It is said that when a person is on the verge of death, they see their life flash before their eyes – a revolving lantern of memories.
…Jin Yuanmin felt that he was seeing it now.
At that fateful command – “Raise your head” – he obediently looked up.
Shang Shao narrowed his eyes slightly. It was high noon, and the office was brightly lit, yet his gaze was as deep and cold as a dark abyss, resting meaningfully on Jin Yuanmin.
Jin Yuanmin felt his knees go weak. He shuffled forward a step, and before Shang Shao could say anything, his face turned pale and he stammered, “Chairman Shao, I swear to god! I have absolutely never coveted her! She is ethereally beautiful – far beyond my reach. I wouldn’t dare, I’m not worthy – I haven’t even so much as entertained the thought!”
Shang Shao glanced at him lightly. “Ethereally?”
Jin Yuanmin broke out in a cold sweat, then suddenly deflated, admitting with embarrassment, “I’m her fan… I’m used to calling her that.”
Shang Shao folded his hands together. “Which of her films do you like?”
“Cigarette Memories – the one that won her Best Actress at both the Nebula and Galaxy Awards,” Jin Yuanmin said, then quickly added, “Of course, Ah-Rou in Goodbye, Angela was also very challenging, but it’s a pity she didn’t win any awards for it.” He stole a sidelong glance at Shang Shao, unsure whether his flattery had hit the mark.
Shang Shao gave no indication of approval or disapproval. “And others?”
“Li Meijian in The Bitter Beauty, Xiao Cai in Floating Flowers…”
Shang Shao looked up. “You like art films?”
Jin Yuanmin’s heart was still pounding with anxiety, and he quickly added, “I like commercial films too – this time’s Justice Prevails, and also the peerless master Yin Yi in The Imperial Palace – the one that won her the Nebula Award for Best Supporting Actress.”
He really was a fan, and his facts were all accurate. Sang Shao’s expression softened slightly. “Don’t let it happen again.”
“Madam,” Jin Yuanmin said, catching on quickly. “Next time I’ll call her Madam…”
Shang Shao gave a faint curl of his lips and tapped the desk with two fingers. “Shut down this group chat. Keep it quiet. You handle it.”
“Yes, yes, right away…”
While Jin Yuanmin was finding someone to shut down the group, the members had already dug up something new.
[Have you all seen that trending video on Douyin?]
A shot of someone’s back secretly filmed in a movie theater had gone viral – over a million likes, all because of the sheer atmosphere of the image.
[I saw it! So easy to project onto!]
[I projected onto it too!]
[No, what I mean is – don’t you think he looks really familiar?]
[Can’t tell from the side profile.]
[Ladies, let’s break down the back, the hands, and the way he walks!]
Just as the three thousand members of the fellow-shipper group were playing detective like modern-day Sherlock Holmes, [Raise the Banner for Jin-Yin] exploded.
The three-thousand-person group was disbanded on the spot, wiped out without a trace.
But it didn’t matter. As seasoned high-intensity internet surfers with rich combat experience, they had long since prepared for such an eventuality and smoothly migrated to a new backup group with practiced ease.
Within the group, the consensus quickly solidified:
[Did he blow it up?]
[He definitely reported us with his ID]
[It must be because he’s guilty! What does that tell us?]
[WE’RE SHIPPING THE REAL THING!!!!]
The operations girl who had gone undercover in the new group: “…?”
How did they arrive at that conclusion?
What followed next caught everyone completely off guard.
First, someone commented under that trending video: [This looks like the sponsor of last time’s Galaxy Awards, I think? (not sure)]
The internet has a memory. Once something has garnered attention, even if it fades into obscurity afterward, when it is brought up again, every word and deed from the past will be easily unearthed – like an old loose thread end caught by the tip of a crochet hook.
Sure enough, someone immediately responded: [Jin what?]
[Jin Yuanmin (I thought the name had a certain flair back then)]
[Yeah, the height and posture do look similar]
[Whoa, so he really is a big shot?]
