Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 118

Having held high positions for a long time, it becomes rare to have a few friends with whom you can speak the truth, share a drink, and trade jokes.

Ying Yin had never seen Shang Shao interact with his friends, nor did she know what his friends were like or what temperaments they had. After changing her clothes, she spun around in front of Shang Shao and asked, “How do I look?”

She had always loved wearing camisoles, because her collarbones and shoulders were beautiful. But there were really only so many ways to make a camisole evening gown interesting – Ying Yin had nearly exhausted every cut, silhouette, material, and color of camisole dresses. Tonight, she was still wearing a black one, with a little backless detail in the back as a subtle touch of allure. The cut was fitted to her curves, her waist slender, her frame perfectly proportioned.

Shang Shao took her wrist and gave her a careful up-and-down look. “Just right.”

“Just right” meant that this was a dress with very low presence – any prettier, and he’d probably be jealous.

Ying Yin touched the necklace collar around her neck and glanced at herself in the mirror. “Isn’t it too plain?”

Shang Shao said firmly, “No.”

Ying Yin, quite conscious of her image, opened the middle drawer of her jewelry case and picked out a slim gold armlet while asking, “When they see me, won’t they think I don’t look as good as my retouched photos?”

Heaven knew she had never had such an absurd worry before.

Shang Shao chuckled. “Trust me, they’re not even worth you worrying about that.”

He was someone who treated everyone with great care and respect – if he could speak so lightly of them, it showed just how close he really was with this circle of friends.

Ying Yin’s lips curled up in secret. She studied herself in the mirror for a long while, then changed her mind on the spot. “I still think it’s too plain. Let me change into something prettier…”

Before she could finish, Shang Shao caught her wrist and pulled her into his arms. “No.”

Ying Yin was already laughing in his embrace. Shang Shao looked helpless, his lashes lowering slightly. “Doing this on purpose to annoy me?”

“You’re so petty.” Through his shirt, her slender, bamboo-shoot-like fingertips tapped lightly over his heart.

Shang Shao laughed, sighed, and shook his head. “Trust me – the prettier you look, the more you’ll regret it later.”

They were all Hong Kongers, really – it was only because Shang Shao had been so unusually still and inactive that they had to organize a get-together and travel all the way to the mainland to see their “sister-in-law.” The one who put the gathering together was the young heir of an established law firm, about the same age as Shang Shao. He had casually acquired a private winery in the mainland as a side project, and that was where he arranged today’s venue.

It was a long drive, over thirty kilometers, but Shang Shao didn’t have a driver take them – he drove himself in that 1957 Mercedes-Benz 300SL coupe. His wasn’t the more sought-after gullwing version, but the convertible roadster, finished in a classic vintage Benz silver, with a fabric soft top and a cream-colored interior. The car was in excellent condition. He had won it at auction for over seven million euros but had mostly left it parked in the underground garage at Deep Water Bay, rarely driving it. Some time ago, he had it shipped from Hong Kong to the mainland, intending to give it to Ying Yin to replace her mint-green Wuling Hongguang.

His reasoning was perfectly sound. “They’re both toy cars. This one should be sturdier.”

Ying Yin had fallen in love with it the very first time she saw it. She took it for a test drive on the estate’s lawn, driving very cautiously to begin with – but when she heard “over seven million euros,” she slammed the gas pedal instead of the brake and nearly ended up in a double suicide with him right after their wedding.

She counted on her fingers for a long time, until Shang Shao kindly gave her the answer. “At the exchange rate that year, about sixty-something million.”

The fact that Shang Shao chose to take this car out today told Ying Yin everything about his good mood. He offered to let her drive, but she didn’t have the nerve. After getting in, she held the steering wheel with trembling hands for a good while, gently tapped the gas, and coasted less than ten meters before she scrambled out of the car in a fluster and yielded the driver’s seat to him.

Shang Shao sat in the passenger seat, one elbow resting on the window, quietly chuckling to himself for a long time. Only after Ying Yin pleaded with him several times did he reluctantly move over to the driver’s side.

It was already five o’clock, and the summer daylight had just reached the gentle end of its course. He folded down the soft top, turning the car into an open convertible. The sea breeze poured in, carrying the warmth of the setting sun.

They arrived at the winery – a stone villa in the style of a European castle, bathed in the glow of the evening sunset. In front of the house, bougainvillea and pale white wild roses climbed about, giving it a touch of rustic charm. They drove in along the smooth bluestone path from the main gate. A doorman was waiting at the entrance, took the keys Shang Shao tossed over, and went to park the car. Another attendant bowed and guided them inside, greeting them, “Mr. Shang, Mrs. Shang, good evening.”

