My Queen, My Rules - 80

At first glance, seeing the categorized list numbered one through four in the notebook, Ji Mingshu instinctively thought it was a work plan Cen Sen had drafted. It wasn’t until she spotted her own name that she realized what it was and took a closer look.

After reading it, she was stunned and remained so for a long moment.

How to put it? It was so… meticulous. So meticulously detailed it involuntarily summoned the cold sweat of academic dread and helplessness she’d felt back in her student days when writing her thesis.

The stylist had come upstairs and was now knocking politely on the door.

Ji Mingshu collected herself, set the notebook aside, and went to open the door.

---

The afternoon event was an outdoor tea party. Although the invitation hadn’t specified a dress code, convention dictated that wearing one of the brand’s recent, new-season pieces was the polite and appropriate choice.

Ji Mingshu chose a dark green fringed dress. The stylist agreed it was suitable, but since it was the type of dress you had to pull on over your head, she suggested Ji Mingshu change first before doing her hair and makeup.

People in the on-call styling business were masters of conversation. Flattery and praise always sounded natural and sincere coming from them.

Plus, they frequently worked with celebrities and socialites, so they were treasure troves of gossip and hearsay. Over several hours of hair and makeup, they’d keep you thoroughly entertained —if you were willing to listen.

Right now, the stylist was recounting how, just a few days ago, the female lead from a certain blockbuster movie had lashed out at her assistant and thrown a diva tantrum at the event organizers.

Ji Mingshu offered occasional “hmms” and “ahs,” letting the gossip drift in one ear and out the other. Her hands, however, kept absentmindedly fiddling with Cen Sen’s little notebook.

Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, she opened the notebook, picked up a brow pencil, and wrote a line inside.

“Darling, what are you writing?” the stylist glanced over, too quick to catch it, and asked curiously.

“Nothing.” Ji Mingshu closed the book as soon as she finished writing. She looked up at the mirror, tilting her head slightly and pointing at her hair. “I think this side could be a bit looser. It’s pulled too tight.”

The stylist followed her gaze and used the fine end of a comb to adjust it slightly. “Still tight?”

“No, that’s better.”

Reassured, the stylist wisely didn’t press further and resumed the gossip about the actress.

Ji Mingshu wasn’t stupid. Someone who could gossip about others to you today could just as easily gossip about you to others tomorrow.

Yet she couldn’t suppress the urge to show off her treasure of a husband. After much thought, she could only force-share the news with Jiang Chun and Gu Kaiyang.

Jiang Chun: [?]

Jiang Chun: [I suspect this is you flaunting your relationship.]

Jiang Chun: [Cold dog food slapping recklessly against my face.jpg]

Gu Kaiyang: [What did I do wrong?]

Jiang Chun: [What did I do wrong?]

Ji Mingshu said pretentiously: [He can remember a phone number after hearing it just once. Why did he have to write this down? And in such detail. Ugh, I’m having… mixed grains of emotions right now.]

Gu Kaiyang: [Okay, stop talking. We get it. He values you. /smile]

Gu Kaiyang: [Our formidable, incredibly intelligent President Cen has been love-struck into foolishness, meticulously planning a date itinerary in a notebook, awsl! What a coldly adorable man!]

Gu Kaiyang: [Woman, are you satisfied now?.jpg]

Satisfied? Very satisfied.

Ji Mingshu couldn’t help but smirk.

Jiang Chun: [That’s very sweet but—]

Jiang Chun: [It’s “mixed feelings,” not “mixed grains” tvt]

Jiang Chun: [Ranked first in Nitpicking Studies.jpg]

Jiang Chun: [Hiding under a pot lid.jpg]

Ji Mingshu: […]

Ji Mingshu: [Alright, Number One Nitpicker, you can shut up now.]

---

The daily bickering of the Canary-Goose-Quail iron triangle continued all the way to the brand event venue.