[All I remember is his watch was worth six million]
[Suddenly the rich-boss romance novels I’m reading don’t seem so appealing anymore]
[Better not jump to conclusions – it’d be awkward if we’re wrong (since he’s technically a civilian, right?)]
The debate was settled by the original poster’s follow-up comment:
[!! Thank you for helping me remember! I just rewatched the red carpet to confirm – he wasn’t wearing a mask, it’s definitely him!!]
Once you’re entangled with the entertainment industry, it seems you are naturally and obligatorily expected to surrender a portion of your right to privacy. Even if all he did was walk a red carpet, everyone had already earned the pass to dissect his personal life.
Soon, an entertainment forum picked up the story too.
OP: [The couple with that million-like atmospheric video on Douyin has been identified! /shocked//shocked/]
[Jin Yuanmin? He’s married, so the person next to him is his wife?]
[So perfect together aaaaah – real couples are truly the best to ship!]
[High-quality human couple]
[Reminds me of the craze that night when we shipped him with Ying Yin]
[Ugh, didn’t expect a semi-regular person to have such CP energy – he looks good with anyone /drool//drool/]
No one felt the impact of this more than the three thousand members of the Jin-Yin CP group.
[I don’t believe it (dazed) (clutching head)]
[To be fair… he and his wife really are a good match…]
[Shut up! Snap out of it! (vigorously shaking shoulders)]
[Leaving the group, babe. The sugar in my hands suddenly feels so bland.]
[Don’t go!]
[I’m out too. When the subjects don’t perform in front of you, you can still play ostrich. But when they perform this well, what’s the point of me even shipping?]
[Let’s call it quits. Shipping this way isn’t fair to either Ying Yin or his wife. See you all around, girls.]
Quite a few people left the group, and the chat did go silent for a couple of days. During that day or two, aside from morning and evening check-ins, there was basically no new fan-made content, nor the spectacle of thousands of messages flooding the screen. The operations girl who had been lurking in the new group also breathed a slight sigh of relief.
Then, on the third night past midnight, a group member with a particularly low activity level dropped a bombshell out of nowhere:
[Actually, I did notice something peculiar.]
It was late at night, so only a handful of people were still active in the group, with just a few sporadic responses.
But the member pressed on immediately:
[I searched through Qinde’s official website! Then I went through all of Qinde’s past press releases, and I found that they once organized a public welfare activity for mid-to-senior management and their families six years ago.]
With that, she posted a screenshot.
It was a “beach clean-up” activity under an environmental protection theme. The press release read: Mr. Jin led by example along with his family members, not only working with full enthusiasm throughout but also cheering on the entire company…
Below was a photo of a middle-aged man with a slightly pudgy build, wearing a white culture shirt, dragging a large trash bag together with a plump, elegant-looking woman.
This press release was of a very low tier, published by the internet account of a Ning City municipal evening newspaper. Accounts like these generally have no real traffic – they exist only for clients to pad their media reports with filler.
One could only imagine with what patience and persistence this person had scrolled through page after page for who knows how long.
The previously quiet group suddenly exploded with over a dozen messages:
[???]
[Where’s Jin Yuanmin?]
[Which one are you saying is Jin Yuanmin?]
The group member replied:
[Usually, the text and images in these press releases are related, so theoretically, the person in this photo should be Jin Yuanmin and his wife. But it’s not impossible that the new media editor pasted the wrong picture. No worries – let’s also look at the final group photo. Screenshot.jpg]
This was a large group photo of the public welfare event, with all participants included. Right in the center, giving a thumbs-up, were the very same middle-aged couple from before.
[So, it’s quite obvious – this group photo does not contain the Jin Yuanmin we’re familiar with, nor does it contain the woman from that video.]
The entire group:
[???]
[What do you mean?]
[Why is my CP suddenly turning into a mystery plot?]
[But a sponsor at the Galaxy Awards level couldn’t have gotten the person wrong, right?]
