My Queen, My Rules - Chapter 60
Chapter 60
Ji Mingshu didn't say anything. She didn't need this friend to inform her—she already knew. She had been insulted and dragged onto the trending topics.
#Designer#
#Designer Ji Mingshu#
#Ji Mingshu Yan Yuexing#
They occupied three spots in the top ten trending topics. Further down the list, innocent bystanders like Pei Xiyan and Feng Yan were also forcibly dragged in by the production team. For a home renovation show to go to such lengths to manufacture heat, it could truly be said they were sparing no cost.
Ji Mingshu pursed her lips and kept her expression blank, but if one looked closely, they would notice that her hand clutching the phone was trembling slightly.
The other friends who had come to watch the musical weren't sitting in the same row as her and Vivian. Now that the show was over and they had come over to find them, they also knew about the trending topics. They huddled together, chattering away in surprise:
"What on earth is going on?"
"Who is this Yan Yuexing? She looks like some low-end escort from the eighteenth tier; is she using our little Shu to manufacture hype?"
"No need to think about it, it definitely is."
"Hey, isn't Junyi the sponsor of this program? How did it turn into this? Has the production team gone mad?"
...
To tell the truth, plastic as these friends might be, when they stood on the same front as you to fire away and viciously humiliate others, they were still quite comforting.
Just like now, if it weren't for these friends fawning over her and taking sides, Ji Mingshu would probably have been so angry she wouldn't even be able to walk steadily, let alone leave the theater and get into her private car like normal.
On the way home, Ji Mingshu sat in the back seat and stared at her phone the entire time. The driver, watching through the rearview mirror, always felt her mood was off. He was terrified, somewhat afraid that this little ancestor would get unhappy and make him change his route halfway.
One had to know that the last time this little ancestor said she wanted to go to Star Port International to pick something up, she hadn't returned, nor had she left a single word behind. Afterward, he had been sternly warned by Assistant Zhou, who said that if there was a next time, his year-end bonus would be deducted.
The New Year was almost here; how could he afford to lose his year-end bonus at such a critical juncture?
The driver made up his mind that if this little ancestor really started throwing a tantrum in a moment, he would have to call Assistant Zhou first to clear his name completely.
Fortunately, what he feared didn't happen. Although the little ancestor’s expression had grown worse along the way, she still returned to Mingshui Mansion smoothly. As for whether she was in a good mood or not after he delivered her in one piece, that wasn't his concern.
[You fucking idiot, your ancestors for nineteen generations are all dead!]
[Fuck you, what kind of trash are you to act so high and mighty in front of our Xingxing? You deserve to be fucked!]
[Your mom is dead, your dad is dead, your whole family is dead!]
In the comments and private messages on Weibo, insults as unsightly as these flowed endlessly. Some of Yan Yuexing’s fans even cropped screenshots of her from the show, Photoshopped them into funeral portraits, and sent them to her.
Ji Mingshu sat on the living room sofa, the crystal chandelier blazing bright, making her eyes sting. She rubbed them, and suddenly, large, heavy teardrops fell.
Pampered for over twenty years, this was the first time she had been insulted by so many people using such foul language. She was furious—so angry she felt as if she were about to explode—but along with the anger, there was also a sense of panic and fear, leaving her at a complete loss.
After sitting blankly for over half an hour, she picked up her phone and called Cen Sen, but only heard a robotic female voice: "The number you have dialed is switched off."
Her stalled thoughts were like rusty gears, pushed by that voice to turn slowly.
Oh, he should be on a plane right now. From the Imperial Capital to Paris, it took about eleven hours, perhaps even with delays—the heartless pig's trotter.
She trembling placed the phone down, curled her legs up, and buried her head into them, forcing herself to calm down, forcing herself not to think about those verbal attacks.
In reality, in just this short half-hour, many people had been calling and messaging to express their concern: Gu Kaiyang, Jiang Chun, Cen Yang, Li Che, Feng Yan... and even Pei Xiyan, who had just finished his evening self-study session and was reminded by his manager to check the news.
But she didn't want to answer, look, or reply to any of them. She only wanted to hear Cen Sen’s voice; she only wanted to see Cen Sen. That was all.
On the other side, Cen Sen had just arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport. It was afternoon in Paris, and the daylight was bright.
With the New Year approaching, he didn't want to go on business trips, and Zhou Jiaheng indeed hadn't arranged any for him.
But this time, Cen Yuanchao had called directly, telling him to fly to Paris to meet with investors to discuss the South Bay project, a collaboration between Jingjian and the Ji family.
South Bay was a near-shore island Free Trade Zone east of Nancheng, covering twenty-five square kilometers, with a very superior geographical location.
During the height of the Ji family's prosperity, they had teamed up with the Su family to win the development rights for the South Bay project and established the South Bay Development and Construction Company. The Ji and Su families held 51% of the company's shares, while the other 49% was controlled by the South Bay District Government.
With the cancellation of the marriage between the Ji and Su families and the shift in power within the Su family, the new authority believed that the South Bay project had an excessively long investment cycle and too high a risk factor, deciding to withdraw by transferring their shares even if it meant taking a loss.
The Ji family didn't want outsiders to intervene and lose their initiative, so they had to seek collaboration with their new in-laws, the Cen family.
Cen Yuanchao was somewhat interested in the project. Furthermore, the Cen family wasn't like the Su family, whose capital was closed-loop and who lacked the energy to grapple with such long-term, high-stakes investments. After organizing relevant teams to evaluate it, Cen Yuanchao made the decision to take over the Su family's shares, jointly develop it with the Ji family, and lavishly spent ten billion on infrastructure in the early stages.
