My Queen, My Rules - 44

Pink Diamond

---

The long string of exaggerated, exclamation-point-filled messages Jiang Chun sent afterwards didn't even register with Ji Mingshu.

She stared at the chat interface, unblinking, her thoughts trapped in a dizzying loop of confirmation and doubt, only to confirm and doubt all over again.

Gu Kaiyang, seeing her spaced out over her phone, waved a hand in front of her face. "What's wrong with you?"

Ji Mingshu looked up, stared at Gu Kaiyang for three solid seconds, and then blurted out, "Cen Sen beat someone up so badly they were hospitalized because they were bad-mouthing me."

“Cough! Cough, cough, cough!”

Gu Kaiyang, who still had congee in her mouth, choked violently on Ji Mingshu's words.

Witnessing this fantastical reaction, Ji Mingshu sobered up a little.

Right… There must be some misunderstanding. Maybe that little fatty had insulted Cen Sen too. Someone like him, who couldn't even be bothered to open his mouth most of the time—how could he possibly resort to violence at the first sign of disagreement? And for her sake, no less.

Although she mentally patched together this explanation, for the entire morning, Ji Mingshu remained, quite pathetically, immersed in a subtle, secret delight.

The young socialites and wives of the elite circle were always the best-informed and the most adept at trimming their sails to the wind.

In the past few days, aside from the usual invitations from brand PRs, not a single social event within the circle had invited Ji Mingshu. Any that did were clearly extended with malicious intent, hoping to witness her downfall.

But this morning, the ‘sisters’ hadn't stopped with their solicitous inquiries and social invitations.

[Darling, I'm having a new product showcase at my boutique tomorrow. I haven't seen you in ages! Do you have time? Shall I send a car for you?]

—This was from Fiona, daughter of the chairman of Gande Group, which had made its fortune in mining. 

She had studied jewelry design abroad for two years and returned to launch her eponymous brand. Unfortunately, her talent was limited; her designs were always saturated with echoes of classics from Tiffany, Cartier, and VCA, yet carried an exorbitant price tag. 

Still, her skills at flattery were profound. Ji Mingshu, humoring her, had picked out a few passable pieces from her store. Though she never wore them, they were either regifted or left to gather dust in a drawer.

[Shushu, the final stop of my recital is back in the capital! This Saturday night at the Sports Center. I've saved you a VIP seat. You must come if you're free! Miss you so much!]

—This was from Echo, the youngest daughter of the Bai family, a musical dynasty. 

Her parents were of impeccable background, both nationally-renowned singers who performed at state banquets in their youth. In their later years, they transitioned smoothly into political careers. 

Echo's older siblings had also trodden the broad, well-paved path laid out by their parents. But somehow, by the time it was her turn, she'd gotten stuck on constructing a ‘piano prodigy’ persona. Her skills were mediocre, but leveraging her family's connections to build hype, she'd embarked on a world tour of piano recitals.

...

There were many more messages like these. Ji Mingshu didn't need to read them all to know their content. After all, out of ten socialites, five were independent fashion designers; the other five dabbled in jewelry design, music, art exhibitions, or lent their names to charitable foundations. Whether they were actually skilled or passionate was debatable; the main point was that the titles sounded impressive and respectable.

Usually, Ji Mingshu looked down on these people with their half-baked artistic endeavors and goldfish memories, always prattling on about art and design. But today, propping her chin in her hand, she suddenly reflected: No matter how unimpressive they are, at least they're seriously building their careers. That's still better than her, looking down on everything while accomplishing nothing herself.

As if struck by a thought, she suddenly put down her phone, sat in front of the computer, and began typing with intense focus.

Around six in the evening, just as Ji Mingshu was about to get up and fetch yogurt from the fridge, she heard the sound of the lock turning at the front door.

She looked up. It was Gu Kaiyang.

"You're off work this early?"

Ji Mingshu was surprised. For a fashion magazine like Zero Degree, overtime was the norm. She'd never seen Gu Kaiyang get off at a normal hour before.

Gu Kaiyang didn't answer, acting mysterious. She changed her shoes at the entrance and then whooshed over to Ji Mingshu's side. "What are you doing?" she asked abruptly.

"Just organizing some of my past design projects," Ji Mingshu said, sizing Gu Kaiyang up and down. Something felt off. "What's with you?"

Gu Kaiyang looked at her, a sly smile she couldn't quite suppress playing on her lips. She brought her hands from behind her back, revealing an exquisite sky-blue velvet jewelry box, giving it a little shake.

Ji Mingshu froze.

