My Queen, My Rules - 9
Haute Couture
Gu Kaiyang’s voice crackled through her earbuds. “No way! Isn’t that Jiang Chun’s fiancé? Yan, right? That girl is… holy shit, walk closer, I need a better look!”
“It is him! And that’s the second female lead from that period drama that blew up a while back! Damn, Yan is seriously scum. Getting engaged and immediately cheat? Wait, is this cheating, or just straight-up infidelity?”
Ji Mingshu had to hand it to Gu Kaiyang. The woman could go two days without sleep and still dive headfirst into a gossip vortex with the energy of a thousand suns. Gu Kaiyang was, she decided, a born tabloid journalist.
She turned down the volume on her headphones, just enough to survive the onslaught.
Gu Kaiyang spent a solid thirty seconds rattling off the girl’s entire shady history without stopping for breath. When she showed no signs of letting up, Ji Mingshu adjusted her sunglasses and cut in, her voice low. “Okay, that’s enough. You know this D-lister’s life story so well. What, are you planning to write her tell-all?”
Her eyes were fixed on the viewfinder. Through the lens, she watched Yan Yu and the girl in question walk arm-in-arm into the hotel elevator. Just as the doors slid shut, they both turned, giving her a perfect, unobstructed view of their faces. She snapped a screenshot with precision.
“Follow them!” Gu Kaiyang urged. “See which floor they get off on!”
“Are you insane? It’s not my husband cheating.”
Besides, with her status, why would she stoop to something that skeevy?
Ji Mingshu tilted her head, adjusted her sunglasses, and went shopping like nothing had happened.
Shopping alone was boring, though. She only bought three bags, one pair of shoes, and a trench coat. Then she went to visit Gu Kaiyang on set and grab lunch.
She spent the afternoon resting at the hotel, waiting for the brand’s liaison to pick her up for her final fitting at the atelier.
Waking from her nap, thoughts of her new dress put Ji Mingshu in a fantastic mood. A secret concert played in her head as she left the hotel.
However, before she even made it out of the lobby, someone called from behind, “Ji Mingshu?”
The voice was familiar. She turned to find Jiang Chun standing in the lounge area, looking adorable in a pink Chanel-style suit and a beret. A hotel bellhop was handling her luggage nearby.
Ji Mingshu paused for a beat, then slowly slid her sunglasses down her nose.
Jiang Chun was pleased with Ji Mingshu’s reaction. She despised the woman, but she had to admit the taste cultivated in an heiress raised on gold and jade was indeed superior. If she could render Ji Mingshu speechless, her outfit today must be pretty good. A flicker of smug satisfaction crossed her face.
“What are you doing here?” Ji Mingshu asked.
Jiang Chun, thinking it was a snide remark about how she wasn’t there on a brand invitation, immediately went on the defensive. “It’s not like you own the place.”
Then she fell silent for three long seconds.
She suddenly remembered that this hotel had been acquired by Junyi Group last year. Ji Mingshu technically did own the place.
Fortunately, she recovered quickly, "Paris isn't your family's backyard, is it, Miss Ji? Aren't you overstepping a bit? Yan is in town on business. I’m here to surprise him. Got a problem with that?”
The mention of her fiancé, Yan Yu, gave her a much-needed boost of confidence.
“…Surprise him?”
For a moment, Ji Mingshu didn’t know what expression to wear.
“That’s right. At least when my fiancé travels for work, I know where to find him. Not like your President Cen, who disappears for the entire year when he’s busy.”
Faced with Jiang Chun’s childish smugness, Ji Mingshu found herself at a loss for words. And, annoyingly, a tiny flicker of something like pity.
Jiang Chun wasn’t originally from their circle. Her father was a man of considerable ambition, a self-made tycoon who’d started with demolition compensation in a small fishing village and parlayed it into a legitimate restaurant empire. A few years back, he’d moved the family from Shenzhen to the capital, leveraging his vast wealth to batter down the doors of Beijing’s elite. The engagement to the Yan family was the crown jewel of that ambition.
The Yans were an old, once-distinguished family, but their fortunes had waned over generations. They’d made poor choices and lacked the vision to reverse their decline.
