My Queen, My Rules - 28

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The air fell silent. A long, drawn-out silence.

Ji Mingshu was frozen, staring at the group chat messages on the screen, just as Cen Sen was, and she even forgot to snatch her phone back.

Fortunately, thirty seconds later, the screen automatically locked.

Cen Sen's gaze slowly shifted from the phone screen to Ji Mingshu's exquisite, utterly bewildered face. He examined it closely, inch by inch, as if trying to see what possible connection, if any, this radiant face could have with an "innocent college girl."

Ji Mingshu: Speechless. :)

A full minute passed in this silent standoff. Just as Ji Mingshu thought her beauty would be her doom, that she would die of sheer awkwardness right there in the luxury car, the hotel finally came into view.

The moment the car stopped, Ji Mingshu didn't even wait for the valet to open her door. She bolted out of the car.

Head down, she hurriedly put on her sunglasses and strode into the hotel, her hands trembling. She didn't forget to open WeChat, clear the group chat history, and dutifully change the group name to "Three Little Fairies."

God as her witness, she would never again follow online trends with stupid group names, and she would absolutely never again talk trash about someone right in front of them :)

And let God bear witness again: Ji-shi Shushu was a little golden canary who genuinely, wholeheartedly adored money.

Except for two or three seconds where her dignity overpowered materialism, when the thought flashed through her mind: As long as I never have to lose face in front of that dog man again, I'd be willing to walk away with nothing.

To avoid and alleviate the ultimate awkwardness of facing Cen Sen, Ji Mingshu didn't go to their room. She went straight to the rotating restaurant for dinner.

Timing it carefully, she then made a swift exit to the spa center before Cen Sen could arrive for his meal. After that, she booked a mini karaoke room in the hotel, hosting a solo concert that lasted a full two hours.

She dragged things out until Cen Sen's usual bedtime before sneaking back up to the suite.

Only the floor lamp was on in the room, the light dim.

The large, visible bed in the bedroom was neatly made, pillows and duvet smooth and flat.

Where was Cen Sen? Not asleep yet?

She changed into slippers at the entrance and crept into the study.

No one there either.

She pushed open the door leading to the living room.

The air in the living room carried a hint of vodka. Ji Mingshu followed the scent. Several empty bottles stood on the coffee table.

Cen Sen was leaning back on the sofa, his head tilted slightly back, eyes tightly closed.

He smelled strongly of alcohol, but in his quiet repose, he showed no obvious signs of being drunk.

Ji Mingshu approached, poked his cheek with a finger, and whispered, "Asleep?"

No reaction.

She straightened up, feeling a slight relief mixed with a sigh she couldn't quite place.

People like them, with endless work dinners and social obligations, often developed a physical aversion to alcohol. Unless necessary, they usually avoided it.

Her uncles, for instance, never touched a drop during regular family dinners, and even during holiday gatherings, they only sipped a little.

Drinking this much today… he must be feeling pretty awful inside.

She stood by the sofa for a moment longer, then, in a burst of kindness, carefully draped a blanket over him.

But just as she was about to slip away quietly, Cen Sen suddenly grabbed her wrist and slowly opened his eyes.

"..."

Ji Mingshu was momentarily stunned. Once she recovered, she hurriedly explained, "I was just covering you up. Just covering you up, that's all." She asked, "Do you… want to go sleep in the bed?"

Cen Sen didn't answer. With a slight pull, he drew her into his arms.

He held Ji Mingshu, buried his face in her soft hair, taking deep, uneven breaths, and closed his eyes again.

Ji Mingshu had no idea what he was playing at. Held tightly, with no room to struggle, she could only keep muttering in his ear.

"Hey, let me go."

"Stop pretending. Say something!"

"Are you even okay? If you can't hold your liquor, don't drink so much. If you're going to puke, warn me first. Don't you dare throw up on me."

"...Have you held me enough? My arm's going numb!"

"Be quiet. Let me hold you a little longer."

Cen Sen's voice was low, and he loosened his grip slightly.

Ji Mingshu, as if under some strange spell, actually obediently shut her mouth.

In the surrounding silence, pressed so close together, their breaths brushed each other's ears, their heartbeats just as near.

In the deep stillness of night, memories of the past seemed to surface easily.

Back in their school days… their affiliated school combined middle school and high school into one. For four years, she and Cen Sen were in the same school.

She wasn't a model student by any standard, frequently landing on the disciplinary report for breaking rules. But to be fair, her grades were decent; otherwise, she wouldn't have gotten into a top university later.

Back then, after every monthly or midterm exam, the school would post the honor roll with year-level rankings. After checking her own list, she always ran to see Cen Sen's.

But Cen Sen's ranking, much like his friend Jiang Che's, was rock solid. The two of them always traded places between first and second.

Once, Cen Sen fell out of the top ten. She was overjoyed. After school, she went to the Cen household for dinner and secretly tattled to Old Madam Cen, hinting that "Cen Sen's grades dropped so much this time, maybe he's gotten into online games or secretly has a girlfriend. Grandma, you must teach him a lesson."

She tattled with great enthusiasm, and Old Madam Cen played along, chuckling and saying she'd interrogate him later.

