With Ji Mingshu’s generous giveaway boosted by Junyi’s extravagant add-on, the promotional video quickly rose to popularity, with reposts rapidly exceeding ten thousand.
When the staff of “Old Street Impressions” came across this Weibo post, a row of comments seemed to flash across their screens at double speed: “Wuwuwu, the lively budget is burning away! Save the children!!!”
The art and post-production team marched into the producer’s office, asking indignantly why the budget was being spent on such pointless things!
The producer was momentarily confused, then issued a triple denial: “I didn’t do it! I’m innocent! Where would we even have that kind of budget?”
Everyone calmed down and thought about it, realizing that they truly didn’t have such funds.
So this promotion was done by the designer herself? That wasn’t impossible, after all, everyone knew this designer was the CEO’s wife of Junyi.
The CEO’s wife loves art so much, she respects it.
Other staff members quickly accepted this explanation and rejoiced at the unexpected popularity, but the producer still found it hard to believe, so he specifically called Ji Mingshu to confirm.
He simply couldn’t understand why Ji Mingshu—a designer who had sent her legal team to haggle over recording fees, design fees, and specific contract terms four or five times before barely reaching an agreement, afraid that the production side would take even a penny of advantage—would willingly “cut her wrist and bleed” so selflessly after filming ended. This could almost be listed in the annual awards for most puzzling behaviors.
During the call, the producer tactfully expressed his confusion, and Ji Mingshu responded equally tactfully.
The producer fell silent, finally understanding. If her words were put plainly, they would be something like: “I don’t care about those recording and design fees, but about my worth. Do you think I care about your paltry money when even my giveaways cost more?”
Yes, the CEO’s wife truly loves art so much and respects it.
In ancient times, great rewards would bring forth brave men.
In the 21st century, great prizes would bring forth great attention.
Ji Mingshu’s promotional Weibo post went from 10,000 to 100,000 reposts in less than half a day, and was racing toward 200,000, with comments growing rapidly.
[AWSL! The CEO’s wife is in motion!]
[Beauty warning! Birkin warning!]
[Wuwuwu! It’s just a documentary! I’ll watch it! Waiting for the CEO’s wife’s next post! (Pitiful.jpg)]
[A woman who has beauty and intelligence, and she even has money!]
[You’re wrong, she also has a devoted CEO husband. /dog face]
Though Ji Mingshu wasn’t a celebrity or internet influencer, she naturally generated topics. Posting only once in half a year, her post was not only reposted repeatedly on Weibo but also sparked discussions about socialites and rich women on various forums.
There were even insiders who couldn’t help but reveal: Ji Mingshu is truly a massive spender!
That short three-minute-plus video on Weibo—a rough version could be filmed with just a phone stand, and a more refined one would only need an additional ring light.
But our CEO’s wife hired a filming team of more than a dozen people, covering makeup, lighting, angles, editing—a complete package—ensuring every second on screen was truly meticulously crafted from hair to toenails!
Gossip consumers clutched their hearts and said: I’ll never again say I’m a delicate princess girl. So humbling.
Ji Mingshu had only intended to post a promotional Weibo for the program, but unexpectedly, supported by various derivative revelations, the buzz continued for a full two to three days.
By the weekend, the popularity was finally starting to decline when some industry insider suddenly jumped out and leaked a photo of Cen Sen attending the Asia-Pacific Financial Asset Management Summit some time ago.
In the photo, Cen Sen sat in the front row, wearing a tailored formal suit, thin gold-rimmed glasses, legs crossed, leaning against the chair back, exuding elite charisma, with a dignified and aloof aura that seemed to spill out of the screen.
[Okay! This CEO I accept! From now on, all the “overbearing CEO falls in love with me” stories I read will have a face!!!]
[What kind of celestial beauty is this couple? Wuwuwu, the CEO couple is so shipworthy!!!]
[Seriously, can the CEO couple just debut as a CP? This face, this aura, this physique—not debuting would be a waste of heavenly gifts!!]
Some people even dug up Ji Mingshu’s New Year’s Eve affectionate Weibo post, placing the picture of them holding sparklers together with this leaked front-facing photo, repeatedly brainwashing: [Look at our CEO! Cold-faced during meetings, but holding sparklers with both hands when home, pampering his wife! It’s sweet, sisters!!!]
Some went even further, turning his meeting photo into a meme: [Hurry up and finish your blabbering, I need to go home and watch fireworks with my wife.jpg]
Suddenly, various forums were filled with “fireworks warnings.”
This front-facing photo came out so suddenly, and not through any media outlet. By the time Cen Sen knew about it, it had already spread very widely.
He indeed didn’t like exposing private information to the public, but with the lesson from Ji Mingshu’s second uncle trying to forcefully control public opinion at a critical moment, he didn’t want people to make any big moves. He planned to wait a few days for the popularity to decrease, then slowly clean up the traces.
After hearing his plan, Ji Mingshu looked at him with new appreciation.
She had thought this old-fashioned man’s understanding of the internet was only slightly better than her second uncle’s, but now she saw that he understood quite well.
Speaking of being old-fashioned, Ji Mingshu had some preconceived misconceptions about Cen Sen.
Although Cen Sen wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about social media, he wasn’t entirely ignorant of internet dynamics.
The fact that Junyi’s official Weibo could immediately add to Ji Mingshu’s giveaway was with his approval.
Moreover, these past few days, he had also been looking at Ji Mingshu’s Weibo and had carefully read the comments below.
One comment, though not particularly highly liked, caught his attention.
[Why is the number of the CEO’s wife’s Weibo posts different from the actual number we can see?]
Someone replied below: [That’s because she set some posts to “Only visible to friends” or “Only visible to myself.”]
Cen Sen silently noted this new knowledge point.
Coming back to the topic, Ji Mingshu’s promotional effect was very significant. “Old Street Impressions,” previously almost unknown, attracted a large number of young viewers because of her.
Everyone originally just wanted to admire Ji Mingshu’s divine beauty in the program, but after one episode, they discovered that the documentary’s content wasn’t so boring after all.
Moreover, in the field of interior design, Ji Mingshu wasn’t just a decorative figurehead randomly raising the tone.
From the program, it was evident that she really had ideas and opinions. Most valuable of all was that from “Design Home” to this documentary, she had learned to consider others.