The engagement was a classic new-money, old-money union. A transaction.
Marriages like that rarely came with expectations of fidelity. Playing around on the side was standard. If Ji Mingshu saw something, she would just turn a blind eye and never breathed a word to the people involved, at most, she’d gossip about it with friends over tea.
But the problem was, Jiang Chun was in this for real. She had truly fallen head over heels for Yan at first sight.
The Jiang family had options. If not for Jiang Chun’s feelings, they never would have settled for a fading house like the Yans.
Ji Mingshu’s unusual silence and that vague pitying gaze unsettled Jiang Chun. Walking towards the front desk, she kept glancing back at Ji Mingshu over her shoulder.
Just as Ji Mingshu was debating whether to stick her nose in and offer a warning, a strangled cry came from the lobby.
“Yan Yu!”
Well. That saves me the trouble.
A short distance away, Yan Yu emerged from an elevator, practically fused at the hip with the D-list actress from this morning. Their clothes changed from what they’d been wearing that morning.
Ji Mingshu was no innocent virgin. One look at their post-coital ease told her exactly what they’d been up to before leaving the room.
The truth was, Jiang Chun wasn’t bad-looking. But her taste was atrocious. Anything luxurious she touched ended up looking like a cheap knockoff. Add to that her current love-crazed attempt to start a physical fight, and she formed a stark, natural contrast with the freshly…tended-to, delicate and pitiful little white lotus by Yan’s side.
Predictably, the argument lasted barely a minute before Yan Yu shoved Jiang Chun aside and stepped protectively in front of his mistress.
“Enough! You think this is fun? Making a scene? Look at yourself right now. Aren't you ashamed?"
"I'm ashamed?!"
Jiang Chun’s eyes welled up. Fat, heavy tears began to roll down her cheeks.
The shoving had knocked her beret askew, tangling her curls and rumpling her clothes. She looked utterly defeated.
As if on cue, the little white lotus had somehow donned a face mask and sunglasses, then shrank behind Yan Yu, whispering in a small, frightened voice, “A-Yan… I can’t be seen.…”
Yan patted her hand, then turned back with a frown, unwilling to spare Jiang Chun another glance. His voice dripped with disgust. “We’ll talk about this when we’re back in China. If you want to humiliate yourself here, be my guest. Just leave me out of it.”
Jiang Chun stood frozen, seemingly unable to believe her gentle, caring fiancé could change so fast, could be so cruel.
Yan Yu protected the little white lotus toward the exit. As they passed, the little white lotus, whether intentionally or not, bumped into Jiang Chun’s shoulder.
Ji Mingshu had seen enough. From a few feet away, she let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. “How amusing. The cheating scum and his mistress aren't ashamed of being caught. And they have the nerve to blame the rightful fiancée for the shame.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried.
Yan Yu finally noticed Ji Mingshu, his expression souring further. He opened his mouth to tell her to stay out of it, but remembering the Cen and Ji families, he swallowed his words.
"You think this is shameful? The foreign friends here don't understand Chinese. Should I help translate, so you can be thoroughly shamed?”
Noticing the watch on Yan Yu’s wrist, Ji Mingshu added mockingly, “Nice watch, by the way. A gift from your rightful fiancée. You sure wear it with a lot of audacity.”
Yan Yu: "You!"
Before Yan Yu could get a word out, the little white lotus proved she had at least some brains. She immediately put on a show of mustering courage to shoulder the blame, and gave a trembling little bow. “Miss Jiang, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. Can we please talk about this somewhere private? Not here…”
She reached out to take Jiang Chun’s hand.
Ji Mingshu stepped smoothly between them. “Who the hell are you? Back off.” Her gaze was fixed on Yan Yu.
Her meaning was clear. Apologize.
Yan Yu was seething, his jaw tight. He ran a hand over his face, then dragged his tongue across his teeth. Finally, with a defeated sigh, he nodded. “Fine. You’re right. It’s my fault. I’m the shameful one. I’ll personally visit Uncle Jiang to explain when we’re back. I have something to take care of now. I’ll take my leave.”
Ji Mingshu didn’t stop him.
If he could still walk away without a single word of comfort to Jiang Chun, there was no point.