It was Shang Shao’s first time here, so he wasn’t familiar with the way. He asked the attendant to lead them, and inquired, “Have they arrived?”

No sooner had he spoken than a voice came from the end of the cloister, meeting them head-on. “How would we dare keep you waiting? You’re the only one missing.”

The speaker looked up and saw Ying Yin, let out a “woah,” and said, “Sister-in-law really is a big star – my humble place is truly honored today.”

Shang Shao chuckled lightly and shook his head. He introduced him to Ying Yin, “Alex, a lawyer, from Hong Kong, but he’s been living in Beijing for almost five years.”

Ying Yin studied him. He had a pair of smiling eyes, which were really a disadvantage for his profession, because they made him look amorous and frivolous.

Alex extended his hand. “Sister-in-law, don’t listen to his introduction. I have a proper Chinese name. My surname is Meng, my given name is Bohuan.”

Ying Yin remembered this Alex – he was the one who had started a million-yuan bet in Shang Shao’s circle of friends, and he was Shang Shao’s junior from Cambridge Trinity. Alex came from a family of legal professionals; his grandfather was a highly respected barrister in Hong Kong, and his elders held key positions in the Legislative Council, commanding abundant political and business connections. The law firm bearing the family name had been passed down for two generations and was a golden hallmark of Hong Kong’s legal world.

However, the Shang family and Shangyu Group’s partner law firm was Yongcheng, not the Meng family – likely due to some other considerations. For that reason, despite the gap in family background between him and Shang Shao, Meng Bohuan still carried himself with the same sincerity and ease he’d had during their school days when interacting with Shang Shao.

The villa wound and turned inside, and through the windows along the cloister, the daylight grew later with each passing pane.

They entered the hall, where the cold dishes had already been laid out on the banquet table. At the center of the round table was a lavish arrangement of hydrangeas in varying shades of blue – endless summer hydrangeas.

Though there were sofas in the room, several young men were still standing. Among them, one wearing a black shirt was holding up a bottle of wine. Hearing voices and footsteps, they all turned around. The one in the black shirt, without even greeting them first, laughed and said, “You’re really hard to pin down.”

Shang Shao let out a laugh. “Been busy lately.” He asked directly, “What wine did you bring?”

“1980, Le Pin,” he said, then added, “But it’s not for you – it’s for our sister-in-law.”

This was a top vintage from a legendary Bordeaux estate – one that even at auction was a rare and hard-to-come-by find.

Shang Shao took a cigarette someone handed him but didn’t light it, holding it between his long fingers with a faint, ambiguous smile. “She’s still a young girl – she only drinks sweet sparkling wine and mulled wine.”

Using a hundred-thousand bottle of wine to make mulled wine was a bit of a waste, but upon hearing that, the man handed the bottle to the attendant and asked Ying Yin, “We have sweet sparkling wine too – when would you like the mulled wine? Alex can have someone prepare it.”

Ying Yin felt a little awkward and was about to decline when Shang Shao tightened his grip on her hand slightly, leaned in, and gently asked in a low voice, “After the meal? That wine has heavy tannins – it’s more pleasant to drink after dinner.”

Ying Yin gave a soft “mm” in reply.

The others, probably on purpose, all let out light but audible coughs.

It took Ying Yin a while to sort everyone out. The one in the black shirt was surnamed Qiu – everyone called him Allen, and his Chinese name was Ting’an. His family was in real estate and light industry. Another, shorter one in black-rimmed glasses, was Lee, a well-known architect. There was also a lean, casually languid man in a T-shirt named Lin Weiqi, who worked at a fund in Central.

These four people each came from different backgrounds and pursued different careers. Apart from Qiu Ting’an, who had been Shang Shao’s childhood classmate, the others hadn’t really known who Shang Shao was when they first met him.

“I was tricked onto his boat,” said Lin Weiqi, who also sailed. “I saw a boat owner recruiting crew for a world tour. I took leave from New York, got on board, and after chatting with him for a bit, I thought he seemed like a reliable guy. Who knew that as soon as we passed the Mediterranean, we’d be surrounded by a dozen speedboats and helicopters – damn.”

They’d heard this story dozens of times, and knowing exactly how it ended, they all held back their laughter.

