As soon as Ji Mingshu spoke, the car cabin fell into dead silence again, and the atmosphere in the back seat became even more subtle.

The driver didn’t dare make a sound. After dropping Gu Kaiyang off at Star Harbor International, he turned around and drove toward Mingshui Mansion in the north of the city.

Tonight’s sky had been washed by rain, pure in its inky blackness. The Bentley sped across the overpass. All the way, neither Ji Mingshu nor Cen Sen said another word.

Building 13 of Mingshui Mansion was Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen’s marital home, where they had lived since getting married.

Pushing open the door, they were greeted by neat furniture, bright ceiling lights, and not a speck of dust on the wooden partition at the entrance.

Cen Sen glanced around, “Haven’t been staying at home recently?” Though asking, his tone was already declarative.

“That’s right, I went out to keep a young hunk as my toy boy.”

Ji Mingshu leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her voice casual and somewhat airy.

Cen Sen’s gaze was very still.

Ji Mingshu also raised one corner of her mouth in amusement, tilted her head slightly, and looked up at him, neither avoiding nor yielding.

Some people just love to put on airs. Countless eyes were watching her in the country, reporting to him even if she ate a blade of grass, yet he still pretended to ask if she had been staying at home.

Two years without seeing each other, and he didn’t find such perfunctory greetings excessive or ridiculous.

The two stared at each other for several seconds, but in the end, it was Cen Sen who first looked away. He had never liked dwelling on meaningless topics, especially with his wife, whose brain seemed short-circuited by diamonds.

The house might have been without human presence for too long; even with automatic temperature control, it felt cold.

Cen Sen unbuttoned his clothes as he went upstairs. Ji Mingshu watched from a distance, kicked off her high heels, and scoffed lightly.

Although the couple’s relationship was ordinary, they hadn’t separated rooms after marriage. The master bedroom on the second floor was spacious, with a door leading to an even more spacious dressing room.

When Ji Mingshu entered the bedroom, Cen Sen was just pushing open the door to the dressing room—

Wardrobes lined all four walls, with table displays for watches and jewelry in the center. As the spotlights came on, there was a dazzling display of light and color in the glass cabinets.

Cen Sen stood at the door of the dressing room, hands in his pockets, not moving for a long while.

Ji Mingshu didn’t go toward him either, just standing in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, undoing the straps of her formal dress.

“Mingshu.”

“Hmm?” She glanced at him through the mirror.

“Clean this up.”

Cen Sen turned his body halfway, making room at the doorway. He pulled his tie off from one side, wrinkling the collar slightly, and his brow furrowed along with it.

Only then did Ji Mingshu see that the dressing room was filled with gift bags and boxes on the floor, leaving no space to step.

She was a bit surprised. Picking up the bag nearest to the door and rummaging through it, she finally remembered, “Should be gifts from brands. There are so many now.”

After Cen Sen went to Australia, she mostly traveled abroad, and when she returned to the capital, she stayed in her downtown apartment.

Various brands had Mingshui Mansion registered as her address. She was too lazy to change it, so gifts kept being sent here.

The housekeeper had called to ask how to handle these items, but she was busy with other things at the time and casually said to just leave them in the dressing room. She didn’t expect they would pile up like this.

“There are too many, sorry about that, I’ll clean it up.”

Ji Mingshu apologized verbally, but from her hair to her toes, there wasn’t the slightest bit of regret, nor any sign that she intended to clean up.

She even opened a shawl with interest, examining it while pondering, “This shawl is too thick. It might be useful if I ever go to Antarctica, I could put it on a penguin.”

“…”

Years of restraint had made Cen Sen forget how to roll his eyes. His face expressionless, his voice changed from initially patient and gentle to cold and bland, “Clean up your things, I need to get my pajamas.”

Ji Mingshu looked up and stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled, “Less than three sentences and you’re already impatient. Mr. Cen’s patience isn’t very impressive.”

Her hand came down, the shawl covering her bare ankles. The next second, she extended her toes, slowly moving up from his ankle joint, hanging at the inside of his calf, gently caressing.

It was like seduction, but more like provocation.

Cen Sen gave her a deep look, suddenly changing his tone, “If you can’t even wait to take a shower, you can just say so.”

The smile at the corner of her lips quickly disappeared. She turned around, kicked away the gifts on the floor of the dressing room, yanked out a set of men’s pajamas from the wardrobe, crumpled them into a ball, and threw them into Cen Sen’s arms, as if throwing away some non-recyclable garbage.

Cen Sen caught the clothes but was no longer in a hurry to shower.

After pondering for a moment, he asked, “Mingshu, do you have some dissatisfaction with me? Let’s talk.”

In the blink of an eye, he had returned to his calm and gentle demeanor. If he had been wearing glasses today, he would have looked even more like a young professor who had kindly decided to enlighten a backward student.

Ji Mingshu mocked, “I didn’t realize Mr. Cen respected my opinion so much.”

Three days ago, Ji Mingshu saw a post from Zhao Yang on social media.

That post contained only four characters—”Welcome Home Party”—with a picture of a private club room below it. The photo showed Jiang Che and Chen Xingyu, but in the dark corner, Cen Sen’s platinum watch had inadvertently been captured.

That platinum watch was a wedding gift from Cen Sen’s family. His watch face had The Little Prince, and hers had a rose, a private commission from VCA, one of a kind.

That meant he had been back in the country for at least three days.

Three days without a phone call, not a single message, going straight to Star City to carouse with his drinking buddies.

