My Queen, My Rules - 95

Probably no one expected that Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu would still be trying for the long-promised little sister by the time Yan Bao was in second grade.

Over the years, they’d consulted numerous doctors, hired nutritionists to regulate their health, and even meticulously prepared for conception several times. Ji Mingshu had gone so far as to earnestly study and practice various post-coital positions. Yet, there was no sign of the little sister's arrival.

As the days passed and Little Cen Yan became an elementary school student, Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu gradually let go of their hopes of welcoming "Zhuo Bao.” For one, there was nothing wrong with either of their bodies. The prolonged failure to conceive likely meant it simply wasn't meant to be. For another, dealing with Little Cen Yan, a single elementary schooler, was headache enough.

They’d originally thought that since Little Cen Yan excelled in cultivated interests like painting, piano, and violin, his academic studies naturally wouldn’t be a concern.

Who could have guessed that starting first grade, Little Cen Yan’s test scores would consistently hover in the middle-to-lower ranks of his class? By second grade, he’d honorably become a regular fixture at the very bottom.

Looking at the returned test papers, young student Cen’s handwriting, while bearing the untamed flair of a school-aged boy, clearly showed he was answering seriously.

But a careful look at the content of his answers left Ji Mingshu baffled every single time.

"Xiao Hong bought ten new books. After reading three, how many are left? Ten minus three equals seven, right? Why did you answer ten?" Ji Mingshu pointed patiently at a question marked with a bright red cross.

Little Cen Yan looked up adorably, three strands of hair sticking up on his forehead, and stated with righteous confidence, "Books don’t fly away after you read them. Of course there are still ten."

Ji Mingshu: "But she finished reading three..."

Little Cen Yan cut in, "Do you throw them away after reading? That’s so wasteful! And Yan Bao learned an ancient poem,”’Read a book a thousand times, and its meaning reveals itself.' A book should be kept to be read many times!"

Ji Mingshu paused for a few seconds and glanced at the question again.

Alright, the question didn’t explicitly ask how many were unread after finishing three. So, Little Cen Yan’s logic… sort of made sense.

Before Ji Mingshu could finish her internal debate, Cen Sen, sitting on the other side, had already marked the question with his pen and concluded in a low voice, "The question is imprecise."

Little Cen Yan looked at Cen Sen with starry eyes, nodding in profound agreement.

Cen Sen then corrected him, "'Read a book a thousand times, and its meaning reveals itself' — 'reveals' here is pronounced 'xian.' Also, this isn't a poem. You could call it an idiom or an ancient saying."

Little Cen Yan thought for a moment, propping his chin up like a little adult, then asked curiously, "Why 'xian'? Why isn't it a poem?"

Cen Sen, unusually patient, broke it down and explained it thoroughly to the curious child, unlike some parents who might dismiss a child's questions, thinking they wouldn't understand.

Once Little Cen Yan’s questions were exhausted, the family of three returned to analyzing the test. Ji Mingshu discovered that for almost every seemingly outrageous wrong answer, Little Cen Yan could use his own reasoning to provide an explanation that, however twisted, held a sliver of logic.

Moreover, after each inquiry, Little Cen Yan would lift his little face, looking troubled and puzzled, asking, "Mama, don’t you think Yan Bao didn’t do it wrong? If I didn’t do it wrong, why didn’t Teacher give me a checkmark?"

Ji Mingshu: "..."

This question was truly difficult to answer. Forcing this intellectually active elementary student to think conventionally seemed like a restriction. Yet, if she constantly encouraged his leaps of logic, she worried it might foster an obstinate insistence on being unconventional.

As the family member usually most adept with words, when faced with Little Cen Yan’s slightly aggrieved query, Ji Mingshu found herself momentarily at a loss for words and even felt a vague, unwarranted guilt of being "unfit for motherhood."

Helpless, with the elementary student gazing at her expectantly, Ji Mingshu could only stare expectantly at the elementary student’s father.

The father, with tacit understanding, looked up. Their eyes met for an instant. He suddenly loosened his collar, the corner of his mouth lifting almost imperceptibly, his eyes holding a hint of a smile.

After so many years of living together, if Ji Mingshu still didn’t understand the implicit meaning behind Cen Sen’s subtle gestures and micro-expressions, she’d have been Madam Cen for nothing.

She silently averted her gaze and, as if nothing were amiss, patted Little Cen Yan’s head.

Cen Sen, seeing her silent acquiescence, let the faint smile at his lips deepen by a fraction.

Cen Yan, completely unaware that his Dada and Mama had just sealed an unspeakable "deal" right in front of him through subtle gestures and glances, remained lost in the sorrow of having answered correctly yet being denied his checkmark.

