My Queen, My Rules - 71

It had been more than half a month since Ji Mingshu's last Weibo post. Some people were still checking in under her New Year's post, waiting for her to make an appearance. No one expected their wait would be rewarded with such a juicy, direct confrontation.

[That’s a solid ground to stand on! The CEO's wife is rio!]

[Front row seats here! Get your snacks, sodas, and small stools ready!]

[? What's happening? Who's Li Wenyin?]

[Back when that certain director posted that essay titled 'My Ex Got Married,' I commented: 'If you really didn't want to disturb your ex, you shouldn’t have posted this.' That comment got tons of likes. Then that certain director deleted it and blocked me. I remember it perfectly clearly.]

[Not gonna lie, my husband’s ex was the same piece of work. While we were dating, she’d constantly find ways to insert herself into our lives. Since we had mutual friends, we couldn't say much. Later, on our wedding day, she posted their old photos on her Moments, with some captions about 'the past you can't go back to, I miss it.' I was too much of a coward to confront her then, but the more I thought about it afterward, the angrier I got. It even ruined my honeymoon. My husband could tell I was upset, so he posted in his Moments: 'I don’t want to go back. Please stop bringing me up, thanks.' This coward was fully satisfied then :)]

[The above reminds me of my own blood-and-tears history. Almost the exact same situation, but with a different fate. My ex-husband didn’t stand up for me back then; he even called me dramatic for being upset. Later, he cheated on me during my maternity leave—with that very same toxic ex of his :)]

…

Truthfully, once the Weibo was posted, the worst of Ji Mingshu's fury had subsided. She never expected this post would strike such a strong chord with a multitude of female compatriots and a handful of male ones.

The post was even reposted by a highly popular emotional wellness blogger with nearly ten million followers, who added: “Not every current partner has the backing to confront others like the CEO's wife. So, all we can hope is that certain exes with zero self-awareness will take the initiative to enroll in a course on 'The Ex's Guide to Basic Decency.' /smile”

Soon, the hashtag #TheExsGuideToBasicDecency quietly climbed the trending topic charts, skyrocketing from outside the top 30 into the top 10. With every refresh, Ji Mingshu could see her follower count surge. Her reposts, likes, comments, and private messages all exploded.

By the time reposts broke thirty thousand, Cen Sen finally woke up.

“What are you looking at?” His voice was hoarse with sleep.

Ji Mingshu glanced back at him, subtly hiding her phone behind her. “Just… browsing Weibo.”

Despite her earlier fury, after posting, she felt inexplicably guilty.

Somehow, she didn’t really want Cen Sen to see her more… confrontational side. Publicly tearing into his ex on Weibo—would he think she was being undignified and petty?

But the deed was done. It had blown up so big that deleting it would be awkward, and there was no hiding it anyway.

Steeling her heart, Ji Mingshu suddenly hugged Cen Sen, smothering him with kisses before looking up at him with a sweet, pleading pout. “I need to tell you something. Prepare yourself. And you have to accept it!”

“What is it?”

Cen Sen looked down at her, his voice calm, though a vein on his temple began to throb uncontrollably.

“It's like this. Li Wenyin posted on Weibo last night...”

Ji Mingshu organized her words while holding up her phone, giving him a vivid, multimedia presentation of the whole saga. “...Look, look! Her fans are insulting me like this! Calling me the other woman! How could I not get angry, right? Plus, I tend to be grumpy when I wake up—you know that. So I posted a Weibo too. This one, right here.”

She watched Cen Sen's expression cautiously, then added, “Actually, right after posting, I thought it might not have been the best move. What’s the point of stooping to her level? But… it’s already done…”

When he didn’t respond immediately, she hugged his arm, shaking it while laying down the law. “Anyway, you’re not allowed to be mad or think I’m a shrew! I’m just letting you know this happened, but you have to forget it! The Ji Mingshu in your heart can only be a little fairy!”

“Mm. A little fairy.”

Cen Sen skimmed the Weibo post, gave a noncommittal response, put down the phone, and seemed to relax.

“So…” Ji Mingshu probed, “Do you… have any thoughts about my Weibo post?”

Cen Sen thought for a moment. “The sentences are coherent, the logic is clear. Well written.”

“Then… you don’t think I was a bit too aggressive?” After all, I was going after your ex.

Cen Sen thought again. “I am aware this incident occurred, but I have already forgotten it. In my heart, you will always be... a little fairy.”

Ji Mingshu: “…”

Why did this forced attempt at sweet talk feel so much like she was coercing a virtuous woman into a brothel?

She gave him a look that said, ‘Alright, I can see you’re trying your best to keep up,’ and then, perfectly satisfied, headed to the bathroom.

While Ji Mingshu was washing up, there was a new development on Weibo: after a long silence, the Junyi Group Weibo official account once again entered the fray, liking Ji Mingshu’s post, making its stance and position crystal clear.

