When the master had the auspicious dates for the marriage registration and wedding prepared and sent over, When Snow Melts It Turns Green had also completed all of its content and technical production.
The person who delivered the letter was the master’s eldest disciple. The master had not left his home for ten years, so whenever there was an important matter to attend to, his eldest disciple handled the social obligations and dealings on his behalf.
Wen Youyi opened the fragrant gambiered silk envelope. Inside was a sheet of letter paper, covered in tiny characters written vertically. The master had compared Ying Yin and Shang Shao’s bazi, and selected three possible dates each for registering their marriage and holding the wedding. He had also noted the auspicious times and taboos for matters both large and small relating to the wedding.
Although the master never left his home, he was nevertheless aware of which family was Hong Kong Island’s foremost wealthy clan, as well as how its heir had once caused a sensation by publicly announcing his relationship with his new love. Therefore, just as Shang Shao had predicted, the letter was filled mostly with auspicious words. It spoke of how well matched and happily destined the two were; even where there were minor clashes in their compatibility, they were described as nothing more than insignificant flaws.
Wen Youyi read the letter carefully from beginning to end and understood everything at once. She gave the disciple who had delivered it a very generous red envelope as a travel gratuity.
When Shang Qingye returned home that evening, she handed him the calendar on which she had circled several dates in red and discussed it with him.
To register a marriage in Hong Kong, the couple first had to make an appointment and submit a Notice of Intended Marriage. They could then choose to hold the ceremony at a marriage registry or at another venue, provided that the ceremony took place within three months.
Shang Qingye lowered his eyes and gave the calendar a glance. “They’ve already exchanged rings abroad. Let them decide the registration date themselves. As for the wedding, we’ll discuss it once they come home.”
Shang Shao was the eldest son, the carefully groomed heir, and a shareholder in the group. His wedding to Ying Yin would inevitably attract enormous attention, from the overall ceremony arrangements to the wedding banquet and even the wedding sweets. Therefore, strictly speaking, this wedding did not belong solely to him and his new bride. It belonged to the Shang family, and had to be planned with the utmost care.
Wen Youyi made a phone call and read the three possible registration dates to Shang Shao: one in late October, one in early November, and one in mid-December. Unexpectedly, after hearing one of them, Shang Shao let out an involuntary, quiet laugh.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing,” Shang Shao replied. “I’ll get back to you later.”
After finishing her skincare routine, Ying Yin returned to the bedroom and found Shang Shao sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed. She walked over, and he took both her hands in his.
“They’ve worked out the date for the registration.”
“So soon?”
“Soon?” The corner of Shang Shao’s lips curved up, his tone carrying a deeper meaning. “What, do you still need some time to think it over?”
Ying Yin immediately shook her head.
“You should think it over. Marrying me at twenty-nine – if you feel like you’re getting the short end of the stick…”
For the first time, Shang Shao didn’t get to finish what he was saying – Ying Yin sealed his lips with a kiss.
She had just finished her skincare routine, and her skin was soft and fragrant, with the smooth, delicate texture of powdery cream. Shang Shao was momentarily stunned by the sudden kiss. When he recovered, he laughed under his breath as he turned the tables and wrapped an arm around her waist.
When the kiss was over, he pinched the tip of her nose, his voice dropping. “Who gave you the nerve, hmm?”
Although Ying Yin’s face was bright red, she answered rather smugly, “My period.”
With that as her get-out-of-jail-free card, she really was being completely fearless in teasing him. Shang Shao could only pin her down until she behaved herself, his voice roughened with the desire she had provoked. “Stop messing around. Let’s talk about something serious.”
With both her hands and feet restrained by him, Ying Yin had no choice but to nod obediently and listen as he told her the three dates Wen Youyi had chosen.
“November 5th?” She froze, then looked up at him and burst out laughing. “Really? That’s the date the master came up with?”
“Mm.”
November 5th was the day after they had signed their contract – and also the date on which it was due to expire that year.
Since heaven itself had provided such a coincidence, naturally they had to go along with its will. Shang Shao therefore called one of the marriage registries in Hong Kong and made an appointment to submit their Notice of Intended Marriage.
