The preview screening in the second city had yet to begin, but the Gulfstream private jet had already landed at Ning City Airport.
In some ways, Shang Shao hardly looked like a man of thirty-six, on the verge of turning thirty-seven. After all, he had gone to bed sometime after one the previous night, arrived at the airport at six in the morning, and only rested for an hour on the plane. Once they landed, he went straight to work.
By the time he reached Qinde, it was just past nine. The Maybach rounded the koi pond lined with grey-black rocks and the water-featured traffic circle, then came to a smooth stop right in front of the main entrance.
The building belonged to Qinde, and its signage bore the logos of both Shangyu and Qinde. But Qinde itself occupied only five floors of office space; the rest had been leased to other corporate groups, professional firms, and a luxury hotel. Still, among everyone coming and going from the building, who didn’t know who this car belonged to?
On social media, photos of chance encounters with the Maybach were everywhere:
“Clocking in for work and ran into the Shang family’s heir’s top-of-the-line ride again. Taking a photo to soak up some of that wealth / heart hands /”
The instant the wheels stopped turning, someone was already there to open the car door for him. He took the private elevator directly to the office floors.
The employees who had already clocked in and were immersed in their work over cups of coffee fell conspicuously silent for a moment. Then the keyboards began clattering away with renewed intensity.
Everyone sat upright with solemn expressions, but the same thought inevitably flashed through all their minds –
The heir is in love!
If most of the people on Shang Shao’s Line were friends and relatives in Hong Kong, Macau, and overseas, then the majority of those lying in his WeChat contact list were mainland business partners, clients, and subordinates. His low-key yet earth-shattering announcement the previous night had spread throughout the entire group within an hour, before spilling from the company group chats into various private social groups.
And so, in the eyes of every woman present, the man who walked into the Qinde building today was no longer the dazzling, diamond-grade eligible bachelor of the Shang family.
He was the Shang heir who had officially withdrawn from the dating market.
Shang Shao made his way through the office area toward his executive director’s suite. Wherever he passed, keyboards clattered furiously behind him.
His executive secretary, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, rose to greet him. After systematically going through several details of his meeting schedule, she heard Shang Shao’s footsteps pause briefly.
He remarked casually, “Everyone’s typing quite enthusiastically today.”
The secretary: “…”
Lin Cunkang, following behind him, could barely contain his laughter.
Within Shangyu Group’s internal communication system, chat windows were piling up like snowflakes.
“Someone save me, I can’t look Chairman Shao in the eye today!!!”
“All I can think about is him holding a woman in his arms… Something is wrong with me!”
“Ahhh, I wonder what Chairman Shao is like when he’s in love?”
“Girl! Didn’t you see the screenshot? F*ck, he’s so doting.”
“That’s enough to keep me shocked from Q2 all the way to Q4.”
“Could it possibly be a marriage alliance?”
“Obviously it’s a marriage alliance. But just because it’s a marriage alliance doesn’t mean they can’t develop feelings for each other, right?”
They chatted for a while, then pretended to get some work done for a while longer. By eleven-thirty, a group of people who never touched rice and ate nothing but light meals had gathered up their salad boxes and shamelessly migrated to the break room to continue gossiping.
“Take a guess. Is the girlfriend’s surname Wen or Zhuang?”
“She could be from Macau, too.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. Chairman Shao is the heir, and the Shang family has such an impeccable public image. If this is a marriage alliance, they’d definitely take his future wife’s social background into consideration.”
The senior specialist from the Public Utilities Division spoke with great authority.
“What if she’s from the mainland?”
“That actually seems more likely.”
Then someone suddenly said, “Could she possibly be from…” She covered her mouth and lowered her voice. “…family that once served in the military?”
The conversation in the already-packed break room immediately dropped to an even more hushed level.
“That theory actually makes more sense.”
“That must be why she hasn’t shown her face. Her identity is sensitive.”
The men and women around them all wore expressions of sudden realization, as though they had finally figured it out.
“Makes sense.”
“No wonder.”
