My Queen, My Rules - 57

Broadcast

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Snow had fallen over Mingshui Lake the entire night, silent and relentless. By seven or eight in the morning, the flakes were still tumbling fast and thick, bending the evergreen branches under their heavy accumulation.

Outside, the sky was still a dim, grayish white, but the reflected light from the snow was glaring. Cen Sen pressed the remote to draw the curtains closed, then remembered he needed to apply ointment to the still-sleeping Ji Mingshu.

It was his first time doing anything like this. His touch was clumsy, sometimes a little too firm. Ji Mingshu frowned in her sleep and unconsciously kicked him.

He tilted his head to avoid it, not taking offense, and simply pressed down slightly on her ankle. Once done, he glanced at the clock, unbuttoned his shirt, and headed to the shower.

With less than a month until the New Year, Junyi’s year-end work was winding down. Most employees could finally relax, slack off a bit, and wait for their vacation and trip home for the holidays.

But as the group president, “holiday” was a foreign concept for Cen Sen. If he wanted to, he could work 365 days a year without a break, just like he had during those two years in Australia.

This year, though, he’d surprised everyone, including himself. From mid-January to the eighth day of the new year, he’d deliberately asked Zhou Jiaheng to clear any business trips, leaving only the bare minimum: routine company work and a few social dinners he couldn’t refuse.

The sound of running water filled the room. Half-asleep, Ji Mingshu thought it was raining outside. She rolled over, and a strange coolness came from the originally swollen, sore spot. She shivered, her consciousness drifted back just as the pitter-patter ceased.

When she finally managed to open her eyes, Cen Sen was stepping out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, the top button of his shirt undone.

Almost without thinking, she immediately shut her eyes again, pulling the duvet up to her chin.

It was terrifying. Cen Sen, that pervert, was simply too terrifying. Ji Mingshu felt that she had known absolutely nothing about this maniac before last night!

Abstinent? Sexually frigid? Not even close. That pervert hadn’t been this fierce even the first time he performed his marital duties after returning to China.

She’d thought things were over when he took her to the shower. It turned out the real nightmare had only just begun. And this morning, before she was even fully awake, she’d been pinned down again to serve, like a salted fish on a chopping block, dying and coming back to life over and over.

Now, she felt hollowed out; she would never again crave braised pork ribs in this lifetime. Regret. She was filled with profound regret.

As she was spiraling through those thoughts, a light kiss brushed her forehead. Her nerves tightened; she didn’t dare open her eyes.

Cen Sen didn’t push her. His voice was low as he instructed, “I’m going to the office. You’re not feeling well, don’t go out today. Tell the housekeeper what you want for lunch. I’ll cook dinner when I’m back.”

Ji Mingshu kept her eyes shut and shook her head repeatedly. She mumbled into the blanket, her voice muffled and stubborn. “I don’t want you to cook.”

“...”

“Alright.”

“Good, now go! Go!” she said quickly, still refusing to look at him.

Ji Mingshu began shooing him away, ducking her head further under the covers.

Cen Sen didn’t say anything more. He tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, then stood up and left.

As he pulled the door closed, his gaze lingered on the small, curled-up figure on the bed, his eyes holding a softness even he didn’t perceive.

“55, 56, 57, 58…”

Zhou Jiaheng watched the second hand move with methodical precision. His obsessive-compulsiveness made him stop abruptly only when his count reached a full minute.

One hour and fifty-three minutes.

Hm. The boss was one hour and fifty-three minutes later than usual today.

From a distance, he saw Cen Sen flexing his knuckles and rolling his shoulders slightly. Thinking of something, Zhou Jiaheng’s intuition sparked.

As Cen Sen approached, Zhou Jiaheng hurried out to open the back door of the car, hand raised to shield Cen Sen’s head from the roof. He greeted, “Good morning, Boss.”

“Morning.”

Cen Sen was the type of leader whose emotions never showed on his face. But after years of working beside him, Zhou Jiaheng could detect shifts that others missed.

