My Queen, My Rules - 33

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The strange man’s build was extremely similar to Cen Sen’s, and he was also wearing a black overcoat.

But upon closer inspection, the coat styles weren’t quite the same, and the man’s features were ordinary, far from Cen Sen’s striking looks.

Ambushed with such a large box of condoms shoved into him, the stranger was momentarily stunned. He looked down at the items in his arms, then up at Ji Mingshu, his face a picture of bewilderment, with a faint, hidden thread of pleasant surprise—as if good fortune had literally fallen from the sky.

“Miss, you…”

His words had just begun when a calm, male voice sounded from the other side. “My apologies. My wife mistook you for someone else.”

Cen Sen stepped forward, subtly placing himself between Ji Mingshu and the man, his expression neutral. He glanced at the “minefield of good fortune” in the man’s hands, took it without changing his expression, and tossed it into the shopping cart.

The man was taken aback, then nodded awkwardly, mentally feeling rather embarrassed for his overactive imagination. He said nothing more.

Earlier, after grabbing the items, Ji Mingshu had hurried forward in a panic. This stranger had converged from another aisle just as Cen Sen was following her. Seeing the man pushing a cart and moving slowly, Cen Sen detoured to the side, trailing Ji Mingshu from a distance of one display stand.

Who would have thought that even at such close range, Little Vase Ji could suddenly produce such a baffling, spectacular move?

Now, the little vase hid behind Cen Sen, so embarrassed she felt her scalp tingling, not daring to breathe loudly. As Cen Sen took a step forward, she shuffled a step behind him.

But when she noticed Cen Sen heading for the manned checkout, she couldn’t help but tug on the back of his coat, commanding in a whisper, “Use self-checkout!”

Cen Sen tilted his head back slightly.

Little Vase Ji, like a startled bird, also tilted hers, desperately trying to evade his peripheral gaze.

Fortunately, Cen Sen didn’t mock her or make a fuss, obligingly heading for the self-checkout lane.

After scanning the barcodes, Cen Sen took out his phone to pay.

Ji Mingshu, anxiously waiting for him to finish quickly and take her away from this mortifying hellhole, was taken aback when he suddenly asked, "Did you delete my WeChat again?"

Ji Mingshu froze for several seconds.

Sir, that happened ages ago, and you're only noticing now? If one could unilaterally self-process a divorce, wouldn't you only find out you'd lost a wife when the family started asking for grandchildren?

But she couldn't afford to offend her savior-daddy now. Hiding behind him, she softly deflected, “Must have been a misclick. Or a WeChat glitch. Rubbish app!”

Cen Sen: “…”

Stealing a glance at his expression, Ji Mingshu hurriedly pulled out her own phone and sent a friend request. “Added, added! Accept it.”

But Cen Sen didn’t even look, simply putting his phone away and saying indifferently, “We’ll see.”

Ji Mingshu: “…?”

Why did she hear an implied ‘it depends on your performance’ in those two simple words, ‘we'll see’?

Cen Sen started walking out. Ji Mingshu, with no time to overthink, once again sneakily grabbed the hem of his coat and followed step-for-step behind him.

By the time they returned to the hotel suite, it was already ten at night. Unsurprisingly, Ji Mingshu made a beeline for the bathroom the moment they entered.

Cen Sen paid her no mind, taking the groceries straight to the kitchen.

Ji Mingshu soaked in the bath, playing on her phone. Seeing the stream of concerned messages from those in the know, she posted a unified reply on her Moments: “Thanks for your concern, safely back at the hotel. /heart.” 

Along with a cute, well-behaved emoji sticker.

Then, switching to the “Three Little Fairies” good-wives group chat, her aura turned murderous. Starting with “What sin did I, Ji Mingshu, commit in my past life?”, she flooded the chat with five full screens of ranting.

Gu Kaiyang and Jiang Chun first responded with a synchronized round of “HAHAHAHAHA,” teetering on the edge of getting kicked from the group.

Then, with practiced ease, they dissed the production team, dissed Yan Yuexing, and even dissed the innocent bystander and the equally innocent Cen Sen—all before Ji Mingshu could fully erupt. In short, they adopted the stance of “Praise the Canary and prosper; defy the Canary and perish.”

After being placated so unprincipledly for a while, Ji Mingshu’s anger finally subsided a little. And once again, she sincerely felt that only sisters are good in this world; men are all just dogtail grass.

Remembering that Cen Sen still hadn’t added her on WeChat, she couldn’t resist cursing him a couple more times in the group.

But Jiang Chun had not long joined the rainbow-puffing brigade; her skills weren't yet perfected.

Moreover, she had always believed Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen were a loving couple, so she naturally assumed Ji Mingshu's cursing was the kind of teasing that happens between lovers.

Thus, she, thinking herself clever, started praising Cen Sen, filling two full screens without pause. Ji Mingshu stared, dumbfounded, finding no opening to interrupt.

When she finally finished, this Little Earth Goose, relating it to her own actual situation with Tang Zhizhou, sincerely sent a voice message with some advice: “Spats are a sign of affection. We all know you really like your husband. It’s fine to curse him here in the group, but in front of him, you should try to show your gentler side. Otherwise, he might not feel this… unconventional way of expressing your affection. You know? Because I've discovered men's thought processes are really simple. They can't pick up on these roundabout expressions."

