Ying Yin had logged into the cover shoot for the April issue of MDA. Normally, the promotional rollout and release of accompanying material wouldn’t begin until March, but Feng Xingxue clearly had no intention of missing out on the traffic surrounding Ying Yin’s wedding.
As early as when they were chatting in the coffee room, Feng Xingxue had already tried to sound her out about the wedding. Since it was going to be made public soon anyway, Ying Yin simply didn’t hide it and admitted frankly, “It really is in March.”
“In that case…” Feng Xingxue mused, rubbing her fingers over the handle of her coffee cup. “Would it be possible to release some of the interview content early, in February, in the form of behind-the-scenes material?”
MDA had always placed great importance on its prestige and style. Proud and discerning, it seemed to look down on everyone else. Celebrities from every camp could fight tooth and nail for a cover and still get nowhere, because MDA only gave its covers to ambassadors of the very top luxury houses, and its standards were strict in every respect. Under Feng Xingxue’s leadership, MDA should, by all rights, have stayed as far away from hype and traffic as possible.
But clearly, that principle had been completely abandoned in Ying Yin’s case.
Fashion bloggers had long since begun recommending haute couture wedding dresses for Ying Yin, editing images to simulate what she would look like wearing designs from the major couture houses, and reaping every possible benefit from the resulting traffic.
Other bloggers, unwilling to be outdone, had made videos about choosing high jewelry for her. They dug up every rare treasure they could find – from museum pieces to one-of-a-kind, almost unheard-of gems – and their videos topped the viewership rankings for days on end.
Entertainment marketing accounts had already combed through the March schedules of all the major film stars and singers, trying to predict the wedding guest list and, of course, the bridal party.
Across major search engines and WeChat, the search indices for #YingYin, #YingYinShangShao, and #YingYinWedding remained consistently high. Compared with the curves for the same period in previous years, the figures had risen by multiples, and judging from the trend, this wave of attention was still nowhere near its peak.
For Musel to offer Ying Yin a cover at a time like this was truly a heaven-sent opportunity. Publicly speaking, it was simply a normal business arrangement between the brand and its advertising department. Privately speaking, Shang Shao was Edward’s friend. Helping boost the wedding of the young heir’s friend – was there anything embarrassing about that? Wasn’t it only right and proper? Feng Xingxue could very openly and unapologetically enjoy the benefits of the publicity.
Ying Yin knew perfectly well what Feng Xingxue was planning. She was more than willing to cooperate and even suggested adding a few more questions to the interview, with the answers included in the clips that would be released early.
The host began asking these questions, which had been added later.
“Everyone is saying that your wedding is just around the corner, and naturally, they’re all very curious about who will be attending. Will you be inviting friends from the industry to witness the occasion?”
Ying Yin politely explained that there would be more than one wedding banquet. After returning to Ning City, she would also hold another reception to thank and celebrate with friends and family.
The host asked again, “Many of your friends in the industry are still single. Would you consider asking them to be your bridesmaids and passing some of your good luck in love on to them?”
Ying Yin laughed. “No. Every single one of them is a committed singleist. They’d rather stay away from men forever, so I can only ask my most hopelessly romantic friend to be my bridesmaid.”
The host raised her eyebrows in surprise. “And who might that be?”
Ying Yin kept them guessing. “You’ll have to wait until the wedding day to find out.”
Feng Xingxue stood by the door with her arms folded, smiling and shaking her head with a sense of amused resignation. It had been a clever move on Ying Yin’s part to use MDA to convey these polite yet subtly meaningful messages. In the end, they were simply giving each other what they wanted.
The interview officially came to an end. Ying Yin stood up, shook hands with the host, and thanked her for her professionalism and hard work.
The host was, in fact, a veteran fashion editor who had written her own column for the Hong Kong edition of MDA for a full ten years. Known for her cool detachment and sharp insight, she had crossed paths with Ying Yin once or twice before through work. Now that the cameras had been moved away, she relaxed somewhat and smiled at Ying Yin.
“You know, you’re very different from how you used to be.”
“In what way?” Ying Yin asked as they walked out together.
“You used to be very… affected. Forgive me – I’m using the word in a neutral sense here. I could see how perfunctory you were being. It was like spring: in a garden, all the flowers competing in beauty, butterflies and bees fluttering everywhere. Yet there was one flower, clearly swaying and flourishing in the breeze, whose heart simply wasn’t in it. Sometimes, when she lowered her head in a moment of melancholy, the men who came to admire the garden would see it – but mistake that sadness for yet another sweet and beautiful part of the scenery.”
Ying Yin paused inwardly, and her steps unconsciously slowed.
The host smiled slightly. “You’re different now. You seem much more at ease. Perhaps you’ve changed from a flower with a hollow stem into one with tough, resilient branches and vines.”
As she spoke, her gaze shifted away from Ying Yin and towards the man standing at the entrance to the studio.
“I hope I’ll get the chance to do another exclusive interview with you.” She stopped walking and headed towards Feng Xingxue, then looked back over her shoulder and added playfully, “Of course, the kind where I don’t get to see the questions in advance.”
The magazine staff were busy wrapping up, and no one had the nerve to disturb them. But with everyone around, Ying Yin still didn’t dare be too bold. When she reached Shang Shao, she merely hooked her finger around his and looked up at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“And that’s my fault?” Shang Shao asked mildly.
