My Queen, My Rules - 85
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Ji Mingshu's lavish giveaway, together with Junyi's generous matching addition, quickly pushed the promotional video onto the trending lists, and its reposts soon surpassed ten thousand.
When the staff of Impressions of the Old Streets Impressions came across the Weibo post, a barrage of comments seemed to fly across their screens at double speed in full-screen mode: Waaaah, the budget is literally burning alive! Somebody save this poor child!!!
The art and post-production teams stormed into the producer's office with righteous fury, demanding to know why he had spent the budget on such a pointless, flashy stunt.
The producer blinked in confusion, then immediately issued a triple denial: "I didn't! I'm innocent! We don't even have that kind of budget!"
Everyone calmed down and thought about it. Actually, he had a point. They really didn’t have that kind of budget.
So the designer herself had paid for the promotion? That wasn't actually impossible. After all, everyone knew that this designer was Junyi's CEO's wife.
The CEO's wife was so passionate about art. Respect.
While the rest of the crew happily accepted this explanation and rejoiced in the heaven-sent publicity, the producer remained skeptical. He personally called Ji Mingshu to confirm.
He simply couldn't understand why a designer who needed her lawyers to go back and forth four or five times over recording fees, design fees, and every last clause before she would grudgingly sign off, terrified that the production team might take even a single cent of advantage, would willingly cut herself open and bleed out money with such boundless generosity after filming had ended. This was practically a contender for the year’s Most Baffling Behavior Awards.
During the call, the producer tactfully expressed his confusion, and Ji Mingshu gave him an equally tactful answer.
The producer fell silent for a moment, finally understanding. Put bluntly, what she meant was: I don't care about those little appearance and design fees. What I care about is my worth. The giveaway money is pocket change to me. You think I care about the pittance you paid?
Mm. The CEO's wife was truly passionate about art. Respect.
In ancient times, great rewards brought forth brave warriors.
In the twenty-first century, great prizes brought forth trending topics.
Ji Mingshu's promotional post went from ten thousand reposts to one hundred thousand in less than half a day, and they were still racing toward two hundred thousand. The comments were multiplying just as fast.
[ASDFGHJKL! The CEO'S wife is actually alive and moving!]
[Beauty overload warning! Birkin warning!]
[Waaah, it’s only a documentary! Fine, I'll watch it! Camping out for the CEO's wife's next appearance! (aggrieved puppy.jpg)]
[This woman possesses beauty and intelligence, and now she possesses money too?!]
[Wrong. She also possesses a twenty-four-filial-piety-level CEO husband. /doge]
Although Ji Mingshu wasn't a celebrity or internet influencer, she was a natural topic generator. After lying low for over half a year, this single post was not only widely shared but also sparked discussions heated discussions across major forums about wealthy socialites and rich-girl influencers.
Then an insider who could no longer contain themselves dropped a bombshell: Ji Mingshu is a legit mega-wealthy fairy!
That three-minute Weibo video? If you wanted to do it cheaply, you could just prop up a phone and shoot it yourself. If you wanted something more polished, the most you would need was an extra ring light.
But the CEO'S wife had gone all out and hired a production crew of more than a dozen people. Hair, makeup, lighting, camera angles, editing, the whole package. Every second she appeared on screen was polished down to the last strand of hair and toenail!
The spectators clutched their hearts and declared: I’m never calling myself a refined little piggy girl again. I’m humbled.
Ji Mingshu had really only intended to post a promotional Weibo for the program. She never expected the various rumors and revelations that grew out of it to keep the buzz alive for a full two or three days.
By the weekend, the frenzy had finally begun to die down. Then, out of nowhere, some industry insider suddenly appeared and dropped a photo of Cen Sen attending the Asia-Pacific Financial Asset Management Summit some time ago.
In the photo, Cen Sen sat in the front row wearing a perfectly tailored suit and fine-rimmed gold glasses, his legs crossed as he leaned back against the chair. Every inch of him radiated the polished air of an elite. His aloof, aristocratic elegance practically spilled out of the screen.
[Okay! This CEO has my approval! From now on, every domineering-CEO-falls-for-me fantasy I read finally has a face!!!]
[What kind of divine looks do this husband-and-wife duo have? Waaah, the power couple is way too shippable!!!]
[Seriously, can this CEO couple just debut as a CP already? Those faces, that aura, those figures. Not debuting would be a crime against humanity!!]
Some even dug up Ji Mingshu’s New Year’s Eve post, where she had been showing off their relationship, and placed the photo of the two of them holding hands as they lit sparklers beside the newly leaked solo portrait of Cen Sen. Then proceeded to brainwash everyone with it over and over: [Look at our CEO! Ice-cold in meetings, but the moment he gets home and spoils his wife, he uses both hands to hold hers while they light sparklers together! Now that’s romance, sisters!!!]