Lin Weiqi looked at Ying Yin and said with great animation, “In that moment, I really thought we were surrounded by Interpol or something – I ran through the whole scenario: gunfights, collisions, explosions, how to prove my innocence in court, how to appeal, how to break out of prison… I thought of everything. And then it turned out his grandfather just wanted him to come home.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a burst of laughter erupted in the dining room.

Ying Yin gripped her knife and fork and collapsed onto the table, laughing.

Shang Shao gave a helpless smile as well. “Don’t laugh – that was when I was twenty-one.”

That had been his most thorough preparation for sailing around the world: a seaworthy ocean-going yacht in good condition, three like-minded and experienced crew members, and a scheme to deceive his family. In the end, he was still found out by Shang Boying.

He obediently came ashore. Shang Boying was waiting for him in a hall at the dock. Shang Shao didn’t say a word. Only when his grandfather questioned him did he calmly reply that his original dream had been to sail solo around the world – hiring three people was already a compromise. Upon hearing that, Shang Boying hurled both his cane and his teacup at him.

Tea leaves and liquid splattered all over Shang Shao. He said nothing, and there was no one else around – only dead silence.

The old man was still haunted by lingering fears, his dreams often troubled by the painful memory of his eldest son’s untimely death – Shang Shao understood that. As his eldest grandson, he had no choice but to cherish his own life for his grandfather’s sake.

“Leo has always looked steady and reliable on the surface,” Qiu Ting’an said slowly, taking a sip of red wine. “In fourth grade, a classmate organized a truant escape during a cricket match and the teacher caught everyone. The ringleader was him. But because he usually seemed so dependable and excellent, the teacher didn’t scold him – instead, she lamented that we had led him astray! Later, when we went to England, boarding school, he skipped class again. While climbing over the iron fence, he turned his head – the streetlight shining bright as day – and I said, damn it, how is it you again?”

The group burst into laughter once more.

“All of us got punished and lectured, but when it came to him, the dorm master said exactly the same thing – Leo, I know they led you astray.” Qiu Ting’an sighed with a laugh and asked Ying Yin, “Tell me, being his classmate – haven’t I been cursed for eight lifetimes?”

Ying Yin was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. She gave a soft “mm,” and Shang Shao pulled her into his arms.

“Who’s cursed, hmm?” He lowered his face, coming very close, kissing the corner of her lips as he asked with a smile, “I never encouraged him – he took the bait willingly.”

Qiu Ting’an crossed his arms and shook his head. “Good thing you don’t do bad things.”

“I never imagined you’d skip class either.” Ying Yin, tired from laughing, caught her breath, pressed her palm to her chest, and tilted her head back to look up at him.

“That’s not called skipping class,” Shang Shao said, elegant and composed. “It’s called proposing amendments and conducting trials on existing rules.”

The atmosphere was good, and they hadn’t seen each other in a long time, so the two bottles of red wine that had been decanted were quickly emptied. Fueled by the alcohol, they all began interrogating Shang Shao and Ying Yin about the details of their relationship. Somehow, it turned into a one-sided game of truth or dare – answer if you could, and if you couldn’t, you drank. With Shang Shao in such a good mood, he actually went along with this ridiculous rule.

“Who liked who first?”

Before Shang Shao could speak, Ying Yin held her wine glass, lowered her lashes, and said, “Me. I liked him first.”

Qiu Ting’an said in mock anguish, “Big star, your eyesight is really terrible. Forget it for this lifetime – just keep your eyes wide open in the next.”

Shang Shao laughed briefly and lazily warned him. “Don’t talk nonsense. We haven’t registered yet. If you talk her out of it, you won’t be able to compensate me.”

“So did sister-in-law pursue you too?”

“It was me who pursued her.” Shang Shao smiled. “She was just being polite to me. Actually, I fell for her at first sight – captivated by her beauty, harboring ill intentions, and laying my traps step by step.”

“My god.” Meng Bohuan said calmly, “I can’t imagine that.”

He and Shang Shao had met during a cycling trip around Cambridge. Every weekend, he would ride a black bicycle along Cambridge’s ancient streets. He would always run into Shang Shao, dressed in English-style shirts, vests, and suits – perfectly coordinated in color and texture, sometimes swapping the vest for a knit sweater. In autumn and winter it was like that; in summer, he’d just wear a shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up.

For three months, Meng Bohuan said nothing. Sometimes, in youthful competitiveness, he would speed past Shang Shao when charging down Trinity Lane. Finally, one day, he encountered him by the River Cam, walking with an older man who seemed like a father figure. Once Shang Shao was alone, Meng Bohuan’s mind went blank and he blurted out: “You don’t look much like your father.”

