My Queen, My Rules - Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Inside the pub, the music remained fervent and rhythmic, and the lights continued to pulse with a kaleidoscope of colors. Yet, the moment that slap landed, it was as if it carried its own spotlight; with Ji Mingshu as the center, the surrounding gazes converged in unison.

—"Listen closely: does it take two to tango?"

—"It does. Loudly."

The spectators answered silently in their hearts.

Not long ago, the "little white flower" had appeared in an ancient-style idol web drama. The show was a lighthearted, mindless romp. Although it lacked logic, it had high discussion volume and was a minor hit, which had earned her a bit of recognition as the second female lead.

Now, as people looked over following the sound, many recognized her. Suddenly, the flashes of paparazzi cameras accompanied by ripples of whispering erupted one after another.

In truth, everyone was less concerned with the origins of the conflict and more astonished that someone would dare to start a physical altercation at Young Master Zhang the Second's birthday party. Was this young lady trying to slap Zhang the Second in the face, or was she intentionally looking for trouble?

Sitting not far away, Zhang Baoshu was also in a state of utter shock.

She hadn't been able to see the face clearly from a distance, but seeing Ji Mingshu up close, she found herself unconsciously beginning to agree with what Cen Sen had said that night.

When a bright pearl sits beside you, what need is there for a firefly?

The scene remained inexplicably silent for several tens of seconds amidst the bustling noise.

The little white flower's friends snapped out of their stupor, quickly shielding her and shouting at Ji Mingshu: "How could you! Who are you? What do you think you're doing, hitting people?"

"Exactly! If there's something to say, why not talk it out? Do you have no upbringing?" another added, chiming in to help.

The little white flower herself didn't make a sound, only biting her lip with a pitiful expression, as if she hadn't yet recovered from the shock.

But she soon remembered: back in Paris, it was also this woman who had stood up for Jiang Chun, forcing Yan to apologize.

At the time, Yan seemed unwilling to sour relations with this woman, so perhaps she had some background.

Thinking of this, she pursed her lips, lowered her head, and remained silent. Her "white lotus" trilogy of reactions was performed in one seamless flow.

Her friends were completely oblivious, still maintaining their self-righteous, "we are the victims" act, taking turns demanding an explanation from Ji Mingshu.

Ji Mingshu didn't even lift her eyelids. She took a warm towel that the "little dirt goose" had magically produced from somewhere and wiped her hands in a measured, unhurried fashion. Every corner of her eyes and brows carried a haughty disdain, perfectly embodying the unbothered, fearless, and blatant attitude of "I'll hit you if I want to; I don't need to pick a day for it."

If anyone on the scene had ever crossed paths with Cen Sen, they might have noticed that when it came to dealing with people, the husband and wife were identical in their high-and-mighty demeanor.

Before long, Young Master Zhang the Second heard the commotion and came over.

The little white flower's friends were truly plastic; seeing Zhang the Second approach, their voices suddenly turned melodic, trying to use this opportunity to act coquettishly toward him: "Boss Zhang, what is the situation with this young lady? She just came over and hit someone for no reason. Today is your birthday party; isn't this failing to give you face?"

Zhang the Second felt a chill run down his spine for three seconds. He looked left and right, still failing to understand how these completely unrelated women had any intersection.

Fortunately, he hadn't started drinking yet and his mind was perfectly clear. After figuring out who had hit whom, he breathed a slight sigh of relief.

He turned his head quickly and asked fawningly: "Sister Shu, is your hand alright? Does it hurt? Should I have someone bring over some medicine?"

Ji Mingshu chuckled softly, "I'm fine. Sorry about this. It's your birthday; I should have restrained myself."

She truly hadn't intended to trash his venue, but as luck would have it, she and Jiang Chun had gone to the restroom, and the little white flower's bitchy remark about "it takes two to tango" had landed exactly in her ears. She had acted on impulse without much thought.

Zhang the Second waved his hands nonchalantly, "Hey! What's the big deal! Sister, as long as you're happy, it's all good!"

He summoned someone to bring a new towel for Ji Mingshu to wrap her hand, his oily-tongued, flattering remarks spilling out one after another.

In the gaps, he spared a glance at the little white flower and her friends. He didn't do anything to them, after all, it was his birthday, and he didn't want to ruin the atmosphere too much.

But some people didn't know how to read the room. Even though Ji Mingshu didn't want to cause more trouble at someone else's birthday, someone still had to make a show of cold snorting after she turned to leave.

Ji Mingshu paused slightly and looked back.

The one who had snorted was the little white flower's friend, acting quite arrogant and not even looking her in the eye.

The little white flower continued to hold the side of her face that had been struck, tears swirling in her eyes but refusing to fall.

Ji Mingshu found it laughable, "You've already become a mistress, yet you haven't prepared yourself for the possibility of getting hit? Your professional standards are lacking."