Ying Yin hurriedly shook her head.
Shang Shao asked unhurriedly, “If I hadn’t come, how would I have known you’d been going around talking about my tattoo?”
Ying Yin: “…I was wrong. They won’t air it, I promise.” Her gaze swept over the people around them, and she added in an even quieter voice, “Besides, I didn’t say where you got it tattooed… so maybe you can go a little easier on me?”
Shang Shao hadn’t even said he was going to punish her, but since she had practically walked herself into the trap, no man would refuse the opportunity. And he was far too skilled at negotiating. Even after hearing Ying Yin’s words, he remained noncommittal, wearing that same deep, inscrutable expression, with only the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes.
As expected, Ying Yin surrendered even more readily.
“…Then…”
She had only one last bottom line:
“Ray’s place is off-limits.”
…
The Hong Kong newspaper industry had always been fiercely competitive. In its heyday, all kinds of entertainment tabloids had sprung up like mushrooms after the rain, their headlines ranging from sleazy to sensational, or simply inventing eye-searing buzzwords out of thin air. They would stop at nothing to grab readers’ attention. But as the golden age of Hong Kong cinema and the entertainment industry faded into the past, one newspaper after another went under, and those that remained were merely struggling to survive.
#TodayEntertainment# had managed to stay afloat for over thirty years. Although it had never grown particularly large, it had no trouble selling copies throughout the streets and alleys of Hong Kong. And after repeatedly scooping everyone else with its exclusives on the Shang Shao–Ying Yin relationship, morale within the paper had soared. Someone had even boldly declared that from now on, once they left Sham Shui Po, they could swagger down the streets like they owned the place.
Lui Kei, who had snapped the official announcement photos on the yacht, had become famous overnight. Just as he was rubbing his hands together, eager to dig deeper into the upcoming wedding, he was stunned speechless by an unexpected visitor.
A torrential downpour was falling outside. Darkness had come early, and rainwater streamed down the blue glass windows of the old building in patterns like fish scales. The photographer who was slacking off was the first to spot the visitor.
The man carried a black long-handled umbrella. It was still neatly folded, yet neither the canopy nor its tip was wet. The photographer’s gaze travelled from the man’s waistcoat and dress trousers down to his brown monk-strap shoes – and somehow, they too were completely free of rain or even a speck of dust.
Lin Cunkang seemed to notice his scrutiny. He gave him a slight nod in greeting, then looked past him into the old-fashioned, somewhat shabby editorial office and asked politely, “Excuse me, is Lui Kei here?”
Lui Kei had already dealt with Lin Cunkang once at the yacht club marina that day. The moment he saw him, he practically rolled out of his swivel chair.
He was wearing a workwear-style director’s vest, with six pockets – three on each side -stuffed with a fountain pen, a voice recorder, and his press pass. Underneath was a pale green shirt, and on his face sat a pair of thick black-framed glasses. When Lin Cunkang entered, he had been sprawled in his office chair, scrolling through his phone while absent-mindedly picking at the skin on his lips.
The editor-in-chief’s expression turned stern, and she said coldly, “Are you here to give us a tip, or to file a complaint? This is a work area. Please wait in the reception room.”
Lui Kei coughed heavily.
Lin Cunkang, however, remained the picture of good manners. “Mr. Shang asked me to come and inquire whether you might be interested in writing some coverage about his wedding.”
Everyone: “…”
Huh?
Lin Cunkang asked again, but before he could even finish, Lui Kei was already nodding furiously.
“Yes, yes, yes. Absolutely. Yes, yes, yes…”
Only after the two of them had left the editorial office, walking down the corridor towards the reception room under the watchful eyes of a dozen or so staff members, did the editor-in-chief murmur blankly, “Invite them to dinner, chop off their heads, or take them in as your dogs.”
Lui Kei’s heart pounded all the way there. The feeling that he was being recruited into the fold was overwhelmingly strong.
He had originally planned several special report series. For example: a rundown of how many children the wives who had married into Hong Kong and Macau’s wealthy families had given birth to, and what rewards their in-laws had given them in return. Or: the current divorce rates among actresses and celebrities who had married into wealthy families, the situations involving husbands keeping mistresses, and illegitimate children fighting over the family fortune.
These were exactly the kind of topics they excelled at – ingeniously framed, maliciously provocative, and clearly designed to stir up trouble.
Lui Kei had even wanted to do a feature on a Cinderella’s history of class ascension, digging deeply into Ying Fan’s life story and how she had raised her daughter. He had heard that Ying Yin’s parents were divorced, so if he could uncover any evidence of materialistic ambitions or calculated schemes beneath the surface, then his report could practically become the bible of gold-digger strategy.
But all of those plans vanished into thin air the moment he was recruited.
Reporter Lui really wanted to turn around, walk out, and refuse in no uncertain terms.
But… the first release! An exclusive!
It was very hard not to be tempted.
Lin Cunkang sat down in the reception room and politely took a red envelope from the inner pocket of his waistcoat.
“Please wait a moment. My lawyer is still stuck in traffic.”
Lui Kei: “…”
And so, the wedding details and the lawyer’s confidentiality agreement were placed in front of Lui Kei together.
“The wedding will be held on March 25 at the Cape Collinson Qili Hotel, with more than 1,300 guests and over 400 tables. The guests include…” he murmured as he read through the list. When he reached several of the names further down, his eyes widened, and his voice disappeared altogether, leaving only his lips moving silently.
