My Queen, My Rules - 73
Baby
At seven that evening, after finishing a business meeting, Cen Sen walked out of the hotel and stood beneath the portico, watching the other party drive away.
In Xingcheng, caught between the tail end of winter and the cusp of spring, the branches lining the streets stood bare, showing no signs of budding. The evening wind was damp and cold. Cen Sen tilted his head back slightly and asked, "Still no answer?"
Zhou Jiaheng lowered his gaze. "No answer, but the phone is ringing through. The driver said Madam told him to go back after she arrived."
The chauffeured car slowly pulled beneath the portico. Cen Sen didn't ask anything else, simply letting Zhou Jiaheng open the door for him.
Once inside, he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes in a light doze. In the murky darkness of the night, his expression was equally unreadable.
By the time he arrived at the residential complex where Ji Mingshu had gone for her follow-up visit, the nearby elementary school had long since fallen silent for the night, but the neighborhood's square-dancing brigade was just reaching its daily, occasionally twice-daily, moment of glory.
There were four separate groups dancing outside the complex alone, each with completely different styles and songs. Add in the uncles nearby playing the erhu and singing opera, and the evening's amateur arts festival had somehow managed to span both China and the rest of human history.
Dancing was one thing, but the groups had also completely blocked the entrance to the residential complex. The security guard was nowhere to be found, presumably off enjoying himself somewhere. The Maybach could neither advance nor retreat.
Cen Sen motioned for the driver to stop and got out, walking inside himself.
Even walking proved no easier. Over the course of a mere two hundred meters, three aunties stopped him to ask about his marital status.
By the time he finally escaped them and entered the complex, it was almost eight.
The old residential complex was stingy with its streetlights, leaving only the scattered glow from the windows of individual apartments to illuminate the paths.
Someone was watching television, alternating between heartbreaking sobs and bursts of laughter.
Someone was only just making dinner at this hour, the sound of stir-frying drifting outside along with the kitchen smoke.
Someone was teaching a child to do homework, and even from ten yards away, the parents' exasperation and fury at their child's perceived failures were impossible to miss.
Somehow, this surrounding gave Cen Sen a sense of long-lost familiarity.
"My uncle and aunt complain about it every day. They say the whole program was a scam, that it was full of frauds who made the house impossible to live in. Other than the appliances they gave us, everything was just stuff that looked nice sitting there."
"Miss Ji, we're really sorry. I know you designers have your own ideas, and you were doing your best to meet all the requirements we'd given you before. We just never expected it to turn out like this."
"This is a home we're supposed to live in. Look, there's not even a cabinet for storing a thick winter quilt. How are we supposed to live here? The lamp you brought in is pretty, yes, but it takes up a whole square meter just sitting there. How big do you think our house is? And even when it's lit, it isn't particularly bright. It's just in the way."
...
Ji Mingshu sat on the stone bench beside a flower bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly into space.
That afternoon, after seeing the completely transformed renovation through the metal security door, she happened to run into Mr. Wang and his wife, the homeowners, when they came home from work.
They had been rather embarrassed to see her too, but after taking her around the house, their embarrassment had gradually turned into completely justified-sounding complaints.
She'd left the fruit basket behind and somehow managed to maintain her manners as she said goodbye. After that, it was as though every ounce of strength had drained out of her. She didn't want to do anything or say anything. She had simply sat downstairs in a daze ever since.
Her taste had been praised ever since she was little. In university, like many wealthy young women, she took design as an elective. While everyone else chose jewelry design or fashion design, she, in order to set herself apart, had chosen spatial design.
Fortunately, she was good at it. Her teachers often praised her for being perceptive and imaginative.
After marrying Cen Sen, she hadn't worked, but that was only because she didn't want to. She had never once felt that there was anything wrong with her ability to work.
When she run away from home before, she had wanted to prove to Cen Sen that she wasn't helpless without him. And she had done exactly that, she'd designing the set for Chrischou's show and gained both fame and fortune in a glorious moment.
So even now, Ji Mingshu firmly believed that if she wanted to do something well, she would do it well.
—Of course, that conviction had only lasted until six that afternoon.
"Cold?"
Cen Sen was clearly not particularly gifted at comforting people. His opening line was neither warm nor tender.
Ji Mingshu looked up slowly, "If I'm not cold, you weren't planning on giving me your coat, is that it?"
"Even if you were cold, I wasn't planning to."
"...?"
Ji Mingshu thought she'd misheard. What nonsense was this Dog Man spouting?
"If you're going to catch a cold, you've already caught it. A little sooner or later won't make a difference."
Ji Mingshu: "..."
It was strange. She clearly wanted to curse him out, yet some inexplicable part of her heart actually agreed with Cen Sen's cold, ruthless, capitalist logic.
So when Cen Sen held out his hand, she took it as obediently as if she'd been hypnotized, then meekly stood up from the stone bench.
Cen Sen hadn't expected her to be so obedient. Seeing her lower her eyes unhappily, the comforting speeches he'd mentally prepared on the way over somehow vanished without a trace.
"The follow-up didn't turn out the way you imagined?"
He took off his coat and wrapped it around Ji Mingshu, then rubbed the top of her head.