“When I first heard about it, I thought she might be some celebrity.” One female colleague patted her chest, as if calming herself after a fright.
“LMAO, no way.”
“You’re overthinking it. People like them would never marry a celebrity. Having a little fun on the side, sure, but actually marrying one? How could they not care about her background?”
“Exactly, exactly. Family connections and resources are one thing, but at the very least, she has to be someone they can bring into respectable society. A celebrity…” She gave a disdainful, suggestive little laugh. “Which celebrity in the Chinese entertainment industry could survive a proper deep dive into their background?”
“Chairman Shao has a CP online.”
The colleague who had been silent until then suddenly dropped the bombshell.
Several of the coffee drinkers choked, their bodies pitching forward as they straightened up from where they had been leaning against the counter.
“How is that even possible? There aren’t even any photos of Chaiman Shao online. Are they just forcing the ship?”
“How can there not be?” The female colleague blinked. “They just don’t use the name Shang Shao.”
The moment she said that, the others froze for a beat before breaking into laughter one after another.
“Jin Yuanmin?”
“Mr. Jin still hasn’t gotten his identity back?”
“Poor Mr. Jin. He’s lost his real name.”
It was rare to hear Shang Shao linked to a female celebrity, so everyone’s interest immediately shifted.
“How do they ship them? And with who?”
“Who else? Ying Yin, obviously.”
The colleague from the Marketing Department’s Internet Operations team set down the slice of cake she had been viciously stabbing with her fork and launched into the story.
“I found out completely by accident. One day, a photo of Chairman Shao attending an awards ceremony popped up on my feed again, so I wanted to see what people were saying about it. Turns out, the entire comment section was shipping the two of them.”
“But didn’t they already know that Mr. Jin was married with a child?”
“Exactly. That’s why they don’t dare ship them openly. They secretly made a private group where they can indulge themselves in peace, hahaha. I’m in the group.”
“Ying Yin and Chairman Shao? Apart from those two events, they’re not connected in the slightest, are they?”
“Exactly.” Her colleague nodded, then said mournfully, “But I have to admit, once you start looking at them the way they do, it’s ridiculously addictive.”
She paused to think, then added, “And they genuinely think the two of them are a real thing. They say Chairman Shao spent two whole months accompanying her on set, doing absolutely anything she asked. Like some epic, heart-melting romance.”
“Hahahahahahahaha!”
The break room was positively roaring with laughter by now, everyone doubled over with amusement.
“Dream on.”
“Isn’t it mostly her female fans?”
“Fair enough. Didn’t people say Ying Yin would only marry into a wealthy family? She’s already this big a star and still single-mindedly determined to be a gold digger. At least she’s stayed true to her original ambition, hahaha.”
It was a nasty thing to say. These days, people rarely threw around terms like gold-digger so openly anymore.
“Uh, sorry, but I’m a fan, and I’m a little offended by that.” Another colleague set down her cup and saucer and looked directly at the male coworker, the superiority practically radiating from his nostrils. “What exactly has she ever gold-dug for? Go on, tell me.”
The atmosphere turned awkward for a moment. A few socially perceptive coworkers quickly laughed it off with a couple of jokes, letting the matter slide.
“Whatever, let them ship them. At least they’re shipping Jin Yuanmin, right? Hahaha.”
They spent the entire lunch break gossiping, and the rumors about a marriage alliance with a military family heiress began spreading through the various group chats again as soon as work resumed at one-thirty. No one had any evidence whatsoever, but the more the story was repeated, the more convincing it began to sound, until it became something everyone seemed absolutely certain was true.
It took nearly a week for the whole affair to gradually die down.
During that week, Lin Cunkang made no fewer than three trips between Ning City and an old goldsmith’s workshop in Hong Kong, carrying a set of drawings with him each time. The workshop itself was small, tucked away in a corner of Temple Street. It looked utterly unremarkable from the outside, but it had been passed down through four generations and was one of Hong Kong’s traditional goldsmith workshops supplying bespoke jewellery to high-end haute couture and luxury brands.
