Ji Mingshu quickly noticed the bug in her screenshot. Thinking Cen Sen wouldn’t see it so promptly, she hastily withdrew both the image and her “learn from this” message, attempting to pretend nothing had happened.
But less than thirty seconds after her withdrawal, a series of messages appeared in the chat box:
Cen Sen: [What heavenly fairy has descended to Earth?]
Cen Sen: [It’s not the dress that’s haute couture, you are]
Cen Sen: [Our little canary baby’s display of beauty and consumption is truly fascinating.]
Ji Mingshu: “…”
Without exclamation marks, these flowery compliments coming from Cen Sen’s pitch-black profile picture seemed like cold, mocking mechanical copies. Ji Mingshu momentarily couldn’t tell if he was trying to showcase his memory or his learning ability.
Cen Sen: [Does my imitation look good?]
Ji Mingshu: […]
She understood now—this dog of a man wanted to show off both 🙂
He probably didn’t repeat the last sentence because he thought his writing technique was good enough, deliberately leaving a blank space for unlimited imagination.
She put down her phone and said to the store clerk with a forced smile: “I’m sorry, I don’t want the tie clip anymore.”
Thanks to Cen Sen’s offensiveness, Ji Mingshu showed no restraint during the next three days of Haute Couture Week, leaving her graceful card-swiping presence wherever she went.
Designers who were normally aloof around celebrities actively invited her for photos, expressing how much they’d missed her; executives made time in their busy schedules to invite this distinguished guest from China to lunches and dinners; as for fashion shows, needless to say, invitations for anything other than front-row seats never even reached her hands.
Gu Kaiyang, though accustomed to this young lady’s luxurious lifestyle, couldn’t help but comment enviously—wuwuwu, money really lets you do whatever you want tvt!
Gu Kaiyang had arrived in Paris with the magazine team. As the newly promoted deputy editor, she had many decisions to make and couldn’t separate from the group to act independently.
After the Haute Couture Week events concluded, they still had some additional photo shoots planned, requiring one more day’s stay. After all, the group’s stingy image never faltered—it seemed like not taking enough photos during a trip to Paris would be like losing a hundred million.
Ji Mingshu had originally planned to take Gu Kaiyang back on her private jet, but since Gu Kaiyang couldn’t get away and the plane was due for maintenance anyway, she simply sent the plane for servicing while staying one more day in Paris to return with Gu Kaiyang.
Although they were returning together, Gu Kaiyang still had to work with colleagues on the plane and didn’t upgrade her seat.
By coincidence, in first class, Ji Mingshu encountered Jiang Chun again.
Jiang Chun had lost weight since their last meeting, her once rounded chin now just a point. She wore a simple white t-shirt and long jeans, traveling without makeup. Though somewhat haggard, she had gained a certain pitiable charm.
Ji Mingshu pulled her sunglasses down slightly and was somewhat surprised after clearly seeing Jiang Chun’s small face.
She had noticed before that Jiang Chun’s features were fine, but this was the first time she had seen her without makeup. So her name wasn’t wrong—wasn’t she just a standard pure beauty?
Ji Mingshu had always appreciated beautiful women. Usually cold and indifferent toward Jiang Chun, she now condescended to initiate conversation: “Miss Jiang looks like she hasn’t recovered from her heartbreak.”
Jiang Chun: “…”
Seeing Ji Mingshu, Jiang Chun didn’t switch to her usual combative state, nor did she immediately bite Ji Mingshu as she had in the hotel lobby.
She leaned back completely in her seat, her whole body emitting a strange dejection that said, “OK, this abandoned woman doesn’t care how you humiliate her.”
When the flight attendant came to serve drinks, Ji Mingshu slightly raised her chin toward Jiang Chun, “Please bring this young lady a meal, and a Midsummer Breeze cocktail, thank you.”
Jiang Chun remained curled in her seat with no reaction.
The flight attendant looked at her, then at Ji Mingshu, momentarily unsure whether to comply.
Ji Mingshu smiled, “We know each other, go ahead.”
The flight attendant paused slightly, feeling her heart suddenly accelerate.
This was a bit too beautiful, wasn’t it? That smile completely redefined the terms “bright eyes and white teeth” and “stunning beauty”!
After leaving composedly, the flight attendant asked colleagues in the galley: Was that beautiful woman in first class some kind of celebrity? Why didn’t he recognize her? Was it because she wasn’t famous? But how could someone so beautiful not be famous?
Soon, the meal Ji Mingshu had ordered for Jiang Chun was served.
The flight attendant also brought Ji Mingshu a small dessert, saying it was a new item for her to try.
Ji Mingshu graciously tasted it.
Jiang Chun, however, remained listless, as if she had no intention of eating.
Ji Mingshu didn’t pay much attention—her family didn’t own the Pacific Ocean; Jiang Chun could eat or not as she pleased.
Silence fell around them. Jiang Chun gazed out the window, a picture of melancholy.
Ji Mingshu finished her dessert and flipped through some magazines.
She had already read all the fashion magazines provided on the plane, except for Gu Kaiyang’s “Zero Degrees.” “Zero Degrees” was a men’s magazine, and as she wasn’t the type of dutiful wife who handled her husband’s wardrobe, why should she read it?
She covered a yawn, put on her eye mask, and prepared to sleep.
Outside the window, the sky was bright blue, clouds below like large patches of cotton candy stuck together, the light thin and warm, with faint golden sunlight visible in the distance.
After a good while without hearing the sound of pages turning, Jiang Chun glanced sideways and discovered that Ji Mingshu had put on an eye mask and was resting. Something stirred in her mind, and she glanced at the food and drink, unconsciously licking her lips.
She hadn’t eaten properly for three or four days. It was one thing when food wasn’t in front of her, but with it right there, her attention was drawn to the aroma, and her depression began to dissipate.
She very lightly picked up a sandwich, glancing at Ji Mingshu again.
Though Ji Mingshu didn’t move, she wasn’t sleeping soundly.
Somehow, she dreamed of the scene where Jiang Chun caught Yan cheating, except the people were replaced with her and Cen Sen.
In the dream, Cen Sen was even more thoroughly despicable than Yan, directly grabbing her wrist and pushing her out, watching her fall to the ground, not bothering to give her even half a glance.