Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 110

In Ying Yin’s memory, Ying Fan had always been a composed person, rarely ever showing such a flustered and panicked side.

She had come back to her room alone to change clothes. Hearing Ying Fan’s words, she paused for a moment, then bent one leg and sat on the edge of the bed. Her smile still lingering, caught off guard, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong…” Ying Fan gritted her teeth, about to curse, but felt it was a waste of time. She casually wiped her tears and cut straight to the point. “Why did you do something like that?”

Time was tight. With one hand holding her phone and a pink Chanel tote bag tucked under her arm, she tossed in all sorts of things – the heart-protecting, liver-protecting, blood pressure-lowering, and calcium-supplementing pills she usually took, throwing them in haphazardly. In the bedroom, several drawers of the chest were pulled open, and she grabbed a few random changes of underwear. Finally, with practiced ease, she snatched up a Sharp phone.

It was a white flip phone, quite pretty – the one Ying Yin used in middle school, which had cost nearly four thousand back then. Though the screen wasn’t small when flipped open, it could only send and receive texts, make calls, and read e-books.

When Ying Yin made her debut and skyrocketed to fame after just one movie, forums and Weibo were flooded with speculation – either that she had a sugar daddy, or that she had connections. Some even made outrageous claims about her being “offered” to high-ranking officials. How could a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl withstand such an onslaught? She’d often clutch her phone and cry, yet stubborn as she was, even with tear-filled eyes, she’d still use a burner account to argue with people online.

Ying Fan would then confiscate her phone and shove the Sharp into her hands instead. “Play Tetris – you love it.”

Footsteps hurried down the stairs.

Ying Fan walked briskly, nodding briefly to the servant by the door, and asked, “When did I ever teach you to break up someone else’s family? You wouldn’t even look twice at Song Shizhang, a twice-divorced man – and now a mere CEO…”

Ying Yin was completely thrown off by her. “What? What do you mean, break up someone’s family? What CEO?”

“Don’t try to hide it. Haven’t Zhuang Tiwen and Junyi told you yet? Then where are you yourself? Hiding out at some man’s house?” Ying Fan pulled open the Porsche door, tossed the Chanel bag inside like a grocery tote, slammed the door shut with a bang, and stood by the car. “I’m coming to find you right now.”

Ying Yin held her patience, enunciating each word. “Don’t panic. Explain clearly.” She added, “Drive slowly, and focus.”

“Girl, you’re trending. Someone exposed your relationship – calling you a homewrecker, saying you brought your boyfriend onto the set for a paid vacation.” Ying Fan got into the car, turned the ignition, and started the engine. “I’ve sent Junyi to your side. Don’t go online yourself.”

Ying Yin’s heart gave a jolt, mixed with confusion. “Who? Whose home am I supposedly wrecking?”

“Jin Yuanmin – that name sounds old enough to be your father.” Ying Fan’s tone softened slightly.

Though deeply pained, she had calmed down now, a heavy sense of self-reproach weighing on her heart. She had unilaterally deprived Ying Yin of the right to have a father, and had long worried that her daughter might grow up starved for love and seek a father figure. This Jin Yuanmin – online sources said he was forty-seven, a full eighteen years older than her daughter!

Ying Yin: “…”

She roughly understood the gist of it now.

She pressed a hand to her face – the one wearing a pink-diamond engagement ring. After a moment to collect herself, she said, “I’m not a homewrecker. He’s single, never married, and… he just proposed to me.”

Ying Fan had just reversed the car and was about to drive out of the gate when she heard those words and slammed on the brakes.

Thud – her phone flew off the passenger seat.

Ying Yin listened carefully and could tell what had happened. “Maybe you shouldn’t be driving yourself.”

Ying Fan gritted her teeth. “Are you trying to kill me! A proposal!”

Ying Yin had been about to tell her Shang Shao’s true identity, but seeing how worked up she was, she decided against it and said instead, “I’m not going to drag this out with you. I’ll hang up now – drive carefully.”