“Am I really allowed to report all of this?” he asked cautiously.
“Yes.”
“Are the Kings and Queens of Pop coming to eat, or are they performing?”
Lin Cunkang laughed. “They’ll be eating, and they’ll also perform to liven things up. It’s purely out of friendship and personal connections.”
“There are hardly any people from the entertainment industry. They’re all huge international names. Did you invite them according to their star status?”
“They’re friends first and members of the entertainment industry second. It just so happens that they’ve been rather successful in their careers,” Lin Cunkang replied smoothly, leaving no opening for him to exploit.
“Will there be a media viewing area on the wedding day?” Lui Kei asked as he folded the papers several times and tucked them into the pocket of his waistcoat.
Lin Cunkang smiled. “Of course not.”
“But reporters have already occupied the entrance to Qili Hotel,” Lui Kei revealed.
“There will be a media photography and filming area in the lobby on the first floor. Once your report has been published, we’ll open an application channel and review the requests. As for the roads outside the hotel, we don’t recommend that you interfere with traffic or disrupt public order. I’m afraid the traffic police won’t simply stand by and do nothing about that.”
Lui Kei thought to himself, Now that’s more like it.
“If you leave nothing out at all, the paparazzi will just make things up. It’s better to leave a little out.” He grinned shamelessly. “Everyone’s gotta make a living, you know? It’s not easy making money!”
“If they make things up, there are ways of dealing with that,” Lin Cunkang said calmly.
He pushed back his chair and stood up, his gaze falling on Lui Kei’s pocket. Before leaving, he gave him one final warning.
“Keep that safe. Otherwise, you can forget about your exclusive.”
Lui Kei immediately slapped a hand over his pocket. “I’ll destroy it as soon as I get back!”
He saw Lin Cunkang to the door, but halfway there, something suddenly occurred to him.
“Those photos of Mr. Shang on Goldfish Street on Christmas Eve the year before last -or was it the year before that? Was that you who took them?”
“Of course it was. Apart from me, there weren’t many people who knew him.” Lui Kei sounded rather proud, having unilaterally decided that he and Shang Shao had a special rapport.
Lin Cunkang then asked him for the footage.
Although Shang Qingye had paid ten million to buy the material and suppress it at the time, the photographs had been so good that Lui Kei hadn’t been able to bring himself to delete them. He had stored them on an encrypted USB drive, which he wore around his neck like a pendant.
He pulled the files up and began transferring them to Uncle Kang, muttering as he did so, “Goldfish Street, Flower Market Street… Mong Kok, Mong Kok. Mong Kok, the lovers’ Mong Kok.”
Lin Cunkang studied the photographs carefully.
Hong Kong at night had an almost cinematic quality to it. Or perhaps it was the atmosphere created by its interplay of light and shadow that gave cinema its quality, with films in turn enhancing the city’s own magic.
Amid the yellow, blue, red, and green lights of the streets and alleyways, Ying Yin wore a khaki-brown suit jacket. She carried a bag full of goldfish in one hand, while the fingers of her other hand were hooked together with Shang Shao’s.
The street was a riot of flowers and color. Illuminated by the shifting lights and shadows, the transparent bags of water in Ying Yin’s hand reflected rippling glimmers of light, while several golden-red arowana fish puffed out their gills and swished their tails.
…
#Today Entertainment# rarely did such serious, respectable reporting. There was no insinuation, no passive-aggressive snark, and no sensationalist buzzwords they had made up themselves. Instead, they had written several perfectly straightforward, proper exclusives.
Lately, they had become obsessed with playing around on the Simplified Chinese internet. There were so many users there that trending topics could easily rack up hundreds of millions of views, which gave them an incredible sense of accomplishment – and the instant feedback was addictive.
Sure enough, the comments were full of people roasting them:
[What happened to you, you little punk? Wake up! This style isn’t you!]
[Go live! Shoot the breeze! Drop some dirt!]
[Oh my God, seriously? I’m crying! You actually got a press pass just to report actual news?!]
[I wanna hear you badmouth them even more. Hurry up, give us some exclusive dirt!]
The newly recruited into the fold #Today Entertainment# endured the humiliation in the comments:
[They’re both lovely people. There’s nothing bad to say. They’re the prince and princess from a fairy tale.]
The replies: […]
Meanwhile, the behind-the-scenes clips from MDA‘s interview were released at the same time.
[KEY POINT: No one from the entertainment industry is being invited. They’ll be holding a separate thank-you reception in Ning City.]
[ADDITIONAL KEY POINT: The bridesmaids are also people from the entertainment industry.]
[Fair enough. At least that saves everyone from fighting over bouquets and ripping each other’s hair out.]
[Obviously they weren’t going to invite them. I don’t know what you people were expecting. To show up just to piggyback on the wedding photos and pose for the cameras?]
[Is no one paying attention to the fact that the official account claimed both the 100 electric heaters and the helicopter? That’s so sweet.]
[She originally only had one heater, but it wasn’t enough, so Mr. Shang could’ve just bought another one. Instead, he arranged them for the entire crew. Was it because he didn’t want people saying Ying Yin was acting like a diva and getting special treatment? Seriously, who else appreciates this kind of thoughtfulness?!]
