Cen Sen sat there with a calm expression, his gaze lingering on Yan Yuexing for less than three seconds before quickly moving away, his emotions unreadable.

The producer’s heart skipped a beat as he hurriedly stood up to refill Cen Sen’s wine, then promptly changed the subject: “I wonder if Mr. Cen comes to Xingcheng often? The crab at Yaoyue Tower is a local specialty—you must try it when it’s served!”

Although unsure which remark had been inappropriate, the producer could tell the VIP patron was displeased.

His heart pounding anxiously, he placed all his hopes on the VIP’s magnanimity in not holding their indiscretion against them. Of course, it would be even better if the VIP followed his conversational lead and smoothly moved past this moment.

Most unfortunately, Cen Sen didn’t take his cue but instead stood up and walked toward the exit without even offering a perfunctory “excuse me.”

Just as the servers were bringing in dishes, the main guest headed for the door while the producer called out, “Mr. Cen! Mr. Cen!” and hurried after him, leaving everyone else at the table exchanging awkward glances. The scene instantly became extremely bizarre.

“What happened? Why did he suddenly leave?”

“I don’t know, it’s so strange.”

“He didn’t give Old Yang face…”

“Old Yang doesn’t have that much face to give.”

Inside the private room, everyone whispered and discussed while outside, the night breeze blew cold.

Zhou Jiaheng followed behind Cen Sen, helping him into his coat as they walked.

After putting it on, Cen Sen slightly raised his hand to adjust his collar. From beginning to end, he hadn’t given the producer even half a glance.

The producer was frantic but didn’t dare grab Cen Sen, so he desperately clutched Zhou Jiaheng, determined to get an explanation.

Having been by Cen Sen’s side for a long time, Zhou Jiaheng remained calm in all situations. He easily pried off the producer’s fingers and, before getting into the car, coldly said, “Producer Yang would do well to gossip less.”

“…?”

Who was gossiping? Weren’t they just praising those two designers that Jun Yi wanted to promote?

Producer Yang truly didn’t understand what had happened, and could only watch helplessly as Cen Sen’s car backed out of the parking space and sped away on the main road, his mind filled with thoughts of “it’s over, will the sponsorship be canceled?”

In the car, without Cen Sen having to instruct him, Zhou Jiaheng looked up Ji Mingshu’s whereabouts and reported them all to Cen Sen.

Cen Sen responded with a simple “hmm” as he looked out the window, his mood apparently not good.

He knew Ji Mingshu had many flaws, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed hearing others criticize his wife.

Seeing this, Zhou Jiaheng quickly took responsibility: “I apologize, Mr. Cen. I failed in my duties.”

Cen Sen’s condescension in attending a program wrap party was obviously because of Ji Mingshu.

Yet as his assistant, Zhou hadn’t even discovered that Ji Mingshu had returned to the capital that afternoon—truly a dereliction of duty.

Even more negligent was allowing those tactless people to discuss Ji Mingshu in front of Cen Sen, literally walking into the line of fire…

“No year-end bonus for you this year.”

Cen Sen looked out the window without even raising his eyes.

Zhou Jiaheng felt the pain, knowing it was misplaced anger, but didn’t argue.

The sponsorship for “Design House” had already been disbursed, and the program had finished recording, so terminating the cooperation now over a moment of displeasure seemed unrealistic.

But if those who had insinuated things about Ji Mingshu today ever appeared in Jun Yi’s investment projects again, he, as the chief assistant, would have to pack his bags and leave promptly.

His only prayer now was that “Design House” would broadcast smoothly without creating any more drama related to the CEO’s wife.

While Cen Sen’s abrupt departure left the program team anxious, Ji Mingshu had just finished at the hot springs and only now saw the WeChat messages from the staff.

She glanced at the time and replied with a simple “Sorry, I’m not in Xingcheng,” without paying it further attention.

Her mind was completely focused on “how to outshine Li Wenyin tomorrow.”

Ji Mingshu and Li Wenyin’s grudge had stretched on for more than twenty years, known to everyone in their compound.

The origin of their enmity could be traced back to first grade.

Back then, Ji Mingshu gave candy she had brought from abroad to a handsome boy in her class. The boy accepted it but then gave it to Li Wenyin. Knowing the candy was from Ji Mingshu, Li Wenyin deliberately ate it in front of her, showing off. Ji Mingshu was so angry that she got into a fight with her.

The chemistry between people seems predestined in some mysterious way. From first grade onward, Ji Mingshu and Li Wenyin never got along, and their resentment only deepened over the years, with no possibility of reconciliation.

The next afternoon, the C-brand cocktail party was held at the OBE Art Center.

Looking at the invitation, Ji Mingshu realized the key theme was “casual,” so her original plan to outshine Li Wenyin with an elaborate haute couture gown wouldn’t work here.

After much deliberation, she finally chose a wine-red knee-length strapless dress. It was neither overly formal nor failed to accentuate her graceful figure. Paired with a pearl-white clutch—perfect!

But by strange coincidence, Li Wenyin was wearing a pearl-white strapless jumpsuit today, carrying a wine-red clutch.

She was smiling and socializing with her arm linked through an investor’s, exuding an overflow of quiet scholarly elegance with every gesture.

A circle of socialites headed by Ji Mingshu gathered to observe her from a distance, criticizing her one after another.

Someone jokingly remarked, “Mingshu, your outfits today look like a red rose and a white rose.”

Immediately, someone retorted: “White rose? She wishes!”

“Exactly, do you know what you’re saying? Hey, don’t you know her mother used to be Mingshu’s family maid?”

“What? Really?”

“Yes, it was only because the Ji family was kind enough to take in the mother and daughter. Yet from childhood, she’s always opposed Mingshu—she should know her place.” The girl’s voice was gentle, but her words couldn’t hide her mockery.

