Ji Mingshu didn’t respond, as she already knew, without her friend telling her, she was being criticized on the trending topics.
#DesignHome#
#DesignHomeJiMingshu#
#JiMingshuYanYuexing#
Three spots in the top ten trending topics, with Pei Xiyan and Feng Yan—innocent bystanders forcibly dragged in by the program team—also trending beyond number fifteen. For a home renovation show to stir up heat like this could only be described as sparing no expense.
Ji Mingshu pressed her lips together, expressionless, but careful observation would reveal that the hand holding her phone was trembling slightly.
The other friends who had come to see the musical with her and Vivian hadn’t sat in the same row. Now, as they gathered after the show ended, they also learned about the trending topics and huddled together, discussing with a jumble of voices:
“What’s going on here?”
“Who is this Yan Yuexing? She looks like some obscure escort. Is she using our Xiaoshu for publicity?”
“No doubt about it.”
“Hey, isn’t Junyi the sponsor of this show? How did it end up like this? Has the production team gone crazy?”
…
To be honest, as superficial as these friends were, when they stood on your side and directed their full firepower at others with vicious insults, it could be quite comforting.
Just like now, if it weren’t for these friends coddling her with their praise for her and contempt for others, Ji Mingshu would probably have been so angry she couldn’t walk steadily, let alone leave the theater normally and get into her private car.
On the way home, Ji Mingshu sat in the back seat, looking at her phone the whole time. The driver, watching through the rearview mirror, felt that her expression wasn’t quite right. He was anxious, somewhat afraid that this little ancestor might become unhappy and make him change routes midway.
The last time this little ancestor said she wanted to go to Xinggang International to pick something up, she disappeared without a trace. Afterward, he was severely warned by Assistant Zhou, who said that if it happened again, his year-end bonus would be deducted.
With the New Year approaching, how could he risk having his bonus deducted at such a critical time?
The driver made up his mind that if the little ancestor threw a tantrum, he would first call Assistant Zhou to absolve himself of responsibility.
Fortunately, his worries didn’t materialize. Although the little ancestor’s expression grew worse throughout the journey, she returned to Mingshui Mansion smoothly. Having delivered her safe and sound, her mood was no longer his concern.
[You stupid b*tch, may your ancestors for nineteen generations die out!]
[Go to hell, what kind of trash acts all high and mighty in front of our Star? You deserve to be f*cked, you b*tch!]
[Your mother is dead, your father is dead, your whole family is dead!]
In the Weibo comments and private messages, such unbearable insults flowed endlessly. Some of Yan Yuexing’s fans even took 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 brightly, making her eyes hurt. She rubbed them, and suddenly large teardrops fell.
Having been pampered for over twenty years, this was the first time she had been insulted by so many people with such harsh words. She was very angry, almost to the point of explosion, but beyond anger, she also felt bewildered and frightened.
After sitting numbly for half an hour, she picked up her phone and called Cen Sen, but only heard a mechanical female voice: “The number you have dialed is powered off.”
Her stagnant thoughts, like rusty gears, were pushed into motion by this voice, turning slowly.
Oh, he should be on the plane now, from the capital to Paris. It’s about an eleven-hour flight, possibly with delays. That dead pig’s trotter.
She put down her phone with trembling hands, hugged her knees to her chest, buried her head, forcing herself to calm down, forcing herself not to think about those verbal attacks.
In just this short half hour, many people had called and messaged to check on her—Gu Kaiyang, Jiang Chun, Cen Yang, Li Che, Feng Yan… even Pei Xiyan, who had just finished evening study and been reminded by his manager to check the news.
But she didn’t want to answer, look at, or reply to any of them. She just wanted to hear Cen Sen’s voice, just wanted to see Cen Sen, nothing else.
Meanwhile, Cen Sen had just arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport. It was afternoon in Paris, the daylight bright.
With the New Year approaching, he hadn’t wanted to travel, and Zhou Jiaheng indeed hadn’t arranged any business trips for him.
But this time, Cen Yuanchao had called directly, asking him to fly to Paris to meet with investors and discuss the Nanwan project, a collaboration between Jingji Construction and the Ji family.
Nanwan was a near-shore island free trade zone covering twenty-five square kilometers to the east of Nancheng, with an extremely advantageous geographical location.
During the Ji family’s peak, they had partnered with the Su family to secure development rights for the Nanwan project and established the Nanwan Development and Construction Company. The Ji and Su families controlled 51% of the company’s shares, while the other 49% was controlled by the Nanwan district government.
With the cancellation of the marriage alliance between the Ji and Su families and the power shifts within the Su family, the new leaders believed the Nanwan project had too long an investment cycle and too high a risk index. They preferred to take a loss and transfer their shares, deciding to withdraw.
The Ji family didn’t want outsiders to interfere and lose initiative, so they had to approach their new in-laws, the Cen family, for cooperation.
Cen Yuanchao had some interest in this project. Unlike the Su family, which had a smaller capital loop and couldn’t spare energy for such long-term large-scale projects, the Cen family, after assembling a relevant team for assessment, had decided to take over the Su family’s share and partner with the Ji family for development, initially investing tens of billions in infrastructure.