[If those two ridiculous things are both true, then does that mean it’s probably true that he stayed with the production crew for two months too? Even a big shot like him can become completely lovesick.]
[I’m dying. Dad’s in the office signing documents so furiously he could probably strike sparks, while the heir he painstakingly raised is completely devoted to chasing after his wife.]
[Mr. Shang: Is nobody going to speak up for me?!]
[Yinyin said they scouted more than a dozen locations for the wedding photos, but because Chairman Shao is hopeless at this sort of thing, it became the Waterloo of her entire career in photoshoots. I’m dying.]
Since the wedding date had already been voluntarily revealed, Ying Yin selected three wedding photos, along with that shot of their backs on Flower Market Street, and posted them to her personal Weibo account.
The comments were filled with congratulations:
[They’re so perfect for each other.]
[Mum, the CP I’ve been shipping is actually real /crying/]
[He went with you to buy little goldfish /crying/ This hits me right in the feels.]
[I really love that shot from behind. One is a young heir, the other is a huge movie star, and they’re strolling down an ordinary street, secretly holding hands. Who gets it? Who gets it?]
[Little missy, little missy.]
[You two are unreal. Even your wedding photos have this much atmosphere?]
[It has such a strong sense of humanity and such a cinematic feel – the lighting, the interaction, the setting, the composition. It doesn’t feel commercial at all. It looks like one of those classic film stills.]
[Above, that’s because the person behind the camera wasn’t up to the job. It was later taken by Shang Lu instead, I’m dead.]
[Our Lulu has sacrificed so much for his big brother and sister-in-law.]
[It’s time to revisit that behind-the-scenes footage of Lulu making Xiao Yin cry on set. A timeless classic. I recommend playing it on loop at the wedding!]
[Here’s a little tidbit: When they were scouting locations at a church in France, Shang Lu insisted that France had a certain atmospheric quality, while his big brother said France was too pretentious. The two of them calmly cited sources and argued their cases for half an hour. When they finally came to their senses, they discovered that Ying Yin, still in her wedding dress, had been taking selfies with Ke Yu.]
[HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA]
[And then what? What happened next?!]
[Then the two of them dragged them away separately, both with dark expressions.]
[How am I getting fed Lu-Dao crumbs here too? Hahahahaha.]
[Wait, don’t they avoid giving people the wrong idea?]
[Because the church and the entire estate had been rented out privately. I just happened to have some legitimate business there…]
[Oh, maybe Ke Yu was just there to stretch his legs. At this point, he works for one season and takes three seasons off anyway.]
[I love the Lu-Dao shippers’ split personality – their hearts are setting off fireworks while their faces remain completely calm and unbothered.]
[Other CP fans: “They’re real!”
Lu-Dao fans: “They’re fake. Completely fake. It’s all an act!”]
…
As the wedding day drew closer and closer, a question gradually rose from the depths of Ying Fan’s stomach to her heart, then from her heart to the very back of her throat. She swallowed it down again and again, but when even plain water began to taste bitter, she finally asked.
“Who are you planning to have walk you down the aisle on your wedding day?”
She asked in an offhand tone, holding a clear glass in her hand. As she drank, she lifted her gaze from the rim of the glass.
A pot of clear chicken soup was simmering gently on the stove, its fragrant aroma drifting far with the breeze.
“Isn’t it you?” Ying Yin found the question amusing and didn’t think much of it. She bent down and used a neatly folded dishcloth to lift the lid of the ceramic pot.
She loved the soup Ying Fan made. One bowl was enough to make her stomach feel warm and settled, especially on an afternoon when she was neither particularly hungry nor particularly full.
“Since when does a mother walk her daughter down the aisle?” Ying Fan leaned against the kitchen counter, dressed in a Chanel-style suit that she was particularly fond of. She laughed and rolled her eyes at Ying Yin.
“Why not?” Ying Yin held out a small porcelain bowl and scooped up a spoonful of the clear, shimmering chicken soup. “Why can’t you?”
“Traditionally, a male elder from the bride’s family is supposed to accompany you down the aisle, place your hand in Ah-Shao’s, and show everyone that you have your family standing behind you.” Ying Fan finished speaking slowly, then fell silent.
“But aren’t you my family?” Ying Yin asked. “What, if we have a disagreement later, is it more convenient to have a man come knocking on his door and pick a fight?”
Ying Fan was both annoyed and amused by the way she had derailed the conversation.
Ying Yin laughed too. “What kind of outdated tradition is that? Sometimes I think you’re incredibly clear-headed, and other times I think you’re completely muddled.”
“Then I suppose your mother is a bit of both – half modern, half old-fashioned.” Ying Fan took another sip of water. After a moment of silence, she finally said, “Do you want to ask your father to come back?”
Ying Yin’s movements paused for a moment.
She put the ceramic lid back on, then blew gently over the soup, wafting away the heat before asking casually, “Has he contacted you?”
Her expression didn’t change in the slightest.
In truth, she could barely remember what her father looked like anymore. When she looked through old photographs and came across pictures of him taking her up into the hills and visiting Tin Hau Temple with her as a child, he seemed almost like a stranger. The memories stirred not the slightest ripple in her.
In the photograph, her father was a tall man, crouching beside her with his large hand wrapped around her tiny one. His features had already been dulled somewhat by alcoholism and the hardships of life, but he could still be considered handsome and gentle.
