Whistles and catcalls filled the air everywhere.
To maintain an elegant appearance, Ying Yin had been kneeling on the bed for a long time, her calves long since stiff and numb. When Shang Shao leaned in to kiss her, she finally lost control and fell backward. Shang Shao lost his balance along with her; though he braced one hand beside her, they tumbled onto the bed together.
The screams and laughter grew even more boisterous, and several of the groomsmen and bridesmaids were frantically taking photos and recording videos. Ying Yin’s face flushed crimson – that soft “mmph” was heard only by Shang Shao. She was feeling embarrassed again.
Shang Shao knew her inner turmoil all too well. Chuckling softly against her ear, he pulled her face into his embrace. He remembered to use a gentle, skillful touch, his palm curving loosely so as not to mess up her beautiful coiffure.
According to tradition, once the groom had successfully entered the door, the next step was to serve tea to both sets of parents and change how they addressed them to “Mom” and “Dad.”
To suit the occasion, Wen Youyi and Ying Fan both wore attire with Chinese-style elements, while Shang Qingye remained in his usual suit and tie. Since her youth, Wen Youyi had mostly worn Western-style dresses and rarely donned Chinese garments. Although her styling team repeatedly assured her that the style suited her perfectly, Wen Youyi still asked Shang Qingye over and over, “Does it make me look old?”
Shang Qingye’s way of comforting her remained consistent in its brevity. “Perfectly appropriate.”
Wen Youyi’s comprehension was equally sharp in that moment. “So you’re saying I look exactly my age, then?”
Shang Qingye had no choice but to say earnestly, “What I mean is, you look the same age as this dress.”
Of course, there was a touch of flattery in his words, but the way he looked at her was utterly captivating. Wen Youyi turned back to the mirror, ran her hand once more over the collar that showed no wrinkles, and adjusted the diamond embellishments on the wide square neckline. Then she turned around, wrapped both arms around Shang Qingye’s waist, and leaned into his embrace.
“I’m nervous.”
Their eldest son was getting married, and she had managed every detail as if waging a four-month-long battle. Now that the noise of battle was winding down, she finally had room to feel nervous – both belatedly and at a loss.
With the tea-serving ceremony approaching, the clamor from just a few doors away growing closer, Wen Youyi’s heart began to pound again. She worried that something might have gone wrong in the preceding steps, that something unexpected might have happened with Qili – and then there was the more irrational fear: she was simply nervous, plain and simple, about this pivotal moment she was experiencing for the first time in the second half of her life.
Shang Qingye pressed his palm gently against her hair. “Trust me,” he said. “No one could do it better than you.”
After a while, Ying Fan, who had been smoking on the terrace, also came back inside. The three of them took their seats in the Ming-style armchairs in the living room, waiting for the couple to arrive for the tea ceremony.
Shang Shao and Ying Yin approached amid a crowd of well-wishers, with elders from the family leading the way, directing the proceedings, and reciting auspicious blessings.
As the butler, Uncle Sheng personally stood by with the tray in hand, bearing covered blue-and-white porcelain teacups. In order of precedence, the tea was to be offered first to Ying Fan, followed by Shang Qingye and Wen Youyi. As for the ceremony itself, instead of kneeling, they would bow as they presented the tea.
When Shang Shao came over with the tea, Ying Fan’s heart pounded like a drum, and for a moment she felt dazed. She had been too nervous to sleep well the night before and had just smoked two cigarettes on the balcony to barely steady her racing pulse. Now, surrounded by so many photographers and videographers – all of them the younger generation – that dreamlike sensation washed over her again.
Her moment of daze lasted only half a second – barely perceptible to anyone else. Taking the covered teacup with both hands, she took a light sip, then handed Shang Shao the red envelope she had prepared in advance.
Auspicious red envelopes came first – the three parents had agreed long ago that each would give 10,001 yuan, symbolizing “one in ten thousand.” Since Ying Yin’s biological father was absent, Ying Fan had prepared a double portion, to signify “good things come in pairs.”
After Shang Shao finished offering tea, it was Ying Yin’s turn.
The living room was packed so tightly with people that the two groomsmen, Shang Lu and Ke Yu, shirked their duties and didn’t bother pushing through – they just stood at the periphery and watched.
When Ke Yu heard Ying Yin call out “Mom,” the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, feeling genuinely happy for Wen Youyi.
He had never called them “Mom” and “Dad.”