If she didn’t know about his rich history of relationships and his behavior in bed, she would have to wonder if she had accidentally married a gay man who had deceived her into marriage and became his beard overnight.

After hearing Ji Mingshu’s complaint, Cen Sen finally understood why she had been so critical of him tonight.

He thought for a moment and said, “I thought with our relationship, you had no interest in my schedule. But if you are interested, I can have my assistant provide you with a daily report in the future.”

“…”

Who wants your schedule? Does the whole world need to watch you to see if you’ll get lost walking independently? And why did those words sound so grating, with a hint of condescension?

Ji Mingshu wasn’t feeling well at all. The impulse to curse him out to his face was on the tip of her tongue, but then she seemed to remember something. She silently repeated to herself, “Don’t get angry, don’t get angry,” while forcing herself to close her eyes and calm down.

Ji Mingshu was naturally beautiful with fair skin. Even for the banquet, her foundation was applied lightly. Standing under the corridor light now, her bright red lips pressed into a straight line, her entire face appeared both vibrant and clear.

Having known her for nearly twenty years, Cen Sen had never appreciated her young lady’s mannerisms, but he never denied that she had been striking from a young age—bright eyes, white teeth, a beauty that stunned at first sight.

Beauty tends to soften hearts. Seeing that she was so angry her head was about to steam, Cen Sen, unprecedentedly, took a step back, “Alright, I was in the wrong this time.”

“In the wrong? What do you mean by ‘in the wrong’? Of course you were!”

Ji Mingshu’s anger, which she had just suppressed, was stirred up again by his straight-man-style concession of “I can’t be bothered to argue with you.”

Their marriage was the result of maximizing the interests of both families. Although for both of them, their marriage partner wasn’t the most satisfactory, children from such family backgrounds had been aware since they first understood things that they had little autonomy in marriage. After all, there was no logic in picking up the bowl to eat and then putting it down to pursue love and freedom.

When it came to marriage, both Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen had been exceptionally cooperative, and they had early on reached a consensus on “appearing affectionate in public.”

“You returned to the country without a word, accompanied Su Cheng to a banquet where I was present, bid on a necklace for Su Cheng, and didn’t inform me in advance. Whose face were you trying to slap? Were you trying to tell the whole world that you and I aren’t close?!”

Ji Mingshu’s voice rose higher with each word, somewhat giving the impression that what she lacked in height, she made up for in volume.

Cen Sen rubbed his brow, as if he found her noisy. His explanation was also indifferent, “I had dinner with Pei Ju in the afternoon. He wasn’t available, so I was just helping out. Su Cheng is over forty; no one would think I was slapping your face by accompanying her. Also, I didn’t know you would be attending this banquet.”

Ji Mingshu simply translated that in her mind—Oh, who knew you would be there, I don’t keep track of you, who are you?

This was probably the point Ji Mingshu hated most about Cen Sen: he didn’t take anyone or anything seriously, always rational and calm, or rather, always cold.

She was vibrant, surrounded by flowers and stars, and naturally found it most difficult to tolerate being disregarded, not being the center of someone’s world.

The topic came to an abrupt end. While showering, Ji Mingshu closed her eyes and thought: if she could end this widow-like marriage, she would be willing to go without sex for five years.

After spending two hours in the bathroom, Ji Mingshu finally emerged slowly.

As meticulous as she was, her daily care routine was never missed, morning or night.

Before going to Australia, Cen Sen had lived with her for a period and had some understanding of her habits. Undoubtedly, she was the type of extremely particular person who would force herself to put on full makeup even if she was about to faint from anemia—beautiful and superficial.

Now Ji Mingshu had changed into a misty blue silk camisole nightgown, with her arms and lower legs bare, showing balanced proportions, slender yet not too thin.

Her long, lustrous curls were fluffy and soft after being blow-dried. As she walked forward barefoot, the casually falling hair tips and hem of her dress swayed together, still enveloped in the lingering mist from the bathroom, showing a touch of allure amid innocence.

Cen Sen glanced at her. Perhaps this vase was too pleasing to the eye; he looked again after a couple of seconds.

“What are you looking at?”

Cen Sen laughed but didn’t respond.

Ji Mingshu, not knowing what she was wary of, stared at him without blinking. She sat down along the edge, then lifted one leg after another onto the bed. Seeing he didn’t move, she finally pulled up the soft blanket and lay down, covering herself completely, revealing only her beautiful and adorable head.

Ji Mingshu: “Turn off the light, I’m going to sleep.”

Cen Sen didn’t say much either, obeying and turning off the floor lamp.

In the darkness, their breaths alternated, one after the other, soon assimilating into the same frequency, quiet and orderly.

Having not shared a bed with anyone for two years, Ji Mingshu felt a bit uncomfortable, turning from side to side, always feeling something wasn’t right.

Cen Sen was very proper, lying flat and not moving again.

There was a faint woody scent in the air, probably fir—the smell of fir on a cloudy day.

As she was about to fall asleep in a daze, Ji Mingshu suddenly perceived an invasion very close to her. When she opened her eyes, Cen Sen had already moved over, his arm propped beside her waist, covering her under himself.

The light was dim at night. She vaguely saw Cen Sen’s deep and handsome jawline; below, his Adam’s apple rolled not very noticeably. Above, in his calm, ink-black eyes, desire churned.

Having not engaged in intimate affairs for a long time, Ji Mingshu’s reaction was somewhat slow. She only began to feel something when her shoulder strap was teased down.

Outside the window, the moonlight was like water, clear and swaying gently. The unpleasantness before sleep was temporarily stranded by this waterside.