Her strongest memory of her father was from a period in her childhood when she was particularly fond of cart noodles. He would often bring some home for her after work. When the lid was lifted from the plastic bowl, the rich aroma of the sauce would rise up, with six smooth, springy fish balls arranged on top of the noodles. Ying Yin could never finish a bowl by herself, so the two of them would share it.
But it was only cart noodles. No matter how beautiful the evening light in her memory might have been, it was still just a bowl of noodles.
Ying Yin had never asked Ying Fan about the circumstances surrounding their divorce. She had never heard them argue; perhaps they had deliberately kept it from her. There was only one occasion when she woke in the night to the sound of sobbing outside. Terrified, she had felt her way along the wall and gone outside, where she saw the tall man crouching beneath the arcade, crying in the moonlight.
A few days later, the cart noodles she used to receive in the evenings simply disappeared without warning – and never appeared again.
He disappeared so completely that Ying Yin eventually began to wonder whether the tears she had seen that night had even been real. It took experiencing the world and seeing all kinds of men to understand that a man’s tears could be genuine, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. His sorrow had not been enough to overcome his cowardice.
“He never contacted me.” Ying Fan wasn’t lying. “He tried a few times in the past, but I turned him away. After all these years, perhaps he drank himself to death. Perhaps he remarried. Or perhaps he doesn’t even know that the actress who’s so famous in the movies is his daughter. He doesn’t go to the cinema. His only daily indulgence is ordering a couple of dishes at a little pub and drinking two bottles of liquor.”
“Then why should I contact him?” Ying Yin asked blandly.
Ying Fan paused, then softened her tone. “It’s also possible that he sees how well you’re doing and doesn’t dare disturb you.”
The chicken soup had finally cooled enough to drink. Ying Yin took a small sip, lowered her eyes, and smiled.
“Mom, before I became famous, were we really doing well? Did he ever give you a few thousand yuan? Did he ever come looking for me? Even though we moved, it wouldn’t have been difficult to find us if he really wanted to.”
Ying Fan looked at her quietly, without denying it.
“You were the one who told me, when I envied other people for having fathers, not to be weak or naïve. I don’t know what you mean by this today.” Ying Yin lifted her face. Her slender body leaned lightly against the kitchen counter, relaxed and composed from beginning to end, without the slightest trace of resentment or aggression.
“Are you afraid to be the one who walks me into the ceremony?” Ying Yin steadied herself before asking gently.
“I just think that everyone else walks down the aisle holding their father’s hand. You could have had that too, but I took it away from you by force. Now that you’re grown up, you have the right to choose for yourself – what if you want that? What if there’s a regret in your heart, a sense of loss? I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
“That place is for the person who stands beside me and sends me into the next chapter of my happiness. I only want it to be you.”
After hearing her, Ying Fan let out a long sigh, then smiled quietly.
“So now I’m the one who’s weak and naïve.” She set down her glass and looked at the imprint of her palm against the glass. “So this is what it means to grow old.”
…
In early March, Qili Hotel completed the full renovation of its entire fifth floor. The whole space had been opened up, given a fresh coat of paint and new finishes, and adorned with newly painted domed murals. After that, a world-renowned PR company specializing in producing events for the luxury fashion and haute couture world moved in, beginning the grand and painstakingly elaborate preparations.
Charter flights carrying fresh flowers arrived one after another from all over the world, with the flowers measured in tons. Each pale champagne Ecuadorian rose was almost the size of a dinner bowl. Delicate, pristine Star of Bethlehem flowers; graceful pink-and-white peonies, their lavish blooms winding all the way from the entrance to the main stage; the ethereal, elegant lines of calla lilies and Phalaenopsis orchids; and the uniquely fresh fragrance of lily of the valley. Magnolia, yulan magnolia, and pine needles infused the wedding with a sense of steadfast, vigorous life.
Giant crepe-paper poppies bloomed high in the air beneath the crystal chandeliers, their petals as delicate as cicada wings and translucent as the real thing. Craftsmen from a haute couture atelier had travelled a long way to make them on-site. Yet all this elaborate effort was, in the end, merely to provide a backdrop for the media photography and filming on the wedding day.
The venue was already lavish beyond imagination, but compared with the other expenses of this wedding, it was hardly worth mentioning.
Shang Mingxian made one final inspection of the venue. As she walked towards the exit, she switched off the lights one by one. The flowers and sculptures left behind their quiet, hazy silhouettes in the silent hall, as though settling into sleep.
Now Qili, the professional service team of several thousand people, Hong Kong, the entire Chinese-language entertainment industry, the weather, the wind, the scents in the air, the clouds, and the sky itself – all were ready to welcome this wedding.
Inside the [LEO Meltdown Group], hundreds of messages had already been sent.
Mingbao: [I admit it, I’m jealous as hell. Waaah, I want to get married too!]
Mingzhuo: [Babe, I suggest you go to bed early. Otherwise, you’ll be sluggish tomorrow and won’t be able to grab the bouquet.]
Mingbao: […Impossible!]
She was one of the bridesmaids and was staying at the same hotel as Ying Yin tonight. She had to get up early the next morning to accompany Ying Yin while she got ready. Afraid of being lonely, she had dragged Tiwen, another bridesmaid, into bed with her.