In truth, he and Shang Lu had had their civil ceremony abroad two years ago, but he still called Shang Qingye “Uncle” and Wen Youyi “Tanya.” Though Wen Youyi was a stickler for tradition and propriety, she had never pressured him to change how he addressed them, nor had she sent Shang Lu to drop hints or put any pressure on him.
Ke Yu’s reluctance to change how he addressed them was not because he didn’t regard Wen Youyi and the others as family, nor because he was holding back emotionally. Rather, it was because he was an orphan – having been passed between foster homes since childhood, with only his nominal grandmother as his sole companion. The very notions of “parents” and those relationships were utterly foreign to him. On the surface, however, he used a tactful and plausible excuse: since his relationship with Shang Lu couldn’t be made public, he was afraid that if he got too used to calling them “Mom” and “Dad,” he might slip up in other social settings.
Wen Youyi often told him it didn’t matter, and besides, she herself often had her children call her “Pretty Xiao Wen.” Still, Ke Yu could sense that she was somewhat disappointed. Over the years, Wen Youyi and Shang Qingye had indeed given him a warmth and care he had never experienced before – but to change how he addressed them now would feel awkward, so it was better to just let it be.
“Mr. Ke, when are you going to call them Mom and Dad?”
Ke Yu was startled and turned his head.
Shang Lu had both hands tucked into the pockets of his suit trousers. Without waiting for Ke Yu’s answer, he asked in that languid tone of his, “Why not today? How about after the wedding?”
Ke Yu paused for a moment, then turned back with a soft laugh. “This is Leo and Xiao Yin’s wedding.”
Shang Lu still wore that same casual air, but because he had inherited Shang Qingye’s sharp, deep-set features, everything he said carried an undeniable certainty.
“I asked Leo for permission last night.” His gaze drifted toward the crowd. “Even if it’s just for one second, I’ll count it as having announced it to the world.”
…
Although the hotel where the bride was staying had not been disclosed to the media, clearly such a minor secret was hardly enough to fool the all-knowing paparazzi – not to mention that an entire fleet of Rolls-Royces was practically impossible to keep under wraps. As early as when the convoy set off, an endless stream of short videos had already been shared online:
[All the Rolls-Royces I’ll ever see in my lifetime are right here…]
[What you think it is: a Rolls-Royce auto show. What it actually is: the Shao-Yin wedding convoy.]
[If the convoy is already this grand, what must the lead car be?]
The lead car was still the Hong Kong-plated “Hong Kong·3” with its distinctive yellow license plate, a vintage silver roof and an elegant, aristocratic silhouette stretching over six meters in length – more than stately enough for any grand occasion.
The night before the wedding, it was Lin Cunkang who personally washed the car. Though he held the prestigious position of butler, he took great pleasure in doing hands-on work – whether tending to the garden, clearing the waterways, or picking a sunny day to wash the cars.
The Maybach was an old friend of his. When Shang Shao was twenty, it had entered their lives, and for seventeen years since, it had accompanied them through wind and rain. The service life of a top-tier luxury vehicle far exceeds what most people imagine. After Shang Shao brought back that Benz 300SL from Paris, Lin Cunkang would pat the Maybach’s silver roof while washing it and say, “Look at that old-timer from 1957 – still in service. What have you got to complain about, you young whippersnapper?”
Last night, Lin Cunkang had held the hose and sprayed down the body. After it was clean, he lit a cigarette and paced around it, examining it from near and far. Then he took a soft cloth and meticulously wiped it down three times, buffing the wax from its last detailing until it gleamed with extra brilliance. Under the moonlight, the car seemed to glow.
Truth be told, the old man had done the Maybach an injustice. As a Maybach, it was quite fond of its duties. In the early days, it carried only one passenger, and it often worried that its own staid, solemn nature had rubbed off on the young man in the back seat, making him seem prematurely somber. Later, a beautiful actress joined the rides – though she seemed to find its leather cushions not quite comfortable enough and would always end up sitting on the young man’s lap – but at least it brought a great deal more joy and liveliness to the car.
Now, at eleven in the morning, it sat at the main entrance after the fountain roundabout of the hotel, resplendent and silent, dignified and imposing. At the thought of soon leading a long procession of Rolls-Royces as the head car, it felt all the more spirited and eager.
