My Queen, My Rules - 83

Ji Mingshu was stunned for a second, then confirmed, "The 'Planet B612' theme?"

"That's mine, that one's mine!" Then it clicked, her voice brimming with delight. "Did you recognize it? You must have recognized it!"

Cen Sen's silence was confirmation.

He was indeed very familiar with Ji Mingshu's style. No matter how the theme changed, he could always pick out her designs at a glance.

Hearing that her proposal had not only been selected but had received the highest votes, Ji Mingshu was so happy she could practically take off right there. She didn't care that they were in a crowded mall or that a certain Little Earth Goose who loved pulling her pigtails and picking fights was right beside her. A torrent of sweet nothings poured freely from her toward Cen Sen over the phone.

Jiang Chun, nibbling on her pork floss cupcake, looked at her with an expression words couldn't quite capture.

And she calls herself a socialite? Shouting "honey" at her husband in public? No shame at all.

Yet, Cen Sen seemed to relish it. Glancing at the two lines Ji Mingshu had added in his notebook, listening to the sweet chatter on the other end of the line, a slight smile playing on his lips. He didn't interrupt.

Only after Ji Mingshu finished did he ask, "Which mall are you at? I'll come pick you up."

Ji Mingshu gave him the address. He acknowledged with an "Mm," telling her to have a coffee and wait.

Before leaving, he closed the small notebook and tossed it casually into the bedside drawer.

Truth be told, after writing down those date plans, he too had felt it was slightly absurd, childish even. Just a few scribbled lines—was it really worth writing down?

But he didn't deny that he had actually spent a long time analyzing and pondering those few lines.

For instance, he'd pondered why, sometimes during their chats, Ji Mingshu would suddenly become unwilling to continue; why she was so reluctant to eat French food with him, yet the atmosphere was light and easy when she ate with Cen Yang.

Some things he'd originally thought were trivial details not worth overthinking, but it turned out he minded them more than he'd imagined. 

---

After the initial burst of joy, superfluous worry sprouted in Ji Mingshu. The moment she saw Cen Sen, she kept pressing for details about the top-voted design, afraid there had been some colossal mix-up due to overlapping creative ideas with another designer. It wasn't until the Junyi Yaji project lead contacted her directly that she was fully convinced.

Although her work was selected, it didn't mean Ji Mingshu could sit back and relax.

After signing the contract, she had to revise the design drawings based on the hotel's actual conditions, keep track of the progress of custom furniture, and so on. She became exceptionally busy for a while.

Especially when it came to special techniques and materials, truly bringing the designs to life required flying all over the world.

Days slipped quietly by in a blend of calm and busyness. Unnoticed, the capital had transitioned from spring into summer.

In June, Ji Mingshu went to Osaka to visit a master woodcarver, then stopped by Tokyo to show her face at an art exhibition held by a certain faux friend from her social circle.

Waiting for her return flight at Narita Airport, she visited duty-free and picked out a tie pin for Cen Sen.

As luck would have it, it was the exact same tie clip she'd intended to buy for him last year at Paris Fashion Week, the one she'd put down in a huff after he'd run his mouth and pissed her off.

She took a photo and sent it to Cen Sen. [Like it?]

Cen Sen: [Yes.]

Ji Mingshu smiled and paid. Accessories didn't really have seasons anyway, and this old relic, exuding a dated sense of grandeur from every angle, probably couldn't tell what was in season and what was out.

After spending the money, there was still time before boarding. Ji Mingshu sat elegantly in the lounge, legs crossed, scrolling through Weibo for a bit.

She loved browsing Weibo but rarely posted. Her last update was still that lengthy post from when she'd openly confronted Li Wenyin.

The top comments underneath had long since changed. They were now mostly things like: "Waiting for the CEO's wife to post!", "Give me one clear photo of the CEO and I can photoshop 1GB of sweet content", "What a gloriously irritable perfect woman", etc.

The hype had died down long ago, and her follower growth had slowed considerably. But steadily, viewers who had seen the re-edited version of Designer's Abode still found their way to her, sending private messages expressing encouragement and admiration.

She read them when she had time, often replying sincerely.

This time, opening Weibo to check messages and replies as usual, she noticed one conspicuous DM from a verified gold-V official account among the messages from non-followers.

Before opening it, Ji Mingshu instinctively thought someone had finally approached her for a paid promotion. But upon opening it, she found it was an invitation to participate in a documentary program.

[Hello Ms. Ji, I am the executive producer of the program Vestiges. Our program plans to shoot a public-welfare documentary this year on the protective renovation of old public housing. I personally very much liked the renovation concepts you presented on Designer's Abode and would like to invite you to participate in the design. Looking forward to your reply.]

Ji Mingshu was taken aback.

Another renovation program?

She was really getting sick of them.

Her fingers immediately typed out a string of polite refusal phrases. But her gaze lingered on the keywords "protective renovation of old public housing" and "public-welfare documentary," and she felt strangely hesitant.

Maybe just ask about it first.

Asking won't hurt.

With this thought, Ji Mingshu added the producer and chatted for a bit while waiting for her flight.

The producer was very straightforward, instantly discerning Ji Mingshu's various concerns.

Trending on Weibo? Not happening. Our documentary topic is niche, we won't invite celebrities, and we expect very few viewers.

The redesign might not be suitable for living? Not an issue. The ultimate goal of our renovation is to fuse the Shanghai style of the last century with modern design, to be open for exhibition as a protected building, not for living.