After hearing Mingzhuo’s threat, Mingbao immediately grabbed hold of Tiwen.
“You’re not allowed to fight me for the bouquet tomorrow.”
Tiwen said sincerely, “You’re worrying over nothing.”
Mingbao continued furiously typing: [Do you guys think Big Brother will be nervous?]
Shang Lu: [Heh.]
Mingbao: [What does ‘heh’ mean?]
Shang Lu: [He’s already been pacing around the garden downstairs for an hour.]
Mingzhuo: [How do you know?]
Shang Lu: [Because I’m the poor bastard who’s been pacing around with him for the past hour.]
Mingzhuo: [Wait for me. I’m coming over right now.]
Mingzhuo casually threw on a shirt jacket, left his room, went downstairs, crossed the corridor, crossed the lobby, crossed the auditorium, crossed the walkway, crossed the lawn, crossed the white-pebble path, crossed…
Shang Lu: [How are you still not here?]
Mingzhuo: [It’s too far. I’m already back in bed.]
Shang Lu: […]
Shang Shao had become almost addicted to holding a cigarette. He didn’t actually smoke much, but whenever his fingertips were empty, he seemed to experience an intense sense of emptiness, so he could only keep one pinched between his fingers.
“What if she…”
Shang Lu said expressionlessly, “Not a chance.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she doesn’t have nearly enough guts or courage to board a ship with some unknown boyfriend from outside the industry the night before her wedding, smuggle herself into Cambodia, live an anonymous life of hardship and honest labor, and then come back a few years later with a child who looks suspiciously like you and announce, ‘This is your daddy.’” Shang Lu recited it like a Buddhist mantra.
Shang Shao: “…”
He said calmly, “I was merely giving an example of an extremely dramatic possibility.”
“No one would write a script like that, unless…” Shang Lu furrowed his brow, then changed his mind. “Actually, I suppose it could work as a movie.”
Shang Shao: “…”
Shang Lu laughed. “Love really does make people act unlike themselves.”
Shang Shao laughed along with him, lowering his head and shaking it.
“Actually, it’s not that I don’t have faith in her. I just don’t dare have faith in myself. Lulu, can you understand? The fact that I could have her for the rest of my life is so unbelievable. Recently, I often wake up in the early hours of the morning. I look at the calendar and the clock, then walk round and round the room, trying to work out whether I’m actually awake or still dreaming.”
He stopped and instinctively tightened his grip on the cigarette.
“This happiness is simply too immense. It’s like a meteorite falling from the sky – so enormous that it fills me with dread. I’ve started wondering whether I’m really this lucky. I have money, status, a successful career, loving parents, a harmonious relationship with my brother. Everything in my life has gone smoothly and remained perfectly orderly. And while enjoying all of that, I somehow ended up with the love of my life too.”
He paused. “Do you know what I’m so uneasy about?”
Shang Lu looked into his eyes. “I know.”
“What is it?”
“That everything is simply too good. So good that it makes no sense. So good that you start to doubt it, to feel afraid, thinking that this is some trap laid by fate, and that there’s some other hardship waiting for you further down the road. This happiness is so wonderful that it’s even made you – someone born into comfort, someone who has always taken every good thing in life for granted, someone who has always accepted every blessing from heaven without question – start becoming suspicious and paranoid. You wonder whether fate has secretly put a price tag on everything, quietly preparing some kind of sinister bargain. If you could negotiate with fate, you’d say: Stop. Just let me keep this happiness.”
Shang Shao listened intently to every word, each one landing on his heart like a gentle knock.
Shang Lu curled his lips into a small smile. “Am I right?”
“Yes.” A self-deprecating smile appeared on Shang Shao’s face. “Even you can see right through me.”
“Oh, come on.” Shang Lu turned his face away and lit his first cigarette of the night. “It’s not that I saw through you. It’s just that the night before I proposed to Ke Yu, I felt exactly the same way you do.”
He thought for a moment, then added, “Though there was a difference. Back then, I was full of anxiety and uncertainty. I asked Mingbao whether he might reject my proposal the next day. Because even though he had once loved me so much, he still walked away without looking back.”
“What did Mingbao say?”
Shang Lu held the cigarette between his fingers and tilted his head. “You actually expected Mingbao to have a good answer?”
Shang Shao said flatly, “Stop talking nonsense.”
Shang Lu laughed and relayed his younger sister’s words to his elder brother.
“Babe said, If even you doubt it, then who’s left to prove that Ke Yu loves you?”
Shang Shao paused. A layer of tenderness softened his gaze. “Her brain isn’t completely useless after all.”
Shang Lu: “…Hey.”
The two brothers stood together in the darkness for a while longer, finishing the cigarettes in their hands before finally heading back.
On the way home, Shang Lu suddenly asked, “The way you spend your nights is so similar to mine… Is it… Shang Qingye’s genes?”
There was a distinct note of disdain in his voice. “Perhaps.”
“To be honest, I’m a little nervous too,” Shang Lu added, placing a hand over his heart. As he turned his attention inward, his heartbeat inexplicably began to speed up.
Shang Shao glanced at him. “What are you nervous about?”
“Ke Yu and I are both going to be groomsmen. This is the first time we’ll be wearing formal suits and openly standing at a wedding.”
Shang Shao said, “…This is my wedding.”
Shang Lu replied, “Let me stand there for a while. Don’t be so stingy.”