“Did you say yes or not?” Ying Fan shouted into her earpiece. “Hello? Hello?”

Ying Yin hung up, first called Tiwen back, then opened Weibo.

Never mind that the [Explosive] tag on Weibo isn’t worth much these days – even back when it meant something, Ying Yin’s traffic would have been enough to crash the app. Sure enough, the moment she opened the page, she was hit with four [Explosive] tags at once: #YingYinJinYuanmin#, #YingYinHomewrecker#, #JinYuanmin#, and #FansUnfollowing#.

The remaining trending topics, though not marked [Explosive], were still mostly related to her – #GalaxyAwards#, #Justice Prevails#, #WhenSnowMeltsItTurnsGreen#, #YingYinSuperTopic#, #FanClosure# – all crammed together at the top, chaotic, yet proclaiming in their own messy way that this was her era.

The #KeYu# tag was also climbing rapidly, and within moments, it too heated up to [Explosive].

Zhuang Tiwen was probably coordinating with their PR agents and didn’t pick up, so Ying Yin clicked into the #KeYu# tag first.

Ke Yu’s post was characteristically concise: “She didn’t, and isn’t, a homewrecker.”

He hadn’t posted on Weibo in ages – practically a hermit. Aside from movie promotions, he was essentially retired from the public eye. No wonder his clarification instantly blew up.

The comment section was a battlefield:

[Bro, take my advice – don’t wade into this mess]

[I don’t believe it! Unless you tell me SilverFish CP is real! /shipping it//waving glow sticks/]

[Honestly, a bit disappointed]

[Why aren’t you speaking up for the wronged wife?]

[Pretty gross how you’re all circling the wagons]

[What are you doing? Aren’t you retired? Why jump out now of all times?]

However, thanks to Ke Yu’s strong goodwill with the general public, his solid reputation, and his nationwide recognition, he still managed to bring out a lot of rational voices:

[I trust Xiao Dao’s judgment and character]

[Everyone, let’s calm down. We’re all just spectators. He and Ying Yin have been friends for over a decade – he definitely knows more than we do.]

[The “wronged wife” hasn’t even provided a single piece of photo evidence – why is everyone so quick to believe her? Just because she says she’s the wife, she is?]

[Let the bullets fly for a while]

[Waiting for an official statement]

Ying Yin ran her fingers through her hair, first finding that so-called “wronged wife” statement. She lowered her head, furrowed her brows, and read it over and over again.

A chill ran through her entire body, and she felt a mix of disbelief and bitter amusement.

Someone hated her this much. Hated her enough to stir the muddy waters, to impersonate someone and spread lies.

So easy.

So easy to destroy her reputation – just a few dozen words typed out. The media didn’t need to verify, didn’t need to seek the truth – they scrambled to repost, terrified of falling behind. Whoever posted first won; even a brush with the story was profit; those who didn’t post were fools. And the spectators had no obligation to verify either – they believed whatever they heard, then screenshotted and shared it to a hundred group chats, sighing with regret: “I really can’t figure it out – why would a beautiful girl do something so stupid?”

What kind of water had she been living and breathing in all these years? Looking up, she saw duckweed blocking out the sun, floating debris drifting overhead, swept this way and that by a bamboo rake – fish chasing after it, shrimp chasing after it, churning the pool into shimmering, dreamy chaos. But beneath it all, the water had long gone foul. There was no oxygen left, no light reaching the bottom.

They had devolved into creatures that needed neither oxygen nor eyes, listening to the muffled echoes from the depths, telling themselves that this place was resplendent with color and filled with celestial music – that they would stay here forever.

Ying Yin wiped her face and sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed.

The next second, she answered Zhuang Tiwen’s call.

