My Queen, My Rules - 7
Ring
That brief moment of eye contact left Ji Mingshu every bit as mortified as she had been a few hours earlier, when Cen Sen had walked in on her private bathtub concert.
Apparently his mind had gone to the exact same place.
"Why are you looking at me?" he asked. "'Fairy who brings men to their knees’?"
He delivered those last few words in an even voice, pausing deliberately between each phrase. It sounded strangely like a student reciting classical texts back in high school. Except his awkward, stilted repetition carried with it a faint, almost imperceptible mockery.
Ji Mingshu was caught off guard. For a moment, she couldn't think of a retort.
For reasons unknown, Cen Sen seemed in no hurry to let her off the hook. "Or did I get the title wrong? Maybe 'the fairy who captivates the whole world' suits you better?"
Ji Mingshu: "…"
She really was too kind. How else could she have imagined that someone like Cen Sen, a sharp-tongued beast in gentleman's clothing, would spend even a second brooding over his complicated family situation?
Straightening her back, she replied expressionlessly, "If you're so good at talking, then by all means, keep going."
Cen Sen did not oblige. His gaze shifted coldly back to the road ahead, "Back to Mingshui Manor," he instructed the driver.
The rest of the journey passed in complete silence.
Mingshui Manor was divided into the Waterside Villa District and theLakeheart Villa District. The villa where Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu lived, Villa 13, stood in the Lakeheart section. A wide private bridge connected it directly to its own parking area, complete with a guarded checkpoint staffed around the clock. Security and privacy were second to none.
The moment the car stopped, Ji Mingshu opened her door and got out first. Without so much as a backward glance, she strode away in brisk, determined steps.
Her retreating figure was graceful, elegant, and radiated confidence.
Invisible-man Zhou Jiaheng silently summed it up with a single word: Formidable.
Ji Mingshu went upstairs, locked herself inside her bedroom, and waited. She was half-expecting Cen Sen to come knocking, maybe even say a few conciliatory words.
By the time she'd removed her makeup, however, there was still no sound from downstairs.
She stepped onto the balcony just in time to see Cen Sen's car gliding out of the Lakeheart district. Moments later, a modest Passat followed behind.
The Passat belonged to Cen Sen's personal bodyguard.
His security detail rotated in three shifts and stayed glued to him twenty-four hours a day.
Which meant… He'd left?
Realizing this, Ji Mingshu immediately called to demand, "Where are you going?"
His voice was calm and detached. "I have another engagement. Get some rest. You don't have to wait up."
"...Who said I was waiting for you?"
For one brief second, Ji Mingshu genuinely thought she'd misheard.
Did this dog man seriously expect her to pine away at home like some devoted wife waiting for her husband to return? The nerve.
Without another word, she hung up.
Then she immediately regretted hanging up so quickly. Why had she done that? What if he thought she'd panicked because he'd hit the mark?
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. "Shameless jerk. Not even that handsome, yet still thinking he's all that."
She tossed her phone aside and went into the bathroom to put on a face mask.
Halfway through applying it, she froze.
Wait. That wasn't right. He really couldn't be classified as "not handsome."
First, because objectively he wasn't. Second, if she insisted on calling him unattractive, wasn't she insulting her own taste?
Somehow, that only made her even more annoyed.
—
Meanwhile, after dropping Miss Ji back at Mingshui Manor, Cen Sen instructed the driver to head for Heyong Club.
Heyong Club was an exclusive private establishment built on the former site of a consulate along Ruiying Road. Unlike other luxury clubs, it accepted no membership applications. Instead, it selectively extended invitations to influential figures from Beijing and Shanghai.
He had a business meeting there that evening to discuss the supporting hotel development for the Western Suburb Scenic Area.
Night had just fallen. Across the capital, countless lights shimmered beneath the deepening dusk. Looking out toward Chang'an, the city resembled a sea of blooming lanterns. Lively and lonely at once, it possessed a beauty all its own.
Cen Sen never looked outside the window.
Days of nonstop social engagements since returning to the country had begun to wear down even someone as resilient as him. Folding his arms loosely across his chest, he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.
Perhaps because his mind never truly slowed down, even this brief attempt to rest proved difficult.
Scenes surfaced one after another in his mind without warning.
His young cousin apologizing in panic, staring helplessly at the pork ribs in her bowl, timid and overwhelmed.
Old Madam Cen smiling warmly at Ji Mingshu, only to become noticeably more restrained and distant the moment she turned toward him.
His aunt, Cen Yingshuang, mentioning Cen Yang... and the pavilion falling into complete silence.
That silence suddenly reminded him of another.
The first time he had arrived from Xingcheng to the capital and stepped into Nanqiao Alley as a child.
There had been many people then, too.
And the same suffocating quiet.
Some memories had faded so far into the past they felt like another lifetime.
Everyone had silently agreed never to speak of them again. Not because those things were over, but because they never truly would be.