[Exactly. Plus, the Qinde official website and other press releases all feature the one we ship.]
All the clues pointed to one single fact:
[So, the truth is only one – there are actually TWO Jin Yuanmins!!!]
The whole group: [!!!]
The operations girl, who had just tensed up with a sharp intake of breath, now deflated again: […]
The group member concluded with conviction:
[So, there are two Jin Yuanmins, and both are senior executives at Qinde! The married-with-children one is this middle-aged, pudgy Jin Yuanmin. The one we ship is the other one – and he is NOT married! Because he! Doesn’t! Wear! A! Wedding!!! Ring!!!]
He doesn’t wear a wedding ring at all.
The fake Jin Yuanmin had been meticulous in every detail but slipped up on this one point – and the true CP fans had their epiphany.
[Holy crap, what?]
[I’ve got goosebumps!]
[Yes! I’ve been wanting to say this forever! How the hell does a married man not wear a wedding ring! So that’s it!]
[He’s single!!!]
[He doesn’t have a wife!!!]
[AAAAAAAAHHHHH]
[I’m doing a Thomas backflip resurrection on the spot!]
[Then who’s that woman watching the movie with him?]
[Girlfriend (obviously)]
[But who is sheeeeeeee!!]
In the group, the chat log was flooding at lightning speed:
[She’s wearing a mask! Why wear a mask?]
[Because she can’t be seen in public!]
[Why can’t she be seen in public!]
[Because she’s a celebrity! /cheer//cheer/]
[With that figure! That waist-to-hip ratio! That aura! That star quality! Who could it be!]
[Ying Yin! Ying Yin! Ying Yin!]
The operations girl was dumbfounded.
How did they even do that – delirious madness laced with a hint of meticulous logic, and meticulous logic laced with a hint of utter absurdity…
[Guys, think back to that line – “Congratulations, you’re shipping the real thing!”!]
[So, he really did join the production and stay with her for two full months!]
[It was love at first sight at the Galaxy Awards!]
[He followed her to the early screening roadshows!]
[They went to watch his wife’s movie together!]
[And he didn’t even wear a mask!]
[Comrades, what we’re shipping isn’t a taboo relationship – it’s TRUE LOVE aaaaaah]
[Come on, Mr. Jin, admit it – were you secretly hoping we’d dig you out all along? /bubble/]
The operations girl clutched her phone, trying to steer the conversation back:
[It’s not necessarily Ying Yin, you know…]
The group’s tech-savvy member immediately replied:
[Hold on, let me overlay the images for comparison!]
As the entire group eagerly awaited the overlaid image comparison, the faint blue light of the aquarium filtered through the acrylic walls, casting a pale glow onto the bed at the center of the room. The white sheets rose and fell with the contours of human bodies; in the stillness, only the even, gentle rhythm of breathing could be heard. If viewed from a slightly higher angle – say, from the vantage point where the whale shark was hovering at that very moment – they looked like two plants growing side by side on a lone white island.
But then again, as a marine creature, Ray had never seen land plants. Perhaps, then, they were more like two converging ocean currents? Before being hurt by humans, rescued, hurt again, and rescued once more, it had migrated across the globe – through warm seas and cold, through waters rich with krill and waters barren except for seaweed and oil rigs. It had seen countless currents, yet it could not think of any that could serve as a metaphor for them.
A little shark’s brain just wasn’t up to the task.
As for staying overnight in the underwater view suite, in Ying Yin’s eyes, it seemed more like one of Shang Shao’s whims.
The cable repair work had been completed right on schedule – by the third day. But when they rode back that afternoon, Ying Yin hadn’t noticed any signs of excavation along the way. After getting out of the car, they passed through the palatial living room, turned right down the long hallway, and Shang Shao took her hand, leading her down the spiral staircase by the side door.
Another dim, pale blue enclosed corridor stretched ahead. When they pushed open the door at the end, the blue seawater pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Ying Yin gasped softly, clasped her hands together beneath her chin, and forgot to blink. “There’s a room here?”