Zhuang Tiwen got straight to the point. “It’s not about whether we can take down the trending topics anymore – the buzz is too huge. The platform can’t just openly manipulate public opinion in front of everyone. I’ve sent Junyi to stabilize the fan support team. A lot of fans are unfollowing – you need to prepare yourself mentally. The fans are emotionally unstable right now, the arguments are vicious, and the insults are harsh. I’ll send in a wave of bot accounts to clean up the discussion boards, but since this all happened so suddenly and the traffic is massive, right now we can only prioritize quantity over quality.”

Ying Yin hummed in acknowledgment.

Zhuang Tiwen noticed how calm she was and paused. When she spoke again, her pace slowed. “We’ve already used every available measure. The studio statement is drafted too – do you want to take a look?”

Ying Yin nodded, then realized Tiwen couldn’t see her, so she said aloud, “Sure, let me see it.”

Tiwen sent over the text version of the statement. Ying Yin read it word by word. It was masterful PR language – clarifying that Ms. Ying Yin and Mr. Jin Yuanmin had no connection, warning gossip accounts not to fabricate or spread rumors, and stating that evidence had been collected and that legal action would be taken against the so-called “wronged wife” account and several entertainment accounts.

“What I’m thinking is…” Tiwen ventured cautiously, “that video doesn’t actually show your face clearly, and the so-called overlay comparison – once the buzz dies down, we can finesse it with some creative wording. If it’s inconvenient for you two to go public, then don’t.”

She added, “You don’t need to worry about Brother Shao’s identity. Shangyu Group has a hundred ways to protect his privacy, and… if you two do get married in the future, your privacy will be protected too.”

Ying Yin’s fingertips traced the ring.

She understood. Shang Shao’s identity was distinguished and sensitive – it affected Shangyu’s image, reputation, and even its stock price. He couldn’t and wouldn’t be allowed to expose everything about himself under the spotlight – especially alongside a female celebrity with a tarnished reputation.

When it came to actresses marrying into wealthy families, public opinion had never been kind, whether in the mainland, Hong Kong, or Macau. Either the woman was branded a gold digger, or the family was said to have lowered its status. If it were exposed, every little thing – her clothes, her spending, her words, her actions – would become fodder for public scrutiny and gossip.

Having the heir apparent become a topic of casual chatter would be a significant blow to the group’s credibility. Moreover, Shangyu’s core businesses – infrastructure, shipping, mining, energy, and commodity futures – were all closely tied to the nation’s interests.

They desperately needed a steady, reliable spokesperson – not a playboy who dallied with actresses.

Ying Yin took a deep breath, then said lightly, “Mm, okay. Then we’ll wait for the buzz to die down, and I’ll make the announcement then.”

“What announcement?” Tiwen didn’t catch on at first.

“He proposed to me this morning. I said yes.” A soft smile rose on Ying Yin’s face, gentle and light. “When the time comes, I’ll just say I’m married, but that my spouse is a private citizen.”

Tiwen was stunned for a moment, then felt happy for her. “Congratulations, sister-in-law.”

Ying Yin let out a soft “Pfft” and smiled wryly. “I’m not used to that.”

After hanging up, Ying Yin opened WeChat. A lot of people had reached out to her.

Li Shan:「Don’t let it get to you. Hang in there.」

Shen Yu:「Miss Ying, remember to stay offline. If you need anything, I’m here anytime.」

Zhang Chengwan:「You sure know how to keep secrets. Congrats first. Want me to post something?」

Junyi:「Where are you where are you where are you?」

Mai Anyan:「Need any help?」

Ying Yin didn’t reply to anyone. She simply changed her display name to: [Yinyin’s Fine]

Shang Shao had actually learned the full extent of the situation even earlier than Ying Yin.

As soon as he walked out of the whale shark pavilion, he saw Lin Cunkang approaching with a grave expression. On the phone in Lin Cunkang’s hand, the incoming call display showed the secretary of the board of directors of Shang Qingye’s company.

Shang Qingye was a man who kept business and personal matters strictly separate. If it were a family matter, he would have had Uncle Sheng reach out, not the board secretary.

“Did something happen at the company?” Shang Shao took the phone, pausing before sliding to answer, and asked Lin Cunkang with a slight squint.