In short, this was a government-led public-welfare design project. She needn't have any reservations.

Ji Mingshu was easily swayed. Hearing this, she thought, Well, maybe I could give it a try.

She screenshotted the chat history and sent it to Cen Sen, wanting his opinion. But before she could get his reply, it was time to board.

The flight from Tokyo to the capital was only about two to three hours. In a stunning display of frugality, Ji Mingshu chose business class.

On board, she adjusted her seat, draped a blanket over herself, and then, quite comfortably, picked up a newspaper to play the business professional.

She mostly only read the finance section of newspapers, skimming lines for news related to Jingjian or Huadian.

This time, after searching for a while with no success, she was about to give up. But flipping the page, she suddenly saw a headline: "Borui Fails to Return to A-Shares, New Energy Development Business Faces Heavy Resistance." She paused.

She didn't know or care about Borui. She noticed this article purely because its subheading mentioned "Haichuan Capital."

If she remembered correctly, Cen Yang was the head of Haichuan Capital's Greater China region.

Somehow, she had a gut feeling this might be related to the previous incident where Cen Yang had intercepted that investment opportunity from Cen Sen. So she patiently read the entire report carefully.

Ji Mingshu only half-understood the financial jargon. Her own summary of the article was roughly this:

Borui had deep internal conflicts. Its capital restructuring had failed. The outlook was grim, and it was highly likely to be acquired or taken over.

Haichuan Capital, as an investor in Borui, had made several critical errors in judgment during the process, leading to significant losses. The head of the Greater China region had recently stepped down to take responsibility.

Additionally, the report mentioned that Jingcheng Capital intended to acquire Borui at a low price.

—Jingcheng Capital. Not subordinate to Jingjian in any way. But wasn't this the company Cen Sen and Jiang Che had started together?

Ji Mingshu's mind went blank for a moment. Suddenly, she seemed to understand something.

After disembarking, Ji Mingshu switched her phone out of flight mode. The first thing she received was Cen Sen's opinion on that documentary program.

He presented it like an essay: first stating his thesis—you can participate—then providing arguments from multiple angles, pros and cons.

Ji Mingshu only glanced at it before directly calling the driver. "Hello, have you arrived at the airport?"

For some reason, the driver's answer sounded vague. "Ah! Y-yes! I'm here! Please wait a moment, Madam."

Nearly half a minute later, he spoke again. "Madam, the car is parked just outside International Departures Exit 2. Which exit will you be using?"

Ji Mingshu looked back. She was right at International Departures Exit 2. "Oh, just stay there then. I'll be right out."

Her large luggage, as usual, had been shipped back separately. Now, with one hand in the pocket of her silk trench coat, wearing oversized black sunglasses, she pushed a sleek, lightweight suitcase, cutting quite the celebrity figure.

However, preoccupied with the news she'd read on the plane, she was a bit distracted and walked quickly.

Seeing the familiar license plate with its hazard lights on, waiting by the curb, a flicker of strangeness passed through Ji Mingshu's mind, but she didn't have time to ponder it. Her actions preceded her thoughts as she pulled open the car door and slid into the back seat.

Once seated, she finally realized what was odd.

Why didn't the driver get her luggage? Why didn't he open the door for her? Does this driver even want his job? He—

Ji Mingshu unexpectedly met a pair of familiar eyes in the rearview mirror. Her heart skipped a beat.

Immediately, she leaned forward, playfully hitting the driver's arm a couple of times before wrapping her arms around his neck from behind. "What are you doing here? Didn't you say you were traveling for business today?"

Cen Sen had one hand on the steering wheel, the other grasping her slender, pale wrist. He paused thoughtfully, then said seriously, "I heard this is called a surprise."

With that, he magically produced a bouquet of roses.

Ji Mingshu had been trying to maintain a cool façade, but seeing the flowers, she couldn't hold it anymore. In a few quick moves, she got out, opened the door, and hopped into the passenger seat. She hugged the small bouquet, taking a deep breath of its scent, then leaned over to plant a kiss on Cen Sen's cheek. "Good job!"

Cen Sen's expression remained calm, as if her kiss hadn't elicited any special reaction. He only said they couldn't park long, then leaned over to help her with her seatbelt.

The distance between them abruptly closed.

Ji Mingshu carried a faint scent of perfume, perhaps applied when she left, now with only the citrus base notes remaining.

Though it had only been a week, Cen Sen realized he missed this temporarily uncaged little golden canary more than he'd imagined. Even though they video-called daily, it was completely different from the feeling of her lying beside him, real and tangible.

After fastening the seatbelt, he didn't straighten up immediately. Bracing one hand on the side of her seat, his gaze fell on her lips, touched only with tinted balm. His Adam's apple moved slightly, and he unconsciously leaned closer.

Is... is he going to kiss me?

But there are so many people outside…

After a few days apart, Ji Mingshu felt a bit shy. The tips of her ears turned pink, her eyelashes fluttered slightly, then slowly closed.

One second, two seconds, three seconds. She finally felt the warmth of Cen Sen's breath. Unable to help herself, she leaned forward slightly, wanting to shorten the distance a little.

But she misjudged the force, bumping directly into his lips.

The air fell silent for an instant.

Cen Sen still maintained that short distance of a few centimeters, not moving an inch. He suddenly let out a soft laugh. "I didn't realize you missed me that much."

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