Cen Sen wasn’t the type of man who could switch to mushy mode anytime, anywhere—at least for now, he found it difficult to activate when Ji Mingshu was fully awake.
He kissed her lips lightly like a dragonfly skimming water, said goodnight again, and prepared to go to bed.
But Ji Mingshu wasn’t so easily appeased. She kept her arms around his neck, unwilling to let go, her delicate nose wrinkled up, insisting on hearing him say it once more.
Cen Sen’s eyes darkened, his gaze lingering from her cascading curls to her fallen spaghetti strap.
Soon, he leaned in for another warm kiss, far more aggressive than the previous one.
By the time Ji Mingshu realized what was happening, it was already too late. She stared at him, making muffled protests and struggling with both hands and feet, but in the end, she shamefully melted into a puddle beneath him.
At the height of passion, she thought she heard an intimate, husky “baby,” but her mind was blank at that moment, and she couldn’t be certain if she had imagined it.
She only remembered that her little bit of dignity had quickly fallen apart, and she had been forced by Cen Sen to brokenly and whimperingly call him “husband” many times.
The next morning, sunlight poured through the clear floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm golden glow, while the air retained traces of intimate sweetness.
Ji Mingshu’s body ached, and she got out of bed as if boneless, clinging entirely to Cen Sen.
Even while brushing her teeth, she leaned against his chest, eyes half-closed, whining and acting coquettish.
“Toothbrush, take it,” Cen Sen placed the toothbrush with toothpaste next to her hand.
She didn’t take it. “No strength. It’s all your fault. I can’t even lift my arms.”
Cen Sen: “…”
Ji Mingshu: “Then you brush for me.”
Cen Sen looked down at her. “Brush yourself. I’m going to be late.”
“Then I won’t brush.” She was being unreasonable.
Cen Sen was silent for a few seconds. “Open your mouth.”
She couldn’t hold back a triumphant smile, though she quickly suppressed it, obediently opening her mouth like a beautiful, lazy ragdoll cat nestled in its owner’s arms, waiting to be petted, occasionally extending its small paws to interact with the owner.
Cen Sen, as the owner, exhibited extraordinary patience, attending to every detail—brushing teeth, washing face, combing hair—serving her meticulously.
At first, his movements were awkward and uncomfortable, but seeing Ji Mingshu’s secret smile in the mirror, his waning patience gradually rekindled, and he developed more interest in these mundane, intimate moments.
While Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen were being affectionate in their room, the executives who had come from Beijing were already waiting in the VIP lounge outside.
That morning, Cen Sen was scheduled to inspect Junyi Water Cloud Retreat in Star City with this group of executives, as a high-profile tourism summit would be held at the Water Cloud Retreat Hotel later.
With one minute left until the appointed time, the door to the suite finally opened. Everyone stood up, adjusting their attire, ready to formally acknowledge Cen Sen from halfway down the corridor.
But as a minute passed, their respectful gazes were directed at nothing but air. No one appeared at the door, though a woman’s coquettish voice reached everyone’s ears.
“A kiss, no leaving without a kiss!”
…
“Hmm, then one more kiss!”
…
“No, I’m too tired. I only slept a few hours. I’ll draw after I wake up.”
…
The older executives, having seen it all, maintained a zen-like composure, like ancient monks in deep meditation.
The younger ones, more thin-skinned, dared neither look nor listen, only intermittently adjusting their cuffs or collars. The atmosphere became extremely awkward.
Ji Mingshu, unaware that people were waiting outside, hurriedly helped Cen Sen fix his tie and went to open the door for him. Seeing they still had a minute, she hung on him, acting coquettishly, demanding a good morning kiss.
After getting what she wanted, she pushed Cen Sen out, still holding onto the door, poking out half her head to wave goodbye to him.
But as soon as she peeked out, Ji Mingshu froze completely. An indescribable embarrassment shot from the soles of her feet straight to the top of her head.
Ji Mingshu: “…”
Cen Sen: “…”
All the executives: “…”
Zhou Jiaheng, whether from lack of sleep or something else, had a brain that seemed clogged with paste that early morning.
From the moment the door opened and he heard the voices, he had stood there like a wooden chicken, unable to think of any remedial measures.
Now, seeing Ji Mingshu’s half-revealed head, his brain short-circuited, and he stood at the front, bowing to her: “Good morning, Madam.”
The executives, not fully understanding the situation, immediately followed with bows, greeting her: “Good morning, Madam!”
Their greetings, from young and old voices, came out unevenly, like a group of forcibly intellectually diminished amateur actors.
But the only response they received was the heavy sound of the door closing: “Bang!”
Jiang Chun: [Ji-style Shushu, you’re too funny hahahahaha dying of laughter hahahaha *hiccup*!]
Ji Mingshu: […]
Ji Mingshu: [Have you died completely? Need me to add a bottle of pesticide?]
Gu Kaiyang: [Hahahahaha, why didn’t you say “Comrades, thank you for your hard work” hahahahaha!]