[Somehow, from this series of actions by the official account, I can sense the CEO’s intense survival instinct.]

[Confirmed: Henpecked.]

Actually, it was Zhou Jiaheng who clicked the like. The previous interventions had also been crafted by him, squeezed out during rare breaks from his hectic schedule.

But Zhou Jiaheng’s actions naturally represented Cen Sen’s intentions. Saying he had “intense survival instinct” or was “henpecked” wasn't entirely unfair.

Meanwhile, within their social circle, opinions were divided. Some felt Ji Mingshu’s actions were beneath her status, a socialite with nothing better to do than engage in online spats.

Others argued that if Cen Sen didn’t mind and even used the corporate account to show support, then it was nobody else’s business. Instead of nitpicking, they should worry about their own flawed arranged marriages.

When Ji Mingshu's Second Uncle found out, he called to lecture her. The content was the same old tune: keep a lower profile, talk less online, and, most importantly, hurry up with the pregnancy and baby plans.

Ji Mingshu played the obedient niece with a string of “Yes, yes,” shooting desperate looks at Cen Sen for rescue, before finally managing to extricate herself from her Second Uncle's lengthy, point-by-point executive-to-subordinate reprimand.

Fortunately, beyond a few wealthy socialite bloggers disclosing more details of Li Wenyin's white lotus antics, the incident didn’t spawn any further drama or create bigger waves online.

As for Li Wenyin, she never responded.

Her fans, who initially believed Ji Mingshu was distorting the truth, already had their hearts turned cold after witnessing Junyi’s official support and the tea spills from verified high-society bloggers.

They held out for a few days, but no explanation came from Li Wenyin. Instead, one late night, she quietly wiped her Weibo clean, changed her username, and swapped her profile picture.

—Later, Jiang Chun declared that Li Wenyin's move marked the revolutionary victory of Operation Expel-Little-Lotus-Li, with profound implications for deterring other followers of the ‘White Lotus Sect’ from future rash actions. Furthermore, Comrade Ji Mingshu, through this campaign, had also earned the indisputable honor of the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Anti-Lotus Society.

Ji Mingshu clearly wasn’t very keen on this particular honor. Her Weibo follower count surpassing Li Wenyin's was already the greatest honor she could ask for.

But after surpassing it, she adopted a much more laid-back attitude. She never wanted to be a celebrity or an influencer anyway, so she stopped posting and didn’t want to attract any more attention.

This series of storms finally drew to a gentle close as the New Year festivities concluded. Though the snow stopped falling in the capital after the New Year, the temperatures had yet to warm up.

On the 20th day of the first lunar month, Cen Sen officially returned to the office.

This break had lasted nearly twenty days—the longest vacation he'd taken since starting his career, by his own account.

Even so, Ji Mingshu felt he was working every single day; he’d just moved his office home.

As the saying goes, one takes on the color of one’s company. After confirming their mutual feelings, Ji Mingshu found herself somewhat influenced by Cen Sen. A thought kept nagging her: He's this rich and still works this hard. Shouldn't I also find something to do to be worthy of him?

It seems when you truly fall for someone, you unconsciously want to get closer to them. You greedily want to step into their world, to have more topics to share.

So, when she saw Cen Sen’s densely packed first-half work plan, Ji Mingshu sidled into his study, propped her chin on her hands with utmost seriousness, and declared, “I want to write a New Year plan too. Teach me.”

Cen Sen’s hands paused slightly on the keyboard. “What kind? Travel? Or... shopping?”

“…”

Ji Mingshu stared at him with a look that said: Do I really look that idle, lazy, and unambitious to you?

Cen Sen returned a look that said: Yes, you absolutely do.

Ten seconds later, Cen Sen surrendered, because Ji Mingshu had been rubbing her bare foot against the inside of his calf under the desk the entire time.

He pulled out a document and handed it to her. “I recall you were previously interested in the Junyi Yaji project. The hotel is scheduled for completion this April. The project team has already shortlisted over thirty designers for the guest room interiors. If you're interested, I can arrange for you to participate in the design pitch. But the condition is that your design must pass the project team's anonymous blind selection vote.”

Ji Mingshu took the file and studied it carefully for a good while.

After reading, she suddenly laughed, flipping her hair as if muttering to herself, “How strange… why does this Potala Place feel so much like our study?”

“…”

At first, Cen Sen didn't grasp her meaning. By the time he figured it out, Ji Mingshu had already settled onto his lap, giving him a loud, smacking kiss, saying sweetly, “Thank you, husband.”

---

Author’s Note:

Little Golden Canary: This baby has kowtowed her way to the Potala Palace and successfully moved heavens and earth.

---

← Previous | Table of Contents | Next →

0