…
Even with tight security cordons and layers of black-suited guards stationed everywhere, it was still impossible to dampen the paparazzi’s enthusiasm. Along the entire route from the hotel’s main entrance to the main road outside, bushes, and sidewalks were packed with tripods and cameras. Reporters in work uniforms, sun hats, and magic scarves lugged their long lenses and heavy gear, as a race for live photo updates and breaking news bulletins unfolded across the internet.
Of course, video livestreams were also a must – but clearly, due to the painfully low amount of useful information, the comment sections were flooded with all kinds of irritable rants:
[I’ve never been this punctual, not even for online classes]
[I’m dying of impatience here]
[We’ve been staring at this gate for an hour!]
[Shao-Yin wedding gatekeeper (no)]
[Do you even know how to livestream? Just charge in there and shove the camera in their faces! I want to see Shang Shao, Ke Yu, and Shang Lu looking for the bridal shoes! Not! The! Gate!]
At 11:20, through the shifting light and shadow of the revolving glass doors, the lobby of the hotel – which had been empty and silent all this while – finally stirred with activity. The clicking of shutters instantly erupted into a continuous frenzy, accompanied by a forest of raised phones and microphones. Text reporters’ fingers flew across keyboards, quickly polishing the pre-written templates with details of time, place, people, and events.
Ying Yin had changed into her departure gown – a strapless, mermaid-cut satin dress with a long, elegant train. On her arms she wore white silk gloves that reached just past her elbows, wrapping her limbs in a slender, graceful line.
Her back was stunning – her shoulder blades like two delicate butterfly wings, yet her figure was perfectly proportioned, with a jade-like strength beneath the surface. Thus, the highlight of this look was the back: a dramatic open-back design, with a large bow at the waist, its handmade pleats cascading naturally downward, as if to accentuate the ethereal lightness and vitality of her upper body.
For the wedding procession, of course, they couldn’t sneak out through the underground garage – so being photographed by the media was unavoidable. But despite having mentally prepared herself for this, the moment she stepped outside and was met with the deafening chorus of shutters and voices, Ying Yin still flinched in surprise.
The livestream chat had gone absolutely wild:
[Holy shit]
[So beautiful ahhhhhhh she’s killing it!!!!]
[Mdfk Shang Shao you lucky bastard! Thank you for letting us see this gorgeous wife!]
[Attention everyone, the woman in the frame is Xiao Yin, and she’s MY wife ahhhhhh!]
The groomsmen and bridesmaids followed closely behind, ushering the elders into the Rolls-Royce limousines waiting in the rear.
The news bulletins went out in no time:
[#YingYinShangShaoWedding# On the day of the event, at 11:20 AM, the couple finally made their appearance in the lobby of Tianmu Minghui Hotel, preparing to head to the wedding venue. Bride Ying Yin, elegant and poised in an open-back long gown, carried a bouquet of lily of the valley and roses, her face radiant with happiness.
The much-anticipated bridal party was also unveiled at this moment: the groomsmen included Shang Lu, Ke Yu, and the groom’s close friends, while the bridesmaids comprised Ying Yin’s agent Zhuang Tiwen, her assistant Cheng Junyi, and another close friend from outside the industry. Cheng Junyi, who has served as Ying Yin’s personal assistant for six years, is currently the only assistant in the industry to have been named a bridesmaid for a celebrity.]
The photojournalists’ images were transmitted and published in real time. In the frames, Ke Yu and Shang Lu stood in black tailcoats, as strikingly handsome as ever. Catching sight of the cameras, Ke Yu – who had always been both composed and socially adept in front of the media – raised his hand in greeting as expected.
The comment sections were buzzing with excitement:
[Who called it?! Ke Yu and Shang Lu! I knew it!]
[Rounding up…]
[Rounding up…]
[My heart is full, my ship has sailed – everything is complete!]
[So touched. I want to be Ying Ying’s personal assistant too.]
[I can give massages and shoulder rubs! The pay doesn’t matter – I’m mainly going for the CP content (no)]
The fashion bloggers, who had been poised and ready to dissect Ying Yin’s gown and high jewelry the moment they appeared, were being frantically urged by the commenters:
[One minute has passed and you still haven’t figured out which brand and which year’s collection it is?!]
[Can you even do this? Three minutes have passed!]
[I need to see luxury NOW! Don’t stop me from seeing luxury!!!]
The bloggers could only reply:
[I’ve never seen this level of luxury before either. Need some time /crying/]
Late March in Hong Kong was already sweltering. The midday sun beat down, making skin and fabric alike feel scorching hot. Yet the reporters who had been waiting on-site for hours showed no signs of impatience, vying to call out to Ying Yin:
“Ying Yin, Ying Yin, can you tell us how you’re feeling right now?”
