My Queen, My Rules - 8

Spending Freely

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Back at home, Ji Mingshu, had no idea her convenient husband had, for once in his life, uttered a word of praise for her.

She went to bed early, but she forgot to adjust the humidifier settings. The room was a bit dry, and she woke up thirsty.

Half-asleep, eyes barely open, she shuffled out of bed and padded barefoot down the stairs.

At Bocui Tianhua, she kept a mini-fridge in her bedroom. Getting a drink at night was just a matter of rolling over. So convenient.

The thought made her curse Cen Sen again in her mind. Didn't even ask, just dumped her back here and ran off to his social obligations. A real piece of work he was.

As luck would have it, the piece of work chose that moment to return.

Unfortunately, Ji Mingshu was half-asleep and desperate for water. Coming downstairs, she didn't notice him standing in the doorway.

Cen Sen had drunk quite a bit that night. He hadn't felt well when the gathering ended, but his self-control was ironclad. Even drunk, he presented a calm, composed exterior. No one could tell.

After changing his shoes in the entryway, he tilted his head slightly, watching the slender, elegant figure at the kitchen island.

He suddenly realized he'd omitted one word when talking to that little starlet. What was her name again? That Shu something.

Figure.

Looks, presence, education, background – she couldn't compare to Ji Mingshu in any way. And neither could her figure.

Since his marriage, it wasn't the first time a woman had thrown herself at him, nor the first time he’d shut it down cleanly. 

They were all decorative vases. When you already own the rarest, most beautiful one, why collect inferior goods? He wasn't in the business of collecting junk.

Ji Mingshu had just drunk half a glass of cold water. Before she could turn around, she felt hands snake around her from behind, locking tight around her waist.

Her brain short-circuited for three seconds. She put down the glass and turned, only to have Cen Sen capture her lips.

He pressed closer, inch by inch. His mouth was warm, his breath laced with alcohol.

She tried to struggle. He simply grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back with one hand, while the other cupped her jaw, deepening the kiss, more insistent, more dominant.

Damn it.

Did someone spike his drink?

Ji Mingshu gasped for air between kisses. Her feet were still free at first, but after a couple of kicks, Cen Sen simply lifted her onto the kitchen island. His body pressed against the counter, trapping her legs completely. He looked ready to have his way with her right here and there.

"...You pervert! Let me go!"

After a full minute of being kissed senseless, Ji Mingshu finally found an opening. She kicked hard at his groin, wrench her hands free and shoved his face away.

Cen Sen stumbled back half a step. Ji Mingshu slumped against the edge of the island, breathing heavily.

The overhead lights on the first floor were off, only the warm yellow ambient lighting strips were lit.

In the dim glow, her smoky-pink silk slip and pale skin gleamed softly. Her lips, thoroughly kissed, were swollen and glistening. She looked like some kind of ethereal enchantress, beautiful and pure, yet unconsciously seductive.

Cen Sen was clearly seduced.

He slowly dragged his thumb across his lower lip, eyes fixed on Ji Mingshu. 

Suddenly, he let out a soft, low laugh.

Ji Mingshu's instincts flared. She scooted backward.

But there was nowhere to hide. She could only watch as Cen Sen stepped forward and effortlessly scooped her up into a bridal carry.

"What are you doing?! Put me down! You pervert! I could sue you for marital rape!"

On the way upstairs, Ji Mingshu flailed and struggled wildly in his arms.

She was meticulous about maintaining her figure through diet, but she didn't work out. However violently she struggled, to Cen Sen it was like being swatted by a kitten.

"Go ahead. Your second uncle was just transferred back to the city bureau this year. Filing with him would be convenient." Cen Sen's voice was unhurried, unruffled.

He smelled of alcohol. His collar was askew from her yanking. The casual, dismissive smile on his face gave him the air of a refined scoundrel.

Ji Mingshu thrashed a few more times. Then, just before they entered the bedroom, she froze.

Mixed in with the cigarette smoke and alcohol on him, there was a faint, familiar sweet scent.

It took her only a moment to place the perfume.

She sniffed again, more carefully.

Yes. Definitely.

In Ji Mingshu's estimation, this perfume was a basic ‘young girl’ scent. If you took a lap around a department store, the odds of smelling it would rank second only to Chanel No. 5. She’d worn it once in high school and a friend immediately teased her for smelling very ‘green tea bitch’.

"Were you out playing with some innocent little college girl? Where did that perfume come from? You touch other women and then come touch me? Disgusting."

The revulsion in Ji Mingshu's eyes was unmistakable.

Cen Sen kicked open the already-ajar bedroom door and dropped her onto the bed. Then he leaned over her, hands braced on either side, caging her in.

Ji Mingshu shrank back defensively.

Cen Sen's voice was low. "Has it been so long since you studied math? You can't even calculate time? How long has it been since I dropped you off? Am I that fast?"

...?

Such brazen shamelessness was truly a rare sight in this world.

Ji Mingshu was rendered speechless by his logic.

Cen Sen didn't press further. He stood, stripped off his shirt, and walked directly to the bathroom.

Ji Mingshu stared at the bathroom door for a few seconds, then lifted her own slip to her nose, sniffing anxiously, worried she’d picked up the unpleasant smells of smoke, alcohol, and perfume.