She had never known. Though she had stayed here many times before, she had never once ventured into this particular wing of the aquarium on her own. She vaguely recalled that there was a “big friend” here that Shang Shao had wanted to introduce her to – but that had been interrupted, and so she had simply waited, waiting for a proper introduction.
Shang Shao wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. “This used to be part of the aquarium.”
“I know. I came here as a child.”
“As a child?” Shang Shao sounded surprised.
“When I was very little, my mother brought me. I’d forgotten. Last time I went home, she showed me the photos.”
This place had originally been the city-run public Marine Science Museum. During winter and summer breaks, it would host throngs of primary and secondary school students from Pingning and its neighboring cities, who came in organized school groups to tour, study, and learn about marine life. Later, it passed through various hands until it ended up with the GC Group. Eventually, the facilities and transportation could no longer keep up with commercial demands, so Chen Youhan relocated the aquarium to a new site in the city center, and sold this plot of land – along with its buildings – to Shang Shao at a friendly price.
Shang Shao loved this place. Nestled between mountains and facing the sea, surrounded by lush greenery, even the cliffs possessed a sweeping beauty. The space itself had a certain aura. Settling here was by no means a compromise for him.
Shang Shao laughed. “You could forget that? How old were you then?”
“Mm…” Ying Yin thought for a moment. “Three or four? Maybe five or six.”
“Were you adorable?”
Ying Yin bit her lip, a little embarrassed. “When I was little, my mother would carry me along Jiangbin Road, and people would pinch my cheeks all the way from one end to the other.”
Lin Cunkang had arranged everything, making sure the sheets were stretched taut and pristine white. Though no one usually stayed here, the servants still cleaned daily, and the air carried a faint, clean fragrance that complemented the pale blue light.
In the ethereal, deep-sea vista, a massive fish shadow drifted slowly from afar. Catching sight of the embracing figures before the transparent wall, it gave a gentle flick of its tail and hovered in place, like a ship anchored among the stars.
Ying Yin froze, momentarily speechless. She didn’t have a fear of large creatures, but as its eyes seemed to study her, she held her breath, as if afraid to disturb it.
“Her name is Ray. She’s a little girl,” Shang Shao said. “The friend I wanted to introduce you to.”
The colossal creature before them was over ten meters long, its back dotted with white spots like scattered stars. As it glided through the deep blue water, it moved in utter silence, stirring only the faintest, tiniest ripples.
“She’s beautiful,” Ying Yin said sincerely.
“The truth is, you just can’t see it – she’s been through a lot of injuries. Look, half of her tail fin is gone,” Shang Shao pointed for her to see. “And that pectoral fin over there, the scars on her back… Of course,” he smiled slightly, “you’re absolutely right – despite all the wounds that others can’t see, our Ray is still a pretty little girl.”
“So… because she was injured, she got eliminated by the aquarium?” Ying Yin asked innocently.
Shang Shao chuckled. “No aquarium in the world would willingly get rid of a whale shark.”
Ying Yin pressed her fingertips to her lips, as if swallowing back something she was about to say. After a moment, she whispered, “Are you illegally keeping a protected animal?”
Shang Shao laughed even more. “How could that be?”
It wasn’t until after they had washed up, bathed, and lay down on the bed that he told the story. “I’ve always had partnerships with various aquatic wildlife conservation centers. Ray was rescued by me in the Seychelles – she was barely hanging on at the time. She was cared for by a wild rescue center for a while. I only found out later that she had been illegally subleased to an aquarium facility in China, where the keeping conditions were substandard.”
Regarding the trade of aquatic wildlife, CITES – the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora – was supposed to be strictly observed. But clearly, large pelagic marine creatures like orcas, whale sharks, and belugas could fetch prices up to a hundred million. In the face of such enormous profits, there would always be those willing to take risks. Poaching, gray-market clauses, using rescue center permits to disguise illegal subleasing – such practices persisted despite repeated bans.
