My Queen, My Rules - 93

When Baby Cen Yan was very small, neither Ji Mingshu nor Cen Sen felt much like parents. When the baby cried, it was just incoherent babbling, and the nanny could usually soothe him.

But by the time Yan Bao was one and a half, able to speak simple, broken sentences and had grown familiar with his novice parents, his crying took on a new dimension. He would wail tearfully, calling out “Dada! Mama!” with genuine, heart-wrenching sincerity.

The nanny’s simple soothing no longer solved the problem. Ji Mingshu or Cen Sen had to personally step in.

Although soothing a small child was a headache, as Yan Bao grew day by day, Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen gradually realized that he wasn’t just a little toy to play with when they had time and ignore when they didn’t. He was an indispensable part of their lives who would be there for a long time. Many things should no longer be left to others.

Both Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen came from broken homes themselves, and they understood deeply how important a complete, warm family was for a child’s growth, so they grew more and more devoted to Yan Bao.

Cen Sen had now formally taken the helm at Jingjian, serving as both President of Junyi and Vice Chairman of Jingjian. His responsibilities were heavier, his work busier. But he still set aside two days each month for family trips for the three of them. On days without business trips, he came home early to spend time with Ji Mingshu and Little Cen Yan.

Ji Mingshu’s interior design studio was also up and running smoothly. Including her, there were five full-fledged designers and ten design assistants.

The studio currently focused primarily on creative interior design for spaces like art galleries, cafés, and private villas. They also undertook a set number of pro bono projects each year.

Despite the studio’s high rates, people came for its reputation. Appointments were typically booked three months in advance. Ji Mingshu herself only took on projects that piqued her interest.

It couldn’t be helped. Her social calendar was full, her baby was very clingy, and she simply didn’t have the energy to spare for uninteresting projects.

—

When Yan Bao was two and a half, plans for kindergarten had to be made.

The options for public and private kindergartens in the capital were overwhelming. Ji Mingshu had shortlisted a few to compare but found herself unable to decide, as each seemed to have its own pros and cons. So, she called Cen Sen.

Cen Sen was playing poker with Chi Li and Jiang Che at the club when he received the call.

Chi Li and Jiang Che were recently exploring a collaboration on a new internet platform project. As they weren’t very familiar with each other, Cen Sen was there as the intermediary.

After the call ended, Cen Sen set his phone aside. He unhurriedly fanned out the cards face down on the table, picked out a pair of Queens, tapped them lightly against the edge, and played them as he asked casually, “Which kindergarten does Jiang Sizhou attend?”

Jiang Che easily beat it with a pair of Kings. “Your Cen Yan is starting kindergarten?”

Cen Sen gave an “Mhm.”

Jiang Che added, “The kindergarten Jiang Sizhou goes to is pretty good. But it’s in Xingcheng. You sure?”

Cen Sen paused, only then remembering the geographical issue. He then turned his gaze to Chi Li.

Without even looking up, Chi Li tapped his knuckles lightly on the table, delivering a double-meaning “Pass.”

Chi Li was several years their junior, wasn’t even married, and certainly couldn’t be expected to know much about kindergartens.

Cen Sen didn’t ask further. When the hand ended, he stood up and took his jacket from Zhou Jiaheng. “You two continue. Something at home. I’m leaving first.”

The two men stayed seated, neither trying to stop him.

After he left, Chi Li lowered his eyes and cut the deck, scoffing lightly. “Whipped husband.”

Jiang Che raised an eyebrow from across the table but didn’t respond.

Chi Li set the cards down, then seemed to remember something and let out another indifferent laugh. “Forgot. President Jiang is one, too.”

“Being a whipped husband isn’t so bad.” Jiang Che took a shallow sip of whiskey and finally steered the conversation back to the project.

While Chi Li and Jiang Che continued discussing their collaboration, the whipped husband in question was already home helping his wife choose a kindergarten.

Ji Mingshu: “This international kindergarten has a good environment and good teachers. Their elementary school is also excellent. If he goes from kindergarten all the way through elementary there, he’ll have the same classmates and won’t have to adjust to a new environment later. I think that’s a big plus. But they require a green card or Hong Kong residency… that should probably be negotiable.”

She pointed to another. “This one is also good—great reputation, has been established for many years. But their class sizes are a bit large, and the facilities seem a bit old.”

“And this one… this one has no major flaws. The biggest downside is they only offer full-time boarding. Sending Little Grub away for full-time boarding when he’s still so small… I can’t bear it.”

After presenting the options, Ji Mingshu was still undecided. “Anyway, these are the ones. Take a look.”

Cen Sen nodded, adopting the same seriousness he used when reviewing contracts as he examined the kindergarten materials Ji Mingshu handed him.

Sitting beside him, Ji Mingshu rested her chin in her hands and continued her ramble. “But why are kindergartens so intense these days? It wasn’t like this when we were kids, was it? Every single one requires parent interviews.”

