As soon as Ji Mingshu spoke, the car cabin fell into dead silence again, and the atmosphere in the back seat became even more subtle.
The driver didn’t dare make a sound. After dropping Gu Kaiyang off at Star Harbor International, he turned around and drove toward Mingshui Mansion in the north of the city.
Tonight’s sky had been washed by rain, pure in its inky blackness. The Bentley sped across the overpass. All the way, neither Ji Mingshu nor Cen Sen said another word.
Building 13 of Mingshui Mansion was Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen’s marital home, where they had lived since getting married.
Pushing open the door, they were greeted by neat furniture, bright ceiling lights, and not a speck of dust on the wooden partition at the entrance.
Cen Sen glanced around, “Haven’t been staying at home recently?” Though asking, his tone was already declarative.
“That’s right, I went out to keep a young hunk as my toy boy.”
Ji Mingshu leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her voice casual and somewhat airy.
Cen Sen’s gaze was very still.
Ji Mingshu also raised one corner of her mouth in amusement, tilted her head slightly, and looked up at him, neither avoiding nor yielding.
Some people just love to put on airs. Countless eyes were watching her in the country, reporting to him even if she ate a blade of grass, yet he still pretended to ask if she had been staying at home.
Two years without seeing each other, and he didn’t find such perfunctory greetings excessive or ridiculous.
The two stared at each other for several seconds, but in the end, it was Cen Sen who first looked away. He had never liked dwelling on meaningless topics, especially with his wife, whose brain seemed short-circuited by diamonds.
The house might have been without human presence for too long; even with automatic temperature control, it felt cold.
Cen Sen unbuttoned his clothes as he went upstairs. Ji Mingshu watched from a distance, kicked off her high heels, and scoffed lightly.
Although the couple’s relationship was ordinary, they hadn’t separated rooms after marriage. The master bedroom on the second floor was spacious, with a door leading to an even more spacious dressing room.
When Ji Mingshu entered the bedroom, Cen Sen was just pushing open the door to the dressing room—
Wardrobes lined all four walls, with table displays for watches and jewelry in the center. As the spotlights came on, there was a dazzling display of light and color in the glass cabinets.
Cen Sen stood at the door of the dressing room, hands in his pockets, not moving for a long while.
Ji Mingshu didn’t go toward him either, just standing in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, undoing the straps of her formal dress.
“Mingshu.”
“Hmm?” She glanced at him through the mirror.
“Clean this up.”
Cen Sen turned his body halfway, making room at the doorway. He pulled his tie off from one side, wrinkling the collar slightly, and his brow furrowed along with it.
Only then did Ji Mingshu see that the dressing room was filled with gift bags and boxes on the floor, leaving no space to step.
She was a bit surprised. Picking up the bag nearest to the door and rummaging through it, she finally remembered, “Should be gifts from brands. There are so many now.”
After Cen Sen went to Australia, she mostly traveled abroad, and when she returned to the capital, she stayed in her downtown apartment.
Various brands had Mingshui Mansion registered as her address. She was too lazy to change it, so gifts kept being sent here.
The housekeeper had called to ask how to handle these items, but she was busy with other things at the time and casually said to just leave them in the dressing room. She didn’t expect they would pile up like this.
“There are too many, sorry about that, I’ll clean it up.”
Ji Mingshu apologized verbally, but from her hair to her toes, there wasn’t the slightest bit of regret, nor any sign that she intended to clean up.
She even opened a shawl with interest, examining it while pondering, “This shawl is too thick. It might be useful if I ever go to Antarctica, I could put it on a penguin.”
“…”
Years of restraint had made Cen Sen forget how to roll his eyes. His face expressionless, his voice changed from initially patient and gentle to cold and bland, “Clean up your things, I need to get my pajamas.”
Ji Mingshu looked up and stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled, “Less than three sentences and you’re already impatient. Mr. Cen’s patience isn’t very impressive.”
Her hand came down, the shawl covering her bare ankles. The next second, she extended her toes, slowly moving up from his ankle joint, hanging at the inside of his calf, gently caressing.
It was like seduction, but more like provocation.
Cen Sen gave her a deep look, suddenly changing his tone, “If you can’t even wait to take a shower, you can just say so.”
The smile at the corner of her lips quickly disappeared. She turned around, kicked away the gifts on the floor of the dressing room, yanked out a set of men’s pajamas from the wardrobe, crumpled them into a ball, and threw them into Cen Sen’s arms, as if throwing away some non-recyclable garbage.
Cen Sen caught the clothes but was no longer in a hurry to shower.
After pondering for a moment, he asked, “Mingshu, do you have some dissatisfaction with me? Let’s talk.”
In the blink of an eye, he had returned to his calm and gentle demeanor. If he had been wearing glasses today, he would have looked even more like a young professor who had kindly decided to enlighten a backward student.
Ji Mingshu mocked, “I didn’t realize Mr. Cen respected my opinion so much.”
Three days ago, Ji Mingshu saw a post from Zhao Yang on social media.
That post contained only four characters—”Welcome Home Party”—with a picture of a private club room below it. The photo showed Jiang Che and Chen Xingyu, but in the dark corner, Cen Sen’s platinum watch had inadvertently been captured.
That platinum watch was a wedding gift from Cen Sen’s family. His watch face had The Little Prince, and hers had a rose, a private commission from VCA, one of a kind.
That meant he had been back in the country for at least three days.
Three days without a phone call, not a single message, going straight to Star City to carouse with his drinking buddies.
If she didn’t know about his rich history of relationships and his behavior in bed, she would have to wonder if she had accidentally married a gay man who had deceived her into marriage and became his beard overnight.
After hearing Ji Mingshu’s complaint, Cen Sen finally understood why she had been so critical of him tonight.