From the front passenger seat, Zhou Jiaheng caught sight of Cen Sen's faintly furrowed brow in the rearview mirror. Noticing that his rest seeming uneasy, he quietly switched on a soft, soothing melody.
Outside, the traffic light changed from red to green.
Warm streetlights spilled diagonally through the half-open window, casting hazy golden halos that flickered like memories from another era.
At long last, sleepiness began to settle over Cen Sen.
Then, for no apparent reason, Ji Mingshu's bathtub performance popped into his mind again.
Along with them, the self-indulgent lyrics she'd been enthusiastically singing started replaying inside his head in full surround sound.
That speck of drowsiness vanished instantly.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he let out a quiet, amused laugh.
---
The night air carried a chill.
Standing outside Heyong Club, Zhang Baoshu looked up at the silver-lit entrance and instinctively hugged her arms closer, shivering slightly.
She had only been called in at the last minute.
A famous actress under her agent had encountered an emergency, and Zhang Baoshu had been sent to fill in for tonight's dinner engagement.
Her agent had repeatedly reminded her to make the most of this opportunity.
Then, right before she left, she'd added another contradictory piece of advice. "If you don't know what to say, don't say anything."
If she wasn't supposed to talk, how was she supposed to make the most of this opportunity?
The more Zhang Baoshu thought about it, the less sense it made.
Ordinary people couldn't simply walk into Heyong Club. Only after Young Master Zhang gave his approval did a smiling hostess in a fitted qipao escort her upstairs.
Gripping the strap of her handbag, she discreetly took in her surroundings.
Perhaps because the building had once served as a consulate, the interior blended Eastern and Western styles seamlessly. Flowing streams and elegant bridges stood beside antique gramophones and oil paintings. Somehow, none of it felt out of place.
Her destination was a private room on the third floor. Bearing the elegant name: "Dream of Nanke.”
Wealthy people certainly loved these poetic, mysterious names to advertise their refined taste. Zhang Baoshu wasn't surprised.
The moment the door opened, she realized how enormous the room was.
A marble round table with a rotating centerpiece occupied the front, laid with exquisite tableware and fresh flowers in full bloom. Beyond a decorative screen, the lighting dimmed into a softer glow, where occasional voices drifted from deeper inside.
As Zhang Baoshu approached, she heard someone say with a faint smile, "Young Master Zhang, I concede."
Young Master Zhang chuckled. "I can't match your memory."
An unfinished hand of cards was placed face down before being shuffled together with the rest.
When Young Master Zhang noticed her arrival, he merely lifted an eyebrow without much interest.
Still shuffling, he casually ordered, "Light a cigarette for President Cen."
President Cen?
Zhang Baoshu instinctively glanced around the room.
There were six men in the room. Three were seated, three remained standing. The standing men looked more like assistants than principals.
Among those seated, besides Young Master Zhang, there was a middle-aged man who looked every bit the government official, though he already had a female companion beside him, a familiar television news anchor.
That left only one person.
The moment she saw his face, she froze.
Wasn't he the man from the Zero Degrees gala? The one who had deliberately driven up the bidding on Su Cheng's pearl necklace?
She remembered now.
Cen Sen.
Seeing her remained rooted in place, Young Master Zhang frowned impatiently. "What are you standing there for? It's only lighting a cigarette. Do you need to perform a ritual first?"
Snapping back to reality, Zhang Baoshu hurriedly reached for the cigarette case on the table. It was a style she'd never seen before. She couldn't figure out how to open it.
Cen Sen turned slightly, glanced at her only briefly, and raised a hand in quiet refusal. "No need."
She stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do next.
Young Master Zhang clicked his tongue. "Pour the wine."
"..."
A beat behind everyone else once again, Zhang Baoshu awkwardly reached for the bottle of whisky.
She was usually quick on her feet; otherwise her agent wouldn't have given her the opportunity like this to move up so quickly. Yet tonight, for reasons she couldn't explain, everything she did seemed clumsy and flustered.
The other two female companions watched her with unconcealed amusement.
Young Master Zhang's companion deliberately chose this moment to display her attentiveness, gracefully massaging his temples in slow circles. Her wine-red nails dusted with silver glitter shimmered beneath the lights.
Enjoying the attention, Young Master Zhang dealt another hand of cards while speaking lazily. "President Cen, don't blame me for this. I originally invited Xin Zhihui to keep you company, but her agent said her flight was delayed and she couldn't make it. They insisted on sending this little girl instead. Said she's a film academy student who's just finished some campus movie, all pure and adorable. Pure, maybe. Adorable? I'm not seeing it."
Turning toward Zhang Baoshu, he asked, "What was your name again?"
"Zhang... Baoshu."
"Hah. Same family name as mine."
"Your real name?"
Cen Sen, who had been mostly silent all evening, suddenly looked at her.
She shook her head. "That's my stage name."
"What's your real name?"
