It had been over half a month since Ji Mingshu last posted on Weibo. People were still checking in on her New Year’s post, waiting for her to become active. Little did they expect that their wait would result in such direct, juicy gossip.
[Solid foundation, fighting hard! The CEO’s wife is for real!]
[Front row seats with sunflower seeds, cola, Sprite, and small stools all for one yuan!]
[What happened? Who is Li Wenyin?]
[I once commented on a certain director’s blog post “My Ex Got Married,” saying: “If you don’t want to disturb your ex, you shouldn’t have posted this article.” That comment got many likes, but the director deleted it and blacklisted me. I still remember it clearly.]
[To be honest, my husband’s ex-girlfriend was also this kind of extreme case. When they were dating, she would occasionally seek attention in front of us. Because we had mutual friends, we couldn’t say much. Later, when my husband and I got married, she posted photos of them together on our wedding day, saying things like “the past that can’t be returned to” and “nostalgia.” This coward didn’t dare to confront her, but I got increasingly upset and couldn’t even enjoy our honeymoon. My husband felt I was wronged, so he posted: “I don’t want to go back, please stop mentioning me, thank you.” This coward was finally satisfied.]
[The comment above reminds me of my own tragic experience, almost identical, but different people have different fates. My ex-husband didn’t stand up for me at the time. When I got angry, he accused me of being dramatic. Later, he cheated during my breastfeeding period, with his extreme ex-girlfriend.]
…
Actually, after posting on Weibo, Ji Mingshu had mostly vented her anger. She never expected this post would resonate so strongly with female compatriots and a small portion of male compatriots.
The post was reposted by a popular relationship blogger with nearly ten million followers, who added: “Not all current partners have the confidence of the CEO’s wife to confront people. So we can only hope that certain exes who lack self-awareness will take the initiative to study the course ‘Self-Cultivation for Ex-Partners.’ /smile”
Soon after, #SelfCultivationForExPartners# quietly climbed the trending topics list, rising from beyond thirtieth place straight into the top ten. Ji Mingshu refreshed every second, watching her followers rapidly increase, while reposts, likes, comments, and private messages exploded.
When reposts exceeded thirty thousand, Cen Sen finally woke up.
“What are you looking at?” His voice was hoarse from sleep, a bit raspy.
Ji Mingshu turned to look at him, hiding her phone behind her back. “Just… just checking Weibo.”
Despite her previous anger, after posting, she felt strangely guilty.
How to put it—she didn’t want Cen Sen to see her more aggressive side, like publicly tearing into his ex on Weibo. She wasn’t sure if he would think she was undignified or unrefined.
But what was done was done. The incident had grown so big that she couldn’t delete it or hide it.
Ji Mingshu steeled herself, suddenly hugged and kissed Cen Sen thoroughly, then looked up at him with a soft, coquettish voice: “I need to tell you something, prepare yourself—you must accept it!”
“What is it?”
Cen Sen looked down at her, his voice still calm, but his temple had already begun to throb uncontrollably.
“It’s like this… Li Wenyin posted on Weibo last night…”
Ji Mingshu organized her thoughts while raising her phone, providing him with a vivid, illustrated explanation of what had happened. “…Look, look, her fans are cursing me like this! Calling me a mistress! How could I not be angry, right? And I woke up this morning with a bit of morning grumpiness, as you know, so I also posted on Weibo, this one, this one.”
She carefully observed Cen Sen’s expression and continued: “Actually, after posting, I felt it wasn’t so good. What’s the point of arguing with her? But it was already posted…”
After a long silence without Cen Sen initiating a response, she hugged his arm, shaking it while firmly stating: “Anyway, you can’t be angry or think I’m a shrew! I’m just letting you know about this, but you have to forget it. In your heart, I can only be a little fairy!”
“Mm, little fairy.”
Cen Sen finished reading the Weibo post, responded indifferently, put down the phone, and felt relieved.
Ji Mingshu probed: “Do you… Do you have any thoughts about my Weibo post?”
Cen Sen thought for a moment. “The sentences flow well, the logic is clear, it’s well-written.”
“Then, won’t you think I’m being too aggressive?” After all, she was confronting his ex-girlfriend.
Cen Sen thought again. “I know about this matter, but I’ve already forgotten it. In my heart, you will always be… a little fairy.”
Ji Mingshu: “…”
Why did this forced attempt at sweet talk feel like she was pushing a respectable housewife into a brothel?
She gave Cen Sen a look that said, “Okay, I can see you’re trying to keep up with the times,” and went to the bathroom, satisfied.
While Ji Mingshu was in the bathroom washing up, there were new developments on Weibo: After being dormant for many days, the official Junyi account once again entered the fray, liking Ji Mingshu’s post, showing a very clear attitude and firm stance.