Someone went even further and turned his meeting photo into a meme: [Hurry up and finish your damn rambling, I need to go home and light sparklers with my wife.jpg]
For a time, major forums were flooded with fireworks warnings.
The frontal photo leak was sudden and didn't even come through official media outlets. By the time Cen Sen found out about it, the photo had already spread far and wide.
He really didn’t like having his private information exposed in public. However, having learned the lesson from Ji Mingshu’s second uncle forcibly trying to control public opinion when everything had been at its peak, he didn't order any major countermeasures this time and planned to wait until the attention died down in a few days, then quietly clean up the traces.
After hearing his plan, Ji Mingshu found herself looking at him with newfound respect.
She'd assumed this old relic's understanding of the internet was only marginally better than her second uncle's. Apparently, he actually knew what he was doing.
Speaking of being a relic, Ji Mingshu had seriously misjudged Cen Sen.
While Cen Sen wasn’t particularly interested in social media, he was far from clueless about what was happening online.
Junyi’s official Weibo account had been able to match Ji Mingshu’s giveaway so quickly precisely because he had given his approval.
And over the past few days, he had also been looking through Ji Mingshu's Weibo, even carefully reading the comments underneath her posts.
One comment, despite not having an especially high number of likes, caught his attention: [Why does the number of posts on the CEO'S wife's Weibo not match the number of posts we can actually see?]
Someone replied underneath: [That's because she's set some of her posts to "Friends Only" or "Only Me."]
Cen Sen silently committed this new piece of knowledge to memory.
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In any case, Ji Mingshu's promotional campaign had produced remarkably good results. Impressions of the Old Streets, which had previously been so obscure that hardly anyone even knew it existed, suddenly drew in a huge wave of young viewers because of her.
Many initially tuned in just to admire Ji Mingshu's stunning looks, but after watching an entire episode, they discovered that the documentary itself wasn’t nearly as boring as they had expected.
And when it came to interior design, Ji Mingshu really wasn’t some empty showpiece pretending to have substance.
The show revealed that she genuinely had ideas of her own and strong opinions. Even more impressively, somewhere between Designer's Abode and this documentary, she had learned how to consider other people’s perspectives.
On Designer’s Abode, Ji Mingshu had been completely dominant, imposing her ideas on her team members with little room for compromise.
Here, she was still the person leading the renovation and design process. The other designers were less outspoken than her and naturally tended to follow her lead. But whenever that happened, she would stop and switch roles to be the listener and ask for everyone else's opinions. That won her a lot of goodwill.
The premiere aired two episodes back-to-back. If the first episode had been relatively technical, the second felt much more grounded in everyday life, as it focused on the renovation of an occupied residential building.
The episode opened with candid footage of the residents of Hu Street going about their daily lives, haggling over vegetables, playing mahjong, and so on. Once the renovation itself got underway, the conflict appeared immediately.
The older residents nearly came to blows over how half a square meter of communal land should be used.
And when they argued, they were surprisingly philosophical about it, each stubbornly defending their own position and refusing to yield an inch. Ji Mingshu, the interior designer, stood off to the side for ages without finding so much as an opening to speak, her entire face practically spelling out: small, pitiful, and helpless.
The comments exploded during this scene:
[Why is the CEO'S wife suddenly so adorable hahahahaha!]
[I figured it out. This is actually a deadpan comedy documentary. /doge]
[CEO'S wife: I'm a little confused. Who am I? Where am I? What did I do wrong?]
[CEO'S wife: Everybody please stop arguing! I'll buy this half square meter myself!!]
After the premiere ended, the program received an overwhelmingly positive response, with both viewership and online discussion far exceeding the production team's expectations.
Ji Mingshu once again gained a fresh wave of followers, quietly bringing her total to three million.
At the same time, the reality dating show featuring Gu Kaiyang had already entered its third week of broadcasting.
A dating show naturally offered far more material for discussion than a documentary, and its online popularity had been quite strong from the very first episode.
During the first two weeks, Gu Kaiyang had attracted neither much interest from the male contestants nor much affection from the audience.
Gu Kaiyang simply didn’t talk much. Most of the time, she quietly observed from the sidelines. The other female contestants would more or less openly signal their interest in the men they liked, but Gu Kaiyang gave off the complete impression of a background character saying, "I don't need a boyfriend," and "I haven't taken a fancy to any of them."