Embarrassed, Zhang Baoshu hesitated without answering.
Cen Sen didn't press. His attention returned to the cards as he calmly rearranged them in his hand.
His fingers were long and slender. Even the way he held the cards looked more like he was handling a work of art.
After a long hesitation, Zhang Baoshu answered softly, "My real name is... Zhang Yanhong."
The moment the words left her mouth, the tips of her ears turned red. Even she thought the name sounded painfully old-fashioned.
Sure enough, the women immediately laughed.
Young Master Zhang bluntly remarked that it sounded like the name of a maid from the last century.
Cen Sen, however, showed no such reaction. He only said mildly, "Your real name is better. 'Baoshu' doesn't suit you."
His tone was unremarkedly neutral. Yet those simple words somehow carried an unexpected warmth.
For a moment, Zhang Baoshu simply stared at him, forgetting even to wonder why he thought the name didn't suit her.
As the men moved on to business, she understood almost none of the discussion, nor could she focus.
It felt as though she'd been bewitched. Her heart itched with restless anticipation, and her courage grew little by little.
After refilling Cen Sen's glass, she quietly took a seat beside him, occasionally handing him whatever he needed.
Young Master Zhang, who had looked down on her earlier, now shot her an approving look.
Not bad.
At least she's learning.
The decision-making power over the Western Suburb Scenic Area hotel project rested with Junyi Group.
After taking over the company, Cen Sen had restructured numerous ongoing and upcoming projects. The scenic area's hotel development happened to be one that meant little to the group. Keeping it brought few benefits. Abandoning it wasn't much of a loss either.
For Young Master Zhang's side, however, attracting a prestigious luxury hotel brand was essential to raising both the area's service standards and overall positioning.
Hence tonight's gathering. One side hoped to preserve the current partnership. The other quietly waited for greater concessions, smiling without revealing anything.
By the time the banquet wound down late into the night, Young Master Zhang had practically talked himself hoarse without winning a single concession from Cen Sen.
Yet abandoning the partnership wasn't an option.
Forced back step by step, he eventually found himself stripped of nearly every bargaining chip.
And somehow, he still had to thank Cen Sen profusely, as if he were begging the other party to make money.
Cen Sen and Director Yang, who had helped smooth negotiations throughout the evening, left first.
Loosening his tie, Young Master Zhang scowled irritably. Noticing Zhang Baoshu still lingering uncertainly with her handbag, hesitant whether she should follow Cen Sen, his temper flared even hotter.
He jerked his chin toward the door. "Go after him. Where'd they dig up an idiot like you? What are you standing here pretending to be virtuous for?"
Both angry and intimidated, Zhang Baoshu didn't dare argue.
They might share a surname, but this ‘Zhang’ in front of her wasn't someone she could afford to offend.
She hurried outside just in time to see the valet opening Cen Sen's car door.
"President Cen!"
Summoning every ounce of courage, she called after him.
Cen Sen lifted his eyes slightly.
Taking a deep breath, she hurried forward in her heels.
Stopping in front of him, she clutched her handbag nervously. "President Cen... would it be possible for you to give me a ride? I didn't drive here... I mean... I don't own a car."
She hastily added, "If that's inconvenient, then... could I add you on WeChat?"
Cen Sen gave a quiet chuckle.
Zhang Baoshu secretly looked up and realize his gaze wasn't on her.
It was fixed on her handbag.
The bag had been borrowed from her agent. A Chanel design from two years ago, beautiful in both color and style, and of course, priced far beyond what a newcomer like her could normally afford.
Cen Sen remembered that particular bag very well.
On the night before their wedding, Ji Mingshu had been carrying that exact one.
When she'd woken to find him lying beside her, she'd flown into a rage, emptied everything from the bag, pulled it over his head, grabbed him by the collar, and demanded that the pervert who'd stolen her chastity explode on the spot.
"President Cen?"
Zhang Baoshu asked timidly again, giving her phone a small hopeful shake.
Returning to himself, Cen Sen let his eyes linger briefly on the WeChat screen.
Baoshu.
So it wasn't the same Shu.
His thumb slowly turned the wedding ring on his finger. "I'm sorry," he said plainly. "I'm married."
Zhang Baoshu was momentarily taken aback.
She'd been watching him all night. Of course she hadn't missed the wedding band. But men in this circles, whether he was married or not, what did it matter?
She instinctively took his reminder as a different kind of hint. Though disappointed, it was within her expectations.
After a brief silence, she lifted her chin and met his eyes with what she believed was remarkable courage. "I don't mind."
"I do." Cen Sen answered without hesitation. "Does your university not have admissions standards? With comprehension skills like that, how are you supposed to understand a script?"
Zhang Baoshu stared at him blankly.
Climbing into the car, Cen Sen spoke calmly. "Whether it's looks, temperament, education, or family background, you don't measure up to my wife in any way. You'd do better to wash your face and wake up."
---
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