For such a large project with a long timespan, it couldn’t rely solely on the two families’ sustained output. So both families had been seeking suitable investors without losing their control.
This time, a wealthy French-Chinese businessman was interested in the project. Cen Yuanchao had specifically asked Cen Sen to personally negotiate, as the future development of Nanwan and the entire Jingji Construction would eventually be handed over to him.
Zhou Jiaheng accompanied him on the trip as usual. After disembarking, he was discussing the itinerary in Paris with Cen Sen while turning on his work phone.
Within ten seconds of powering on, a call came in.
“Hello?” He answered slightly behind, but as he listened, his expression grew increasingly grim.
Cen Sen’s phone was still booting up. He glanced at Zhou Jiaheng and somehow felt an ominous premonition.
Sure enough, after Zhou Jiaheng finished the call, he lowered his head and reported with a gray face: “I’m sorry, President Cen. There’s an issue with the ‘Design Home’ program that Madam participated in. I apologize for my negligence.”
“Explain clearly.”
The executive assistant instinct made Zhou Jiaheng automatically organize concise language. He briefly recounted the situation of Ji Mingshu being criticized on trending topics after the second episode aired, then said quietly, “I’ll immediately contact the program team and relevant media to remove the news.”
Zhou Jiaheng knew he bore inescapable responsibility for this matter. Recently, after Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu reconciled, Cen Sen had specifically asked him how he had communicated with the program team before and whether he had instructed them to completely cut Ji Mingshu’s screen time.
He had honestly answered “no,” saying he had only asked the program team to change the CP between Ji Mingshu and Li Che and not to make Ji Mingshu the focus of filming.
To prevent the program team from misunderstanding and cutting all of Ji Mingshu’s shots, Cen Sen had instructed him to give them a heads-up, allowing Ji Mingshu to appear normally on screen.
It was a simple matter requiring just a word, but he had overthought it slightly. To prevent the program team from overcompensating by going from no screen time to a major promotion, he hadn’t directly revealed Ji Mingshu’s identity but instead asked to see the final cut first.
At that time, Ji Mingshu’s group had only completed a small portion of the program content—the first half of the premiere episode.
Zhou Jiaheng had watched it and found that the program team hadn’t misunderstood his instructions by cutting Ji Mingshu completely.
Moreover, Ji Mingshu’s screen time was equivalent to other ordinary designers, and her performance was standard.
He had felt reassured and hadn’t said anything further.
But he rarely dealt with entertainment programs and had never thought about deceptive editing.
And with the many specific tasks he was responsible for daily, he couldn’t possibly have time to browse through large amounts of original footage and compare it one by one with the final cut.
So when he heard this news, his mind went blank.
Zhou Jiaheng had followed Cen Sen for many years, always careful never to misstep, yet this small program team had made him stumble twice, each time more serious than the last.
His heart sank completely. He no longer dared to think about his year-end bonus. Now he only wanted to deal with this program team, handle the online public opinion, and then find a place in this foreign country to “die” for a while.
However, Cen Sen wasn’t in the mood to deal with him now.
After his phone powered on, Cen Sen directly called Ji Mingshu. After about three rings, Ji Mingshu answered.
There was silence on the other end of the line—not even breathing could be heard, only the faint sound of static.
Lost in thought, he stood still in the airport concourse.
His appointment with the investors was tonight. The other party had gone out of their way to set aside an evening specifically to entertain him and had informed him early on about the authentic French cuisine they had arranged and how they wanted him to experience genuine French charm and their anticipation and sincerity for cooperation.
If he turned around now and rushed back to the capital, there would be no more hope for this collaboration.
After a very long time, he suddenly said, “Mingshu, I’m sorry. I’ll come back right away.”
Ji Mingshu had been holding herself together, telling herself it wasn’t a big deal, that when Cen Sen found out, he would surely get justice for her. But when she finally received his call and heard him say “I’m sorry,” she couldn’t hold back anymore and broke down in tears.
She cried and sobbed, still cursing him in fragments, “What… what kind of husband are you… Investing in a show that lets your wife get insulted… do you secretly hate me? Wuwuwu, Cen Sen, you jerk! I didn’t do anything… It’s not like what they showed in the program. I didn’t bully anyone! Hic…” She was hiccupping by the end of her crying.
“Yes, I’m a jerk.” He closed his eyes, his voice increasingly hoarse. “Don’t cry anymore, be good.”
Ji Mingshu cursed him while pulling tissues to wipe her tears, going on for a full five minutes.
But when she heard Cen Sen lower his voice and instruct Zhou Jiaheng to book a return flight immediately, she suddenly remembered Cen Sen mentioning before his departure how important this cooperation was, and she choked out, “No!”
“What?”
“Don’t come back. Just stay in Paris and reflect on yourself!”
Cen Sen paused only briefly before understanding.
After a long while, he asked, “Will you be okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? My cousin already knows how to help me remove the trending topics. By the time you get the news in your remote area, my grave would have been cursed so much that grass would be growing on it. Don’t you dare come back!”
Ji Mingshu’s voice carried the sound of crying, but also a sense of relief after venting, and even a kind of… satisfaction from being comforted that only she knew.