That moment of eye contact brought Ji Mingshu embarrassment no less intense than when Cen Sen had caught her singing in the bathtub hours earlier.
Cen Sen seemed to have the same thought, suddenly asking: “Why are you looking at me, fairy who makes men bow beneath your skirt?”
When he said those nine words, “fairy who makes men bow beneath your skirt,” his tone was flat, but with very brief pauses between words, somewhat like reciting ancient texts in high school, except that his stilted repetition itself carried a subtle sense of humiliation.
Ji Mingshu’s reaction was slightly delayed, unsure how to respond.
Cen Sen, with inexplicable leisure, added: “Did I get the title wrong? Perhaps you prefer ‘fairy who captivates all beings’?”
Ji Mingshu: “…”
She was too kindhearted to imagine that a cold, despicable beast in a gentleman’s clothing like Cen Sen would feel momentarily depressed due to complex family relationships.
She sat up straight and said expressionlessly: “If you can talk, say more.”
Cen Sen didn’t comply with her wishes. His gaze indifferently returned to the front as he directly instructed the driver to return to Mingshui Mansion, not speaking again for the rest of the journey.
Mingshui Mansion was divided into the Waterside Villa Area and the Lakeside Villa Area. The thirteenth building where Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu lived was in the Lakeside Villa Area, with a specially built wide bridge leading to the private parking lot. The bridge had a sentry post with 24-hour shifts, providing excellent security and privacy.
As soon as the car stopped, Ji Mingshu opened the door and got out first, then walked away quickly without looking back.
Her figure was graceful and commanding. The invisible man Zhou Jiaheng silently evaluated with one word in his heart: Formidable.
After returning home, Ji Mingshu quickly went upstairs to the second floor, locked her bedroom door, and wondered if Cen Sen would say some conciliatory words when he came to knock.
But by the time she finished removing her makeup, she hadn’t heard any movement downstairs.
She walked to the balcony and happened to see Cen Sen’s vehicle slowly driving out of the Lakeside Villa, followed by an understated Passat.
The Passat was driven by Cen Sen’s bodyguard.
His bodyguards always worked in three shifts, 24 hours a day, never leaving his side.
In other words, he was leaving?
Belatedly realizing this, Ji Mingshu immediately called to question him: “Where are you going?”
Cen Sen’s voice was light and calm, “I have another engagement. You rest first, don’t wait up for me.”
“…? Who’s waiting for you?”
For a moment, Ji Mingshu thought she had misheard. Was this dog of a man expecting her to be like a faithful wife waiting for her husband? How dare he think that way? Truly unbelievable.
She hung up mercilessly.
But after hanging up, she began to regret it. Why hang up so quickly? Would he mistakenly think she was feeling guilty?
The more Ji Mingshu thought about it, the more ridiculous and infuriating it seemed. “Shameless jerk, not that good-looking, but thinks too highly of himself!”
She threw down her phone and went back to the bathroom to apply a face mask.
As she was applying it, she suddenly paused: wait, maybe he couldn’t be categorized as “not that good-looking.”
First, he truly didn’t belong in that category, and second, if she forcibly put him in that category, wouldn’t that be insulting her aesthetic judgment?
Thinking this way made her even angrier.
Meanwhile, after sending Miss Ji back to Mingshui Mansion, Cen Sen instructed the driver to head to Heyong Club.
Heyong Club was a private establishment located at the former consulate site on Ruiying Road. What made it more special than other high-end clubs was that it didn’t accept membership applications; it only extended invitations to certain celebrities in Beijing and Shanghai.
Cen Sen had an engagement there tonight, meeting someone to discuss the hotel development project complementing the Western Suburbs Scenic Area.
It was just the time when lights were coming on, and the entire capital city was glimmering with brilliant lights in the dim night. Looking at Chang’an from afar, the east wind seemed to have released thousands of flowering trees at night—this city always carried a beauty that was both bustling and solitary.
Cen Sen didn’t look outside. After returning to the country, he had attended various social engagements for many consecutive days, and even someone with iron-clad stamina would feel tired. He crossed his arms low in front of him, leaned back against the seat, and closed his eyes to rest.
Perhaps because his brain was constantly in a state of high-speed operation, it was difficult to relax even briefly. Images flashed uncontrollably through his mind:
One moment, it was his young cousin frantically saying sorry, looking at the spare ribs in her bowl, helpless, afraid, and childlike;
Another moment, it was Old Mrs. Cen smiling at Ji Mingshu, then turning to look at him with an unconscious formality and distance;
And then Aunt Cen Yingfrost mentioned Cen Yang, bringing silence to the entire pavilion.
In that instant, he suddenly recalled the scene from his childhood when he was transferred from Xingcheng to the capital, walking into Nanqiao Hutong for the first time.
It was just like this—many people, very quiet.
Some things were so distant they seemed to have happened in the last century. Everyone tacitly refused to mention them, not because they had passed, but because they could never truly pass.
Zhou Jiaheng sat in the passenger seat. Seeing Cen Sen’s slightly furrowed brow in the rearview mirror, resting uneasily, he took the initiative to play a gentle, soothing melody.
Outside the window, the traffic light changed from red to green, mixing with the yellowish streetlights that slanted through the half-open window, like a nostalgic halo, hazy and dancing.
Cen Sen experienced a rare sense of drowsiness.
But somehow, the image of Ji Mingshu singing in the bathtub suddenly popped into his mind. Recalling that scene, those few self-indulgent lyrics also began playing in 3D surround mode like accompanying equipment.
The slight drowsiness instantly dissipated. He rubbed his brow bone, inexplicably chuckling softly.
The night wind was cool. Standing at the entrance of Heyong Club, Zhang Baoshu looked up at the silvery flowing sign above the door, unconsciously hugging her arms, shivering slightly.
Today, she had been a last-minute replacement, taking the place of a famous actress who had experienced an emergency from her manager’s roster.
Her manager had repeatedly instructed her to make the most of this opportunity, but before leaving, also contradictorily told her that if she didn’t know what to say, she should speak less.
How was she supposed to make the most of it by speaking less? Zhang Baoshu was confused and puzzled.