“Is this wedding the wedding of your dreams?”
“Do you have anything you’d like to say to your fans who’ve been following and supporting you all along?”
From a distance of several dozen meters, the interview was conducted entirely through shouting. But even so, all that reached Ying Yin’s ears was a jumbled buzz of noise. This was not an official photo-op area, so she didn’t respond – until someone yelled at the top of their lungs in Cantonese: “Sun fai lok! Mui mui zai!” (Happy wedding! Little girl!)
Ying Yin instinctively looked up, broke into a smile, and nodded. Though her voice couldn’t be heard, from the shape of her lips, what she said was “m goi” – thank you.
The livestream chat exploded:
[Got it. “Mui mui zai” – the Ying Yin trap]
[I’m terrified that at her next public appearance, the whole venue will just be a chorus of “Mui mui zai”]
[Attention everyone, the man in front of the camera is Shang Shao – and he’s jealous!!!]
[Chairman Shao: Considering trademarking “Mui Mui Zai” and buying out all rights]
If he had worn a sour face on his wedding day, not to mention the reporters – even Wen Youyi would have had words with him. So the man before the camera remained as composed and distinguished as ever. But compared to Ying Yin, his smile clearly didn’t reach his eyes. After a brief nod of acknowledgment, he wrapped an arm around his bride’s waist and decisively ushered her back into the car.
Ying Fan was waiting by the car door. She choked up for a moment, wanting to speak, but then she smiled instead. Her eyes, touched by time and frost, gazed unblinkingly at her daughter, and she raised a hand to gently stroke Ying Yin’s face.
The emotions of seeing her daughter married off had haunted her a hundred times over – when they registered the marriage, and in the quiet of sleepless nights. But at this very moment, there was only tenderness on Ying Fan’s face. She gave her daughter’s hand a gentle squeeze and said softly, “Go on, then.”
The family members and guests all boarded their cars. The wedding photography team’s vehicle pulled out first. Then, the Maybach slowly rolled forward, leading the long procession of Rolls-Royces down the street, heading toward the Qili Hotel.
The photography vehicle was doing its job diligently, the camera trained on them the whole time. Ying Yin held her bouquet in her arms, her face nearly frozen from smiling, until Shang Shao reached over the center console and pulled her into his embrace – only then did she finally let out a long, relieved breath.
“I’m so hungry.” She rubbed her stomach.
“Did you eat very little this morning?” Shang Shao’s hand followed hers, his right hand -now bearing the wedding ring – pressing gently against her abdomen through her gown.
“Yeah.” Ying Yin nodded, then whispered conspiratorially, holding up one finger. “I was afraid I wouldn’t fit into the wedding dress, so I only had a cup of coffee and a small croissant.”
A smile glimmered in Shang Shao’s eyes. “Then when we get to the hotel, I’ll have someone bring you something.”
“No, I don’t want to ruin all my hard work.” Ying Yin said earnestly. “That wedding dress is gorgeous – I can’t let it down.”
Shang Shao looked down at her for a moment, then pressed a button with one finger, raising the privacy shades on both sides and the rear window.
Ying Yin blinked, tightened her grip on her bouquet, and tilted her face up to receive his kiss.
“Is the wedding exhausting?” Shang Shao rubbed her cheek gently.
He hadn’t seen her for two days. The last time was during the rehearsal; after that, they’d followed tradition and stayed apart, each busy with their own side of the preparations.
Ying Yin shook her head, then nodded, and said, “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Nervous?”
Ying Yin hummed in agreement, then asked, “Weren’t you nervous?”
Never mind that someone had made up all sorts of nonsense last night – even that wild story about smuggling themselves to Cambodia – and had gone to bother the flamingos while they were sleeping. Now he was playing it cool, lowering his eyes and saying, “Not nervous. I just missed you.”
Ying Yin kissed him for a while longer, feeling a soft, languid weakness seeping into her bones. She mumbled, “I want to sleep.”
“Come into my arms.”
He took Ying Yin’s hand, pulling her into his embrace while smoothly sliding off her gloves in one fluid motion. The snow-white silk slipped down her arms to the very tips of her fingers. Shang Shao lifted her wrist and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.
Without needing to be told, Lin Cunkang had already raised the partition in the car.