“Such a difficult customer. Even harder to please than that Paris boss.”
Sai Seung Saang – in Cantonese, meaning “Little Mr. Shang.” He called him that because, to him, Shang Qingye was the only one who qualified as “Mr. Shang.” Since the father was still in charge, the son could naturally only be “Xiao Shang.”
“You want leather, you want individual strands of hair, oh, and what’s this? A thigh holster? Should I throw in a lace bra while I’m at it? Now that would really make it good!”
The owner had an eccentric temper. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he looked up at Lin Cunkang from beneath his frames.
Lin Cunkang smiled, sitting beside his workbench with a cup of tea. He blew away the tea foam and said good-naturedly, “There’s still plenty of time, isn’t there? The previous few turned out beautifully. This one will, of course, be just as good.”
“Ha!” The owner was clearly pleased by the word “beautiful.” “I’m not bragging, but even if you brought Madame Tussauds in here for a little pk pk, she still wouldn’t come close to me when it comes to capturing the likeness!”
“The young master did consider that option. But wax melts easily, while gold is difficult to melt. Since true sentiment is worth more than a thousand pieces of gold, wax simply wouldn’t be worthy of it.”
At that, the owner returned to speaking practically. “Well, their wax isn’t exactly ordinary wax either…”
He was pretending to be modest after getting a compliment, but secretly, he was quite pleased with himself.
He remembered the first time Xiao Shang had walked into his workshop. Back then, the young man had been quiet and withdrawn. Looking into his eyes, one could see that his mind was somewhere far, far away. Whenever the craftsman called him “Xiao Shang,” he seemed to be roused from some distant dream. It would take him a second before he would quietly and politely dip his head in acknowledgement.
He never minded being casually called “Xiao Shang.” He simply sat there patiently, watching as the craftsman slowly brought the figure in his hands to life.
“You really like her, don’t you? You don’t even blink when you look at her.”
Shang Shao merely smiled and said nothing.
“One’s a proper gentleman, the other’s a beauty. A perfect match.”
Temple Street was quiet in the afternoon, the bustle of traffic and crowds muffled beyond the narrow alleyways. The owner of the goldsmith’s workshop drawled out his final words, but received no reply.
Though he kept calling him Xiao Shang this and Xiao Shang that, he still went on and on with all sorts of auspicious blessings – wishing them a marriage lasting a hundred years, asking when they planned to have a child, even insisting that he would have to come and drink a glass of wine at the wedding banquet.
The man beside him remained silent, accepting every blessing without comment.
Every now and then, he would look up. The golden glow filling the workshop reflected along the contours of his profile, like a dusk that had somehow been born indoors. The craftsman thought the young man was truly a man of few words. No matter how much he tried, he simply couldn’t coax a response out of him.
On the workbench, the orderly sounds of tiny hammers tapping, chisels carving, and files whispering against metal resumed their intricate rhythm.
This little piece had already been sent back for alterations three times within a single week. Lin Cunkang didn’t dare leave again. He had been sitting there from morning until dusk, drinking cup after cup of strong tea, while listening to the craftsman spend the entire day explaining just how superficial Europeans’ understanding of haute couture was, and how utterly inadequate it seemed in the face of the techniques handed down by their ancestors.
“This makes twelve,” the craftsman suddenly said.
He blew gently across the piece, sending a fine shimmer of gold dust drifting into the air.
“And the last one,” Lin Cunkang replied.
“Can I see this movie queen’s Facebook? Don’t use me as some walking advertisement for her. I can’t take it.”
“You recognized her?” Lin Cunkang raised an eyebrow.
The craftsman lifted his eyes from the standing magnifying glass and shot Lin Cunkang a look. “Don’t talk nonsense!”
The two old men exchanged glances, then burst into laughter.
The tiny golden figure was exquisitely crafted, every detail painstakingly rendered. Lin Cunkang carefully wrapped it in several layers of genuine silk handkerchiefs, tucked it securely into the inner breast pocket of his suit, and instructed the driver to return to Ning City.
