Her hands had been outstretched for about ten seconds when, just as she wished, she fell into a somewhat cool embrace. Immediately after, her body went airborne as she was lifted up.
The R-rated version of Cen Sen in her dreams really did seem gentler.
Ji Mingshu snuggled into his arms and mumbled a reminder, “I’m on my period.”
The subtext was: Don't even think about doing anything, not even in a dream.
Cen Sen had no idea what she was thinking. Hearing her mention her period in her sleep, his first thought was that it would be best not to stain the bedsheets. He grabbed a blanket from the wardrobe and placed it under her.
These days, there probably weren’t many bosses as considerate of the hotel’s cleaning staff as he was.
After settling Ji Mingshu down, Cen Sen tried to get up, but Ji Mingshu was especially clingy when she wasn’t feeling well. She kept her arms wrapped around his neck, refusing to let go. He had to use some force to pull her claws off and stuff them back under the covers.
Twenty minutes later, Cen Sen got into bed after his shower. As if equipped with a built-in heat sensor, Ji Mingshu swiftly rolled into his arms, hugging him tightly. She kept nuzzling against his chest, her pale lips pressing against his skin, their temperature faint.
Cen Sen had intended to push her away, but she unconsciously planted a soft, feather-light kiss on his chest, sending a tingling numbness through him.
Cen Sen paused. His compassion, which hadn't been seen in ages, made a brief, flickering return. He turned on his side to face her and gathered her closer into his embrace.
The night passed without a dream.
The next morning, Ji Mingshu awoke from a river of blood. When she saw Cen Sen beside her, she momentarily thought she was back at Mingshui Mansion.
Once she took in the hotel decor, she reached out a finger and poked Cen Sen.
—No reaction, but he was alive.
What was he doing here?
Ji Mingshu didn’t know that Cen Sen had a social engagement in the capital last night; she had assumed he was already on his way to Star City when he sent the message.
That was why she had deliberately avoided contacting him after arriving in Star City—she didn’t want to stay with him.
Who knew he’d be so persistent, showing up on his own.
Shaking off her grogginess, Ji Mingshu lifted the thin blanket and, clutching her stomach, carefully maneuvered herself off the bed.
It wasn’t that she was trying to be considerate of Cen Sen’s sleep quality; it was because she couldn’t make any large movements. The slightest carelessness, and the river of blood beneath her would surge forth like a dam breaking for the second time.
Once she was in the bathroom and seated on the toilet, she finally entered a temporary safe zone.
She propped her elbows on her knees, her hands cupping her cheeks.
After a short while, she grew bored and picked up her phone to scroll through it.
There were many unread messages on her phone. Aside from the daily greetings from her spendthrift friends, both real and fake, her sister-in-law Cen Yingshuang, who often vanished without a trace, had surprisingly sent her a WeChat message.
Cen Yingshuang: [Xiaoshu, did you go to Star City with Ah Sen? Are you guys staying for a few months this time?]
Without thinking much of it, Ji Mingshu replied with a “Maruko-chan nodding” sticker and typed, “Yeah, for about a month or two.”
After sending the reply, her fingertips paused as she suddenly remembered something.
Her sister-in-law was always engrossed in her experiments. When would she have the time to care if they were in the country or abroad, in the capital or Star City? She must be asking on behalf of the family.
So, the family was worried that… if Cen Sen stayed in Star City for too long, he might get entangled with the An family? But hadn’t the An family moved abroad ages ago?
Ji Mingshu only had a partial understanding of the Cen family’s past. When Cen Yang left in her childhood, she had believed the adults’ coaxing that he was simply going abroad to study.
It was only after she grew up that she learned bits and pieces of the underlying reasons, but the Cen family was extremely tight-lipped about the matter, so outsiders knew very little.
A moment later, another message arrived from Cen Yingshuang.
This message confirmed Ji Mingshu’s suspicion.
Cen Yingshuang: [Xiaoshu, you probably know a little about the An family’s situation. They’ve recently returned to Star City. The old master is a bit worried, so if Ah Sen has any contact with them, please remember to let me know.]
The An family was back in Star City? Then it was understandable that the old master was worried.
Ji Mingshu thought for a long time, repeatedly typing and deleting her message before finally sending a simple “Okay.”
It’s just telling the family, it shouldn’t be a big deal, right? Besides, Cen Sen might not even contact the An family, and even if he does, he might not let me know.
Having mentally prepared herself for the role of a little spy, Ji Mingshu finally felt less guilty. She stood up, washed her hands, and prepared to go back to bed to catch a little more sleep.
But as soon as she pushed the door open, she saw Cen Sen standing outside, seemingly about to raise his hand to knock.
Her heart skipped a beat, and any lingering sleepiness vanished in an instant.
“You—you’re awake.”
“What is it?” Cen Sen looked at her calmly.
“Nothing,” Ji Mingshu stammered, then asked, “Um… what are you doing here? I got a huge shock when I woke up and saw you.”
Cen Sen gave a brief two-sentence explanation, naturally omitting any mention of Li Wenyin.
From the sound of it, he already knew she was going to be on the show? Ji Mingshu seized the opportunity to change the subject. “By the way, I have to go to the television station this afternoon to sign the contract. Let me borrow your lawyer.”
“Mm, I’ll have Zhou Jiaheng arrange it for you.”
Ji Mingshu nodded and stepped aside to let Cen Sen pass.
As Cen Sen entered the bathroom, she thoughtfully helped him close the door.
Only after the door clicked shut did she lean against the handle and let out a long sigh of relief.