Jiang Chun hadn’t originally planned to attend. She’d known for a while that her ex-fiancé and the little white lotus would be there. It had been ages since she’d last seen those two shameless creatures, and she wasn’t sure she could keep her temper in check.

But both Gu Kaiyang and Ji Mingshu had insisted on backing her up. Plus, most of the socialites present were Ji Mingshu’s plastic sisters. If a scene did erupt, the one at a disadvantage definitely wouldn’t be her.

With this in mind, she felt justified in coming. Besides, her idol, Pei Xiyan, was scheduled to make a brief appearance today. It had been too long since she’d last feasted her eyes on her idol’s exquisitely handsome, aloof, almost divine visage at an event. She missed it.

At the venue, twelve small fountains burbled. A handsome young couple played a duet in front of a large white triangular structure. The dessert table was a spiral staircase made of copper-edged glass. Celebrities posed for photos, signed autographs, and gave interviews in front of display boards. The air was filled with the scent of perfume, the rustle of fine fabrics, and clusters of fresh flowers.

“What are you scared for? You weren’t the one who cheated. I was the one who slapped him that time; it had nothing to do with you,” Ji Mingshu whispered under her breath to bolster Jiang Chun’s courage, all while maintaining a charming, curved smile on her face and occasionally raising her glass in a distant toast to acquaintances.

Jiang Chun: “I know, it’s just a bit awkward.”

“If he’s not awkward, why should you be? Besides, you’re engaged to Tang Zhizhou now. Can’t everyone just move on beautifully?”

Ji Mingshu set her glass down and turned her back to the crowd, launching into a rapid-fire analysis for Jiang Chun, complete with a full set of preventive measures in case a scene did occur.

But just as she was laying out her impeccable logic, a voice tinged with interest called out from behind her, “Hey, Ji Mingshu?”

She paused slightly and turned.

Perhaps due to her birdie-brain’s limited memory, the face before her looked somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

No matter. The newcomer soon introduced himself in an attempt to jog her dormant memory. “I’m Zhou Zhen.”

“…”

Ji Mingshu finally remembered. As she did, a slightly awkward yet polite smile surfaced on her face. “Long time no see.”

Jiang Chun shot her a questioning look.

She gave a brief introduction: “Zhou Zhen, my high school senior.”

Zhou Zhen raised an eyebrow slightly, seeming somewhat dissatisfied with this introduction.

Beyond “high school senior,” Ji Mingshu truly had no additional information to offer. Was she supposed to add a modifier: the high school senior who almost became my first love?

She wasn’t good at, nor interested in, reminiscing about old times. She didn’t even introduce Jiang Chun to Zhou Zhen, simply nodding politely before picking up her glass again and taking a sip.

The atmosphere grew momentarily dry.

High school was six or seven years in the past. There weren’t really any lasting grudges that couldn’t be let go of. With any other old classmate she had little history with, she might have mustered the patience to chat about the past. But Li Wenyin fell outside that category, and so did Zhou Zhen.

For no other reason than this: Zhou Zhen was the senior she’d once had a crush on during her second year, who, not long after, was seen happily eating in the cafeteria with Li Wenyin, chatting and laughing.

Back then, Li Wenyin had clearly been getting close to Zhou Zhen just to spite her. By the time Ji Mingshu’s appreciation for his looks had faded, Li Wenyin had already vanished from his side. Then, during her senior year of high school, Li Wenyin officially started dating the already-graduated Cen Sen.

Li Wenyin had been riding high back then, while Ji Mingshu couldn’t muster enthusiasm for anything.

It was around that time that Zhou Zhen, who previously had little interaction with Ji Mingshu, heard through her roommate that she’d once had a bit of a crush on him and proactively reappeared in her life, frequently sending signals that he was pursuing her.

He was, after all, a good-looking guy. Ji Mingshu, while not immediately accepting, didn’t outright reject him either.

Later, they’d gone out with friends a couple of times during winter break. She’d thought he wasn’t bad and had considered maybe they could give it a try. Who knew this guy, who seemed shy and slow to warm up, was actually a player? He wasn’t just fishing in a small pond; he was trawling the seven seas.