Out of 365 days a year, Cen Sen was cold-blooded and ruthless for 360 of them. But today, there was warmth in the air around him, his state relaxed—clearly in a very good mood. Encountering a day like this was even rarer than suddenly being notified of a promotion and raise.

Zhou Jiaheng was sharp. After going through the daily brief and company updates, he laid the groundwork with a long spiel about employee New Year benefit arrangements, then seamlessly brought up his own docked year-end bonus.

Sure enough, Cen Sen didn’t even look up before responding, “It’ll be issued as planned. What else? Say it all now.”

Zhou Jiaheng grinned sheepishly. “Knew nothing gets past you, Boss.”

He rubbed his hands together, choosing his words. “Actually, there is one thing I’d like to trouble you with. You know I have a little nephew, over six years old? I’ve mentioned him before—looks just like me, super cute…”

Cen Sen pinched the bridge of his nose.

Zhou Jiaheng hurried to the main point. “My little nephew went to school down in Nanchang. My brother and sister-in-law want to transfer him to the capital, and they’re hoping to have him attend Qingxiao. But Qingxiao is so hard to get into…”

Cen Sen raised a hand to cut him off. “Call Director Zhao for me later.”

“Ah, thank you, President Cen. Thank you!”

Zhou Jiaheng happily agreed repeatedly.

Qingxiao wasn’t an ordinary primary school. While Zhou Jiaheng had some connections with Director Zhao, it was not enough to guarantee it. But if Cen Sen made the call, the doors would open effortlessly.

Of course, on a normal day, he’d never dare bring this up with Cen Sen.

With projects worth tens of millions, hundreds of millions, and even billions still lined up, mentioning something as trivial as a child’s school transfer in front of him would have been weird.

And if he had brought it up, Cen Sen would probably have given him a look that said, “Have you earned enough money and now want to go home and retire?” How could it have been as easy as it was today?

He silently sent his gratitude to Ji Mingshu a hundred times over, then, feeling duly grateful, mentioned that there was a private collection auction before the New Year. He detailed how rare certain sets of jewelry were, which set was suitable for elders, which for younger generations, and which for one’s wife.

Cen Sen leaned back in the seat, resting with his eyes closed. For some reason, an image of Ji Mingshu moaning softly beneath him last night flashed behind his eyelids.

He unconsciously rolled his Adam’s apple. His voice turned low and husky. “Bid on it.”

Thirty minutes later, the Bentley pulled up at Junyi headquarters, and Cen Sen began another day of busy work.

On the other side, Ji Mingshu drifted in and out of sleep until dusk.

—Before this, she would never have imagined that her first day back home would be spent in bed.

After the radio silence last night, that shrewd fox Gu Kaiyang had naturally guessed that Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen had done some indescribable, blush-inducing things. First thing in the morning, she claimed credit for it in the group chat, conveniently forgetting her own betrayal and cowardice the day before.

10:00 a.m.

Gu Kaiyang: [Mingshu, my darling, when are you coming to move your stuff? If you’re not taking those Hermès bags, I guess I’ll have to suffer and keep them for you!]

3:00 p.m.

Gu Kaiyang: [Still not awake? Don’t tell me your husband wore you out so bad you can’t get out of bed?]

Jiang Chun: [???]

Jiang Chun: [I’m confused x2.jpg]

Jiang Chun: [Gu-language is terrifying!]

Jiang Chun: [Mom, I want to leave the group!!!]

Jiang Chun: [Wahhh, I'm no longer a pure little goose!!]

Gu Kaiyang replied like a devilish big sister introducing the kids to forbidden knowledge.

Little Earth Goose was weak-willed. Her rookie integrity held out for less than five minutes before she was completely brainwashed by Gu-speak, tentatively extending her little goose foot to explore this brand new domain.

When Ji Mingshu opened the chat messages that evening, the conversation had started from Jiang Chun’s comment, “President Cen seems pretty sexually frigid,” and charged headlong down a path towards getting the group banned. One old driver and one little rookie had somehow managed to discuss over four hundred messages worth of sexual topics.