He turned his gaze toward Ray. “The original plan was to release her back into the ocean. But she had already developed a reliance on humans – releasing her would actually be dangerous, because whenever she sees signs of human activity – say, an illegal fishing vessel – she might even swim toward it on her own.”
He had spent a great deal of time registering companies, obtaining permits, negotiating with IUCN, and pressing – even applying pressure on – that domestic aquarium. He had built new facilities, met all of IUCN’s strict requirements for whale shark keeping conditions, and finally brought Ray back to Hong Kong.
As for why she ended up on the Central skyline – perhaps it was the thought that if a whale shark could appear at 463 meters above ground, then surely other interesting miracles could happen in this world too.
Though it wasn’t truly at the bottom of the ocean, the single floor-to-ceiling window -pressed so deeply by the seawater – still gave one the illusion of sleeping beneath the sea. Ying Yin even felt she could hear the low, humming sound of water, much like the muffled pressure in one’s ears while diving.
Ray was truly a migratory creature. She swam in endless cycles, and every time she passed by the window, she would slow down a little. Sometimes she would turn upward, showing Ying Yin her white belly.
Ying Yin had a rather peculiar streak of curiosity. “Whale sharks are so expensive – can those big aquariums breed them themselves and make them have babies? And if they do, who do the babies belong to?”
Shang Shao was caught between laughter and exasperation at her question. “Actually, scientists still aren’t even sure whether whale sharks are oviparous or viviparous. Artificial breeding is pure fantasy.”
“Really? But isn’t it… a fish? How can a fish be viviparous?”
“There are viviparous fish too – like moonfish, for example, or guppies. Whale sharks migrate year-round, making it very difficult for humans to track their movements. There’s plenty of research, of course, but no definitive conclusions have been reached. To humanity, it remains a mysterious friend.”
Ying Yin listened, then turned her face to look at Sang Shao, a little dazed.
Shang Shao met her gaze. “Why are you looking at me?”
“You really love the sea.”
Shang Shao curved his lips and drew her into his arms, resting her head against his chest.
Every year, he would spend tens of millions supporting the protection of marine ecosystems.
“The most breathtaking time was near the Arctic Circle. We encountered a Japanese whaling ship and rescued a blue whale from them.”
His wording was casually offhand. “Encountered” hardly did justice to the tension of that moment – or the bright red blood of the struggling whale staining the blue ocean.
“Why?” Ying Yin asked, her gaze steady. “You originally wanted to sail around the world.”
The deep blue – like the dawn he had seen in the Arctic that time – shrouded his lowered eyelids.
“Since I can no longer find freedom through it, then I’ll protect its freedom instead.”
“I don’t regret it.”
“I’m ready.”
For some reason, images of jacaranda flowers flashed through Ying Yin’s mind. The heat behind her eyes came so quickly that she had to press her lips firmly together.
Her eyes, misted over, looked especially bright under that light – carrying a stubborn, clear luminosity.
Shang Shao smiled and kissed her forehead. “What’s wrong? Suddenly looking so moved?”
Ying Yin pouted, let out a deliberately delicate whimper, and said with exaggerated flourish, “Nothing. To Ray, Leo is like the moon reflected on the sea, like the snow on Arctic glaciers.”
Shang Shao did not catch the deeper meaning in her words. Instead, he covered her eyes with his palm.
So Ying Yin did not see the way he smiled with lips pressed together – a rare, somewhat embarrassed smile, but one that clearly came from the heart. If Wen Youyi had seen it, she would have said it had been a long time – the last time she recalled seeing it was when Ah-Shao was a child riding on Black’s back.
“It’s not that grand. Just a small effort on my part.” He composed his expression.
“Like the umbrella you gave me that day.”
That umbrella, once opened, had since let a stream of moments flow beneath it – one after another, filling her life.
The moon in the sky. The snow on the mountain peak.
They slept in the ocean-view suite that night. When Ying Yin woke early the next morning, she was the only one in the bed.