With an air of reverence, Gu Kaiyang placed the box on the desk and opened it solemnly. Then she stood up, hands folded primly over her abdomen, imitating Zhou Jiaheng's tone: "Miss Gu, President Cen recently acquired a pink diamond ring. It's the Fancy Intense Pink diamond that Madam Cen was quite taken with last year. It has been recut, its color grade elevated to Fancy Vivid Pink, and has been resized to Madam Cen's measurements. Please be so kind as to pass it along."

Ji Mingshu stared at the oval diamond on the table, its facets exquisitely cut, shimmering with a pink glow, and couldn't snap out of her daze.

After her performance, Gu Kaiyang plopped excitedly onto the sofa next to Ji Mingshu, chattering nonstop. "You have no idea how nervous I was carrying this ring back! Thank god your husband's assistant sent a car and a bodyguard to escort me! Oh my god, I secretly looked it up in the car. This ring sold for thirty-two million! And that's dollars! Your husband is really pulling out all the stops this time!"

Ji Mingshu: ...

She stared at the ring, unable to look away for a long moment.

Who knows what Gu Kaiyang had experienced during her workday, but her attitude had done a complete one-eighty. She buzzed in Ji Mingshu's ear, chanting "Cen Sen is good, Cen Sen is great, Cen Sen is absolutely amazing," stopping just short of packing Ji Mingshu's bags, delivering her back to Mingshui Manor, throwing in a couple of condoms for good measure.

To be honest, Ji Mingshu's resolve had already wavered for a full second upon receiving Jiang Chun's intel that morning.

Now, staring at the pink diamond, her resolve wavered for another three seconds.

She took the ring out of the box and tried it on.

The sunlight was down to its last, faint beam, tinged with the gloom of impending dusk. Yet the pink diamond shone brilliantly, every facet clear and luminous. The small circle of pavé diamonds surrounding it caught the light, scattering brilliant sparks with the slightest movement of her finger.

Oh my god, it's so beautiful!

This is the ring a princess deserves!

Just like my beauty, it's so stunning it takes your breath away!!!

Immersed in her admiration for the ring, Ji Mingshu tuned out Gu Kaiyang's endless chatter as if it were background noise. It was only when she heard the final question, "So when are you going back?" that snapped her out of it like a sobering tonic.

—Going back, just for a ring?

"Who said I'm going back?"

"He thinks he can just fob me off with a stupid ring?"

"Last time I threw the divorce papers at him, he fobbed me off with a bracelet. He does this every time! Where's the sincerity?!"

Gu Kaiyang: "This ring is more expensive than that bracelet. I'd say that's pretty sincere."

Ji Mingshu took the ring off to examine it, suddenly arriving at her own conclusion through a bout of self-directed reasoning. "He probably didn't do anything wrong last time, which is why he felt justified in brushing me off with a bracelet. Doesn't sending something this expensive now prove he's feeling guilty? Cheating scum!"

Gu Kaiyang: ...

What kind of logic is that? Respect. Pure respect.

Ji Mingshu's wavering heart hardened once more. She put the ring away, tossed it into a small drawer, and refused to look at it again. Sitting back at her computer, she straightened her posture and returned to organizing her portfolio.

---

The next morning, Junyi Group headquarters held its monthly executive meeting.

Cen Sen sat at the head of the table in a white shirt and suit, wearing pale gold wire-rimmed glasses.

After the presentations concluded, he didn't even look up before stating coldly, "Manager Lan, I'm curious who promoted you to your current position. Your entire report was filled with vague terms like 'should,' 'possibly,' 'perhaps.' What use are you to Junyi? You might as well retrain with the management trainees and start over from the beginning."

"And the entire Marketing and Communications Department. For two consecutive months, the proposals you've produced look like they came from tenured civil servants just collecting a paycheck. Junyi is not a retirement home. If your brains have stopped turning, go to HR and start the termination process yourselves."

...

When he criticized people, his voice was always cold and merciless. If the blade wasn't cutting into you, you might even appreciate a certain cadenced, measured beauty to his speech.

The entire room was treading on thin ice, holding its breath. When the meeting finally ended, everyone sighed in relief.

Cen Sen left for his office without a moment's delay, while Zhou Jiaheng stayed behind to gather his laptop and materials.

Someone couldn't resist asking Zhou Jiaheng, "Assistant Zhou, what's going on with President Cen these days? He seems…off."

Normally, Cen Sen was also aloof and distant, but his words and actions still carried a sense of measured courtesy. He wasn't usually this… cold and cruel. Even Manager Lan, widely regarded as a delicate flower within Junyi, had been singled out and publicly dismantled without mercy.