[I don’t know why, but from this series of actions by the official account, I can see the CEO’s strong survival instinct.]
[Confirmed hen-pecked husband.]
The like was from Zhou Jiaheng, as were the previous interventions. As the executive assistant, he wrote the responses amidst his busy schedule.
However, Zhou Jiaheng’s intentions naturally represented Cen Sen’s intentions, so calling him “having a strong survival instinct” or “a hen-pecked husband” wasn’t entirely unfair.
At the same time, there was much discussion in their social circle. Some people felt Ji Mingshu’s actions were beneath her dignity—a socialite spending her time fighting with people online instead of doing something meaningful.
But others thought that if Cen Sen didn’t mind and even showed support through the company’s Weibo, then it was none of their business. They suggested these busybodies should check what kind of defective arranged marriages their own families had set up for them.
When Ji Mingshu’s second uncle learned about this, he called her and gave her a harsh lecture. The content was nothing new—telling her to keep a low profile, speak less online, and quickly arrange to get pregnant and have children.
Ji Mingshu repeatedly replied “yes, yes, yes,” playing the role of an obedient granddaughter, until she signaled to Cen Sen for help and finally escaped her second uncle’s point-by-point superior leadership instructions.
Fortunately, apart from several wealthy female bloggers disclosing more details about Li Wenyin’s white lotus behavior, the incident didn’t cause any further unexpected developments or bigger waves online.
As for Li Wenyin, she never responded.
Her fans, who initially thought Ji Mingshu was distorting the facts, watched as the official Junyi account stepped in and then witnessed several recognized wealthy female bloggers expose more information. Their little hearts grew colder and colder.
After waiting several days without explanation from Li Wenyin, they instead discovered one night that she had quietly cleared her Weibo, changed her name, and switched her profile picture.
—Later, Jiang Chun claimed that Li Wenyin’s actions marked a revolutionary victory in the “Expel Li the White Lotus” campaign, with far-reaching effects in deterring white lotus cult members from acting recklessly. After this battle, Comrade Ji Mingshu undoubtedly became the worthy recipient of the Lotus Expeller Association’s Lifetime Achievement Award.
Ji Mingshu didn’t want this honor; surpassing Li Wenyin in Weibo followers these few days was already the greatest honor for her.
However, after surpassing her, Ji Mingshu’s attitude became more zen-like. She never intended to become a celebrity or internet influencer, so she didn’t post on Weibo again, nor did she want to attract more attention.
This series of events, one wave barely subsiding before another rose, finally concluded gently with the end of the New Year. After the New Year, although Beijing no longer had snowfall, the temperature had not yet warmed up.
On the twentieth day of the first lunar month, Cen Sen officially returned to work at the company.
This time, Cen Sen had taken nearly twenty days off, which according to him was the longest vacation he had taken since he started working.
Even so, Ji Mingshu felt that he worked every day, just moving his office to their home.
As the saying goes, one takes on the color of one’s company. After confirming their feelings for each other, Ji Mingshu was somewhat influenced by Cen Sen, often feeling that “since he’s so wealthy yet works so hard, I should also find something to do to be worthy of him.”
It seems that when you truly like someone, you unconsciously want to get closer to them, greedily wanting to invade their territory and have more topics to discuss with them.
So when she saw Cen Sen’s densely packed work plan for the first half of the year, Ji Mingshu also squeezed into his study and seriously stated while resting her chin on her hand: “I also want to write a New Year’s plan. Teach me.”
Cen Sen’s hands paused slightly on the keyboard. “What kind? Travel or… shopping?”
“…”
Ji Mingshu stared at him with a look that said, “Do I seem that lazy and ignorant to you?”
Cen Sen stared back with a look that said, “Yes, you do seem that lazy and ignorant to me.”
Ten seconds later, Cen Sen surrendered because Ji Mingshu kept rubbing his inner calf with her bare foot under the desk.
He pulled out a document and handed it to Ji Mingshu. “I remember you were very interested in the Junyi Collection project before. The hotel will be completed in April this year. The project team has already found more than thirty designers for room designs. If you’re interested, I can arrange for you to participate in the design competition, but on the condition that your design passes the project team’s anonymous blind selection vote.”
Ji Mingshu took the document and studied it seriously for quite a while.
After finishing, she suddenly laughed and casually muttered while playing with her hair: “Why does this Potala Palace look so much like our study?”
“…”
At first, Cen Sen didn’t understand what she meant. By the time he realized, Ji Mingshu had already snuggled onto his lap, kissed him, and sweetly said: “Thank you, husband.”