The appointment hotline operated twenty-four hours a day. Even in the middle of the night, the operator’s voice was not particularly sluggish. In a professional, businesslike manner, she recorded his appointment and informed him of the relevant requirements and the documents they would need to bring.
On November 5th, after the Notice of Intended Marriage had been publicly displayed for fifteen days without objection, the two officially registered their marriage. A small, low-key, and simple ceremony was also held on the spot.
Several members of the Shang family were present, along with Ying Fan and Ke Yu. Ying Yin had also invited Li Shan, Junyi, and Tiwen.
The ceremony was very brief. The witnesses for both sides sat on the right, the newlyweds on the left, while their family and friends sat below the platform. Wanting to look suitably dressed for the occasion, Junyi had splurged on a very respectable Western-style dress and sat beside Tiwen, the only person there she really knew. Everyone here was a big man, and as a humble little assistant among them, she couldn’t help feeling somewhat restrained.
After the registrar delivered the customary opening remarks, the couple each recited a vow of fidelity before exchanging rings in the presence of their family and friends.
Wen Youyi had hired a professional photographer, while Lin Cunkang was also documenting the occasion with a Leica camera. As he passed Junyi, he gave her shoulder a pat, as though telling her not to be nervous.
They were still using the pair of rings Ying Yin had bought. Afterward, the witnesses from both sides, along with the bride and groom, signed their names on the marriage certificate, and with that, the ceremony was complete.
Ying Yin felt as though she had not written anything by hand in a very long time. As she signed her name, she worried that the ink might not flow smoothly, or that her wrist had grown unaccustomed to writing. Afterward, she silently compared the two signatures for a long time, wondering which one looked better – this one, or the one she had written on that hundred-million-yuan contract.
As she signed, her left hand remained clasped with Shang Shao’s. With no spare hand to hold the paper in place, Shang Shao pressed it down for her.
“Congratulations. You are now legally married and protected by law as husband and wife.” The registrar handed one copy of the legal marriage certificate to them and retained the other for the official records. “My blessings to you both.”
The words “protected by law” sounded so solemn and beautiful that Ying Yin suddenly felt her nose sting. Rising onto her tiptoes, she instinctively wrapped her arms around Shang Shao’s neck.
This drew a burst of warm laughter from the people below the platform. A moment later, as if by unspoken agreement, everyone began applauding.
Shang Shao laughed as well. In front of everyone, he held her tightly in return, his lips brushing a kiss against the curve of her ear.
Mingbao was such a hopeless romantic – how could she possibly handle a scene like this? Her eyes had long since turned red, and tears clung to her eyelashes, trembling on the verge of falling.
She had been born with a heart condition and had always worried that she might die before she ever got married. So, ever since she was little, she had been obsessed with playing dress-up as a bride, treating Wen Youyi’s beautiful dresses as wedding gowns, her tiny body almost swallowed up by the skirts. Wen Youyi and the household staff would search everywhere for her when it was time to eat, only to eventually pull her out from beneath layers of colorful tulle.
Although she underwent surgery at eighteen and her heart condition was cured, Mingbao was still a complete romantic when it came to marriage. Her boyfriend, Feiran, had yet to formally meet her family, so he was not present for an occasion like this. With no one to hold her hand, Mingbao suddenly felt as though her palm was strangely empty.
To distract herself, she could only turn to teasing Shang Mingxian. “When are we going to get to drink at your wedding?”
Shang Mingxian smacked her hand. “Go pester your second sister instead.”
“She only loves doing experiments. I’m afraid she’ll end up treating my future brother-in-law as one of her experiments.”
Shang Mingxian suppressed a laugh. “You’ve got some nerve. I’ll pass that on to her for you.”
…
After the ceremony, Shang Qingye invited everyone to move on to Deep Water Bay for lunch.
Li Shan was something of a prominent figure himself, but the moment he stepped out of the car, even he was struck by the sheer grandeur of the place. He found it a little difficult to imagine what considerations had led Ying Yin to take on When Snow Melts It Turns Green. During a lull in the meal, since most of those present were involved in the film industry, the conversation naturally turned to movies.