Soon, the sound of running water came from the bathroom. Ji Mingshu lay back against the pillows and thought about it.

Actually, having been married to Cen Sen for this long, she already had a certain understanding of him. 

Cen Sen was the type of man who was full of ambition and drive for his career, but had little patience for women or emotions.

She thought he might had casual flings to scratch an itch. But keeping a mistress? Probably not. Maintaining that kind of illicit relationship would be too much effort for him.

The thought prompted a bitter, self-mocking laugh. She remembered Gu Kaiyang’s furious criticism before the marriage:

"Your only requirement for your husband is that he not keep a mistress? And that if he does, don’t let it cause a scandal that humiliates you?! You're a gorgeous, wealthy, educated woman. Must you be so pathetic???"

Looking back, it really was quite pathetic.

The Beijing Ji family was a genuine old-money aristocratic family. Born into such a family, she’d seen and understood too much from a young age. She knew all too well that the more wealth and status involved, the more filth it would hide. Truly harmonious marriages and families were exceedingly rare in their social stratum. For an arranged marriage like hers and Cen Sen’s, managing to present a loving front in public was already an achievement.

She was generally quite satisfied with Cen Sen. Handsome, good in bed, not clingy, and he let her spend his money however she want.

Before falling asleep, she thought: This is fine. We don't need to guide each other through life. Let's just muddle through this mess.

---

Soon, it was time for the annual Paris Autumn-Winter Couture Week. Ji Mingshu had received invitations from all the major brands we'll in advance.

She'd been attending fashion shows since she was eight. Nurtured amidst piles of gold and jade, she’d cultivated impeccable taste. In the Beijing-Shanghai socialite circles, she was considered a bona fide fashion icon, a trendsetter.

Before leaving for Paris, Ji Mingshu threw herself into a whirlwind of preparation at home.

Her outfit needed to match the brand's show she was attending. She wasn't a celebrity, so she could skip the staged airport looks, but the afternoon tea, the dinner party, and her favorite, the high jewelry exhibition looks, were non-negotiable.

In two or three days, Ji Mingshu had packed seven suitcases.

For her, this was actually traveling light. She had dresses waiting for her at the ateliers in Paris, ready to wear straight to the shows.

The prospect of another spending spree put Ji Mingshu in an excellent mood. For days, even seeing Cen Sen couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

Cen Sen didn’t understand this particular vase’s joy. He only knew that every time Ji Mingshu went abroad for fashion week, glowing with anticipation, she came back with twice as much luggage.

And during her trip, his charge card statements would ping with alarming frequency, a constant reminder that the high-end canary he'd married was, in the art of spending money, apparently without peer in this lifetime.

When Cen Sen graduated from university, Old Master Cen gifted him a Gulfstream jet as a graduation present. He rarely used it himself, but after marrying Ji Mingshu, she certainly knew how to make the most of it.

Taking the private jet to Paris late at night, Ji Mingshu slept a solid eleven hours on the plane. She woke up just as dawn was breaking over Paris.

A private car waited at the airport. By the time she reached the hotel, the suite butler had already prepared her coffee and a selection of breakfast items. The invitations and gifts from the various brands had been arranged in the shape of a heart.

The room had been preselected by the butler according to her detailed specifications. There were even little surprise touches: the room number was her birthday, and her English name was embroidered subtly in the corner of the bedsheets.

After breakfast at the hotel, Ji Mingshu changed and prepared to go shopping.

On her way downstairs, she thought of Gu Kaiyang and decided to video call her for a chat.

As deputy editor-in-chief of a fashion magazine, Gu Kaiyang naturally couldn't miss fashion week. But she was traveling with her team and had arrived two days earlier.

When Ji Mingshu's call came through, Gu Kaiyang was in the middle of personally inspecting dozens of gowns for an upcoming shoot.

She'd been run ragged for two days straight, dizzy with exhaustion. Seeing Ji Mingshu on the screen, radiant in her sunglasses, casually taking the stairs to walk off her breakfast, Gu Kaiyang launched into a tirade.

"I swear, I'll never again criticize you rich girls and your arranged marriages. You have no idea how good you have it!"

"Do you know what it's like? This poor working girl hasn't slept in two days! Seriously, you can't even imagine how cheap our company is! It’s so ridiculous, before I got promoted, the group was pretty generous. Editors going to the four major fashion weeks always got suites. But now that it's my turn? A standard room! The place is buried in clothes, there's nowhere to step! Any cheaper and they'd have us sleeping under a bridge!"

"I'm serious, I don't want to work anymore! I'd rather be a beard or married a plaque on the wall! Anything!” 

Ji Mingshu: "Hold on, who are you saying is a beard or married to a plaque?"

Gu Kaiyang: "That's what you always say. Don't blame me."

Ji Mingshu opened her mouth to retort, but her gaze snagged on something in the lobby.

Gu Kaiyang was still chattering away. Ji Mingshu paused mid-step and, without changing her expression, quietly switched her camera to the rear lens, focusing on a couple checking in at the hotel reception.

In her earbuds, just as she'd expected, Gu Kaiyang's voice erupted in a guinea pig scream.

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