Ying Yin’s train was very long; Shang Shao helped arrange it properly, then removed her wedding shoes. She had been wearing white satin pointed-toe heels – fully twelve centimeters high – that were absolute torture. The moment they were off, she let out a deep, satisfied breath, her polished toes pressing against the champagne-colored carpet.
The familiar scent of Shang Shao’s embrace enveloped her. She closed her eyes, nestled into a comfortable position against him, and within seconds, she had truly fallen asleep.
Half an hour later, they arrived at Qili. As expected, traffic police were on the main road maintaining order. After the convoy entered the resort estate, they didn’t head straight for the lobby but instead proceeded to the outdoor garden. According to tradition, they would take some photos here with the bridal party and both sets of parents.
After the photo session, Ying Yin immediately rushed to change into her reception gown.
This reception dress featured antique lace craftsmanship – the fabric was heavy and the workmanship intricate. It was a strapless, bud-shaped silhouette, classical in style with a sculptural, three-dimensional quality, paired with an ivory-colored beret-style hat. Although it had the shortest skirt of all her gowns, it was the most heavily detailed piece among her wedding attire – and the only one that was an already-released design, chosen because the custom-made ones couldn’t be finished in time.
The canary-yellow diamond ornament on her choker was striking, like the tender shoots of early spring flowers.
Even Chu Anni couldn’t help but give a wry smile. “Getting married is really exhausting. Even on the red carpet, you only have to change between two looks – indoors and outdoors.”
Ying Yin’s stomach growled audibly.
“Eat something, or you won’t have the strength to stand in those heels later,” Chu Anni urged. “I just heard a few reporters saying that Qili’s meal packages really live up to their reputation.”
The media area was packed with sixty or seventy reporters who had been there since ten in the morning and were still waiting – now it was two in the afternoon. The organizers had distributed gift bags, meal boxes, and travel allowances, keeping everyone well appeased.
Ying Yin rested her chin on both hands, watching Chu Anni and her assistant work on her hair, and said stubbornly, “I’m not eating. I’ll eat after I’ve worn the main ceremony gown.”
After the styling change, she and Shang Shao would greet the guests – but first, they would pass through the media area, following the same order as on a red carpet.
The moment the two appeared, they caused a massive commotion – shutters clicking and flashes firing in an endless barrage.
The reporters wrote: [#YingYinShangShaoWedding# At 2:30 PM that afternoon, the couple finally arrived at Qili and made their appearance at the media zone. Ying Yin had changed into her third gown of the day – the bud-shaped dress and beret hat exuded elegance to the very core, as if she were poised to carry on the legacy of her mother-in-law, Wen Youyi. This was the first time Ying Yin and Shang Shao posed together generously before the cameras, their intimate positioning and open displays of affection burning through countless rolls of film.]
Passersby and fans were scattered like check-in nomads across various comment sections that day:
[Haven’t seen the phrase “burning through countless rolls of film” in ages – such a throwback]
[The reporting style of mainland and Hong Kong media really is instantly distinguishable]
[Reviewed and approved. I hereby declare that this set of photos is the best – most pleasing to my imperial heart!]
[The backdrop is white camellias – whose flower language is “ideal, pure, and innocent love.” Who’s crying?]
[Never thought I’d still get to believe in fairy tales in my twenties]
At the interview site, a reporter with a station logo on their microphone asked, “Miss Ying, after getting married, will you still be looking for directors to make films?”
Her Cantonese was fluent and fast, leaving Ying Yin looking completely bewildered. Shang Shao leaned in and translated for her.
Ying Yin nodded and smiled. “I’m still learning Cantonese – my listening and speaking aren’t very fluent yet. Making films and getting married don’t conflict with each other. My husband and my family are very supportive of my career.”
Another reporter pressed on. “So which is the top priority – learning Cantonese, or starting a family?”
The crowd chuckled knowingly, and the livestream chat all agreed it was a sharp question. After a light laugh, Ying Yin gave a polished and perfectly appropriate official response. “This isn’t a task – I’ll leave it to fate.”
The reporter asked Shang Shao, “Mr. Shang, now that you’ve married a big star home, will you be appearing in the media more often?”
“No.”
The moment his voice came out, every livestream chat exploded with a barrage of comments:
[!!!!!!!!]
[Getting the heir apparent to speak is harder than climbing to the heavens]
[What are you so cocky about – you just married the most beautiful woman in the world, that’s all, boohoo!]