“I wonder when Yinyin’s new film will be released?” Wen Youyi asked with concern.
“Production has already been completed. We’re currently waiting for the screening permit and technical review here in Hong Kong,” Li Shan replied.
“Why Hong Kong?” Wen Youyi asked curiously. “Was the film registered as a project in Hong Kong?”
“Yes,” Tiwen answered on their behalf. “It was registered in Hong Kong. I’m the producer.”
Mingbao immediately started making a fuss. “Oh, Tina! So you’ve been secretly doing something this big behind my back!”
Wen Youyi nodded thoughtfully, then asked a crucial question. “So will it be released in mainland China? If you want to screen it there, you’ll still need a mainland screening permit, won’t you?”
She was merely curious, but the table fell silent for a second. No one answered. In the end, Tiwen tightened her grip on her chopsticks and hurriedly said, “Yes, of course. That’s being processed simultaneously as well.”
Wen Youyi herself didn’t seem to notice anything, but Shang Qingye glanced at Tiwen.
He had spent years in a position of power and rarely showed much emotion, yet seemed to see through everything with perfect clarity. Tiwen had been afraid of him since childhood, and the moment he looked at her, she nearly felt like dropping to her knees and confessing everything.
Wen Youyi smiled. “Then does that mean Hong Kong will be among the first places where the film is released?” She let out an innocent little sigh. “That’s perfect. When the time comes, we can all go to the cinema together.”
Tiwen: “…”
She was already starting to think about what she wanted engraved on her tombstone.
A string of tinkling sounds suddenly rang out, and everyone turned toward the noise. It turned out that Ying Yin’s wine glass had tipped over and struck the small side plate, spilling red wine across the snow-white tablecloth.
She gave an apologetic smile. A member of the household staff immediately stepped forward. “Young Madam, I’ll get you a fresh set.”
Under the table, Shang Shao took Ying Yin’s hand in his. Only after the staff had finished cleaning everything up did he return the conversation to the earlier topic, answering Wen Youyi in a casual tone.
“It’s an art film, made with awards in mind.”
There was no need to reveal everything all at once. He was simply laying the groundwork, one step at a time.
“Are you aiming for the Oscars?” Mingxian asked.
It was no wonder she sounded somewhat uninformed. For someone who paid little attention to the entertainment industry, when it came to film awards, the Oscars and Cannes were pretty much the only ones that came to mind.
Ying Yin smiled. “That would be difficult. The Oscars have very deep cultural and political barriers, and they’re also more commercially oriented. Art films are better suited to competing at the ‘Big Three’ European festivals – the Berlin, Venice, and Cannes film festivals.”
“Berlin is highly political, though, so it’s probably not the best fit for this film,” Tiwen added. “And we’ve already missed the Berlin festival in February next year. Waiting until the year after would be too late.”
“Actually…” Shang Lu wiped his mouth with a napkin. When everyone’s attention turned toward him, he brought up the idea again. “An Oscar for Best Actress isn’t out of the question. After all, history exists to be made.”
He spoke with casual certainty, in a manner that was unmistakably his.
“I never thought about it.” Ying Yin wasn’t buying what he was selling.
“You can go back and look at the Best Actress winners from the past thirty years. Pay attention to the types and styles of their films, and the roles they played. You’ll find one thing they have in common.”
“What?” Tiwen found herself asking involuntarily.
“They almost all come from films where women are at the center of the story – films told from a female perspective, or built around a woman’s life, experiences, and psychology. And on that foundation, roughly eighty percent of the film’s screen time revolves around her. You have to understand: compared with Best Picture, Best Actress isn’t quite as commercially driven. I think the character of Xueqing has the right qualities for it, and the story itself, along with the perspective from which it explores its ideas, is compelling.”
Since the conversation had already reached this point, Wen Youyi asked, “What kind of story is it?”
“It’s…” Shang Lu had just begun speaking when Ke Yu kicked him under the table.