“What do you think they’ll test us on in the interview? Do we need to prepare résumés? I don’t think we necessarily have to… You should have someone put in a word, see if we can skip the interview. Besides my college interview, it’s been years since I last did one.”

As Cen Sen listened to Ji Mingshu’s chatter while carefully comparing the kindergarten information, the newly promoted General Manager of Junyi called to inform him that they were about to start a routine meeting with the Australian branch and asked if he had time to join.

He replied directly, “Not available. I’m at home.” The GM instantly understood, politely ended the call, and wisely didn’t disturb him further.

Turning back to convey the message to the executives in the meeting room, the GM also said directly, “President Cen is at home.” Everyone exchanged knowing glances. Understood.

Cen Sen’s devotion to his family over the past two years was well known throughout the group, and even outsiders teased him about it.

In the years since his return from Australia, Jingjian’s commercial empire had expanded significantly. The Ji family, with the Cen family’s support, also showed signs of recovering to its former peak, especially with Ji Mingshu’s second uncle’s rapid, staggering promotions.

Within the capital’s social circles, the unbreakable marital alliance between the Cen and Ji families was common knowledge.

Calling it unbreakable wasn’t just about the intertwining interests of both families. In recent years, outsiders could also clearly see Cen Sen’s evident, both public and private, deep care and respect for Ji Mingshu.

The most obvious demonstration was Ji Mingshu’s rock-solid status within the circle of socialites and wealthy wives.

On the rare occasions Cen Sen gave financial interviews, he never failed to mention his wife and son, albeit in a restrained manner.

Furthermore, when attending business dinners these past two years, he not only refrained from bringing female companions himself but also expected his counterparts to do the same.

Once, someone clueless tried to provide him with a female escort. Somehow, a deal that was almost finalized fell through. The other party didn’t understand at first, but upon asking around, learned it was the act of offering a woman that had displeased Cen Sen. Over time, this became an unspoken, unwritten rule in dealings with him.

Add to that the frequent industry rumors—that a call from Mrs. Cen could make President Cen leave a banquet, or that the best gifts for President Cen were things his wife or son could use—and in private, people gossiped and joked quite a bit about his domestic affairs.

After all, in today’s society, men who are wealthy, powerful, young, and rich are rarely devoted. Those who don’t cheat are already rare. One who is devoted to family with single-minded devotion? Calling him a “whipped husband” wasn’t far off.

Cen Sen was in the middle of discussing the kindergarten issue with Ji Mingshu when Little Cen Yan woke up. Under the nanny’s watch, he came pitter-patter down the stairs on his short little legs.

Two-and-a-half-year-old Baby Cen Yan was as cute as a jade snowball. His soft little bangs rested on his forehead, bouncing with each step and making hearts melt.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, rushed over, planted a “mwah” on Ji Mingshu’s cheek, then another “mwah” on Cen Sen’s, calling out sweetly, “Mama! Dada!”

Cen Sen effortlessly scooped Little Cen Yan up and sat him between himself and Ji Mingshu. “Mom and Dad are choosing a kindergarten for you.”

A question mark popped up in Little Cen Yan’s mind. “What’s a ‘kindy-garden’?”

Ji Mingshu pulled him onto her lap, pinched his little cheek, and raised his little hand to do stretches, explaining patiently, “It’s a place with lots of cute little kids just like you to play with.”

Little Cen Yan asked innocently, “Then, does it have my little sister there?”

Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu paused simultaneously, then glanced at each other.

Little Cen Yan continued asking, “Why do Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa always say I have a little sister, but I haven’t seen her yet?”

Cen Sen asked, as if casually, “Do you want a little sister?”

“Yes, yes!” Little Cen Yan nodded like a pecking chick, counting on his chubby little fingers. “One, two, three, four! With a little sister, there’ll be four of us! Then I won’t be the littlest at home! I can take sissy to play at the kindy-garden!”

Ji Mingshu controlled his chubby little hands, raising them high, feigning sternness. “No, you cannot! You stinky little grub!”

Cen Yan’s mouth drooped into a pout. He turned his head to look at his highness mother, wronged and aggrieved, whispering, “Yan Bao not little grub. Yan Bao can!”

Cen Sen let out a soft, amused breath, his voice light. “It’s not impossible for you to have a little sister. But it requires your mom’s cooperation.”

Hearing this, Cen Yan blinked his big, bright, round eyes and looked at Ji Mingshu expectantly. “Mama, you coop’rate quick!”

“…”

“You think your mom is a clam that just opens on command?”

Little Cen Yan didn’t understand yet, his little face full of confusion.

Cen Sen crossed his legs, leaned back into the sofa, and flipped through the materials, saying offhandedly, “Ask your mom if she wants to eat braised spare ribs tonight.”

Little Cen Yan shook Ji Mingshu’s arm. “Mama, do you want waw-wised spare wibs tonight?”

Ji Mingshu’s face was expressionless. “Mama does not. Mama refuses.”

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