It wasn’t until they returned downstairs that Shang Shao finally had a chance to look at his phone.
He opened WeChat and was immediately greeted by a string of gleeful messages: [Leo, I heard you’re nervous.]
Mingxian, Mingzhuo, Mingbao, Ke Yu, Tiwen – every single one of them.
He curled his lips into a cold laugh. By the time he lifted his gaze from his phone, his face was completely expressionless. “What kind of group did you guys make?”
Shang Lu: “…”
Inside the [Leo Meltdown Group], the messages were lined up for all to see:
Mingbao: [I just absolutely roasted Leo.]
Mingzhuo: [I just absolutely roasted Leo.]
Mingxian: [I just absolutely roasted Leo.]
Mingbao: [I just absolutely roasted Leo (Tiwen version).]
Ke Yu: [I offer my humble condolences.]
Mingbao: [Huh? We’re all saying basically the same thing. Won’t Leo get suspicious?]
Shang Shao scrolled through several screens of messages and tapped into the settings.
A few seconds later, a notification popped up in the group: [Shang Lu invited Leo to join the group chat]
Everyone: !!!
A few seconds later:
[Leo changed the group name to: Shang Shao & Ying Yin – Together Until We Grow Old]
After changing the group name:
[Leo left the group chat]
Mingbao: […Silence is the Cambridge Bridge tonight.]
Mingzhuo: [Damn, that was cool.]
Mingxian: [?]
Shang Lu: [Second Sis, correct your taste in time and set yourself on the path to a happy life.]
…
It turned out that when you fell asleep carrying an immense sense of anticipation, no matter how late you went to bed, you could still wake naturally and effortlessly the next morning.
And even though Ying Yin had slept for only five or six hours, the moment she opened her eyes, her heart was already fluttering with excitement at the happiness that was about to arrive.
Ying Yin went out onto the balcony and spent five full minutes leaning against the railing, taking deep breaths. Then, right on time, Chu Anni arrived at the door with her makeup artist and assistant and rang the doorbell. The wedding photography team arrived at the same time.
“It’s such beautiful weather today.” Chu Anni smiled as she stepped inside. “The wedding day.”
But the wedding day really was a lot like going into battle. The schedule was packed to the minute. The groom’s procession, serving tea to both sets of parents, changing the way they addressed their elders – all of it had to be timed to an auspicious hour. Fortunately, Chu Anni’s team had been thoroughly seasoned in the fashion industry, and both the makeup and styling had been rehearsed more than a dozen times in advance. They worked with the experience and efficiency of seasoned professionals, calm and orderly despite the frantic schedule.
Another makeup artist was assigned to the bridesmaids. Mingbao, Tiwen, and Junyi had all changed into haute couture evening dresses – elegant, distinctive fitted dresses in matte satin. To accommodate the burn scar on Junyi’s right shoulder, the brand had specially altered hers into an asymmetric one-shoulder design, even telling her that her shoulder was actually very beautiful.
It was the first time Junyi had ever worn such a beautiful dress, and she was also getting her hair and makeup professionally done for the first time. She was so shy when she looked in the mirror that she couldn’t bring herself to look at her own reflection.
Tiwen held her in front of the mirror for ten minutes, helping her get used to the sight, before declaring firmly, “You look like this all the time. You just need to get used to seeing yourself.”
The groom’s procession arrived. By tradition, they had to make the groom’s side work a little to get through the door, and Tiwen took the lead.
Tiwen absolutely didn’t have the nerve to play any real tricks on Shang Shao, so she said, “Let’s have the two groomsmen act out how the groom is supposed to kiss the bride.”
The moment the words left her mouth, the outsiders erupted into cheers, while the entire Shang family fell silent.
Shang Mingxian, Mingzhuo, and Mingbao simultaneously raised their hands and smacked their foreheads with a collective smack.
Tiwen: “?”
Mingbao desperately tried to signal to her. “Your question is way too easy, Tina! You’ve practically handed them the answer!”
Tiwen: “Huh?”
She had absolutely no idea about the relationship between Shang Lu and Ke Yu. As far as she knew, they were simply confidants, close friends, and partners who worked together on films and ran a company!
Meng Bohuan said, “That’s easy. I can…”
He had just turned towards Shang Lu, volunteering himself for the task, when Shang Lu casually brushed him aside with one large hand.
In full view of everyone, just as Shang Lu was about to kiss Ke Yu, Tiwen suddenly had a flash of inspiration and immediately caught on.
“Wait! I-I-I’ll change the question!”
The three Shang siblings all took a deep breath in unison, patting their chests in relief.
With her rhythm completely thrown off, Tiwen was ultimately defeated by Shang Lu’s promise to make her the producer of his next film.
Junyi was next.
Meng Bohuan was effortlessly good at teasing a young girl. “I haven’t met this little sister before. She’s so pretty – I can tell she must be soft-hearted.” He bent down, his eyes smiling as he looked at her. “Isn’t that right?”
Junyi had never experienced anything like this. Although inwardly she was determined to be as hard-hearted and cold as the fearsome Exterminator Nun, her face and ears had turned bright red.
As if that wasn’t enough, Shang Lu bent down as well and looked directly into her eyes.
“Little Junyi, your sister is dying of impatience inside. Just go easy on us, okay? Don’t keep her from getting married.”