Shang Shao paused briefly, then smiled and replied, “That was my butler.”

“Don’t you think I was being forward?” Meng Bohuan asked.

“You’d been riding alongside me for six weekends. I figured it was about time.”

Around them, the grass was growing and orioles were singing, the spring breeze carrying news of the season – but Meng Bohuan was frozen in shock. So Shang Shao had noticed him all along. Yet through countless chance encounters, he had never given any sign, not even the slightest flicker of unease when their eyes met.

He had never met anyone more patient or more composed than Shang Shao. Compared to him, Meng Bohuan – just one year his junior – felt like a brash young lad.

Chinese faces at Cambridge had been growing more numerous over the years, but back then they weren’t that many. Meng Bohuan had followed him around, making friends and exploring, and it was a long, long time before he learned Shang Shao’s true identity. He was a bit of a playboy himself, treating romance as an amusing game – so when he finally found out who Shang Shao was, his first thought was: How come there are no women around him?

He had even asked Shang Shao whether his family had already arranged a marriage alliance for him. And now this same man was telling him he had fallen for a woman at first sight and schemed step by step to win her.

Meng Bohuan asked, “Has he ever told you about the fraternity?”

“Mm.” Ying Yin nodded.

“Didn’t you ever suspect he might be gay?” Meng Bohuan asked incredulously.

“…” Ying Yin glanced up at Shang Shao. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because of his eyes.”

“What about his eyes?” he pressed, as if in a courtroom.

“The way he looks at me…” Ying Yin was too easily led; she only realized after saying it that she was blushing.

The way he looked at her was filled with an unmistakable aggressiveness and possessiveness – there was no way he was gay. She knew exactly what a real gay man’s gaze at her looked like – take Shang Lu, for example: rock-solid composure, not a flicker.

Qiu Ting’an asked a question that crossed the line. “Where was the first time?”

Even among close friends, Shang Shao would never discuss such matters. He didn’t answer. After finishing the whiskey in his glass, he tapped his fingers on the table and said, casually yet with weight, “That’s enough.”

After they had finished all six bottles of red wine Qiu Ting’an had brought, the group moved to another room, playing Texas Hold’em while continuing to drink.

Ying Yin didn’t know how to play. After listening to Shang Shao explain the rules, she understood. “So it’s just comparing sizes, bluffing – same as dice.”

Though that was essentially correct, Shang Shao could already foresee a night of losing ahead.

“Texas Hold’em is a game of strategy,” he said seriously, picking up paper and pen. As he calculated odds with examples, he taught Ying Yin. “Raising, folding, or going all in – each move has its calculation.”

His teaching was too patient. Meng Bohuan toyed with his chips and said, “Why don’t you just play together with Ying Yin?”

Qiu Ting’an said, “No way. Every time Le plays, I lose badly. Today, she’s playing – Leo stays out of the game and deals for us.”

Shang Shao smiled, tilted his head slightly, and slowly rolled up his sleeves. “Fine.”

Qiu Ting’an prepared for the worst. “No giving her tips.”

But Ying Yin wasn’t afraid at all – she was full of confidence. “I don’t need him to teach me.”

Shang Shao abandoned the strategy of keeping her rational and calculating while tipsy, and resorted to a last-ditch approach. “You can observe them. If you can’t figure out their hole cards or your own odds, try analyzing their micro-expressions. Or, use your acting skills to bluff them.”

Ying Yin clapped her hands together. “That’s easy!”

Her girlish manner made several of them laugh.

Shang Shao then condescended to act as their dealer. The way he shuffled the cards was languid and practiced – his long fingers cutting, flipping, and raking in chips with effortless grace that was a pleasure to watch.

These few were all seasoned players. Ying Yin, a complete novice, was still rusty, having to silently recite in her head which hand beat which – how could she keep up?

To make matters worse, they deliberately chatted her up between deals and bets.

Lee, the architect who spoke very little, asked, “I want to know what Le is like in a relationship. Where does he take you?”

“Sailing and kayaking,” Ying Yin said earnestly, propping her chin on one hand. “Camping in the forest, listening to the rain.”

Huh – what were her hole cards again? She forgot. She took another look.

The other four: “…”

Their gazes shifted in unison toward Shang Shao.

Ying Yin asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Are all female celebrities this easy to win over?” Qiu Ting’an said casually, amused. “Or is it just the ones I’ve dated that are different? All I remember is them wanting to buy bags twenty-four hours a day.”