Ji Mingshu: […]
Ji Mingshu: [Hope your words are as few as your money.jpg]
Ji Mingshu: [I’ve blocked you, contact me via message in a bottle for future matters.jpg]
Ji Mingshu never expected that after complaining in the group chat for quite a while about “how did Zhou Jiaheng’s pig brain get him the position of executive assistant,” “the entire group’s executives don’t seem mentally normal,” and “that dog man Cen Sen didn’t tell me people were outside, he wanted to see me embarrassed,” not only did she not receive the expected comfort and unified complaints against outsiders, but she was also mercilessly mocked by these two plastic sister flowers.
She felt her tender heart had taken 999 points of damage again, so with a fragile heart, she posted on her Moments: [Life is not worth it.]
Cen Sen: [But spare ribs are worth it.]
“…”
Doesn’t he need to work?
Why is he so free???
Blocked.
The incident that morning was far too embarrassing. Ji Mingshu’s heart would stop and her breathing would cease just thinking about that scene, so naturally, she wasn’t in the mood to continue sleeping.
She drew some sketches on the computer for a while, but without inspiration, she flopped back and continued scrolling through her phone.
Only then did she notice that An’ning had also commented on her Moments post. Compared to the other demons and monsters, An’ning’s comment of “What’s wrong, sister?” seemed particularly innocent and confused.
She found An’ning in her contact list and explained that she was just joking and nothing had happened.
Actually, upon arriving in Star City, Ji Mingshu had thought Cen Sen would take her to see Chen Biqing and An’ning, but Cen Sen had shown no indication of doing so.
It seemed that the dinner at the An family was simply a dinner, and he had no intention of reuniting with his former family after many years.
Ji Mingshu chatted casually with An’ning for a bit.
An’ning mentioned that her school would be holding a sports meet soon, so Ji Mingshu naturally asked, “Are you participating in any events?”
An’ning: [No, I have congenital heart disease, so I can’t participate.]
Ji Mingshu: [Congenital heart disease?]
An’ning: [Yes.]
An’ning: [Actually, it was because they needed to raise money for my treatment that Dad and Mom agreed to return Brother Cen Sen to the Cen family. Brother Cen Sen seems to have never forgiven Mom and Dad because of this.]
Ji Mingshu didn’t know much about what had happened back then. She had assumed the Cen family was particularly forceful and the An family couldn’t keep him, so they were forced to agree to the exchange.
But now it seemed that the exchange wasn’t forced—they had given up their non-biological son to save their biological daughter.
She suddenly understood why Cen Sen had always held a grudge about this.
After sending that message, An’ning seemed to feel it wasn’t particularly appropriate and carefully changed the subject.
Ji Mingshu also felt it wasn’t suitable to discuss this topic with An’ning, so she just asked a few concerned questions about her health.
Thinking of the building they lived in, she asked: [Isn’t Cen Yang back? Living in that old neighborhood isn’t convenient. Why don’t you move to Beijing with him?]
It took An’ning a long time to reply: [I’m not very familiar with Brother Cen Yang.]
Ji Mingshu recalled what Cen Yang had said and felt uncertain: [Didn’t he ask if you wanted to move to Beijing?]
After a hesitant pause, An’ning answered cautiously: [He did ask, but that was probably just being polite… We rarely talk.]
Ji Mingshu understood and didn’t pursue it further.
She hadn’t been in contact with Cen Yang for a long time, especially after he intercepted Cen Sen’s project investment during the New Year.
She vaguely understood that Cen Yang probably wasn’t as carefree as he appeared to her, but she was unwilling to make any malicious conjectures about him.
After all, business competition and such matters were better left to the men to sort out themselves.
Ji Mingshu gathered her spirits and sat up to draw again for a while.
Though Cen Sen often maintained a serious, cold expression, he xhad some talent as a life coach.
The design suggestions he gave last night all seemed reasonable to her—the kind worth serious consideration while sitting on the toilet.
Cen Sen had said that what she learned in school was high-end design, and the cases she had previously encountered were mostly artistic creations that pursued design aesthetics.
Different professions have different specialties. She didn’t need to dwell on failures caused by areas she wasn’t skilled in. As long as she could extract a bit of creative inspiration related to the warmth of life from this failure, it was enough.
Thinking of something, she took a stack of white paper from beside her and manually wrote down the flash of inspiration that had just occurred to her.
While Ji Mingshu was busy drawing in the hotel, Cen Sen had already left the Water Cloud Retreat and was rushing to a neighboring city for an industry meeting.
The meeting continued until five-thirty in the afternoon, followed by a social engagement.
Cen Sen needed to return to Star City, so he left promptly at eight, not participating in the venue change.
Before getting on the highway, the road suddenly transmitted some strange vibrations.
The driver felt uneasy and, after seeking permission, slowed down and parked by the wide roadside with hazard lights on.
Driver: “It feels a bit like an earthquake, though it’s probably not in our area. It should pass quickly.”
Zhou Jiaheng received real-time information: “A 5.8 magnitude earthquake has occurred in Star City.”
Cen Sen, without a word, called Ji Mingshu.