“…”

Who likes him?

Is your Little Earth Goose brain too complex?!

I’m just simply cursing him, cursing him, cursing him!!!

Ji Mingshu: [Shut up!]

Jiang Chun was baffled. Before she could react, she saw the group name change to “Two Little Fairies and One Little Earth Goose.”

Perhaps it was the steam in the bathroom, the temperature too high; Ji Mingshu felt a bit hot.

She stared at the line of text converted from the voice message—"We all know you really like your husband"—unable to tear her eyes away.

After a long moment, she forced herself to put the phone face down, got up, dried off, and hurried out of the bathroom.

In the short time Ji Mingshu was bathing, a delicate aroma of congee had already wafted from the kitchen.

She curled up on the living room sofa, distractedly watching a palace intrigue drama, wrestled with herself for what felt like a hundred and eighty rounds, and finally, barefoot, drifted into the kitchen.

“So… what congee are you making? It smells pretty good.”

Her hands were clasped behind her back, her shoulders and back slim and straight, carrying the air of Her Highness the Princess coming to inspect.

“Greens and shrimp.”

Cen Sen was still prepping ingredients, not even looking up.

Ji Mingshu stood on tiptoe to peer forward, then mustered her courage and asked awkwardly, "Well… do you need any help? Like… is there anything I can do?"

“No need.” Concise and direct, shattering her fragile heart in one blow.

“…”

'Cen Sen is being gentler today'—Top of the world's three great illusions :)

Ji Mingshu, choked by his response, turned to leave. But Cen Sen suddenly stopped what he was doing, looked back, and said, “If you’re that idle, you might as well revise your design draft.”

Ji Mingshu halted. “What’s wrong with my design draft?”

She had produced this design quickly, finalizing the theme and renovation plan within two or three days of the program team providing the actual house to remodel.

The homeowner couple had bonded over a musical film. That film featured a summary song for the entire story, ‘Epilogue’, which became the theme for Ji Mingshu's design this time.

It fit the lightly retro style the homeowners requested and carried the beautiful meaning of progressing from overture to finale. Inspired, Ji Mingshu had produced the drawings exceptionally fast. The final rendered scene was perfect; even Yan Yuexing from their team couldn’t find a single fault after seeing the preview.

So what was the problem?

Cen Sen wiped his hands and said unhurriedly, “You have many design concepts, and your renderings have a very academic style. But the homeowners are ordinary people. A home isn't an exhibition hall. Practical functionality is always the primary requirement.”

In short: not grounded, not livable.

Ji Mingshu opened her mouth, instinctively wanting to refute, but found herself momentarily at a loss for where to begin.

She stood there in her dusty-pink silk nightgown, barefoot, leaning against the kitchen doorway, just leaning there foolishly for ten minutes, looking pitiful, weak, and helpless.

Cen Sen: “Stop thinking. Have some congee first."

Ji Mingshu snapped back to attention, finally smelling the fresh, savory aroma of the greens and shrimp congee.

With all the distractions along the way, her hunger had come and gone, but now her stomach was completely empty. For the moment, she had no mental space to dwell on anything else, following Cen Sen with eager, expectant eyes toward the dining table.

But even walking on flat ground, she seemed possessed, suddenly slipping. With a ‘thump’, she landed heavily on her backside on the floor.

Cen Sen, standing by the dining table, turned to look at her as if she were a little lunatic.

She was also stunned by the fall.

Sitting on the floor with her hands braced behind her, she felt her tailbone both numb and sore, the pain somehow spreading all the way to her skull.

The most terrible part was that Cen Sen just stood there watching her. He watched for a full minute, as if confirming she would never be able to stand on her own in this lifetime, before finally approaching and picking her up sideways with a touch of pity.

Cen Sen: “Have you starved yourself of all intelligence?”

Ahhhh! Take your filthy, bloodstained hands off me! I don’t need your help! I can get up from where I fell on my own!!!

Ji Mingshu declared her independence mentally, but physically could only be a humble little vase, clinging tightly to Cen Sen’s neck. Even as her butt trembled with pain, she could only maintain a stoic, expressionless face.

Cen Sen suddenly chuckled.

Ji Mingshu’s fragile heart shattered again. “What are you laughing at? Were you just laughing?”

Cen Sen neither admitted nor denied it.

Ji Mingshu said sorrowfully, "I can't live with you anymore. Our astrological compatibility probably doesn’t match.”

As she spoke, she even reached out to pinch Cen Sen's cheeks, the very intimate kind, using both hands to pull his cheeks outward.

She only realized what she was doing when they reached the bedside. Flustered, she hastily let go.

Cen Sen didn't seem inclined to see more into it. He placed her on the bed, laying her down face-first horizontally.

Ji Mingshu instinctively raised her head.

Cen Sen, for some reason, leaned in slightly and suddenly pinched her cheek back. His voice was low and deep, still slightly hoarse from jet lag. “Then who do you think you can live with?”

Ji Mingshu was speechless.

They remained like that, staring at each other in this particularly strange posture.

Their hearts, in unison, gave a heavy thump.

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