Junyi: “…”
This one was even more handsome. She had to take a step back.
Finally, Ke Yu stepped forward. He was even gentler than the first two.
“Junyi, you look so beautiful today. Let us in, and I’ll tell Yinyin to throw the bouquet to you. How about that?”
Junyi was completely dazed, practically ready to float away like a bubble.
Mingbao immediately started shrieking in outrage. “I heard that, Xiao Dao! The bouquet is mine!”
Mingbao’s shout snapped Junyi back to her senses. She came up with what she thought was a very simple challenge. “Then one of you has to do a hundred push-ups.”
She casually pointed at someone. “You.”
Meng Bohuan: “…”
Come on – he definitely hadn’t been taking it easy last night.
Junyi was never one to hide what she was thinking. She tilted her head and asked bluntly, “You can’t do it? Then let’s get Shang Lu to do it.”
Meng Bohuan had a bit of a competitive streak when it came to proving himself. Right there on the spot, he demonstrated exactly what it meant to be up to the task.
His counting grew slower and slower as he went on, because the push-ups were getting harder and harder. The girls were laughing themselves silly. He managed to maintain some semblance of dignity all the way to a hundred, then rolled over and sat up, panting heavily as he waited for the third bridesmaid to come up with her challenge.
Shang Mingbao, the little pixiu, swaggered forward with great confidence. But after taking only one step, she saw her big brother pull a cheque from the inner pocket of his suit.
He had signed it.
The amount was blank.
Mingbao accepted the cheque, bowed, and opened the door in one smooth motion. “Congratulations! Happy wedding!”
Meng Bohuan: “…”
For fuck’s sake. So I’m the only one who ended up getting screwed over.
Amid the cheers and the ceaseless clicking of the cameras, Shang Shao finally stepped through the door.
The moment he entered, his footsteps paused for a second as he heard a voice deep inside him.
That voice was saying:
Shang Shao, someone loves you.
Ying Yin was dressed in a traditional dragon-and-phoenix embroidered wedding robe, sitting upright on the bed with her hands folded neatly in front of her. She had listened to everyone making a racket outside for quite some time, and her heartbeat had been climbing like a graph approaching its peak. Now, at last, it reached a breathless crescendo.
She lifted her eyes towards Shang Shao, and her face and neck had already taken on a faint flush.
Oh my God. They had already secretly held a wedding ceremony in a little chapel, and they had already signed their marriage certificate at the registry office. So why was she still so nervous that it felt as though she could barely breathe?
The cheering fell silent at that moment.
Because everyone was absorbed in the way the two of them looked at each other.
It was the first time Shang Shao had seen Ying Yin in traditional Chinese wedding attire.
She was beautiful, wearing soft and elegant makeup, her hair swept up in a traditional Chinese style. The pearl and jade ornaments of her hairpins caught the Hong Kong morning light.
He knelt on one knee at the edge of the bed, bracing both hands against the soft white bedding. His face was so close to Ying Yin’s that their noses were almost touching.
“Seems like… it wasn’t that difficult after all,” he said, his low voice tinged with amusement.
Ying Yin lowered her eyes and said softly, “Two out of the three are your sisters… I wasn’t really counting on them to stop you.”
Shang Shao couldn’t take his eyes off her face. He looked at her deeply for several seconds, then tilted his head and naturally leaned in to kiss her.
A chorus of protests immediately rose around them.
“Hey, hey, hey!”
Shang Shao asked, “What?”
“You have to find the shoes!” Tiwen was the one who took charge again. “You have to find the shoes before you’re allowed to kiss the bride!”
The three groomsmen immediately began searching the room in earnest. Shang Shao, however, pressed his lips together and gave a quiet, amused huff. Still kneeling on one knee, he leaned closer to Ying Yin.
“In the wardrobe?”
Ying Yin shook her head. “I’m not telling you.”
“In the bathroom,” he said, keeping his voice at the same low whisper throughout.
Ying Yin continued shaking her head, struggling to hold her ground.
“No.”
“Under the pillow.”
That was a common hiding place. Ying Yin pressed her lips together with a smile but still shook her head. “You can go and look.”
Shang Shao studied her expression. She was so transparent, so utterly incapable of hiding it from him.
His lips tightened. “Behind you. Under your skirt.”
He was cheating. The unwavering look in his eyes made it impossible for Ying Yin to lie convincingly.
Ying Yin felt that she had already tried very hard to act. She shook her head again, but she could no longer fool him.
Shang Shao laughed softly. Without taking his eyes off her for even a moment, he reached behind her, feeling around.
Ying Yin’s body stiffened.
The accordion-pleated skirt of her dress spread around her in layers like red petals. The dragon and phoenix embroidered in gold thread on the front of the traditional bridal gown were exquisitely lifelike, and beneath the folds concealing them, there it was – a red high-heeled shoe, exactly where he had guessed.
While everyone else was still searching, Shang Shao had already retrieved the pair of delicate red bridal heels.
At last, he no longer had to hold himself back. He raised the shoes in one hand while his other hand was already at Ying Yin’s waist, pulling her close as he leaned in and kissed her fiercely.
![Sick Beauty [Rebirth]](https://i1.wp.com/lazygirltranslations.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/007S8ZIlgy1gitg84z0hfj30rs12wmzj-1.jpeg?resize=151,215 "Sick Beauty [Rebirth]")