“But camping is really fun, and sailing is fun too.” Ying Yin thought of something, her voice trailing off, her gaze dropping to the table.

“What are you avoiding with that look?” Meng Bohuan keenly called her out, letting out a whistle.

Ying Yin: “…”

Her face flushed hot, but fortunately, under the dim ambient lighting, it wasn’t noticeable.

Shang Shao tapped his fingers on the coffee table, warning them. “Don’t bully her.”

His words naturally carried weight – but in this setting, the effect was limited.

After a round of dealing, Meng Bohuan tossed out his chips, glanced at Ying Yin who was clearly still calculating hand sizes, and curled the corner of his mouth. He deliberately asked, “Camping is just camping – don’t you do anything else?”

Ying Yin couldn’t even calculate properly to begin with, and after drinking, her mind ran straight and simple – she was no match for this game. Caught off guard by his teasing, her eyes instinctively turned to Shang Shao for help.

Shang Shao sat lazily, a deck of cards in his hand draped over the back of his chair, his half-lidded eyes sweeping across the table. Though he didn’t know Ying Yin’s hole cards, he gave a slight nod, signaling her to raise.

“Outside help – penalty drink, one cup,” Lee said sharply.

“Since when was that a rule?” Shang Shao asked.

The group stood united. “Now.”

Shang Shao gave a helpless smirk, shook his head in defeat, and downed the whiskey in his glass.

Another round was dealt.

Qiu Ting’an stared at his cards and said with feigned casualness, “We used to joke a lot – that Leo’s HongKong·3 license plate would be pretty good for dating too.”

There was a double meaning in his words, and Ying Yin felt guilty. She let out an “mm” and buried her face in her arms. “I’m not playing anymore – you’re all picking on me.”

A beautiful woman acting spoiled was irresistible. The men coughed and reached for water to cover their awkwardness. Shang Shao smiled, tossed his cards aside, pulled Ying Yin into his arms, and signaled. “Restart. I’ll play.”

Qiu Ting’an took a sip of water and said, “Don’t mind us, sister-in-law – all’s fair in war.”

Now that Shang Shao was joining the game, Meng Bohuan snapped his fingers and called a waiter over to deal.

Only then did the poker game truly begin.

They still played in a relaxed manner, but Ying Yin could tell that once Shang Shao sat down at the table, the others had dropped their joking expressions. The tempo of everything – throwing in chips, flipping cards, folding, making small talk – was fast. With a lady present, no one smoked, but Meng Bohuan fidgeted endlessly with a cigarette holder.

It was really just a game of a few tens of thousands – losing all night wouldn’t matter -but clearly, the appeal of Texas Hold’em wasn’t about the size of the wins or losses.

Ying Yin observed closely. For instance, Lin Weiqi liked to complain, bad-mouth his cards, and sigh; Meng Bohuan was aggressive, often going all in; Qiu Ting’an had a habit – after winning a big pot with a small hand, he would smugly reveal his hole cards to show everyone how small they actually were. But Shang Shao never did – Ying Yin hadn’t seen him show his cards even once, not even when he won the smallest pot in the most unassuming way.

It was hard to resist the urge to show off, especially under the rush of outsmarting skilled players.

Ying Yin had been feeling a bit drowsy from the alcohol, but as she got drawn into the game, she suddenly found it fascinating.

Meng Bohuan noticed her growing more absorbed and chuckled. “Looks like sister-in-law is starting to see the fun in it.”

After playing until they were tired, they took a break, and Qiu Ting’an passed out cigarettes. Shang Shao hadn’t smoked in a long time, but since he had already postponed quitting drinking until after the formal wedding, he didn’t want to dampen the mood and took one. As he lit it, Ying Yin leaned close to his ear. “You’ve taught me another lesson.”

With the cigarette pinched between his fingers, Shang Shao pressed his other palm against her waist, rubbing gently, and asked with a faint smile. “What?”

Ying Yin counted on her fingers, item by item. “Never show anyone your hole cards, because based on those cards, an expert can deduce your decision-making patterns and even your preferences in trade-offs when gambling. Don’t brag when you win, don’t fret when you lose, and never let a loss in the previous hand make you reckless in the next.”

Shang Shao listened quietly. He stubbed out the cigarette after just one drag, pulled her into his lap.

Smoking was nowhere near as important as kissing his wife.

“I want to kiss you.” He pressed his knuckles against her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft lips. “Do you mind?”

Ying Yin didn’t answer. She leaned up and pecked the corner of his mouth.

Shang Shao’s breath deepened.