Star City had always been hotter than the capital. As summer neared its end, the afternoon temperature still soared to nearly forty degrees Celsius. The camphor trees lining the road were baked until they were translucent, their leaves drooping downwards, an indispensable stroke in the lazy afternoon cityscape.
After lunch, Ji Mingshu took a beauty nap, then spent two hours getting ready before she finally met her personal standards for appearing in public.
The driver and the lawyer, who had been drifting in and out of sleep in the car, finally drove Ji Mingshu to the Star City Radio and Television Building at three in the afternoon.
The person who received Ji Mingshu was a production assistant from the Designer program team. At first, Ji Mingshu was quite displeased; she was amazed that in this day and age, someone would dare to have an assistant receive her.
But then, for some unknown reason, she put herself in the other person’s shoes and thought, An assistant is an assistant. It’s not easy for the young lady either.
The young assistant, for her part, had never met a non-celebrity with such a grand air. Before they had even exchanged more than a few sentences, she found her own presence diminished by several degrees.
Fortunately, the contract had been prepared by the program team long ago. It was a standard template for all non-celebrities, and her only job was to watch the person sign it.
But Ji Mingshu didn’t take the contract. She just looked at the man sitting on the other sofa. “Lawyer Wang, please look this over.”
The young assistant was speechless.
She even brought her own lawyer. That’s just incredible.
The man addressed as Lawyer Wang took the contract, put on his glasses, and began to review it meticulously.
“Clause 1.12 only imposes privacy restrictions on my client, Miss Ji, but makes no such demands on the program team regarding their privacy obligations. I find this unreasonable.”
“The definition of copyright ownership in Clause 2.09 is too vague. The copyright for any works my client designs while participating in the program should unconditionally belong to my client.”
“Clause 3.01, which governs the use of my client’s social media accounts for promotional content, is too broadly defined and lacks appropriate time constraints. This is highly unreasonable.”
…
Lawyer Wang’s mouth ran a mile a minute, pointing out more than a dozen loopholes in one go, his tone seeming to carry a slight condemnation of the program team’s legal department for their lack of rigor.
The young assistant was completely baffled.
Hold on, she’s not a celebrity. Why is a non-celebrity making so many demands about a contract to be on a show? Everyone else signs it without even looking.
She collected herself and said calmly, “Um, Miss Ji, our contracts are all based on a standard template. Everyone signs this version. There won’t be any problems.”
Lawyer Wang retorted, “You are not the person in charge of the program. Your assurances have no legal standing.”
The young assistant was speechless again.
Ji Mingshu had just hypnotized herself into accepting being received by an assistant, and now Lawyer Wang had found so many loopholes in the contract. Her already poor temper instantly flared up. “Get your person in charge over here.”
The producer is busy with Li Che. Who has time for you?
The young assistant silently grumbled to herself, standing rooted to the spot.
But Ji Mingshu had little patience. Putting on her sunglasses, she said, “Since your program team is so insincere, I suppose we can just forget about signing this.”
“Wait, Miss Ji!” Even if she’s just a non-celebrity, I can’t let the contract fall through on my watch, the young assistant thought, hurriedly apologizing. “I am so sorry. The contracts we issue, even for celebrities, are all modified from a base template. If you’re not satisfied, Miss Ji, I’ll contact the producer right now to see if we can make some adjustments.”
That was more like it.
The young assistant asked her to wait and rushed off to another VIP reception room on the same floor.
Li Che had come to record for the show today, and after he was done, he was scheduled to sign his contract. The producer was personally attending to him, going over the contract clauses one by one with the legal team he had brought.
Just as they were about to finalize things, the young assistant knocked on the door.
The producer asked, “What is it? Has that Miss Ji signed already?”
“Miss… Miss Ji brought a lawyer,” the young assistant stammered. “The lawyer believes some clauses in the contract are unreasonable and need to be revised.”
The producer’s brow furrowed, his thoughts mirroring the assistant’s earlier ones: She’s not a celebrity, who’s trying to take advantage of her? She gets to be on a Star City TV show and still makes so much trouble. She really doesn’t know her place.
This producer had some connection with Meng Xiaowei and had originally wanted to invite the on-screen couple, Meng Xiaowei and Li Che, to stir up some buzz.
But Meng Xiaowei and Li Che had privately agreed to untie their pairing and were no longer suitable for recording a show together.
A few days ago, Meng Xiaowei had strongly recommended Ji Mingshu to the producer. On one hand, she felt Ji Mingshu was a great fit for the show and thought it would be a nice gesture to recommend her. On the other hand, she felt that with Ji Mingshu’s excellent image and temperament, it would be even better if she could be paired with Li Che to generate some CP hype.
The producer thought her idea was great and had decided on Ji Mingshu, even drafting an initial proposal.
But yesterday, the sponsor had been very dissatisfied with their plan. They forbade pairing Li Che with Ji Mingshu for CP hype and also disallowed Ji Mingshu from being a primary focus of filming.
They tried to guess their sponsor daddy’s intentions and concluded that he didn’t want other designers to steal the thunder from the two he was trying to promote. As a result, their enthusiasm for Ji Mingshu had cooled considerably.
Now, hearing that Ji Mingshu was unhappy with the contract, the producer was about to tell the assistant to relay a message of “sign it or don’t, if you don’t, then get lost.”
But Li Che suddenly smiled. “Miss Ji? I know her.”
He pushed the contract on the table forward. “Why don’t you let Miss Ji use the template for my contract as well?”
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