The Benz had just come off the Hong Kong–Zhuhai–Macau Bridge when Lin Cunkang unexpectedly received a call from Ying Yin.
“Miss Ying.” He mentally checked the date, then relaxed. “What time is your flight tomorrow? I’ll arrange for a car to pick you up.”
There was a brief silence on Ying Yin’s end. It sounded as though she were somewhere enclosed.
Sure enough, she said, “I’ve already landed. I’m in the car.”
Lin Cunkang was surprised. “You finished ahead of schedule?”
“Mm. The equipment malfunctioned at the final stop, so we only had one session this morning.”
“I’ll let the young master know.”
“No, no.” Ying Yin stopped him. “Where are you?”
Lin Cunkang was a perceptive old fox. The fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled into a smile. “You’re planning to surprise him?”
The two of them arranged to meet in the city center. Lin Cunkang got out of the car and found the vehicle with its hazard lights flashing. When he approached, the rear window slowly lowered halfway.
He passed his company access card inside and heard the heavily bundled-up actress ask, “Do you think he’ll be angry with me?”
Lin Cunkang had gained an entirely new understanding of his young master by now. “If someone else did this, he might. But not you.”
Ying Yin lowered her mask just slightly. “I’m not going to cause him any trouble.”
Lin Cunkang smiled and, with impeccable courtesy, happily helped her get away with it. “Then you have even less reason to hesitate. Go right ahead.”
Ying Yin gripped the access card tightly and told the driver to head for the nearby Qinde Building.
The last time she had visited him on set, it had been in the dead of night, when the enormous office had been practically deserted. This time was different. It was broad daylight, with eyes everywhere. Before going upstairs, Ying Yin had to give herself a serious pep talk.
Deep breath.
I’m just going to see him. That’s not too much, right?
It had been six days since she had last seen him, and she was practically going crazy with impatience.
Although it was already five in the afternoon, it was Monday, after all, and meetings had taken up most of the day. With the end of the workday approaching, no one was slacking off. The clacking of keyboards, revisions to proposals, spreadsheets being compiled, phone calls being made – all of it blended into one tightly packed, industrious scene.
Amid all that activity, no one noticed when the doors of one of the elevators opened.
With a soft ding, a figure stepped out wearing jeans, canvas sneakers, and an oversized blazer-style leather jacket. Her footsteps were light, almost as though she were sneaking around with a guilty conscience.
There was nothing unusual about someone taking the elevator, of course. Employees from different departments were constantly moving around the building for work. But along the corridor, one person after another gradually slowed their typing.
She was dressed far too casually, and she was even wearing a baseball cap. Anyone could tell she wasn’t a Shangyu employee. Every employee here was held to strict standards when it came to office attire.
Someone looked up, their gaze following the unfamiliar woman as she moved down the corridor.
And she’s wearing a mask, too?
The entire office was filled with puzzled glances, but everyone still had work to do, so no one paid much attention –
Until they saw her walk straight toward the Executive Director’s office.
Ying Yin was already running on fumes. She looked perfectly calm, but in reality, the palms she had tucked into her pockets were already slick with sweat.
She walked up to the administrative secretary on duty, stood ramrod straight, and imitated Shang Shao’s businesslike tone.
“Hello. I’m here to see Chairman Shao.”
The secretary had no idea who she was, but she was already well practiced at this sort of thing. She promptly opened the day’s appointment schedule and asked, “May I have your surname? Do you have an appointment?”
Ying Yin had no choice but to bend down slightly. She glanced discreetly from side to side and lowered her voice. “Do you have Chairman Shao on WeChat?”
“Uh…” The secretary paused. “Yes.”
“The girlfriend in his Moments…” Ying Yin whispered, her face turning cherry-pink beneath her mask. “That’s me.”
The secretary: “…”
“Really.” Seeing the secretary’s doubtful expression, Ying Yin tried again, this time awkwardly imitating Cantonese. “Little girl.”