[Your voice is so nice, you could at least say a few more words!]
[From Yinyin’s interviews I heard that when she can’t sleep, he reads English novels to her… That’s insane – that’s basically top-tier A**R, who gets it??]
“Ying Yin has already secured her spot in this year’s Venice Film Festival main competition. Will you find time to accompany her to the Lido Island?”
Tickets for the Venice Film Festival are sold to the public. Though Shang Shao had already made up his mind on this matter, to avoid fans rushing to buy tickets, he gave a flat, businesslike reply. “It’s still too early to talk about that now. Everything will depend on the schedule.”
“Would you mind being introduced in the future as the husband of a Best Actress winner, rather than the heir of the Shang family?”
The man, usually so composed and self-possessed, couldn’t help but lift the corners of his mouth at this question.
“Nothing I’d want more.”
An employee of Qinde, who had been closely following the wedding livestream, furiously posted on their Moments: [The only feeling after watching all this: the boss is a top-tier love-sick fool]
The comments below were all laughter:
[LMAO]
[Your boss – the nation’s brother-in-law]
[Why are you getting up early on your day off to watch your boss marry a movie star in style?]
The employee had an epiphany:
[Damn, I’m the sucker here]
A friend replied:
[Honestly, I want to see your Moments feed]
Employee:
[Honestly, this is more exciting than the Spring Festival Gala]
It wasn’t just Qinde – the entire Shangyu Group was tuned into this wedding of the century.
Across various internal group chats, the conversations had gone completely off the rails:
[If I call Chairman Shao “brother-in-law,” will I get a red envelope?]
[You sure know how to climb the family tree]
[Chairman Shao is so happy – waiting for a Monday holiday announcement]
[Will Chairman Shao and the young madam give a speech at this year’s year-end banquet?]
[Will the young madam sing on stage?]
[Good question. Why not go all the way and have her perform a skit for you?]
[Question: How do I naturally and casually let Chairman Shao see my Moments post wishing them a lifetime of love?]
[Chairman Shao: worthless]
[Will Chairman Shao be at Qinde or headquarters on Monday? If he’s not handing out red envelopes of at least a hundred, that’s unacceptable!]
[Who’s the real capitalist here – the man just got married and you want him to come to work on Monday!]
[I can see it now: from now on, when I mess up at work – HR, please think carefully: I am one of Ying Yin’s noble VIP fans!]
[I have a limited-edition photobook of Ying Yin from her second year in the industry. Should I ask for a president position or a million bucks?]
[The Group has a total of twenty-three presidents, vice presidents, and assistant presidents. Go ahead and tag them – let’s see which one you want to replace]
[…]
[While the honest folks are munching sunflower seeds, watching the livestream, and shitposting, the smart ones have already opened the Best Actress photo album for the 10,086th time to study and memorize]
The distribution rights to Ying Yin’s films were scattered across several major streaming platforms. Days earlier, they had all collectively pushed a dedicated film list to their front pages.
[Wedding in Grand Style! Relive the Best Actress’s On-Screen Glory with These Classic Films] – that was the serious one.
[Boyfriend’s Perspective! A Collection of Ying Yin’s Romantic Classics｜So This Is What It Feels Like to Date Her] – that was the one asking for trouble.
After five minutes of interviews and photos, Ying Yin and Shang Shao left the media area.
The reporters on-site were openly complaining, saying they hadn’t had enough – but this wasn’t a concert with encores. The fact that they had come out for interviews at all was already a major concession.
Passing through Qili’s magnificent art-deco lobby, they arrived at another green-and-floral backdrop wall.
This was the official guest reception and photo area – the only main entrance to the venue, and where guests would present their invitations and register their gifts and cash offerings. Of course, the cash gifts here were merely symbolic for good luck; the truly priceless wedding presents had already been delivered to the Deep Water Bay residence.
The wedding reception was about to begin. One by one, names that frequently made headlines in various news outlets would soon arrive with their families in tow.
Amid the busy yet orderly flow of people, Ying Yin stood before the passageway, her gaze piercing through the ocean-deep lighting. She lifted her eyes and quietly looked into the venue.
That was the entrance to her destiny – beautiful, profound, filled with the scent and shadows of flowers, yet not so easy to see through clearly. Starting here, starting with the reception, she would formally step onto the path of becoming the matriarch of a powerful family.