For a project of this scale and long cycle, it was impossible to rely solely on the two families' continuous output, so they had been searching for suitable investors without losing their initiative.
This time, with a French-Chinese billionaire interested in the project, Cen Yuanchao had specifically asked Cen Sen to come forward personally to discuss it. After all, the future development of South Bay—and the entirety of Jingjian—would be handed over to him.
Zhou Jiaheng accompanied him on the business trip as usual. After getting off the plane, he spoke to Cen Sen about the schedule arrangements in Paris, not forgetting to switch on his work phone.
Less than ten seconds after turning it on, a call came through.
"Hello?" He took a step back to answer, but the more he listened, the uglier his expression became.
Cen Sen’s phone was still in the process of turning on. He glanced at Zhou Jiaheng; for some reason, an ominous premonition suddenly arose in his heart.
Sure enough, after finishing the call, Zhou Jiaheng lowered his head, his face ashen as he reported, "I’m sorry, President Cen. There’s a problem with the program Designer that Madam is participating in. I apologize; it is my dereliction of duty."
"Speak clearly."
The assistant’s instinct led Zhou Jiaheng to instinctively organize concise language. He briefly recounted to Cen Sen the matter of Ji Mingshu being insulted and dragged onto trending topics after the broadcast of the second episode, and then said in a low voice, "I will immediately contact the production team and the relevant media to have the news taken down."
Zhou Jiaheng knew he had an undeniable responsibility in this matter. Not long ago, after Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu reconciled, Cen Sen had specifically asked him what he had said to the production team before, and whether he had let them cut all of Ji Mingshu’s footage.
He had answered truthfully, "No." He had only told the production team to change Ji Mingshu’s CP with Li Che, and told them not to make Ji Mingshu the focus of the filming.
To prevent the production team from misunderstanding and cutting Ji Mingshu’s footage entirely, Cen Sen had even instructed him to go and say a word to let her appear as normal.
It was supposed to be a small matter, but he had thought a bit too far ahead. In order not to let the production team overdo it by switching from having no footage to focusing entirely on building her up, he hadn't revealed Ji Mingshu’s identity directly, but instead asked the production team to send the footage for him to see.
At that time, the show’s footage for Ji Mingshu’s group had only produced a small portion—the first half of the premiere episode.
Zhou Jiaheng had picked it out and watched it once, discovering that the production team hadn't misunderstood his intentions by cutting Ji Mingshu out.
Moreover, the frequency of Ji Mingshu’s appearances compared to other amateur designers was quite even, and as for her performance, it was middling and perfectly normal.
He had felt relieved and hadn't opened his mouth again to give further instructions.
However, he had ultimately had very little exposure to the entertainment program sector and had never thought about the existence of "evil editing."
Furthermore, he had many specific responsibilities to handle every day; he simply couldn't have had the time to browse through massive amounts of raw footage and compare it piece by piece with the final product.
Thus, when he heard this news, his mind was completely blank.
He, Zhou Jiaheng, had followed Cen Sen for many years, always being cautious and never making a wrong move. Yet, with this small program team, he had stumbled twice—each time more serious than the last.
His heart felt completely cold. He didn't dare to even think about his year-end bonus; right now, he only wanted to finish off the production team, handle the online public opinion, and finally, find a patch of ground in a foreign land to die in for a while.
However, Cen Sen clearly wasn't in the mood to deal with him right now.
After his phone turned on, Cen Sen called Ji Mingshu directly. After about three rings, Ji Mingshu answered.
The other end of the line was silent; he couldn't even hear her breathing, only the faint sound of electricity.
He didn't know what he was thinking, standing in the airport lobby without moving again.
The time agreed upon with the investors was for this very evening. It had been difficult for them to clear an entire night to host him, and they had told him long in advance about the authentic French meal they had arranged, and how they wanted him to experience true French style and feel their anticipation and sincerity regarding the cooperation.
If he turned around and left for the Imperial Capital right now, there would be no need to hold any more expectations for this collaboration.
After a long, long time, he suddenly said, "Mingshu, I’m sorry. I’m coming back right away."
Ji Mingshu had been holding herself together, holding it together, comforting herself that it was no big deal and that once Cen Sen knew, he would certainly demand justice for her. But when she finally waited for Cen Sen’s call and heard him say "I'm sorry," she suddenly couldn't hold back, crying out in grievance.
She sobbed as she spoke, not forgetting to intermittently curse him: "You... what kind of husband are you... investing in a program only to let your wife be insulted by people... Tell me, are you secretly hating me? Wuwuwu, Cen Sen, you asshole! I didn't do anything... It wasn't like what aired on the show at all. I, I didn't bully anyone! Hic..." By the end of her crying, she had started hiccuping.
"Mmhmm, I'm an asshole." He closed his eyes, his voice growing deeper and hoarser. "Don't cry, be good."
Ji Mingshu wiped her tears with a tissue while cursing him, and she cursed him like that for a full five minutes.
But upon hearing Cen Sen lower his voice to tell Zhou Jiaheng to immediately book a flight back, she suddenly remembered how important Cen Sen had said this cooperation was before he left. She choked and shouted again, "No!"
"What?"
"Don't come back! Just stay in Paris and reflect on yourself!"
Cen Sen understood after only a moment of hesitation.
After a long time, he asked, "Can you manage?"
"What is there that I can't manage? My cousin even knows to help me remove the trending topics. If I had to wait for news to reach someone in a remote region like you, the weeds on my grave would have already grown. You are not allowed to come back!"
Ji Mingshu’s voice carried a crying tone, but there was also a sense of relief after venting, and even a kind of... satisfaction, known only to herself, of being comforted by someone.