“Tanya,” Ke Yu said with a relaxed smile, smoothly steering the conversation elsewhere. “Actually, the final story of a film depends on the editing, so even we don’t know exactly what the finished story will be.”
Wen Youyi suddenly had an idea. “Then why don’t we set the wedding date for after the film wins an award? It would be a double celebration.”
“No.” Tiwen, Shang Lu, and Ying Yin all answered in unison.
If the film won an award, it would inevitably mean that it had already premiered at a film festival, by which point thousands of media outlets and industry insiders, both in China and abroad, would have seen it. Although When the Snow Melts, It Turns Green contained no explicit sex scenes, the camera work and choreography created an intensely suggestive and ambiguous atmosphere of desire. If the film’s award win coincided with the wedding, who knew how the gossip accounts and entertainment media would embellish the story?
Wen Youyi was startled by the three of them and asked with a half-smile, “Why?”
Even Ying Fan seemed to sense that something was off. From across the round dining table, she glanced at Ying Yin.
Tiwen, having no choice but to bite the bullet, stammered, “It’s because… it would be too late!”
An idea suddenly struck her.
“Exactly, it’s too late. We’ve already missed Berlin in February, Cannes is in May, and Venice is in August. Brother Shao will definitely want to have the wedding as soon as possible. How could we possibly delay it for that long? Right?”
Shang Shao remained completely composed. With a faint smile, he said to his mother, “Indeed. The sooner we have the wedding, the better.”
That answer clearly pleased Wen Youyi. Working together, the younger generation naturally steered the conversation toward the wedding.
Lunch continued with everyone eating and chatting until well after one in the afternoon. Once the meal was over, some went off to attend to their own business while others stayed behind to chat, all waiting for the more formal family dinner that evening.
Li Shan had taken in everything that had happened over lunch. When he found himself alone with Ying Yin, he sighed. “Looks like you really took a huge risk for this film.”
“Not really.” Ying Yin pressed her lips together. “At the time, I never expected things to go all the way. Whether I took the role of Xueqing or not, I was doing it for myself.”
“Have you ever considered that, given your status now, releasing a character like Xueqing to the public could have a huge impact on the Shang family?”
Ying Yin let out a laugh. “Mr. Li, that doesn’t sound like something you’d worry about. You were the one who said back then that you wouldn’t concern yourself with any of this, and that no one would be allowed to tell you what to do on your set.”
Lishan smiled and shook his head. “I’m not saying this because I’m worried about the Shang family. I’m saying it because I’m worried about you.”
His smile faded as he looked into her eyes.
“You’re the one living within this wealthy, powerful family, and you’re the one living under the public eye. When Snow Melts It Turns Green is an innocent film, but I’m afraid of the power of public opinion.”
Shang Qingye released the hand that had been holding back the Venetian blinds. He withdrew his gaze from the two people in the garden and turned toward Tiwen, whom Uncle Sheng had ushered in.
Tiwen thought, This is bad. This is really, really bad. She forced herself to call him “Uncle,” though her legs were practically trembling beneath her.
Shang Qingye sat down in his leather chair and tapped his cigar against the ashtray. With his eyes lowered, he said, “Sit.”
Tiwen had no choice but to sit down on the sofa.
“Tell me. What exactly is this film about?” he asked bluntly, making no effort to beat around the bush with the younger generation.
Tiwen clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “It’s just a romance film.”
“You don’t need to be so vague with me.” Shang Qingye glanced at her. “Everyone at the table was so tense. Did you really think you could hide it from me, or from Tanya? She simply chose not to say anything.”
Tiwen was momentarily at a loss, unsure whether she should be the one to betray the secret.
“Didn’t your cousin ever teach you not to fight a battle unprepared?” Shang Qingye slipped the cigar between his lips and gave a languid little smile.
Tiwen had no choice but to confess everything.
“It’s a romance film with some fairly mature content. Ying Yin’s character is a prostitute by backstory. She has a terminal illness and doesn’t have much time left, so she decides to go to a remote pastoral village to kill herself. But while she’s there, she meets the male lead, and the two fall in love.”