But after the latest third episode aired the segment revealing everyone's backgrounds, Gu Kaiyang's image underwent a complete one-hundred-and-eighty-degree reversal.
This quiet, seemingly ordinary girl was actually the deputy editor-in-chief of Zero Degrees!
Some viewers also discovered a little surprise hidden in the behind-the-scenes teaser. The fourth male contestant would be arriving in the next episode, and he seemed to have a romantic storyline with Gu Kaiyang.
People online happily dug through every possible clue and dissected every tiny detail, but the show's timeline was actually far behind reality.
By the time filming ended, Gu Kaiyang had not successfully paired up with anyone. She had rejected Zhou Jiaheng's final confession.
Of course, that wasn't actually what had happened.
In truth, Gu Kaiyang had taken quite a liking to Zhou Jiaheng, an old acquaintance who had joined the show as the fourth male contestant. Unfortunately, Zhou Jiaheng simply didn't feel the same spark.
Zhou Jiaheng liked gentle, petite women. An independent, self-reliant career woman like Gu Kaiyang was the exact opposite of his ideal type. They could be friends, but they could nevee be lovers.
As for the final scene where the man confessed and the woman rejected him, that was simply a prearranged script designed to save the woman's dignity.
After the show ended, Gu Kaiyang was down in the dumps for several days because of it.
Jiang Chun was baffled: [Why did you have to follow the script? He confessed, so just accept him! Knock him flat!!!]
Gu Kaiyang: [?]
Gu Kaiyang: [Girl, that's a little too aggressive.]
Ji Mingshu was just as baffled as Jiang Chun. Her best friend was the best woman in the world! How could any man possibly not be attracted to her?! And especially Zhou Jiaheng! She simply couldn't understand it, and secretly began plotting to go to the company and make trouble for him.
Gu Kaiyang was practically a mind reader. Ji Mingshu could make a move, she explicitly warned her not to abuse her position to take revenge on Zhou Jiaheng, saying that feelings simply couldn't be forced.
Ji Mingshu couldn't let it go. Since she couldn't make trouble for Zhou Jiaheng, she could only make trouble for Cen Sen instead.
Unaware of how things had progressed between Zhou Jiaheng and Gu Kaiyang, Cen Sen was inexplicably subjected to two days of Ji Mingshu picking fights with him and assumed that her period was approaching and she was in a bad mood.
Ji Mingshu’s periods could drag on for a full week. Thinking about having to go without intimacy for an entire week, Cen Sen scheduled an intensive round of aerobic exercise before her period arrived.
Ji Mingshu felt she was truly outstanding at digging a hole and burying herself in it.
When she woke up in the morning, she was completely drained. Cen Sen had already prepared breakfast, yet she was still in a state of total paralysis. He had to take care of everything for her, from brushing her teeth and washing her face to getting her dressed.
Even when it came time to go downstairs for breakfast, she instinctively demanded to be carried. And she was carried downstairs in an embarrassingly intimate position, facing him with both legs wrapped around his waist.
Since, they were already this clingy, she might as well take it a little further. She spent the entire breakfast sitting on Cen Sen's lap, playing with her phone while letting him feed her.
Everything had been going perfectly well, and Cen Sen seemed to be enjoying the feeding process too. But after a sip of plain milk, Ji Mingshu suddenly felt a bit queasy. The faint milky smell instantly churned her stomach. Without offering even half an explanation, she put down her phone, hurriedly got off his lap, and rushed straight into the bathroom.
Cen Sen didn't think much of it and assumed she had a stomachache. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the phone she had left on the table and picked it up to take a look.
Ji Mingshu's phone was currently open to her own Weibo page, she had just posted a new entry visible only to herself.
[I love my husband so much! I love it when he holds me! /shy /shy /shy]
Cen Sen paused slightly. Remembering the question he had previously seen in her comments, he instinctively scrolled down.
[How can that big pig's trotter not like our Gugu?! I'm mad! Birds of a feather flock together, so my Cen-shi Sensen is also a big trotter!]
[Sigh, why haven't I gotten pregnant yet? qvq]
[Day three of his business trip. Miss him miss him miss him tvt]
[Sometimes I feel so lucky. I hope we can stay together forever and ever o.o!]
……
The earliest private post visible only to herself could be traced back to the New Year's confession, sitting right before the more restrained New Year's Eve post she had made publicly to show off their affection.
[Ahhhh he said he likes me! This has to be the happiest day of my entire life! I, Ji-shi Shushu, must be the happiest little fairy in the whole world!!!]
Reading this, Cen Sen smiled.
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Author's Note:
Little Canary Baby: Stop smiling, damn it! This baby is puking up bile over here!
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