Lin Cunkang had just gotten off the phone with Zhuang Tiwen two minutes ago. He summarized concisely. “You and Miss Ying are both trending on Weibo.”

Shang Shao raised his hand halfway, cutting off his report, then answered the board secretary’s call. “Secretary Zhou.”

“The chairman is already aware of what’s on the trending topics. His instruction is for you to handle the cleanup.”

“What exactly did he say?” Shang Shao asked.

Secretary Zhou paused on the other end. Facing the crown prince, he relayed with some difficulty. “‘The mess you made yourself, you clean it up yourself.'”

After hanging up, Shang Shao walked back while opening Weibo, and calmly ordered Lin Cunkang. “Go on.”

Lin Cunkang reported methodically, “The last time you went to the movies with Miss Ying, someone took a secret photo and it went viral. You were recognized as Jin Yuanmin, and from there, your relationship with her became a trending topic. To prevent netizens from continuing to ship your CP and digging up your real identity – which would cause unnecessary trouble – we followed Miss Babe’s suggestion at last year’s film festival and put out the story that Jin Yuanmin was married with children. So today, the internet believes that Miss Ying is the third party who broke up someone else’s marriage.”

After laying out the logic and chain of events clearly, Lin Cunkang paused, somewhat regretfully. “Such an accusation is fatal for a young lady.”

As he listened, Shang Shao had already skimmed through the trending topics and clicked into the most popular posts to read them.

“Shangyu doesn’t need to get involved for now. Call the branding and legal departments at Qinde, and have the brand, PR, and media teams all join the meeting. Bring Jin Yuanmin in as well. Also, give me his wife’s phone number – I need to apologize to her personally.”

“His wife posted on Weibo, accusing Miss Ying.” Lin Cunkang recalled this suspicious detail.

“Impossible,” Shang Shao said curtly. “Someone’s muddying the waters. Investigate and file a lawsuit.”

“Then, how do you plan to clear this up?”

The entire platform was buzzing right now – every headline and push notification was about this. It probably wouldn’t be enough to just push the real Jin Yuanmin out there. After all… Shang Shao’s face was already all over the internet. If he wasn’t Jin Yuanmin, then who was he? Even if they appealed to the public to respect a private citizen’s privacy – this was the shadow of a Best Actress’s man. With so much at stake, plenty of paparazzi would dig deeper. And Hong Kong paparazzi had already photographed him from a distance before – if those dots got connected, the consequences would be even more unimaginable.

The only option was to directly tap the highest-level resources and erase his existence from the internet in the most brute-force way possible.

That was certainly doable. Once time passed and the buzz faded, the criticism would naturally subside. But netizens would always remember that Ying Yin had seemingly dated a man with powerful connections. Was he a sugar daddy and she his canary? Was he the ruler and she the tribute? They would spin countless versions of the story, and in every single one, Ying Yin would come out looking tarnished.

Lin Cunkang had already coordinated with Tiwen, but he didn’t really understand the internet – he just instinctively felt that while Tiwen’s approach was effective, it wouldn’t get to the root of the problem.

But compared to the Shangyu Group, temporarily sacrificing an actress who already had a less-than-stellar reputation seemed almost natural.

These thoughts swirled in Lin Cunkang’s mind, but he kept them to himself. When he looked up, he happened to see Shang Shao’s figure come to a stop.

He turned around, a slight smile lifting the corner of his mouth, and said to Lin Cunkang, “Uncle Kang, I proposed successfully.”

Lin Cunkang had been meaning to ask, but had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos. He paused for a moment, then let out a soft breath and smiled. “Though it was expected, congratulations are still in order.”

Shang Shao’s lips curved slightly as he nodded: “She’s my legitimate fiancée now. Even though we’re not married yet… have the group start drafting an announcement.”

Lin Cunkang’s body stiffened. “You’re going public?”

“It’s the only way.”