Once she had finished explaining the plot, she barely dared to breathe before immediately rushing to clarify.
“Her being a prostitute is only part of the character’s backstory. In the film, she exists as a woman – a woman trying desperately to wash herself clean and yearning for love. She isn’t portrayed as a prostitute. Uncle, we’re not making an erotic film, either. When we say it has mature content, we mean only compared with ordinary films. It’s not endless sex scenes or long stretches of nudity. It’s more about the atmosphere…”
Tiwen gestured with her hands. “The atmosphere is done really well, so…”
Shang Qingye neither agreed nor disagreed. Instead, he asked, “If that’s the case, why wasn’t it registered as a project in mainland China?”
“That’s a long story. There were a lot of factors involved. At the time, Li Shan approached Yinyin personally. Opportunities like having a major director create a role specifically for a female actress are incredibly rare. We all thought this was a film with award potential, so I decided to invest in it myself. I became both the producer and the production company representative.”
Tiwen hurried to take the blame upon herself. “It was my fault. I didn’t expect that they would get married.”
In truth, she didn’t think she had done anything wrong even now – for Ying Yin herself, this had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But she also had to acknowledge that people thought differently depending on their position and responsibilities. Naturally, Shang Qingye’s concerns and considerations were very different from theirs.
“How come I never knew you could make a film this cheaply?” Shang Qingye held the cigar between his fingers, his expression half-amused and half-mocking.
Tiwen: “…”
“How much money did A-Shao give you?” Shang Qingye asked directly.
Tiwen’s voice was barely audible, and even her attempt at talking back sounded weak. “Well, that’s a trade secret…”
Shang Qingye nodded. “He was in Xinjiang? Was he there for every scene?”
“No. He stayed outside. The set had to be closed.” She hurried to explain, “Closing the set doesn’t mean the scenes are particularly erotic. It’s just to protect the actors as much as possible, and to make it easier for them to get into character.”
After asking his questions, Shang Qingye fell silent for a long while. His stern face revealed nothing, and there was not even a trace of his thoughts in his deep, dark eyes.
Tiwen couldn’t read him. Then a possibility suddenly occurred to her, and her eyes widened.
“Uncle, you’re not thinking of buying the master footage from me, are you?”
“And then?”
“And then buying it outright and destroying it or something…”
Shang Qingye: “Oh.”
At his casual, almost indifferent smile, Tiwen smacked herself on the mouth.
She knew that for a family as enormously powerful as the Shangs, whether Ying Yin won at Cannes or took home an Oscar was fundamentally insignificant. They didn’t need a female head of the family who was an Oscar-winning actress. What they needed was a female head of the family with a respectable, dignified image, someone steady and untainted by scandal. If Shang Qingye really asked her to sell him the master footage and ordered that it never see the light of day, she simply had neither the authority nor the ability to refuse.
Yet Shang Qingye did not make things difficult for her. He simply let her go back to have some tea.
Before leaving, Tiwen was still uneasy. She gripped the doorframe and looked back.
“Uncle, this is an innocent film. She’s an actress who could make history.”
Shang Qingye interlaced his fingers. “I’ll have the group’s PR department get in touch with you.”
Tiwen was so frightened that tears sprang to her eyes. Feeling aggrieved, she sniffed and said, “I’m not selling it. Otherwise, tell Dad to cut off my trust fund.”
Having thrown out this wonderfully defiant declaration, she fled as fast as she could. So when Shangyu Group’s vice president of public relations, later contacted her to coordinate the entire PR strategy for the film’s release – including the timing, topics, and agenda-setting – her face turned scarlet from embarrassment.
Uncle Sheng came to see her, too.
To Tiwen, seeing Uncle Sheng was practically the same as seeing Shang Qingye. She swallowed hard and asked, “What does Uncle want this time?”
“The Chairman’s idea is that, as a wedding gift to celebrate their marriage, jewelry is unnecessary, cars would be unimaginative, and they already have houses everywhere. So…”
He handed her a card.
“There’s thirty million US dollars here. Do you think that’s enough to help a female actress make history?”