The others had stepped outside to get some air or take phone calls. Shang Shao glanced at Lee, the only one still in the room. Lee took the hint and left.

Shang Shao wrapped one arm around Ying Yin, the other resting at her waist. After gazing at her for a moment, he kissed her with an aggressive intensity.

The thrill of winning at poker was indeed an aphrodisiac. And she was so clever – such a gifted student.

The tip of his tongue carried only a faint trace of cigarette smoke. His tongue rubbed against hers, and he bit and sucked at her lips.

Lee was on the phone at the door, his voice filtering in. “I’ll come to the entrance to pick you up.”

He took a couple of steps and ran into Meng Bohuan coming back. “Vic’s at the gate -I’m going to get him.”

Ying Yin didn’t know who Vic was, but she noticed that Shang Shao’s kiss had stopped, then he pulled away. His expression hadn’t changed, but his eyes narrowed inexplicably as he studied her carefully in the dim light.

A miscalculation. She was still too beautiful today – especially after drinking.

“What’s wrong?” Ying Yin asked, confused.

“It’s time to go home.”

“Hm?” Ying Yin was even more puzzled. Meng Bohuan had just mentioned saving a bottle of something to open at the end.

“Chen Youhan is here. Do you want to see him?” Shang Shao hooked his fingers around hers.

One finger, two fingers.

He confirmed she was wearing both the engagement ring and the wedding band.

A trap question.

The thought flashed quickly through Ying Yin’s mind. No wonder that English name sounded so familiar – it was Chen Youhan! How was Ning City so dangerous?

She answered “No,” shaking her head very decisively and quickly.

“Guilty conscience?”

Ying Yin: “…”

“Are you drunk?” Shang Shao leaned in to kiss her, tasting the wine and sweetness in her saliva.

“Mm.” Ying Yin hummed through her nose, wrapping both arms around his neck. “I’m drunk. Want to go home. Watch SpongeBob.”

That answer pleased Shang Shao very much.

In the hallway, a voice came from far to near.

“I’ll sit for a bit and then leave – my wife’s still waiting for me at home.”

“Come on, Ye Kai is busier than you these days.”

Caught out, Chen Youhan gave a teasing laugh and smoothly corrected himself. “My mistake – it’s that I have to go home and wait for my wife.”

“Last time we played cards, you said it wasn’t fun without Leo…” Meng Bohuan pushed open the door. “And today he brought Ying Yin…”

The room was already empty.

Meng Bohuan asked, “…Where’d they go?”

Chen Youhan coughed. “Looks like some people aren’t very welcoming to me.”

Under the night sky, the phone left on the roof of the 300sl buzzed and vibrated, then fell with a thud onto the grass.

The car keys had been given to the doorman, who handed them to the front desk receptionist. Meng Bohuan’s hobbyist winery had poor service – the front desk was negligent – and Shang Shao could find neither the car keys nor a driver.

The plan to smuggle his wife home had failed.

Under the moonlight rising to mid-sky, the silver gleam of the Benz looked like something out of a fairy tale – fit for a princess.

Ying Yin was pinned against the car by Shang Shao, both hands clutching the front of his shirt.

One hand rested on the car roof, the other braced against the body, he trapped her in his embrace, kissing her until she was breathless and utterly unable to resist.

The five of them had come out and were standing under the porch at the entrance.

Meng Bohuan, who knew him best, watched with his arms crossed for a long while, then slowly asked, “Come on, which one of us pissed him off?”

The other three all turned to look at Chen Youhan, who had a long history of being the culprit.

“Vic, that’s not cool of you.”

Chen Youhan felt like a pot had fallen from the sky onto his head. He laughed and cursed. “I swear to God, she’s completely innocent – don’t talk nonsense.”

“Surely sister-in-law couldn’t have had a thing for you,” said Lee, the architect, with his reverse-thinking logic.

Qiu Ting’an shot him a glance. “No way. Sister-in-law may have bad eyesight, but she’s not that blind.”

After a round of mutual ribbing, Chen Youhan stuck his hands in his pockets and gave a lazy smile. “Alright, folks, just enjoy the view. This kind of scenery is rare.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the several grown men all pulled out their phones to take pictures.

The sky was dark, but the streetlights were bright as day. In the frame, the silver vintage coupe worth over sixty million yuan stood bathed in moonlight. Though their faces weren’t clearly visible, anyone could tell that he was protecting her to the utmost.

After taking the photos, as if by prior agreement, they all posted them to their moments with the caption:

“Sovereignty is sacred and inviolable.”