Fortunately, after the "deal" was struck, his decisive father quickly took his side, telling him he wasn't wrong and even encouraging him to continue interpreting questions in his own way. Only then did young student Cen relax, his worries finally subsiding.

After the daily tutoring session, while it was still early, Cen Sen called the homeroom teacher. He offered some opinions on the precision of the school’s test questions and engaged in a thorough discussion with the teacher about encouraging reasonable diversity in answers for certain questions, advocating against restricting children's imaginative thinking.

Ji Mingshu sat to the side, eating an orange and shooting him sidelong glances, mentally scoffing.

Putting on such a proper, earnest front, acting like some once-in-a-century devoted father. When in reality, he had to extract some "benefit" from her just to deign to coax their own child. Pah! The Exploiter Cen in the flesh!

As if sensing her thoughts, the Exploiter Cen in the flesh glanced at her and pointed to his own slightly dry throat.

Ji Mingshu understood but ignored him, tilting her gaze away and continuing blissfully placing an orange segment into her mouth.

But just as a freshly peeled segment reached her lips, her wrist was suddenly held.

Cen Sen leaned in close, his voice cool and calm as he offered suggestions to the teacher on the phone, yet his eyes were on her. In slow motion, he plucked the sweet, juicy orange segment from between her lips.

Ji Mingshu: "…"

Snatching food right from the canary's mouth!

Devoid of all conscience!

Even more unconscionable was that after finishing the call, Cen Sen lived up to his "Exploiter Cen" title completely. He scooped Ji Mingshu up into a bridal carry and headed to the bedroom to collect his "benefit."

It was rather amusing. Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu had tried earnestly for years without managing to produce a baby to repay the "colossal debt" Yan Bao mentioned every so often. Who would have thought that a playfully contentious collection of "benefits" would result in an unexpected bullseye?

After years of no news, Ji Mingshu didn’t give it a thought. Unaware she was over a month pregnant, she personally conducted a field survey to plan her studio’s annual pro-bono renovation project.

On a midsummer afternoon, the sun hung brightly overhead. Suddenly leaving the air conditioning and standing outside the old building for over ten minutes, Ji Mingshu felt a bit dizzy.

An Ning, being observant, noticed her pallor and quickly supported her, asking quietly if she was okay.

Thinking the locksmith would arrive any moment, Ji Mingshu shook her head. "I'm fine, just a bit hot."

An Ning, worried she might get heatstroke, held an umbrella over her.

An Ning hadn’t studied interior design in university. But when selecting minor module courses later, because this module was known for its high difficulty, many students avoided it. Having signed up late, she was inadvertently assigned to it.

Unexpectedly, the more she learned, the more interested she became. Upon graduation, after much hesitation and with Ji Mingshu's support, she chose to study interior design abroad. After returning, she naturally joined Ji Mingshu's studio for her internship and work.

Perhaps growing older made one value the remaining fragments of family ties more. Or perhaps having obtained greater fulfillment made past losses less bitter. Over the years, Cen Sen's attitude towards Chen Biqing and An Ning had softened. They exchanged calls during holidays, and he tacitly allowed Little Cen Yan to call An Ning "Auntie" and Chen Biqing "Grandma."

As for the elders in the Cen family, they maintained a stance of "you don’t tell, we don’t ask," offering no interference.

After waiting outside another two minutes, An Ning noticed Ji Mingshu’s complexion worsening. Before she could speak, Ji Mingshu suddenly staggered, her eyes fluttering shut as she fell backward.

"Sister-in-law!" An Ning cried out in fright, using the private form of address. She barely managed to catch Ji Mingshu, shouting for help.

Back when Ji Mingshu participated in the design reality show, she had also fainted suddenly, waking up to anxiously imagine she had some incurable disease.

This time, she wasn't given room for such dramatics. The moment her consciousness swam back, Yan Bao stood by the bed, clapping his little hands and announcing joyously, "Mama, you’re finally awake! You have a little sister in your tummy!"

After the announcement, he leaned in and gave Ji Mingshu a loud kiss.

"Mama needs to rest. Call Grandma and Auntie to tell them she's okay."

Cen Sen, finding him too boisterous, picked him up from behind and settled him on the sofa to the right of the hospital bed.

It took Ji Mingshu a good moment to process. Sitting up in bed, she asked, "I’m… pregnant?"

"Mn. Five weeks."

Cen Sen ruffled her hair, then pressed a kiss to her lips.

Ji Mingshu was still somewhat dazed, but Little Cen Yan reacted swiftly, covering his eyes and dragging out his words in mock disdain, "Eww—so mushy!"

Despite saying "so mushy," his chubby little legs swung excitedly. Through the gaps in his fingers, one could see his grape-like eyes wide and unblinking, smiling like a kitten that stole the cream, revealing a row of neat, clean little teeth.

No one was happier about Ji Mingshu's pregnancy than elementary student Cen Yan.