Zhang the Second suddenly flared up as well, turning back with a furrowed brow and impatient tone: "What is wrong with you people? Who invited these pieces of trash in here? Are you trying to ruin my birthday in my final year of my twenties? It’s my birthday and you're here acting like it’s a funeral; what kind of grudge do you have against me?"

Startled by this outburst, the tears that had been so skillfully swirling in the little white flower's eyes suddenly spilled over.

Zhang the Second was so angry his brain was smoking. He didn't even want to speak, only gesturing for people to get these cursed individuals out of his sight.

The people around them were silent, unsure if they hadn't reacted yet or if they were intimidated by Zhang the Second's completely illogical double standard.

Until the birthday party ended, Jiang Chun hadn't fully processed what happened.

She grabbed Ji Mingshu and asked quite directly: "Why was Zhang Lin so fawning toward you? Isn't the Zhang family also quite powerful? It’s not that extreme, right? It was almost too painful to watch."

"His older brother is, of course, but he isn't the son of the current Mrs. Zhang," Ji Mingshu said nonchalantly.

Jiang Chun was stunned, "What? He’s not the son of Mrs. Zhang? But... isn't he very spoiled in the Zhang family?"

"Being spoiled doesn't conflict with him being an illegitimate child. Have you never studied logic?"

"No," Jiang Chun answered seriously.

Ji Mingshu choked, then asked, "How many years have you been in the Imperial Capital? How do you know nothing?" She was genuinely shocked by this little dirt goose's ignorance.

But Jiang Chun felt no shame; instead, she felt proud, wearing a dim-witted expression that said, "I am ignorant, but I am righteous." She linked arms with her and said: "No one told me before. Since you know everything, then teach me."

"No."

"You just stood up for me; aren't we best friends now? Haven't you heard the saying, 'Sisters once, sisters for life'?"

Never heard of it. Who is best friends with a little dirt goose like you?

Ji Mingshu shot her a look that said, "Please cease this attempt at latching onto me."

But Jiang Chun wouldn't let go, using the incident of her being trapped in the men's restroom to threaten her, insisting on dragging her toward her own car to show off the luxury apartment she had bought in the city center.

Along the way, Ji Mingshu was pestered by Jiang Chun to recount quite a few scandals of the wealthy, leaving Jiang Chun stunned.

When they entered the elevator of the apartment, they were still discussing a "model couple" in the circle.

Jiang Chun asked in surprise: "Is it really that messy? I thought they were very loving. According to what you're saying, everyone just takes what they need, and not many are truly in love."

Ji Mingshu was about to nod and tell her the painful truth that "reality is just a pile of messy feathers."

But after swiping her key card, Jiang Chun corrected herself: "Wait, no. I think you and Cen Sen are quite good. See how much Cen Sen dotes on you."

……?

Ji Mingshu was temporarily unable to refute this.

Jiang Chun's apartment wasn't far from Bai Cui Tian Hua, about a ten-minute drive. It was also in a prime location, though the commercial area here was denser and could be a bit noisy at night.

However, Jiang Chun liked it very much; all the milk tea shops she loved were within a five-hundred-meter radius.

As soon as she walked in, Ji Mingshu was shocked.

Jiang Chun introduced it like a treasure: "How is it? Look here, and here. I hired a designer to change it. It was originally a pre-renovated unit, but the original design was too inhumane and very ugly."

"Could it be uglier than what you changed it into?" Ji Mingshu looked at a wall of countryside-chic plastic flower sliding-door wardrobes, feeling like she had been transported back to the nineties in an instant. "Are you planning to open a farmhouse resort at home?"

Ji Mingshu looked at the ugly room that Jiang Chun treated like a treasure and didn't know where to step.

Yet, Jiang Chun was stubborn, dragging her—who had absolutely zero interest in touring—back and forth, attempting to twist her aesthetic.

Ji Mingshu stopped in front of a bookshelf and looked at the books inside: My Private Makeup Techniques, How to Capture His Heart, How an Elegant Beauty is Refined, One Hundred Ways to Increase EQ, The Cold CEO of the Loose Angel...

Seeing Ji Mingshu staring at the book with "CEO" in the title, Jiang Chun pulled it out and shoved it at her: "The name is a bit ugly, but it's actually quite good. Take a look."

Ji Mingshu avoided it in disgust, with a look of disdain, "Take it away. I never read this kind of thing. What is your taste?"

Jiang Chun: "Really not reading it? How can there be a girl who doesn't read romance novels? You're too strange."

I read romance novels, but I don't read this kind of ancient, brainless literature, okay? Ji Mingshu muttered to herself with a deadpan expression.

Jiang Chun insisted on forcefully recommending it, "But I don't read paper books much anymore. You should download the Jinjiang app; the novels on Jinjiang are actually quite good."

Ji Mingshu didn't reply.

After touring the ugly house, the two sat on the sofa chatting.

Ji Mingshu had never had any concept of time; as long as she wasn't sleepy, she could keep her eyes open until dawn.