It was only when she went to gloat in front of Cen Sen that she learned he'd missed the top ten because he was representing the school at a youth environmental forum and had missed one exam. Her triumphant flame was instantly and completely extinguished.

Thinking back now, during their school days, she always seemed to resent it when things went well for Cen Sen.

Later, when he started dating that little white lotus Li Wenyin, she didn't know why, but it irked her immensely.

It took her a long time to convince herself it was a good thing. Troublemakers like them deserved to be tied together, packed up, and tossed into the crematorium to become microbes contributing to this beautiful world.

Back then, she never imagined that one day she would marry her former "nemesis" and would be held so intimately in his arms.

At this thought, Ji Mingshu's ears involuntarily reddened.

As if on cue, Cen Sen kissed her ear the very next second.

His breath, warm and damp with the scent of alcohol, brushed her skin. His voice was low, like the murmur of someone not fully conscious.

"Let me ask you, if I had nothing… would you leave me?”

"...?"

This sudden display of sentimentality snapped Ji Mingshu out of her reminiscence and sent a shock straight to the crown of her head.

This was so unlike Cen Sen's style. Even dead drunk, he should be muttering about "a high probability of a rapid A-share surge at opening tomorrow" or "the person in charge of Project XX needs to figure out their own funding gap"—the usual capitalist dictator ramblings.

Ji Mingshu got goosebumps. But then it occurred to her: perhaps Cen Sen was only an impenetrable fortress in front of her. Perhaps with certain women, he was the generous, sentimental, tender type. Half-drunk like this, had he mistaken her for someone else, and slipped into this awkward, melodramatic CEO persona?

She felt a pang of discomfort. To avoid hearing more words that might make her want to dismember him in his drunken state, she emphasized, "Are you asking me? I'm Ji Mingshu. Ji Mingshu!"

"Yes, Ji Mingshu. I'm asking you."

"..."

So he really was asking her.

Ji Mingshu's traitorous heart skipped a beat, softening inexplicably by three parts. Even her face began to warm.

She forced herself to stay stern, saying stubbornly, "Are you dreaming? Have nothing and expect me to share your hardships? Just look at that mouth of yours. If you weren't rich, who would want to marry you?"

Seeing that Cen Sen didn't react, she continued in a tiny voice, building herself up, "Let me tell you, it's only because I'm kind-hearted. What other woman would put up with this nonsense? You really deserve to be single forever, you know. You should be nicer to me." Buy me an aircraft carrier.

Cen Sen gave a low chuckle. Whether he was too drunk to register or for something else, he didn't argue, just held her a little tighter.

Everyone in this world compromises for reality.

When he was little, his parents had said a thousand, ten thousand times in private they would never compromise. But in the end, because they needed the Cen family's money for An Ning's treatment, they sent him away.

The Cen family's stance on keeping Cen Yang had been equally unyielding at first. But in the end, because it was his blood that carried the Cen lineage, because the significance of his return outweighed keeping Cen Yang, they chose to send Cen Yang away.

The Ji family was even less worth mentioning. He'd long known they already had a marriage alliance in plans. It was only because he intervened, and the Ji family saw the Cens as more powerful and profitable, that they quietly dropped their originally intended candidate and married Ji Mingshu to him.

So-called familial love, so-called having no choice—in the end, it was all a simple calculus of gain and loss. Yet they always found lofty excuses to absolve themselves, never admitting the truth.

He used to think Ji Mingshu was shallow. But the more time they spent together, the more he felt she lived with clearer eyes than he did.

What could be said, she always said outright.

What couldn't be said, like whether the Ji family truly doted on her as much as they claimed, she understood better than anyone, yet never gave voice to it.

On reflection, perhaps never having had familial affection at all would have made for a freer life. To have had it and lost it, no matter how many years passed, always left a lingering regret.

If Ji Mingshu would abandon him if he had nothing, then all he needed was to always be wealthy to keep this familiar canary by his side. Thinking of it that way, it wasn't so bad. At least she was vivid and real, and she belonged to him.

2 a.m. The city was quiet.

Cen Sen's grip gradually loosened as he drifted into sleep.

Ji Mingshu carefully extricated herself from his embrace and laid him flat on the sofa.

After doing all this, Ji Mingshu felt a bit tired.

She sat down on the edge of the sofa and looked at Cen Sen's sleeping face. Her finger gently traced the contours of his features, following the lines of his brow, his eyes, down his nose.

His complexion was cool and pale, his brows sharp, eyes bright, nose straight, lips thin—the kind of face you wouldn't forget after one glance.

In their school days, he had the clean clarity of youth. As an adult, he carried the quiet, detached coldness of a man. Somehow, it never got old to look at. Well… as long as he didn't speak.

Ji Mingshu rested her chin in her hand, recalling his question earlier. For the first time, she realized he, too, seemed to crave a warmth he couldn't bring himself to voice.

A strange thought suddenly popped into her head.

If Cen Sen ever went bankrupt, as long as he behaved himself... for the sake of this face… she might, possibly, perhaps… be willing to sell her bags to keep him.

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