His Chinese and English diaries underwent a dramatic transformation, evolving from the previous "Today I ate xxx, played xxx, it was a wonderful day" to "Today is day xx of little sister sprouting. Mama had a checkup today. Little sister is very healthy. I’m so happy!"

The Chinese and English teachers, forced to grade Little Cen Yan’s "Little Sister Sprouting Log" daily, inadvertently became members of the little sister growth observation group.

Before Ji Mingshu gave birth, the two teachers called one after the other to offer their regards, repeatedly referring to the unborn little one as "Classmate Cen Yan’s little sister."

Actually, this time, Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen hadn’t deliberately checked the gender. They had corrected Little Cen Yan multiple times, telling him the baby in Mama’s tummy might not be a little sister. But Little Cen Yan would pout, covering his ears, refusing to listen, calling them both big liars who’d owed him a little sister for so, so long, and how he, being kind-hearted, wasn't even charging interest.

This had caused Ji Mingshu genuine worry for a few days, fretting that if she had a little brother, would Yan Bao still chase her for repayment?

But pregnancy was really tough. This time, her morning sickness was severe; the first few months were pure misery. She never wanted to go through this again after this one.

Fortunately, as Little Cen Yan wished, Ji Mingshu smoothly gave birth to a baby girl.

Hearing it was a girl, both Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen inexplicably sighed in relief.

The feeling of being pursued for repayment of a years-old debt by the little ancestor every so often was truly terrifying.

Cen Sen had chosen a girl's name even before Cen Yan was born, so the baby girl was immediately named Cen Zhuo.

Zhuo Bao was a beautiful, adorable little girl, her temperament seeming to take after Cen Sen more—quiet, calm, rarely crying.

But she had her own little stubbornness. Aside from Mommy, Daddy, and her big brother, she wouldn't let anyone else hold her.

At first, Ji Mingshu worried that Zhuo Bao's quietness might indicate slower development. It turned out Zhuo Bao was a typical "deeds, not words" type. Her mastery of basic milestones like rolling over, sitting up, and crawling far outpaced Little Cen Yan’s.

Once surpassed, forever surpassed.

The quiet Little Cen Zhuo demonstrated astonishingly high intelligence from the moment she began speaking, grasping everything instantly.

Ji Mingshu casually played musicals for the children’s cultural enrichment. Little Cen Zhuo, after one viewing, could recite several lines of English dialogue.

Building age-appropriate Lego sets with Little Cen Yan, she would finish her own and then offer guidance to the struggling Cen Yan.

When Little Cen Yan struggled to memorize ancient poems after school, she would silently mouth the words to prompt him during Ji Mingshu’s spot checks.

Despite the stark contrast, Cen Yan felt no shame but rather pride, boasting to everyone about his beautiful, adorable, and highly intelligent little sister.

When Cen Yan was in sixth grade, a bold little girl in his class confessed to him, declaring she would attend the same middle school as him.

He seriously refused, loftily stating children shouldn’t have puppy love.

In truth, he was just saving her face. His real thought was that she wasn't as outstanding as his little sister; he must find a girlfriend as exceptional as his little sister in the future.

Upon Cen Yan’s graduation from elementary school, Mingshui Manor underwent renovation. The family temporarily moved to a large penthouse apartment downtown. Ji Mingshu accidentally discovered a completed elementary school diary belonging to the ultimate sister-con, Little Cen Yan.

"Zhuo Bao’s eyelashes are so long, longer even than Mama’s. Is this what 'the pupil surpasses the master' means?"

"I’ve never sen a girl as well-behaved and understanding as our Zhuo Bao. Mama’s cooking tastes so strange, yet she can still praise it as delicious. Sigh, should I learn more from Zhuo Bao? But it really does taste strange."

"Zhuo Bao is two years old today! I got Dada to help make a birthday cake for Zhuo Bao with our own hands. But after Dada finished, he actually made a separate strawberry cake for Mama. He said Mama is also a baby and would get jealous without a cake. When we got home, Mama really was a tiny bit jealous (though not obvious, my keen eyes noticed). But when Dada brought out the strawberry cake, she smiled again. Dada is really smart.” …

Ji Mingshu didn’t know whether to be angry or amused.

Suddenly, the familiar scent of fir surrounded her from behind. Seizing the opportunity, she held up the diary to complain, "Look at the nonsense your son is writing!"

Cen Sen glanced at it, unperturbed. "The teacher gave it an 'Excellent.' What nonsense?"

Ji Mingshu turned her head, meeting his gaze.

The afternoon sun was warm and pleasant. The children were at school. The room was quiet.

She suddenly wrapped her arms around Cen Sen’s neck and asked in a very small voice, "Will I always be your baby?"

Cen Sen’s voice held a smile. "Yes."

---

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