She washed up briefly, threw on the men’s shirt she had worn over the night before, stood by the viewing window to play with Ray for a while, then made her way up the circular staircase on the other side.
The fragrance of flowers was rich and light, filling her newly awakened senses.
She was not without intuition.
That was why her steps grew slower, lighter; why her palms grew sweatier, until they left damp marks on the handrail.
Her heartbeat, however, grew faster and faster.
Ying Yin stopped. The edges of her pupils blurred, as if she couldn’t quite grasp what was about to happen. She stood there, her gaze hollow, then suddenly turned and hurried back a few steps, as if to flee.
Then her steps stopped again.
Why run? Because the sensation of being struck by fate was so overwhelmingly strong that she felt she could barely bear the joy – so strong that she suddenly seemed to forget how to breathe, as if holding her breath deep under the sea.
But yes – she should run.
She should run faster, straight into his life.
Ying Yin spun around sharply and dashed barefoot up the spiral staircase, fast and determined. At the same time, the oxygen came alive around her.
She was smiling.
When she reached the last step, she bounded up lightly, the hem of the shirt settling softly with her movement.
Before her eyes were flowers everywhere – some she could name, some she could not. Perhaps there were hydrangeas, perhaps Kenyan roses of one kind or another, perhaps spider flowers, whose language of flowers was said to be “pure love,” perhaps evening primrose, betony, and flying leaf grass.
But she recognized none of them.
The only flower Ying Yin did recognize was that pink one – its dark green stems upright and unbranched, carrying a crisp, unyielding pride, the pink blossoms full and plump. It was the first flower she had ever received in her life, in the front courtyard of a hotel in Germany, with Christmas Eve approaching and the air thick with the scent of snow and wind.
Shang Shao had taught her its name: Swedish Queen. Delicate, but it never droops. Just like her.
Such delicate flowers filled the forty-meter-wide whale shark pavilion, forming a beautiful sea of blossoms, without a single wilted petal, fallen bloom, or trace of decay.
Shang Shao stood at the very center of this floral mirror. Light pierced through the deep blue ripples of water, forming dreamlike Tyndall beams.
Ying Yin let out a chuckle. “That’s not fair.”
Shang Shao’s lips curved, though he asked knowingly, “What isn’t?”
“You’ve changed into your suit and tied your tie, but you didn’t give me any notice.”
He stood there in his formal wear, his Windsor knot impeccably full and neat, dressed with the utmost dignity and gentlemanly grace.
He tilted his face down slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting, his gaze tender and teasing. “But Miss Ying, there are no cameras here. This isn’t a reality show. All you have to do is be yourself.”
Tears streamed down Ying Yin’s face for no apparent reason, but her smile was radiant.
She clasped her hands together in front of her, her lips pressed into a smile that lifted high at the corners – like a little girl, standing safely in her own space, waiting for him to enter with due solemnity.
Shang Shao held her gaze as he walked to her side. His hand, elegant as a jade fan rib, took hers.
It turned out that along the layered floral path, there were also small white Roman pillars displaying various items.
At the first one lay a green velvet folder.
“Take a look.”
Ying Yin picked it up and opened it. It was written in both English and French. She read for a long while, her brow – previously relaxed – furrowing in surprise. Then she looked up at Shang Shao.
“This is a diamond mine in the Kingdom of Lesotho. You love gemstones – I know that. I want to give you every rare and beautiful jewel in the world, for you to play with like gashapon. But now that you have your own diamond mine, whenever you’re unhappy, you can give yourself a gashapon. You can be a little girl who loves playing gashapon for the rest of your life.”
Ying Yin laughed and cried at the same time. “Other people give diamond rings – you give a mine? That’s not pretty at all!”
Even so, she clutched the dark green contract tightly to her chest.
“Mmm,” Shang Shao seemed to find it absurd himself, and chuckled. “I suppose I can’t just leave it at that.”