She turned and walked over to Jiang Chun.
Before she could speak, Jiang Chun, still crying, lashed out bitterly. “Don’t pretend you care! You’re just enjoying the show, aren’t you?! You think your husband is any better? Men are all scum!”
"..."
“Well, what my husband is or isn’t is none of your concern.”
She had zero patience for people with a persecution complex. She had considered offering a few token words of comfort, but this spared her the effort.
She coolly slid her sunglasses back on and strode away, her heels clicking decisively against the marble floor.
Jiang Chun’s outburst hadn’t put a dent in Ji Mingshu’s mood for her dress fitting.
The gown was a confection of nude-pink lace and tulle. She’d tried on the first iteration before, and the fitter had made further adjustments based on her feedback.
Now, with the final product complete, the effect in the mirror was deeply satisfying.
She had an assistant take a short video and sent it to Gu Kaiyang.
She was probably busy; there was no reply.
On a whim, she added a fresh, delicate filter and sent it to Cen Sen as well.
Ji Mingshu: [What do you think? My newly tailored little dress.]
---
Back in Beijing, night had fallen. A slate-gray curtain layered the sky, neon lights gradually flickering along the streets.
Cen Sen had just stepped out of a meeting. He took his phone from Zhou Jiaheng and glanced at it.
There were several unread messages. A string of payment alerts from the charge card, and then a WeChat from Ji Mingshu.
He and Ji Mingshu didn’t text much. When they needed to communicate, they usually just called. A text from her was unusual.
He loosened his tie and opened the video.
It was short, maybe ten seconds. Ji Mingshu, in the dress, twirled a couple of times, then looked back at the camera and winked.
He watched it once. Then again. Then a third time.
Zhou Jiaheng, walking beside him, noticed his boss watching the same short clip on repeat. He was curious, but not curious enough to peek.
Cen Sen didn’t stop until they were back in his office.
On the screen, her follow-up question was still there. He typed a reply. It was hard to say if it was genuine praise or a perfunctory brush-off.
Cen Sen: [Looks good.]
Seeing that Cen Sen, for once, hadn’t deployed his ‘give him a lever and he’ll argue with the world’ talent for contradiction, Ji Mingshu took his response as high praise. In a good mood, she graciously engaged him in further discussion: [Does it have that vibe people talk about online? Flirty with a touch of fresh innocence, a little sophistication in its allure?]
Cen Sen almost chuckled. He scrolled up to check her recent spending, then typed his reply: [I don't think this qualifies as 'little' sophistication.]
A hundred and eighty thousand euros for a dress wasn’t “little” anything. She really had some nerves.
He looked up at Zhou Jiaheng. “When did my wife get to Paris?”
Zhou Jiaheng didn’t hesitate. “This morning, 5 AM.”
He then proceeded, unprompted, to brief Cen Sen on Ji Mingshu’s itinerary for the coming days—mostly fashion show, along with lunch, dinner, and afternoon tea invitations from senior executives.
Cen Sen listened, or didn’t. When Zhou Jiaheng finished, his only comment was a flat, “She's keeping quite busy."
Zhou Jiaheng kept his eyes forward and wisely said nothing.
---
Across the world, Ji Mingshu was feeling pleased with herself. She chose to interpret Cen Sen’s “I don't think this qualifies as 'little' sophistication.” as a compliment. A wave of generosity washed over her, and she decided to buy him a tie clip as a reward.
Just then, however, her phone started buzzing.
Gu Kaiyang’s praises, as always, might be late but never lacking.
Gu Kaiyang: [Waaah, what celestial fairy has descended to earth?!]
Gu Kaiyang: [The dress isn't haute couture! You are!]
Gu Kaiyang: [The way our Little Canary Baby showcases her beauty and spends money is truly mesmerizing!!!]
Gu Kaiyang: [How much money does Mommy need to make to steal you away from that Dog Man?!]
Comparison, she thought, was the thief of joy.
She screenshotted the conversation and sent it to Cen Sen, so he could see what a proper compliment looked like.
Cen Sen received the image. His gaze landed on the final line.
That Dog Man.
So, this was how she referred to him with her best friend in private.
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