Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 13

It was probably because she hadn’t cried in such a long time that once she started, Ying Yin felt herself losing control a little.

Crying in front of this man was definitely humiliating. They barely knew each other – only a handful of encounters, a failed attempt at seduction. One of them had always remained lofty, composed, and untouchably distinguished, while the other had repeatedly ended up in disarray and embarrassment.

Making her not feel humiliated was harder than ascending to heaven.

Shang Shao let her clutch at the front of his shirt as she cried herself hoarse, nearly breaking down. Hot tears kept falling, soaking through his dress shirt.

But he still didn’t hug her.

His comfort was restrained, carefully limited. One hand held the high heel she had been using as a weapon, while the other pulled out a tissue and offered it in front of Ying Yin.

“You’re crying this hard – how much of it is because of what I just did?” he asked calmly, perceptive as ever. “It seems last night’s trending topic wasn’t what you wanted after all.”

Pressing her forehead against his shoulder, Ying Yin shook her head hard, yet what she said was completely beside the point. “Mr. Shang, do you use Weibo too?”

“So you’re not calling me Young Master Shang anymore?” Shang Shao replied, equally beside the point.

“…”

No one knew how long she had cried for before those little hitching sobs – somewhere between pitiful and endearing – finally began to fade.

Ying Yin rested against Shang Shao’s shoulder and took two deep breaths in succession. “Mr. Shang, I’m done crying.”

Her voice was slightly hoarse, thick with a heavy nasal tone, the report delivered with earnest seriousness.

Shang Shao answered, “Mm.”

“Could I ask you to close your eyes?”

“Why?”

“My eye makeup isn’t waterproof.” Ying Yin sounded completely serious – she genuinely treated this as a matter of importance. “After crying for so long, it must look awful.”

Shang Shao didn’t offer any empty pleasantries. Instead, he simply closed his eyes at once. “Done.”

With his vision gone, his other senses and awareness of touch became sharper. Shang Shao could feel Ying Yin’s hand clutching his lapel gradually loosen, the strength slowly leaving her grip. Her forehead lifted from his shoulder as well. When her hair brushed against the skin at the side of his neck, it carried a faint, elusive fragrance.

Like a small fruit dropping from lush green branches in the rain.

A strange and abrupt thought crossed Shang Shao’s mind: even her shampoo smelled fruity.

Ying Yin straightened up and sat back, putting some distance between them again. The sea wind rattled the car windows. Having absorbed so much of his warmth just moments ago, she suddenly felt a little cold now.

Still with his eyes closed, Shang Shao handed her the woman’s high heel he had been holding. “Put your shoe back on first.”

Ying Yin took it. As she bent down to slip it on, she heard Shang Shao remind her lightly, “That can’t really be used as a weapon. Don’t rely on it too much.”

The skin on Ying Yin’s face tightened with embarrassment. She answered very softly, “Mm.”

Shang Shao frowned slightly. “You’re so practiced at it – have you run into this kind of danger before?”

“No,” Ying Yin replied obediently. “It was for acting in movies.”

The corners of Shang Shao’s lips curved upward, a faint breath of laughter slipping from him.

In the darkness behind his closed eyes, he seemed to sense that Ying Yin had stopped moving, and asked, “Finished yet?”

Ying Yin’s heart tightened. “No!”

“I can’t keep my eyes closed forever,” Shang Shao asked casually. “What exactly are you planning to do?”

What he didn’t know was that Ying Yin’s gaze had settled on his face, studying him carefully and openly, with earnest attention.

His posture was relaxed – relaxed, yet elegant. His body angled toward the passenger side, one hand draped over the seat back, the other resting loosely on the steering wheel. His head was slightly lowered, eyes closed, the corners of his lips carrying the faintest trace of a smile.

Perhaps because his eyes were shut, the oppressive aura of someone long accustomed to power had faded considerably, allowing more of his refined gentleness and understated elegance to emerge.

“People usually don’t dare look at you, Mr. Shang,” Ying Yin said abruptly.

“I’m that ugly?”

“No, of course not.” Ying Yin smiled faintly. “It’s because you hold such power and authority. Even standing face-to-face with you feels like you’re positioned high above everyone else, so people don’t dare look at you directly.”

Her pause in that moment seemed suspended, endlessly drawn out.

“Only when your eyes are closed do I dare look at you.”

Shang Shao understood what she meant. His Adam’s apple moved in the slightest swallow, but his voice turned cooler. “Have you looked enough?”

“If Mr. Shang doesn’t want people looking at him, then never mind.”

Having gotten away with teasing him, Ying Yin lowered her lashes and pulled out a few tissues. Carefully, she wiped away the half-smudged remnants of her makeup before flipping down the passenger seat mirror to check whether she had cleaned it off properly.

In truth, she didn’t have that much celebrity vanity. Although she was dazzling every time she appeared in public, and her red-carpet looks repeatedly went viral, she rarely wore makeup in private.

Perhaps it was confidence born of beauty – she knew she looked good even barefaced.

But at this very moment, inside the quiet stillness of the car, she suddenly felt an ill-timed, unnecessary sense of embarrassment rise within her.

Ying Yin took two deep breaths, clutching the tissues tightly. “Mr. Shang, I’m afraid I’m going to have to offend you for once.”

A slight frown formed between Shang Shao’s brows. Before he could ask what she meant, the scent of mountain fruit after rain suddenly drifted closer around him –

She had leaned toward him, her soft, delicate fingers pausing at his tie.

Shang Shao’s body stiffened. In a low voice, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Borrowing your tie for a moment.”

“You…”

He reflexively opened his eyes, only for Ying Yin to cover them at once. “Mr. Shang, don’t go back on your word.”

Her palm was warm against the bridge of his nose, covering his eyes and brows. The perfume on her wrist had faded to its lingering base notes, like heavy dew after rain, slipping straight into Shang Shao’s senses.

He sounded genuinely angered now. “Ridiculous.”

But Ying Yin thought that rather than letting him see her in such a terrible state, she would rather offend him and make him unhappy. It wasn’t as though this was the first or second time already.

Shang Shao, magnanimous as he was, could tolerate an impolite woman – but that didn’t mean he would linger on the memory of an ugly, bedraggled one. A beautiful woman’s offense was amusing; an unattractive woman’s offense was unforgivable and repellent. Men were that realistic.

She wanted him to remember her.

“I once made a wish to God,” she said lightly, making it up as she went along. “That the man I love would be blind, so he’d never see me with my makeup ruined. And if anyone ever did see it, then I’d stab his eyes out first and force him to marry me afterward.”

Shang Shao: “…”

“You are snow atop a high mountain – you can’t marry me. You are burdened with endless responsibilities – you can’t become blind. Therefore, you cannot look at me.”

Shang Shao took a deep breath and nodded, as though utterly speechless. Then, word by word, he said, “Ying Yin, it seems you really have cried enough now.”

Ying Yin pressed her lips together in a silent smile. “How could I? I’m only begging you, in your great mercy, to be a man who keeps his word in front of me.”

The teasing faded from her tone, replaced by sincere pleading as she said softly, “Don’t look.”

The hand covering his eyes moved away hesitantly, almost cautiously. