The villa might not have been as grand as a sprawling estate, but it was more than spacious enough for three adults. The only one who really suffered was Junyi.
When she saw Shang Shao arriving late at night, she hurriedly swept all the snacks into the trash, then busied herself changing the sheets and putting away the toiletries. As she pulled a pillow out of the chest of drawers, she quietly asked Ying Yin, “Why did Mr. Shang suddenly come here to sleep? Didn’t he complain that your bed was noisy?”
Ying Yin narrowed her eyes. “How do you know he thinks my bed is noisy?”
Junyi looked a little embarrassed. “There was this one time I got up in the middle of the night to get some wine…”
The French-style double doors with their decorative cross-shaped panes looked pretty but were hardly practical. They could only muffle the sound a little.
Knowing Ying Yin was easily embarrassed, Junyi deliberately left the rest unsaid. She quickly pushed the drawer shut, patted the pillow, and casually asked, “So why is Mr. Shang staying here?”
“Because the power went out over there.”
“That’s not exactly a big deal. Just flip the breaker.” Junyi spoke with the confidence of someone who knew her way around everyday household problems.
“Someone stole the power cables and dug them up, so the cables got severed.”
“Huh?” Junyi stared at her in shock. “People still steal power cables? I thought that was something people only did when we were kids!”
Ying Yin confidently summed it up. “That thief was an idiot. He lacked vision as a thief. It just goes to show that, no matter what line of work you’re in, having a broad enough perspective is important.”
Junyi: “…”
She stared at Ying Yin sympathetically for a moment. Half of her wanted to shake the water out of Ying Yin’s head; the other half wanted to give her a crash course in how things actually worked in the modern world.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ying Yin asked warily.
“Nothing…”
Even if you gave Junyi a hundred times the courage, she would never dare tell Ying Yin that Shang Shao might be planning a surprise for her – and that the surprise might be a marriage proposal. If she let it slip beforehand and ruined the once-in-a-lifetime surprise for Ying Yin, Junyi would blame herself for the rest of her life.
She finished putting the matching pillowcase onto the pillow and, when she left the room, there was not the slightest hint of joy on her face.
Sitting down in the courtyard, Cheng Junyi stared blankly at the moonlight pooled in a cage-like pattern on the stone table. She thought to herself that Ying Yin was about to get married and become a wealthy wife. She would have plenty of people taking care of her life, all of them professionals – more meticulous and capable than Junyi herself. Once she became a wife, would Ying Yin retire from acting? If so, she probably wouldn’t need an agent or assistant either.
There was no feast that did not eventually come to an end. Cheng Junyi’s gaze lingered lovingly over every corner of the courtyard – the stone tiles, the earthenware jars, the old tree, the shadows of bamboo, the wrought-iron lamps. She remembered how, just last autumn, she, Tiwen, and Ying Yin had still been sitting here, eating cured meats and crab roe, chatting beneath the clear breeze and bright moon about the silly little things only girls would talk about.
Once Ying Yin married, this place would probably be deserted too. The iron gate would be locked, and the next time it opened, it would be the setting for someone else’s story.
The next morning, Ying Yin got up together with Shang Shao. After having breakfast with him and watching his car disappear down the sloping driveway, she called Shang Lu.
It was eight in the morning. If she had been calling someone else, she might have worried about waking them up. But Shang Lu was different. Ying Yin had heard Ke Yu mention that the man got up at five every morning to hike up the mountain at speed – a truly insane routine.
Sure enough, when the phone rang, Shang Lu was already holding a cup of coffee and fully in work mode.
“You called the wrong number.” He answered in his usual detached tone, but with his other hand, he still slipped in his Bluetooth earpiece.
“No, I meant to call you.”
“Mm. Go ahead.”
“Which of your relatives lives by the sea?”
“All of our relatives live by the sea.”
“…” Ying Yin pressed her lips together. “By the sea in Sai Kung. Not in a villa, but somewhere… like a village house or something.”
Shang Lu thought for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Mr. Shang calls her ‘Great-Aunt.’ You’ve never visited her?”
The Shang family had branched out and multiplied over five generations, so there were probably countless relatives who could be called a “great-aunt.” Still, Shang Lu patiently thought for a moment before saying, “I genuinely don’t know of any relatives who live around Sai Kung. For something like this, you’d have to ask Shang Qingye. Want me to give you his number?”
Ying Yin immediately stopped him. “No!”
Shang Lu laughed. “So what are you up to? What are you secretly trying to find out behind my brother’s back?”
“He took me yesterday…”
Before Ying Yin could finish, Shang Lu cut her off. “Let’s talk in person. I happen to have something I need to discuss with you, and Ke Yu is here too.”
He was as decisive and efficient as ever, just like he was on set. The moment he hung up, he sent her an address with a message: “See you in an hour.”
Ying Yin had no choice but to change out of her loungewear into something presentable enough to go out in, then drive there herself.
When she arrived, the scene before her looked strangely familiar – the expansive, rolling green of the grounds, the shimmering coastline in the distance…
Wasn’t this… the place where she and Shang Shao had their first dinner together?
A doorman came over to take her car, greeting her with practiced familiarity and courtesy. “Welcome back, Miss Ying.”
They really had it down to a science, remembering every distinguished guest who had ever visited.
Ying Yin handed him her car keys to park and followed the concierge upstairs to a private room on the second floor.
Shang Lu and Ke Yu were already there. One was casually drawing lines on a tablet with a stylus, while the other sat with his arms folded, eyes lowered, clearly catching up on some sleep.
“What were you doing last night? How are you still tired at this hour?” Ying Yin asked with a laugh as she took off her oversized shirt.
She was dressed casually: a white shirt left open and worn as an outer layer, over a pale jade-colored, mock-neck knitted tank with cut-out shoulders, paired with slightly flared jeans. She took off her baseball cap, revealing a makeup-free face beneath a mass of thick, curly hair.
Shang Lu watched her take off the shirt and hand it to the waiter to hang up. For some reason, he suddenly asked, “…That isn’t my brother’s shirt, is it?”
Ke Yu opened his eyes and kicked him.
Ying Yin sat down on the sofa, smiling sweetly. “Yep, yep, yep. It even smells like his cologne. Want to hold it and reminisce? I can lend it to you.”
Shang Lu: “…”
Ying Yin then turned her attention to Ke Yu. Crossing her legs, she propped one hand on her knee and rested her chin in her palm, blinking at him repeatedly.
“Xiao Dao, you look surprisingly well. I thought you’d been having a pretty rough time lately.”
Ke Yu had indeed been through quite a lot, to the point that every day he felt as though he could never get enough sleep. After Ying Yin’s pointed teasing, he said helplessly, “Don’t lump friend and foe together.”
Shang Lu raised an eyebrow. “Which one is the foe, and which one is the friend?”
Ke Yu stood up and resigned himself to the task. “I’ll make tea for the two of you.”
The waiter had already laid out the tea leaves and tea set. After bowing and greeting them, he quietly withdrew.
Inside the porcelain jar were Jin Jun Mei golden-bud tea leaves, their fine golden tips clearly visible and their delicate fragrance immediately filling the air. As a Chaoshan native, Ke Yu had an innate appreciation for good tea. Catching the aroma, he smiled slightly and settled down on his own, warming the cups and cleaning the teaware, pouring in the water, steeping the tea, and decanting it – all with an unhurried, leisurely calm, completely ignoring the two people glaring at each other.
Only after pouring the tea into the fairness pitcher, then using a pair of tongs to take two warmed cups and placing them one by one on the fragrant-yunsha tea mat before them, did he lean forward slightly and spread his hands. The corners of his lips curved into a smile. “Who wants to waste my tea?”
The two who had been at odds immediately lowered their weapons and obediently took their seats at the tea table.
“This is reconciliation tea. Once you drink it, you’re not allowed to start fighting again.” Ke Yu’s gaze was languid as it drifted from one of them to the other.
Ying Yin looked thoroughly aggrieved. “It’s not my fault that your brother fell for me.”
Shang Lu said, “You fu…”
He swallowed the profanity, folded his arms, and glowered. He had originally intended not to drink the tea, but after thinking about it, he decided to do so for Shang Shao’s sake, taking a sip with a completely expressionless face.
Ying Yin’s lips curved into a smile, and she dropped the joking tone as well. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I’ve finished the first draft of the Rashomon screenplay. You were there the last time we discussed it, so I felt I needed to tell you properly, face-to-face, that I don’t plan to cast you as the female lead.”
Ying Yin had known that once Shang Lu was struck by inspiration, he would work day and night without rest. But producing a first draft in just a month was still astonishing. She congratulated him, then said, “I don’t plan on acting in it either.”
Shang Lu frowned. “I’m serious. I’m not saying this out of spite.”
“So am I. I’m not saying it out of spite either.”
Ke Yu: “…”
Shang Lu toyed with the stylus between his fingers. “This film doesn’t suit your acting style or where you are at the moment. Whether it’s for your sake or my brother’s, I can’t take the risk of casting you.”
Ying Yin pressed her lips together, then smiled. “I wasn’t planning to act in your film either. Actually, I don’t plan on taking on any new films for the time being.”
Ying Yin had always been one of the hardest-working people in the industry. For several years, she had gone straight from one production to the next without so much as a break. Hearing her say she had no other plans genuinely surprised Ke Yu.
“Is it because your resources won’t keep up after leaving Chenye?”
“No, there are still plenty of scripts.” Ying Yin loosely clasped her hands together, lowering her face with a casual smile. “I just feel a little tired. I want to take some time to rest. Oh, right…”
She naturally changed the subject. “That great-aunt I asked you about on the phone this morning – you really don’t know who she is?”
She had a vague intuition.
She sensed that there was some kind of tragedy surrounding this great-aunt. Shang Shao had never mentioned it, so there was no way for her to know what had happened. But somehow, that tragedy seemed connected to Shang Shao.
She could picture him sitting across from the great-aunt, white clouds rolling past the corner of the house, while some invisible fate spread itself out like their shadows, silently enveloping the two of them.
She wanted to know what that single sprig of jacaranda he had plucked before leaving had meant, and what lay behind those words: “You won’t regret it.”
“I asked around for you.” Shang Lu tapped his fingers, looking somewhat puzzled himself. “She’s a very distant elder relative. Her husband died by suicide one year, so she hasn’t really gone out or socialized for a long time.”
The words “died by suicide” were like fingers plucking a string, stirring up a cloud of choking dust. Ying Yin began to cough, bending over as her fingers, pale and blue at the knuckles, gripped the tea table.
No wonder the grand-aunt lived the way she did – never turning on the lights, or at most keeping a single one lit. Because when someone dies, it is like a lamp going out. The light in her life was already gone, leaving only her own tiny flame, flickering by the sea through clear skies and storms alike.
The cryptic reference to the jacaranda that had baffled Ying Yin before suddenly made perfect sense.
“I don’t regret it.”
She did not regret that the flower had bloomed at all.
Even if its flowering season had been so brief, even if it had withered so quickly, and everything after its petals fell had been destined to become ordinary and dull with the passing years.
But… why had Shang Shao taken her to meet the great-aunt?
Ying Yin coughed for a while. She accepted the water Ke Yu handed her and took two sips. By then, her expression had settled completely, giving away nothing.
“You just said you wouldn’t let me take your Rashomon because you were thinking of both me and him.” She tilted her head and asked lightly, almost casually, “What did you mean by that?”
Shang Lu’s gaze was completely different from Shang Shao’s. Shang Shao’s was deep and inscrutable, like mist, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. Shang Lu’s, on the other hand, was sharp and direct. Every bit of scrutiny and probing was like sunlight shining straight down, leaving nowhere to hide.
“If you’re trying to trick information out of me, your acting still needs work.”
Only Shang Lu could say something that shamelessly blunt and somehow still make it sound convincing.
Ying Yin toyed with her teacup between her fingertips and smiled, finally letting go of the pretense. “Fine. I just wanted to know what the two of you talked about.”
But Shang Lu ignored that completely and went straight to the point. “He wouldn’t take you to visit a relative he barely knows for no reason.”
He already understood.
Ying Yin’s heart gave a sudden tremor, and for a long moment, she didn’t raise her head.
Shang Lu asked calmly, “Can I tell him?”
The only other person present was Ke Yu. He was asking Ying Yin whether it was okay for Ke Yu to know about this.
Ying Yin was silent for a moment, then nodded.
“You’ve already attempted suicide.”
Under Ke Yu’s stunned gaze, she admitted, “Yes.”
“Because of acting – or rather, that film – it brought certain things inside you to the surface.”
Ying Yin resigned herself to it and gave a quiet “Mm,” then turned to Ke Yu. “I wasn’t deliberately keeping it from you, but…”
Ke Yu clenched the tea towel in his hand. After a long silence, he said in Cantonese, “Silly girl.”
Shang Lu remained silent even longer.
He hadn’t known.
He had only recognized the danger in Ying Yin’s approach to acting. He had never imagined that danger had already manifested so profoundly in Shang Shao’s life.
“No wonder he told me back then that he was ready.” Shang Lu gave a self-deprecating curl of his lips. “I didn’t understand what he meant.”
“Ready for… what?” Ying Yin asked with difficulty.
Shang Lu looked at her confused, uneasy, yet clear and guileless eyes.
“Back then, on Li Shan’s set, I said that a film wasn’t something you should pursue at any cost. Your acting style had already taken shape, and it would be difficult to change. A lot of roles are dangerous for you, but clearly, you have an ambition and a desire to pursue them. I said that drifting between the world of a role and reality, unable to distinguish between the two, was dangerous. Sometimes, the difference between life and death is just a moment of disorientation, and it’s very difficult for outsiders to see it coming. You’ve experienced it yourself. You should understand.”
“I also said that I couldn’t assume a human being would always remain rational and clear-headed. The only way to stay away from danger is not to get close to it in the first place.”
“Finally, I said that neither other people nor he could make these decisions for you. You had to choose for yourself.”
“Acting, or your life.”
Shang Lu spoke quietly to the end, his broad palm nearly crushing the teacup in his hand. “He told me he was ready.”
Ready for what?
He had never once tried to persuade her to retire from acting, never used words like “for your own good.” He was prepared to catch her if she fell, and he was also prepared to let her fly away.
The great-aunt’s fate had unfolded right before his eyes. He had seen those withered years with his own eyes. And yet he understood. He willingly walked toward it.
And he had no regrets.
The greatest actors possess an equally great capacity for understanding. What they receive is a script, nothing more than lines of dialogue written one after another, but what they see within those lines is a human life. How could Ying Yin not understand?
And yet, what had started as such a heavy subject somehow made her laugh.
She laughed as though tears were about to spill out with it. Quickly, she tilted her face upward and fanned the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. “Oh no, I can’t cry.”
Shang Lu was at a loss with her. “No one’s going to laugh at you.”
“What are you talking about? I cry so easily. He’ll be sad if he sees me.”
Shang Lu: “…”
Ying Yin held back her tears, but the smile on her face was almost childlike. After a while, she lowered the tissue from beneath her eyes and said brightly, sincerely, and with complete openness, “Thank you, Lulu.”
“Lu…” Shang Lu actually choked on the word.
Ke Yu burst out laughing.
“Call me Sister-in-law.”
“Get lost.”
Qinde Rest Room
It was almost the end of the lunch break in the Qinde office.
Jin Yuanmin had finished his afternoon nap and came in to make himself a cup of coffee. The moment he stepped through the door, he caught one of the young women from Marketing biting her finger, staring at her phone screen with a lovestruck grin.
“Slacking off?”
The young operations employee jumped in fright. But when she saw it was him, she wasn’t scared at all – instead, she struggled to suppress a laugh.
“What are you laughing at?”
Although Jin Yuanmin was technically the company president, he wasn’t at all intimidating. He had a bit of a knack for comedy, too, so the people working under him weren’t afraid of him.
The young woman glanced toward the corridor outside the glass-walled room. Seeing that no one was coming, she lowered her voice and said mysteriously, “Mr. Jin, let me show you something.”
Jin Yuanmin shot her a sidelong glance, not particularly interested. “What?”
The young woman raised her eyebrows. “You have a ship with a female celebrity online.”
When Jin Yuanmin saw the group chat on her screen, he suddenly spat out his coffee, spraying it halfway across the room.
There were three thousand freaking people in the group. Its name was [Raise the Banner for Jin-Yin], and the group files were packed with fan-made creations featuring “him” and Ying Yin!
There were… videos, both angsty and happy; fanfiction, long and short; and… pictures.
Explicit pictures.
Jin Yuanmin’s hand began to tremble around the handle of his coffee cup. He struggled to keep his composure.
“Are you blind? Who the hell is this ‘Jin Yuanmin’ supposed to be?”
“I know, but they’re using your name! Language is power!” the young woman said solemnly.
“Don’t give me that mystical nonsense!”