Only an official marriage required a formal announcement – and that announcement would only need to be addressed to the group’s internal stakeholders, securities regulators, and the market. In other words, such an announcement was legally required and publicly-facing – just not aimed at the entertainment industry.

But at this stage, with them only engaged, having the Shangyu Group issue an announcement felt like making a mountain out of a molehill.

“The chairman probably won’t agree,” Lin Cunkang said carefully, offering a reminder.

“He will,” Shang Shao said, curling his lips slightly as he lowered his gaze. “He left this to me because he wanted me to weigh the options myself.”

It had been a long time since Lin Cunkang had seen this expression on Shang Shao’s face. The war between father and son, waged over the years, had formed a conditioned reflex – whenever Shang Qingye was mentioned, Shang Shao would instinctively frown, brace himself, and grow wary. But at this moment, there was even a trace of relief on Shang Shao’s face… and gratitude, and admiration.

Lin Cunkang stood at the entrance of the aquarium, and a smile spread across his face as well.

He didn’t follow him in, instead watching from the entrance as Shang Shao walked into the deep blue glow of the whale shark pavilion.

Shang Shao’s steps were light. When he reached the middle of the spiral staircase, he paused and looked at Ying Yin, who was sitting on the bed.

His little girl had her head lowered, long hair spilling over her shoulders, obscuring her profile.

The light in the room was dim. Ray had already been hovering by the glass window, keeping her company for quite a while.

Shang Shao descended the stairs, knelt onto the bed with one knee, and pulled her into his arms. “You already know.”

“You know too.”

Shang Shao let out a soft laugh. “With this much buzz, it’s hard not to know. My friends in Hong Kong all reached out to me, asking for a million each.”

Ying Yin let out a helpless laugh. “What’s that about? Last time it was a million – how did you end up being the bookmaker?”

Shang Shao laughed along with her for a moment, then pressed his lips together, studying her. He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Lift your head. Let me see.”

Ying Yin shook her head. “No.”

It was clear from her voice that she was congested – she may not have cried, but emotional stress could have the same effect.

His palm suddenly empty – Shang Shao had taken her phone. The device was warm from her grip, damp with the heat of her palm.

“Confiscated,” he said, tossing it aside.

“Will this affect that Mr. Jin?” Ying Yin brought up the serious matter.

“I’ll apologize to them personally. The group has already made arrangements – don’t worry about it.”

Ying Yin nodded, having nothing more to say. She lifted her eyes – she had indeed cried, her eyelashes still damp.

Her mouth curved into a pout as she barely held back her grievance. “They were so mean to me.”

Shang Shao pulled her into his arms, half laughing, half sighing. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t careful enough, and I shouldn’t have used Jin Yuanmin’s name to walk the red carpet to see you.”

“But I still wanted you to come see me,” Ying Yin said, sounding torn, as if she could truly go back in time and make that choice again.

Shang Shao pursed one corner of his mouth, tilted his face down to look at her, and asked in a light, coaxing tone, “Then what did you feel when you saw me that day, hmm?”

Ying Yin rested against his shoulder, lifted her face slightly, gazed at him for a moment, and leaned in to kiss him.

He kissed her softly, lingeringly, and felt her involuntary trembling gradually subside.

“Do you like Edward’s boat?”

Ying Yin didn’t know why he brought that up, but she nodded. “Mm. Are we going to see him?”

Shang Shao laughed. “I have one even better than his. Do you want to see it?”

Ying Yin stared blankly, blinking.

A superyacht worth over a billion – he had one too?

His warm palm covered her eyes.

Shang Shao kissed her earlobe. “Baby, I’m taking you out to sea. Don’t think about anything. Trust me – by this afternoon, all of this will be settled.”

And indeed, by that afternoon, all of this would be settled – only to evolve into an even more sweeping shock that would overtake everything.

That shock wasn’t set off by the group’s announcement, but by Shang Lu – who had never publicly acknowledged his identity before:

「@YingYin That’s my sister-in-law. Thanks.」