This path was long, full of challenges and obstacles. Though gilded dreams unfolded around her at every moment, there would also be moments of absurdity and tedium – hidden reefs, storms, watchful eyes, and lurking dangers. There was still so much she needed to learn, so many branches she would have to cut away. But whenever she thought of Shang Shao standing by her side – of how every move she made was meant to match him, to sharpen him, to together uphold a home and an enterprise – she was no longer afraid. She was filled with strength.
She wanted to stand beside him as an oak tree that faced everything together with him, not as a clinging, delicate dodder vine.
“Ying Yin.”
Someone called her name. She turned around and saw Ke Yu standing behind her.
“Are you ready?” Ke Yu asked, meeting her gaze calmly.
Ying Yin curved her lips slightly and replied with equal composure, “I’m ready.”
Ke Yu stepped aside. Tiwen and Junyi both came up to hug her. Shang Lu, hands in his pockets, called her “Sister-in-law” – no more words were needed. Ying Yin, however, smiled. “Don’t look at me like you admire me so much – I’m not used to it.”
Shang Lu gave a faint scoff. “What do you mean? You’re walking straight into the tiger’s den knowing full well there’s a tiger there – of course I admire you.”
“What’s with you Shang family people?” Ying Yin blinked. “This is clearly a pie falling from the sky, yet you make it sound like something to run away from.”
Shang Lu chuckled and shook his head. “Good luck.”
Mingbao came running up the stairs, out of breath. “They’re here, they’re here – cars have already arrived.”
License plates on par with the Hong Kong·3’s would all converge here today.
At 3 PM, the wedding reception officially began.
From this point on, nothing about the wedding would be known to outsiders. People could only watch through the media’s livestream as one big name after another – figures who regularly populated the news or gossip columns – appeared briefly before the cameras, then discreetly and swiftly disappeared into the corridor. Even more heavyweight guests didn’t take the main entrance at all, instead going through the VIP passage directly to the fifth floor – so secretively that even the most resourceful media had no idea they had ever been there.
Ying Yin took a deep breath, straightened her slender waist and spine, and with the poise, smile, and grace that Wen Youyi had taught her, she welcomed the guests – all of whom were either wealthy or powerful.
Of course, Shang Qingye, Wen Youyi, and Shang Shao bore the brunt of the social duties. Ying Yin listened more, learned more, and spoke less. When she had to speak, she weighed her words several times over before delivering them with the most impeccable composure.
She had received the strictest upbringing from Ying Fan since childhood – no matter how daunted she felt inside, she would never let it show. She drew on her finest acting skills – no matter how clammy her palms grew, her gaze remained bright and steady, neither flinching nor looking away.
This was her debut into the world of high society.
As the reception drew to a close, she needed to go backstage to change into her ceremony gown, and Shang Shao also had to change into his formal attire. They handed over the remaining social duties to his parents and to Shang Lu and Mingbao, while inside the venue, Mingxian and Mingzhuo took over as hosts.
Ying Fan also needed to change, preparing to walk her daughter down the aisle. Heading up to the sixth floor, she momentarily lost her way, taking a few wrong turns. As she rounded a corner, she saw her daughter clinging tightly in Shang Shao’s arms.
Ying Fan froze. For some reason, she didn’t disturb them. Instead, she instinctively pressed herself flat against the wall, as thin as a sheet of paper.
Fortunately, the hotel carpet was thick and muffled her footsteps.
Ying Yin was being held by Shang Shao – but that wasn’t enough. No longer caring if she wrinkled his suit, she wrapped both arms around him with all her strength, clutching him tightly.
Her body was cold, her hands especially icy. She needed to draw warmth from Shang Shao’s burning heat in this way.
Shang Shao kissed her earlobe, her ear, and the corner of her lips repeatedly, without asking her what was wrong.
Ying Yin rose on her tiptoes, rubbing her cheek against his neck and jaw. The warmth of their intertwined bodies was real. She took a deep breath and asked, her voice dreamy and murmuring, “Did I do badly?”
She had been scrambling and improvising for so long. Now that the act was over and the curtain had fallen, the tension she’d been holding suddenly released, and a belated tremor rose from deep within her – bringing with it self-doubt and second-guessing. She thought back to all the people she’d encountered in social circles before – how insignificant they seemed now. She had once prided herself on being good at navigating such settings, like a flower fluttering sweetly and gracefully. But now, she saw how naive and overconfident she had been.
Shang Shao pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You did very well.”
“Did I embarrass you or your family?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Did I instinctively try to please them too much?”