WeChat wasn’t popular back then, but according to leaks from his roommate, on QQ alone he could simultaneously manage five different conversations. He could watch Harry Potter six times with six different girls.

Ji Mingshu had truly seen it all.

When he later confessed, she naturally refused.

Having nearly been fooled by this player, Ji Mingshu felt deeply embarrassed. For years afterward, she never mentioned this almost-first-love to anyone.

Now, encountering this blast from the past, Ji Mingshu clearly had no desire to engage.

But this particular blast from the past, Zhou Zhen, wasn’t great at taking hints. Despite her obvious disinterest, he remained rooted to the spot, insisting on talking to her. He brought up their past ambiguity with what he probably thought was perfect subtlety, then smoothly pivoted to talk about his career development abroad after graduation. His tone carried a certain smug superiority, as if he somehow wanted Ji Mingshu to regret rejecting him back then, to feel he’d finally proven himself with how well he was doing now.

Ji Mingshu listened politely for a while and was about to cut him off.

Suddenly, a woman walked over, looped her arm through Zhou Zhen’s in a show of ownership, and affectionately called out, “A-Zhen,” then sized up Ji Mingshu with a less-than-friendly gaze.

Her pronunciation of “A-Zhen” wasn’t quite standard; she was probably an ABC (American-Born Chinese).

Ji Mingshu glanced at the woman’s fringed dress, the same style as hers, just in a different color, then lowered her gaze, disinterestedly swirling her red wine.

The ABC soon noticed Ji Mingshu’s dress as well, her expression turning sour.

She had wanted the dark green version of this dress back then but couldn’t find it anywhere. She’d been upset for days before finally settling for the white one.

Little Earth Goose, observing the drama while munching on metaphorical popcorn, said nothing. She just pulled out her phone, typed a line, and showed it to Ji Mingshu: overlapping outfits are not embarrassing; it’s who looks worse who should be embarrassed.

Ji Mingshu pressed her lips together.

“And these two are?” the ABC asked, looking at them.

Zhou Zhen, for his part, showed no embarrassment. He introduced them briefly, then introduced the ABC to Ji Mingshu as his fiancée, casually dropping a few lines about her background for good measure.

Ji Mingshu smiled. “Oh.”

These two, whether they were newly returned to the country and unfamiliar with the local social scene or something else, lingered in front of Ji Mingshu.

One kept hinting that he was doing great now and that she’d missed out by not dating him; the other, likely suffering from boyfriend-theft paranoia, clung tightly to her player boyfriend like glue, asserting her official status.

Ji Mingshu was growing impatient and shot Jiang Chun a look.

Jiang Chun was very quick on the uptake. Suddenly picking up on the ABC fiancée’s chatter, she exclaimed admiringly, “Planning a honeymoon in Norway? How romantic! I’ve never seen the Northern Lights.”

The ABC smiled contentedly and offered a few polite words.

Jiang Chun then looked at Ji Mingshu. “Hey, how’s the paperwork coming along for that island your husband bought you? You promised to take me to see the Northern Lights. Could we just sail there on that big yacht he bought for you?”

Zhou Zhen and his fiancée paused slightly.

Jiang Chun pretended not to notice, speaking as if Cen Sen were her husband, her praise so effusive it reached heavenly heights.

“…Oh, right, what time is your husband picking you up today?”

“Ah, Mingshu is truly blessed. Her husband picks her up whenever he’s free, and he even cooks for her.”

Ji Mingshu pinched her discreetly, signaling her to stop. Wouldn’t it be awkward if no one came to pick her up after the event?

But when she looked up, she saw the paragon of a husband Jiang Chun had been describing—one she barely recognized—standing not far away, watching her intently.

———

Author's Note:

1. Don't watch 4D movies anymore.

2. Call Mingshu "baby" more often.

---

← Previous | Table of Contents | Next →

0