During this, Editor Gu was churning out her pearls of wisdom—

“Half of the men who act flirty are just immature, but the quiet ones? Ninety percent of them are fire under ice.” “A man like President Cen is clearly made for great deeds in bed. He’s definitely full of tricks.” “Ji Mingshu barely eats or works out. Her stamina probably isn’t great. I bet she won’t be able to get out of bed for three days and three nights.”

Ji Mingshu fell silent, internally grumbling: She could get out of bed right now if she wanted to, okay?! Haven’t you heard the saying, “only the ox dies of exhaustion, the land never gets plowed to ruin”?

Although… Gu Kaiyang’s first two points were pretty accurate. Cen Sen, that pervert, really was too much.

She and Cen Sen had been married for quite a while now. When they got intimate, she didn’t really get shy, because it was always in the dark and very formulaic—get it roughly over with, wash up, and sleep. But last night, he had actually bent down and… And later, he deliberately carried her in front of the mirror, slowing his movements, coaxing and enticing her to look!

The memory made her flush from head to toe; she grabbed the duvet and covered her head again.

Due to the intense physical and mental impact of last night, she had no energy to care about Little Lotus Li’s latest movements after the salon or to deal with Gu Kaiyang.

When the producer from the Designer’s Abode program team sent a message asking her to repost the Weibo for tonight’s premiere, she responded with a serene, almost Buddhist “Okay,” exuding an aura of peace, love, and tranquil, white lotus purity through her WeChat.

Ji Mingshu didn’t usually spend much time on Weibo. She just browsed news, gave likes, and occasionally stepped in to help Pei Xiyan roast a hater or two.

It was only after the production team persistently sent messages that she grudgingly verified herself as an interior designer, changing her username from a random string of characters she’d face-typed on the keyboard to the perfectly proper: “Ji Mingshu.”

Her account originally had a few hundred followers; half were spam bots, and the other half were her plastic flower friends from her circle who insisted on following each other.

After verification passed, the program team bought her thirty thousand followers and specifically notified her in a “you’re welcome” tone. She had been speechless at the time and didn’t even reply to the message.

Now, she dutifully logged in, followed the show’s official account, reposted the Weibo, and then logged off directly. She didn’t even check the new followers or new private messages. Her mind was completely occupied with turning over the same questions: Would Cen Sen come home late tonight? Would he continue his antics tonight? Had he taken some kind of drugs? How should she face him to seem more natural…?

Unexpectedly, the result turned out to be quite what she wished—tonight, Cen Sen had a last-minute meeting with a long-term cooperating real estate tycoon who had come from afar to visit. Out of courtesy, he couldn’t decline, and his return time was uncertain.

After reading the message from Cen Sen, Ji Mingshu only replied, “Okay,” then exited the chat interface. But three seconds later, she clicked back in, scrolling up through their chat history.

Strange—when did that dog man develop the habit of reporting his schedule to her? Well, it’s a good habit. Hm, he can keep it.

So, that night, Ji-shi Shushu’s quiet evening alone began. She admired her newly expanded walk-in closet, then curled up with a bowl of grapes to watch the premiere of Designer’s Abode at eight.

She guessed that Cen Sen must have spoken to the program team again. She hadn’t been edited out completely. The opening segments, the group draws, and design selections all had shots of her.

Not many, but every shot was beautiful, as if lit by perfect studio lighting. Her entire being was stunningly, strikingly beautiful, making the flashy young idol beside her, Yan Yuexing, look like some Z-list small-time extra.

She didn’t know that at that very moment, gossip forums were ablaze with discussions: Before, we only thought there was a wall between actors and idols. Never imagined there’s a wall between an ordinary civilian and an idol too.

Ji Mingshu was quite satisfied with her on-screen appearance. Popping grapes into her mouth, she watched, but the more she watched, the more she felt something was off.

Why did it feel like a lot of the broadcast content didn’t match what was recorded? The order of many segments, even the sequence of speech in conversations, seemed wrong.

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