Ji Mingshu had been following his cold, ruthless logic, and her grievance had begun to fade. But then he inexplicably turned gentle, and all the grievance she'd been stewing in all evening doubled and surged forth. Her need to vent instantly reached its peak.
"Didn't go as imagined? It was nothing like I imagined!"
Ji Mingshu rambled on and on, becoming more upset with every word. "...we have to prepare a gift for the homeowner at the end, you know? Their information said they could play piano, and they even had a music room at home, so we prepared a brand-new piano as a gift."
"Pianos are expensive. There wasn't enough money left at the time, so we had no choice but to go along with the production team's script and work as salespeople at the mall. I even ruined a pair of high heels doing it. And they sold the piano!"
"The worst part was that they said my design was only good for looking pretty and wasn't practical at all. You didn't see how disdainful they looked when they said it. Tell me... tell me, was my design really that bad?"
Ji Mingshu was so upset that her voice began to catch.
With tears clouding her eyes, she gazed at Cen Sen for a while before suddenly grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and accusing him of his own crimes.
"You're awful. You said you'd finish at seven and come pick me up, but you didn't get here until eight."
"Even Tang Zhizhou knows how to kiss and hug Jiang Chun and pick her up in his arms. You wouldn't even give me your coat. You totally want me to catch a cold and get sick."
"You don't like me at all. You're a liar!"
By the time she said liar, her voice was thick with tears. She threw her arms around Cen Sen and vigorously rubbed her nose and tears all over his shirt.
A warm patch of dampness suddenly spread across his chest. Cen Sen couldn't manage a single word of rebuttal. All he could do was gently pat her shoulder and rub her head.
In that instant, Cen Sen suddenly realized that he had fallen into a misconception.
When an employee suffered a setback, he could indeed throw a file at them without mercy and tell them to go back and reflect on how they couldn't even handle something this minor, then ask what exactly they thought they were capable of doing.
Because he was the boss. He needed to project an authority that commanded obedience.
But Ji Mingshu wasn't his employee. She was his wife.
His wife, who lacked a sense of security and relied on him deeply. Whenever he showed her even the slightest bit of concern, she derived immense comfort from it.
"Don't cry. I'll make you some spare ribs when we get back, okay?" His voice was low and husky.
"Are you even human? Y-you're still thinking about spare ribs right now!" Ji Mingshu hiccuped between sobs, her words coming out in broken pieces.
Cen Sen paused. After a moment of thought, he explained, "That's not what I meant. Whatever you want to eat, I'll make it."
Ji Mingshu rested against his chest in silence.
Cen Sen said nothing more. Once her sobs had quieted, he gently lifted her face. His slightly rough fingertips moved as gentle as possible, wiping away her tears bit by bit. Then he kissed her reddened eyes.
"Mingshu, I like you. I wasn't lying to you."
In the dim darkness of the night, Ji Mingshu saw her own reflection in his clear, quiet eyes, and heard the sound of her heart falling for him.
Back at the hotel, Cen Sen went into the kitchen and cooked.
Besides the obligatory braised little spare ribs, Cen Sen also made poached fish fillets in hot oil. After the tender blackfish fillets had been marinated and cooked, they were piled white and delicate in a bowl, then doused with hot oil from a small pan. The mingled fragrance of scallions, ginger, garlic, Sichuan peppercorns, and other seasonings instantly rose with the aroma of the fish.
Ji Mingshu's eyes were still red like a little rabbit's, but the moment she sat at the dining table, she couldn't help swallowing a few times.
She normally didn't eat much at night, but being sad and upset took energy too. The world was not worth it, and neither was this dog of a man, Cen Sen. But the little spare ribs and the fish were absolutely worth it.
After eating, Ji Mingshu seemed to recover her spirits. She hugged Cen Sen's arm, rested her head against his shoulder, and launched into a stream of self-reflection and muttered conclusions all on her own.
"Actually, it really was my lack of thorough consideration. You told me before, but the plan was already difficult to change by then, so I only changed a few things. I thought that would be enough. Ultimately, it was still my fault."
"But I do think there's a difference between designing a home for someone to actually live in and designing a hotel. Your Junyi hotels are positioned at the higher end of the market, so the main focus is comfort and that sense of novelty in the design. I can't let this experience make me afraid of design, then gives nothing but storage solutions in every design I do. People staying at a designer hotel don't need that. I really should go with you and study some designer hotels properly. That's the sensible thing to do."
...
That night, Ji Mingshu talked and talked.
Cen Sen offered her some advice as well.
In the end, Ji Mingshu grew sleepy and actually fell asleep with her head resting on his shoulder.
Cen Sen scooped her up into his arms, carried her to the bed, and tucked her beneath the covers.
After turning off the lights, he gently kissed her forehead. Remembering how she'd tearfully complained that even Tang Zhizhou knew how to kiss, hug, and pick Jiang Chun up in his arms, something inside Cen Sen suddenly softened. He leaned close to her ear and murmured so quietly that it was almost a whisper, "Baby, good night."
As he started to get up, Ji Mingshu suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck. There was a hint of smugness in her voice for catching him in the act, mixed with the sleepy, innocent sweetness of someone barely awake. "I heard that! I heard it! Say it again! Come on, call me Baby!”
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