“I’m afraid I can’t take your word for that either, miss.” The secretary gave her a professionally polite smile.
Just then, the door to the inner office opened, and two figures emerged one after the other. The first wore a dark navy lightweight jacket with a notched collar; the second was holding the door handle behind him, dressed in a khaki-brown suit that had a distinctly British air to it.
“Chairman Shao, please, you needn’t see me any further. Secretary Zheng and the provincial government…” the official said courteously.
“I’ll see you to the elevator.” Shang Shao gestured courteously toward the hall, the faintest smile touching his lips as he inclined his head. “This way, please.”
Both men stopped when they saw the casually dressed woman.
Shang Shao: “…”
Ying Yin swallowed, straightened to attention, and opened her eyes wide, looking as though she had braced herself to be scolded.
No one noticed the fleeting smile Shang Shao suppressed almost instantly. All they heard was his serious, businesslike voice. “Cathrine, please show this lady into my office.”
Then he turned to Ying Yin. “Go inside and wait for me a moment.”
That last sentence was remarkably gentle.
With a stranger standing right there, Ying Yin felt herself grow warm all over, a sheen of fragrant sweat gathering at her neck.
After seeing the provincial official to the elevator lobby, Shang Shao instructed an assistant from the Executive Director’s Office to accompany him downstairs. On his way back, he crossed the large open-plan office at an unhurried, leisurely pace.
The casual turn of his wristwatch, however, was perhaps a little too debonair, betraying just how good a mood he was in.
The administrative secretary had escorted Ying Yin into his office. She hadn’t taken off her mask; she had merely removed her leather jacket, draping it over one arm as she obediently stood in front of the desk and waited for him.
Underneath, she wore a taro-purple knitted sweater with a classic little polo collar. Its fitted cut ended neatly at her waist, while her light-blue jeans hugged her figure, rounding out her hips into a full, pert curve.
The administrative secretary found herself sneaking several more glances at her. The longer she looked, the more inexplicably flushed she became.
The woman’s figure was simply too good. Imagining her being held in Chairman Shao’s arms – without even having an actual picture in her head – was enough to make the thought feel rather provocative.
Ying Yin waited quietly for a while before she heard the lock turn.
Click.
The door opened.
She remained perfectly still, watching without blinking as Shang Shao closed the door behind him and walked toward her, one step at a time.
Only when he was standing directly in front of her, his lowered eyes fixed intently upon her, dark and deep with emotion, did Ying Yin suddenly throw herself at him, wrapping both arms tightly around his neck.
Her leather jacket slipped silently to the floor, while her slender waist, clad in that soft taro-purple knit, fell into his hands.
Neither of them spoke.
They only kissed.
It wasn’t until they were both breathing hard that she heard Shang Shao ask, “Why did you suddenly come back? Here to check up on me?”
His smile was lazy, his voice husky with unmistakable desire, making Ying Yin’s knees go weak.
She shook her head and, with a slight nasal quality to her voice, said, “I missed you.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Shang Shao swept her up and sat her on the desk.
He kissed her fiercely, his hands wrinkling the clothes wherever they touched.
A folder that had been swept aside was hard beneath her hand. Without thinking, Ying Yin braced herself against it, knocking one corner against the main control panel at the edge of the desk.
One of the buttons was held down.
The electric blinds between the two panes of glass began to rise slowly. They were tightly fitted, and the movement was so subtle that it was barely noticeable.
Outside, in the large open-plan office, the ringing phones, clattering keyboards, footsteps, and murmured conversations all seemed to freeze.
“…”
Halfway through the kiss, Shang Shao seemed to be seized by some extraordinarily sharp instinct. He came to his senses at once. The instant he opened his eyes, they narrowed slightly, and he immediately reached over and stopped the blinds.
Beyond the window, with the blinds only halfway raised, the employees of Qinde stood frozen in stunned silence.
A file slipped from someone’s hands and hit the floor with a clack.
Although no one could make out who the woman inside actually was, everyone now knew one thing:
Their Chairman absolutely could not keep his hands off her waist.
