But two minutes later, Cen Sen fired back his own screenshot. He had changed her contact name to: Dearest Wifey
Ji Mingshu: …
Okay then. In the course titled “Give Me a Lever and I’ll Move the Entire World,” Cen-shi Sensen remained the top scholar.
Outmatched and outplayed. She concedes defeat. Frankly, even her salad was starting to taste a bit too sweet from all that saccharine.
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