“They’re shipping you under your name. How does that make you feel? Aren’t you secretly honored?”
Jin Yuanmin: “…”
First of all, if his wife saw this, he’d be on his knees scrubbing laundry boards.
Second, if his boss saw this, he’d have to quit and go drive for Didi!
He snatched the phone away from her.
The young woman became wary. “What are you doing?”
“Calling the police.”
“Wait, don’t!” She lowered her voice. “It’s all… Chairman Shao’s face. And Chairman Shao even has a girlfriend now.”
Jin Yuanmin let out a strangled, “Mm!” Yeah. And his girlfriend was now “with” this guy, apparently, having three kids with him!
“Send me screenshots.” Jin Yuanmin ordered in his most presidential tone. “I’m reporting this to the authorities for spreading a cult!”
The young woman meekly took several screenshots and said, “They don’t really deal with this kind of thing…”
Jin Yuanmin received them via AirDrop, inspected the photos carefully, then pocketed his phone and walked off.
“Someone will deal with it!”
When he reached the door, he turned back and instructed her, “Don’t leave the group. Stay in there and act as my mole.”
The young woman pushed her luck, rising onto her toes and calling after him, “Mr. Jin, does that count as slacking off?”
Mr. Jin had already metaphorically stuffed his ears into his pockets. Putting on the earnest, attentive expression of someone listening reverently to divine wisdom, he knocked on the executive director’s door.
“Come in,” Shang Shao called from inside.
Jin Yuanmin pushed the door open and saw Shang Shao raise one hand, signaling for him to wait. He then continued speaking into his phone. “I know. Don’t worry.”
Wen Youyi’s voice came from the other end. “You haven’t been fooling around, have you? Or is it like that time with Yu Shasha?”
With a subordinate present, Shang Shao cleared his throat quietly. “…I have.”
Wen Youyi: “…”
She had expected as much. They were both adults, after all… which only made her phone call all the more necessary.
In the solemn, earnest tone of a mother giving her son advice, she said, “Make sure you take precautions. Don’t be reckless. This isn’t something to treat like a game.”
Shang Shao propped up one arm, resting the hand holding his cigarette against his forehead. “We haven’t. We’re preparing.”
With an outsider present, he kept his wording vague, his tone calm and serious.
Wen Youyi nearly passed out. “Are you kidding me? Quit smoking and drinking for six months first!”
Shang Shao froze and instinctively looked at the glowing cigarette between his fingers.
…So he couldn’t?
He had thought his physical condition was pretty good, and he hardly drank or smoked anyway… So he had to quit completely?
Fine.
He’d been scolded.
The office fell silent. The only sound was Shang Shao listening intently to the phone call.
Jin Yuanmin had no idea that some bosses could look completely unruffled on the outside while being thoroughly chewed out for a full minute.
After hanging up, Shang Shao rubbed his brow and let out a breath before finally turning his attention to Jin Yuanmin. “What is it?”
“Sir, I have something very important – an important matter to report.” Jin Yuanmin stammered, not daring to look at the elegant yet inscrutable man behind the desk.
Shang Shao interlaced his fingers. He could tell this wasn’t anything truly important, so he looked rather uninterested. He merely gave a faint acknowledgment, signaling for him to continue.
“Well… there’s this group. This group is… rather strange…”
Shang Shao cut him off. “Get to the point.”
Jin Yuanmin stepped forward and held out his phone for him to see, then immediately retreated a step. He stood there nervously, head bowed, his heart pounding.
[Another Day of Going Crazy Over Jin Yuanmin and Yinyin!]
[Sexual tension! Sexual tension! The Jin-Yin CP has SO MUCH sexual tension!]
[Dear fellow fans, I cordially invite you all to savor my freshly baked masterpiece: document.txt]
[Bodhisattva! I’m here!]
[Huff, huff. ‘Jin Yuanmin opened his eyes in the morning to find this cute, innocent little thing in his arms—’]
Thud.
Jin Yuanmin’s body jolted, and he cast a sidelong glance toward the desk.
The phone had been slammed face-down on the desk. The hand pressing it down had gone taut, the knuckles pale with force, making it painfully obvious that he was restraining himself from doing something.
Amid his sweaty palms and pounding heartbeat, Jin Yuanmin first heard a controlled, suppressed deep breath.
Then came a cold voice: “Raise your head.”