He held Ying Yin’s hand firmly and led her through the paths between the roses to the second waist-high Roman pillar.
There, too, lay a piece of dark green velvet cloth, covering what was beneath.
“Why don’t you open it yourself?” Shang Shao lifted his gaze slightly, encouraging her.
Ying Yin lifted the velvet cloth to reveal a glass house, a winding golden river, and twelve exquisitely carved little figurines.
Those figurines were incredibly detailed. Some crouched by the riverbank, gazing into the distance; some sat on the corner of a rooftop, holding a silver assassin’s blade in hand; one wore a qipao with a fur stole draped over her shoulders, her curly hair light and airy; another wore a leather jacket and tight pants, half-finger gloves, and the holster on her thigh was rendered with meticulous precision.
Ying Yin stood there, her arms still clutching the mining contract, momentarily stunned.
These were all her film characters – one for each year, twelve in total, arranged in a scattered procession along the golden river, beginning with Floating Flowers and ending with Justice Prevails. But the river did not reach its end – it still had a long stretch of bank ahead, waiting for new figures to take their places.
“Xiao Cai, Li Meijian, Ah-Rou, Yin Yi…” Ying Yin crouched down, poking at them with her fingertips, identifying each one one by one.
Her breath puffed against the glass cover, leaving a thin layer of mist.
She pressed her eyes so close to it, like a child seeing a music box in a shopping mall for the first time – delighted, awestruck, captivated, unable to look away.
Shang Shao gently released the mechanism on the side.
The music box began to play. The golden river started to flow. The twelve beautiful figurines came to life, each performing their signature moves.
She had acted in many bad films, but these twelve were the roles she had put her heart into the most.
Shang Shao had watched all of her movies.
“The river has no end. As long as you want it to, it can keep flowing forever.”
Ying Yin had never known that such a complex, exquisite, and breathtaking music box could exist in this world. She had never known that gold could be carved so lifelike. Nor had she known that the little dolls frozen inside a music box could do so much more than just smile and spin in endless repetition – that they could live so many different lives.
She blinked, and the tears clinging to her lashes fell.
“This seems more like a birthday gift,” she said, feigning dissatisfaction even as she was clearly overjoyed, saying delightfully contrary things just for the sake of it.
“Mmm,” Sang Shao nodded, as if just realizing it. Suppressing a smile, he said thoughtfully, “It seems even that isn’t enough.”
Then what would be enough?
Ying Yin crouched down, arms wrapped around her knees, her small face tilted upward as she watched him lower himself beside her.
He went down on one knee.
The jewelry box appeared as if by magic.
The ring inside was radiant and unlike any diamond ring she had ever seen.
It was an openwork carving – vines entwined, petals curling open, with gaps where the metal was as thin as cicada wings, yet fully pave-set with tiny diamonds. Cradled at the center, of course –
A large pink diamond, perfectly proportioned.
This was from a high jewelry brand rarely seen by the general public, with a waiting period of over six months. Since only the most distinguished clients could place orders, it was likely that only the most distinguished of them all could bypass the tedious procedures and the leisurely tempo of the artisans, bringing it to life through endless days and nights of meticulous work under the stars and moon.
“Ying Yin.”
Shang Shao drew an almost imperceptible breath.
Still, he could not steady his heartbeat or his emotions. Why was he so nervous? More breathless than when he had first stood on an international summit forum to speak.
He paused briefly, then lifted his eyes. In his Eastern features, his gaze was profoundly deep.
“If the two gifts just now – diamond, gold – are not enough to move you, then here is something else: a heart of true worth, though it weighs little. It may not be as hard as diamond, nor as precious as gold, but… it beats for you, forever.”
His gaze rested on her face.
“Ying Yin, give me your lifetime. Be my moon that never sets – will you?”
“Marry me.”
![Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration]](https://i2.wp.com/lazygirltranslations.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/65f44bbaf6c5968b008249902dc4ddcf5823.png?resize=151,215 "Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration]")