“Of course not.”
“Was my smile okay?”
“It was the most gracious and beautiful smile they’ve ever seen.”
“You’re just comforting me.”
Shang Shao stroked her hair. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“They must think I’m someone they can see right through – so green and inexperienced,” Ying Yin murmured against his shoulder, her body warming back up.
“No, you’re very good at managing your expressions.”
Ying Yin was startled, then let out a laugh. Even Ying Fan, just a wall away, smiled along with her.
Ying Yin looked up, and Shang Shao caught her signal. He turned his face and brushed a kiss against her lips, then said seriously, “Your inexperience is far more precious than their sophistication.”
“But why was I so nervous? My hands were freezing,” Ying Yin said, self-deprecatingly, pressing the tip of her nose against his shirt to breathe in the warmth and scent of his body.
“Miss Ying,” Shang Shao paused, looking somewhat exasperated, “have you considered that it might be because you haven’t eaten a single thing all day?”
Ying Yin: “…”
…
Later on, this wedding left different impressions on different people.
After the interior photos were licensed to a select few major media outlets, a handful were released. People marveled at the opulence of the décor, and at the wedding gown of such breathtaking beauty that it bordered on the sensational.
Some could not forget the way Shang Shao gazed at Ying Yin as she walked toward him – so unwavering, so warm, brimming with smiles. Light reached his eyes, and he looked as though he held boundless anticipation for the long years of life ahead.
Others relished the appearance of the political and business elites, the superstars and divas – and, goodness, the wedding emcee herself was a major figure in the industry, yet she stood on that stage with heartfelt warmth, cracking jokes and playing host with deep affection.
Chu Anni remembered the battle-like five outfit changes, and the shock she felt when she pushed open the lounge door to find the bride, who had fasted all day, wolfing down pastries.
“Aren’t you afraid you won’t fit into the dress?” she asked, stunned.
“Not fitting into the dress is a small matter; starving and getting weak is a big one,” Ying Yin mumbled, too busy gulping down warm water.
“Since when does being hungry make you weak?” Chu Anni asked. “You’re not living in the jungle.”
Mingbao remembered her own uncontrollable sobs – she just couldn’t stop crying. She cried when she saw Shang Shao’s gaze upon Ying Yin during the wedding march; she cried when she saw them holding hands on stage and pressing their cheeks together; she cried when she heard Ying Fan’s choked-up speech – her fingers couldn’t even hold back the tears; she cried when she heard Shang Qingye and Wen Youyi’s toasts, burying her face in the table. And finally, when she saw Shang Lu take Ke Yu’s hand in a dim corner of the stage, out of the light – a fleeting second that was a vow for a lifetime =- Mingbao started biting her napkin.
Mingzhuo really couldn’t stand her. She rolled her eyes, sighed deeply, and handed her tissues. Whenever she recalled the wedding afterwards, what she remembered most was Babe’s dam-breaking tears.
Mingxian remembered that the wedding had caused her Q1 performance to take a direct hit – but she remembered even more clearly that when Ying Yin walked toward the sanctuary, her silhouette was cast against the floral wall behind Shang Shao, forming a fateful echo.
Tiwen remembered that being a bridesmaid was exhausting – damn it, she was not doing that again.
Junyi remembered that being a bridesmaid was exhausting, and toasting all those big shots was terrifying – thank goodness she hadn’t spilled any wine on the Chief Executive’s wife.
Shang Lu remembered that one second he held Ke Yu’s hand.
Ke Yu remembered that one second Shang Lu held his hand.
Ying Yin remembered Shang Shao. When she reached his side, he adjusted her veil with perfect gallantry, his eyes never leaving her, his lips curving in a gentle, faint smile. He whispered in her ear, “I never knew that dreams could have degrees of beauty – and that there could be something even more beautiful.”
And to the hall full of guests, he said, “This moment is the best moment of my life.”
The host joked. “Isn’t it a little too early to say that?”
The audience laughed in understanding, and Meng Bohuan even called out, “There are still children to come!”
“No,” Shang Shao’s voice rang out through the microphone – steady, clear.
“No moment will ever compare to this one.”
As for the wedding – what did Shang Shao remember? He remembered too much; he remembered everything. Even when the twilight of years had settled deep, and he saw that wedding gown, he could still recall every single glance of her. In dreams he would turn back and see her in white, holding her bouquet; waking, she would be beside him, her hair silvered, having lived a life of peace and fullness.
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