Zhou Jiaheng smiled but didn't reply.

Seeing they wouldn't get anything out of him, the others weren't surprised. They just shook their heads, sighed, and gathered their things to return to work.

Although Zhou Jiaheng hadn't answered, he was suffering in silence. After all, who bore the brunt of this indirect wrath more than him, the personal assistant?

The moment he left the conference room, Zhou Jiaheng found a quiet corner and called his subordinate.

"Is the information out? Does Miss Jiang know about Junyi withdrawing the investment and the boss hitting someone?"

...

"It's out? Then why hasn't there been any reaction?"

...

"Has Madam Cen left the apartment today? She didn't return the ring, did she?"

...

After hanging up, Zhou Jiaheng felt even more uneasy. He simply couldn't figure out why the little princess was being so difficult to appease this time. His steps toward the CEO's office grew heavier, his mood funereal.

Over the following week, Cen Sen sent four or five more gifts to Ji Mingshu.

Ji Mingshu accepted them all without reply.

Zhou Jiaheng couldn't help but hint to Cen Sen that perhaps sincerity wasn't enough. The gifts were frequent, but he needed to show his face… or at least make a phone call.

But Cen Sen only gave him a cold glance and took no action.

Zhou Jiaheng didn't know that late at night, when all was quiet, Cen Sen would drive himself to Xinggang International. He'd park across the street and just watch the window—sometimes pitch black, sometimes glowing with warm, yellow light.

Sitting there each time, he felt like he could understand a few things more clearly. But deeper down, on a level he didn't want to acknowledge or expose, he resisted.

Clearly, in the beginning, he hadn't felt this way about Ji Mingshu.

---

That week, Ji Mingshu meticulously organized her past work. She also compiled her education and academic honors into a polished resume and posted it online, offering interior design services as an independent designer.

But just as Gu Kaiyang had said, the direction of her design work overlapped heavily with her social circle.

And people in her circle, without a personal referral, typically only sought out more famous designers to complete their projects.

A whole week passed without a single inquiry.

Late at night, Ji Mingshu squatted in front of her computer, dejected.

All week long, the urge to spend money had itched under her skin, but she'd resisted every time. Yet her bank balance was visibly shrinking day by day.

Thoughts like "Making money is so hard," "Being a regular person is exhausting," "I don't want to try anymore, I'm just a pretty little canary baby," “Wahhh the new Chanel bag is so pretty,” and "If that Dog Man Cen Sen would just call, I might grudgingly forgive him" took turns assaulting her mind, leaving her drained.

Gu Kaiyang, dead-tired from work, had gone straight to sleep after coming home. Ji Mingshu sat at her desk for a while, then suddenly got up, grabbed her key card and phone, and slipped out quietly.

She had hardly ever set foot in a convenience store before, but recently she'd become a regular, even exchanging smiles with the familiar cashier.

She bought a small cup of vegetable oden and a salted egg yolk ice cream bar. Then she sat on a stone bench by the roadside, nibbling her solitary snack in the night breeze.

The streetlights cast warm, dappled spots of yellow light through the tree branches. Finishing the last piece of spinach, she unwrapped the ice cream and took small, absent-minded bites. Suddenly, she missed Cen Sen.

It had only been ten-some days, yet it felt longer than the two years he'd spent in Australia.

She didn't know why she missed him. He was always so cold, only making her little pork ribs to coax her when he wanted to sleep with her, looking down on her designs, telling her she should kowtow her way to the Potala Palace.

But she couldn't stop herself from thinking about him.

Halfway through the ice cream, Ji Mingshu started to feel cold. But it seemed a waste not to finish it. She stood up, planning to eat the rest at home where she wouldn't be in the wind.

But the moment she rose, as if sensing something, she instinctively looked across the street, her heart giving an unexpected, violent thud.

Before she could spot anything, a series of WeChat messages came through from Chris Chou, a designer she hadn't been in touch with for a long time.

ChrisChou: [Shu, I wonder if you might be available these days?]

ChrisChou: [I'm coming to the capital for a show. The Milan runway you designed for me was the most inspired and fitting stage I've seen in recent years. I was hoping for another opportunity to collaborate.]

ChrisChou: [Here's the information for this show. Looking forward to your reply.]

Ji Mingshu's spirits lifted. Opening the attachment Chris Chou had sent, she hadn't even looked at the other details yet when her eyes zeroed in on the venue. Her vision went dark for a second.

Are you kidding me?

Junyi Huazhang?

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