Standing beside Ji Mingshu, Jiang Chun thought “holy shit” to herself, suddenly feeling like Li Wenyin had taken the Cinderella success script, while they were all cast as the evil supporting characters.

It wasn’t just Jiang Chun who felt this way; Ji Mingshu had long harbored this “Li Wenyin” protagonist thorn in her heart.

After many years, she still couldn’t remove this thorn. It would act up from time to time, tormenting her as if someone were cutting into her flesh.

Unlike Ji Mingshu and the other wealthy ladies with nothing to do, who even at cocktail parties only enjoyed criticizing others, Li Wenyin had come specifically to be introduced to a famous film director. She wanted to invite him to be the executive producer of her screen debut, to ensure its success.

She had naturally noticed Ji Mingshu but had never considered her worth her attention over all these years. As always, she maintained a lofty attitude, not deigning to give even half a glance.

With Li Wenyin’s attitude meant to ignore her, Ji Mingshu felt displeased, but couldn’t just rush over and cause trouble without reason.

She drank a glass of red wine to suppress her anger, then watched the performance on stage with Jiang Chun as if nothing had happened.

Jiang Chun lowered her voice and asked, “Aren’t you going to have a face-to-face battle?”

Ji Mingshu: “Face-to-face how?”

Jiang Chun: “Didn’t you come specifically to outshine her and warn her not to make that awful movie? At the very least, you should have a scene where you throw harsh words or splash red wine on her.”

Ji Mingshu: “Have you been reading too many novels? Splash red wine…”

While eating cake, Jiang Chun whispered various strategies for defeating a love rival.

As an avid novel reader herself, Ji Mingshu found the advice increasingly dubious. She felt that Jiang Chun’s suggestions were things only a foolish supporting character would do—far too low-class.

As Jiang Chun was speaking, she suddenly paused, “She’s going to the restroom! Quick, follow her!”

She pushed Ji Mingshu as she spoke, “You can lock her in a stall with a broom, or splash water on her!”

Has she gone crazy? What kind of place would have a broom in the bathroom?

Pushed to her feet, Ji Mingshu found herself walking toward the restroom while lost in these absurd thoughts.

The art center’s restroom also had an artistic atmosphere.

If not for the clear women’s restroom sign on the door, one might have mistaken it for a high-end makeup room upon entering.

Ji Mingshu absentmindedly touched up her makeup at the sink, eyes fixed on the mirror, completely focused on the movements in the stall behind her.

About three minutes passed before Li Wenyin emerged from the stall.

Seeing Ji Mingshu applying makeup at the sink, she paused slightly but didn’t seem particularly surprised.

As Ji Mingshu powdered her face for the second time and Li Wenyin approached to wash her hands, she casually remarked, “What a coincidence.”

Li Wenyin smiled lightly without looking up, “I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

Ji Mingshu: “…”

After washing her hands, Li Wenyin pulled a paper towel and, while drying her hands, looked at Ji Mingshu through the mirror. Her voice was knowing: “After so many years, I didn’t expect you’d still be so childish.”

“? Who’s childish?”

Ji Mingshu instantly entered battle mode.

“Ji Mingshu, you have money and time—wouldn’t it be better to do something meaningful? We’re all adults now; stop playing these childish games from our youth.”

Li Wenyin took out her lipstick and calmly applied a light shade.

Ji Mingshu froze for three seconds, then suddenly laughed angrily, her voice rising by more than one pitch: “We’re both foxes from the same hill—why are you acting out some ghost story in front of me? You know perfectly well who’s playing tricks behind the scenes. You don’t even know how to be a quiet ex-girlfriend who keeps her mouth shut, yet you’re pretending to be graceful and intellectual in front of me?”

“You know I’m going to make a film?” Li Wenyin paused for a few seconds, suddenly glancing at her. “Did Cen Sen tell you?”

What does this have to do with Cen Sen?

Seeing her expression, Li Wenyin suddenly smiled lightly, “I guess Cen Sen didn’t tell you about Jun Yi investing in my film. But if he doesn’t mind, what are you worried about? You’ve liked him for so many years and used tricks to marry him as you wished—haven’t you won his heart yet?”

She had finished preparing to leave, and as she brushed past Ji Mingshu, she seemed to think of something else and softly whispered in her ear, “How pitiful.”

That single “pitiful” carried the lingering resentment that had been branded on Ji Mingshu’s heart since their school days, making her heart suddenly clench as if she couldn’t breathe.

Li Wenyin’s high heels clicked away, growing increasingly distant.

Meanwhile, Ji Mingshu’s psychological defenses, built up over days, were easily demolished by Li Wenyin’s bland remarks. She could only lean against the sink to keep herself standing.

When Cen Sen received Ji Mingshu’s call, he was playing golf with Jiang Che at his golf course, along with Shu Yang and Zhao Yang.

All four men were standing close together.

Seeing it was Ji Mingshu calling, Shu Yang teasingly commented, “Oh, little Shu Shu is checking up on you!”

This was the first call from Ji Mingshu after days of the standoff. Cen Sen ignored him and answered directly.

Something must have been wrong with the phone—even though he hadn’t put it on speaker, the sound was so loud that all three men nearby could hear.

Ji Mingshu’s voice on the other end was trembling, with a hint of hysteria she was trying but failing to suppress.

“Do you remember what I told you? And do you remember what you promised me? What does it mean that you’re investing in Li Wenyin’s film commemorating your love? Are you trying to slap my face and let the whole world see how ridiculous I am?!”

After a few seconds, her voice became slightly calmer, “I have nothing more to say to you. When are you coming back? Let’s get divorced.”