It was Jiang Chun who suddenly reminded her: "Sister, it's almost twelve. Do you want to send a message to your husband to report in? Not going back this late, he'll worry about you, right?"

Ji Mingshu subconsciously wanted to say, "He's not my boss, why the hell should I report to him?" But in order not to break the little dirt goose's last shred of hope for a beautiful marriage, she perfunctorily said "Mhm" and opened WeChat.

The chat history between Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen was still on the previous "rainbow fart" flattery.

Jiang Chun glanced at it but didn't see the whole thing, sighing in surprise and envy: "I couldn't tell your husband was so good with words."

Ji Mingshu: "..."

She thought for a moment: if she directly followed Jiang Chun's advice and reported to Cen Sen that she hadn't returned, Cen Sen's train of thought would probably lead him to believe that this sudden report was a hint that she had been kidnapped.

So, what to say to lead into the topic?

She remembered the noodles Cen Sen had cooked and had an idea.

Ji Mingshu: [What did you eat for dinner, duck?]

After sending it, Ji Mingshu admired it herself. Very good. It was a normal conversation, and it wouldn't make her seem inexplicably enthusiastic. Plus, the cute tone would give Jiang Chun the illusion that "our marital relationship is really good."

About three minutes later, Cen Sen actually replied.

Cen Sen: [Didn't eat duck.]

Seeing this message, Jiang Chun's eyes turned into hearts: "Your husband is so cute. So he’s this type in private; I really couldn't tell."

She hurriedly pushed Ji Mingshu, urging her: "He said he didn't eat anything; he must want you to comfort him. Hurry and reply!"

Ji Mingshu's scalp tingled; she felt Cen Sen tonight was so cute it was as if his account had been hacked.

The next second, a new message came in.

Cen Sen: [Ate bamboo shoots.]

Jiang Chun & Ji Mingshu: "..."

There was silence in the ugly house. The two of them went through a psychological journey from being completely baffled, to vaguely understanding something, to a sudden realization.

After three seconds of eye contact, Ji Mingshu saw two complex emotions in Jiang Chun's eyes: "Don't call me rustic anymore; your husband is even more rustic than me," and "Doesn't your husband's work require internet access?"

Excuse me.

Humble.jpg

There had been a drinking party with Japanese business partners tonight. Half the dishes were local style, and half catered to the partners' tastes. But Cen Sen didn't like them much, only using his chopsticks on the oil-braised bamboo shoots a few times.

It was already late when the entertainment ended. The cold wind blew away most of the drunkenness; there were no stars in the night sky.

When he returned home, Cen Sen discovered that Ji Mingshu had already returned.

After receiving Ji Mingshu's message earlier, he had even asked Zhou Jiaheng where his wife was in the evening.

Zhou Jiaheng said she went to Zhang Lin's birthday party, and then to Jiang Chun's apartment.

Cen Sen had thought that a party animal like Ji Mingshu wouldn't come back tonight.

Ji Mingshu had indeed not planned to return, but on one hand, Jiang Chun's apartment was too ugly to sleep in, and on the other, she had finally grasped some leverage over Cen Sen and planned to come back to "wait for the husband" to thoroughly mock him.

Who would have thought that after taking a bath and lying on the bed reading a novel, she would fall asleep without knowing it.

Cen Sen swept a glance at her but didn't pay any mind.

By the time he finished his shower, Ji Mingshu had already changed positions to occupy the majority of the bed, though she was still clutching her phone tightly.

He walked to the side of the bed, picked up Ji Mingshu with ease, placed her in a proper position, and then tried to remove the phone from her hand.

Ji Mingshu woke up at that exact moment.

She opened her eyes sleepily, looked at Cen Sen, then looked at the time on the screen; she wasn't fully awake at all. She turned over and continued sleeping.

As she turned over, she automatically loosened her grip on the phone, and that blink just now had accidentally unlocked the phone's facial recognition.

When it ended up in Cen Sen's hands, the screen was paused exactly on the Weibo interface she had been reading before sleep.

To be precise, it wasn't the Weibo interface, but the ad-novel interface pushed by Weibo.

Cen Sen took a glance.

"When Shangguan Haoran took out Mu Ziwei's corneas and kidneys, Mu Ziwei's heart had already died. Three years later, Mu Ziwei returned to City B, originally only wanting to live this life plainly, but that cold, ruthless, heartless, and cruel imperial commander hugged her tightly again, 'Woman, wanting to escape? In this life, you will never escape the palm of my hand.' Mu Ziwei's eyes were full of fear, 'Isn't taking my corneas and kidneys enough?' 'Not enough, I want your heart'..."

Cen Sen paused. He didn't know what he was thinking, but he actually clicked on the first image to browse through it.

Ji Mingshu didn't seem to be sleeping very soundly. Having just turned over, she turned back after a short while, wrapped tightly in her little quilt, with her bare arm exposed, covering the position of her heart.

Cen Sen: "...”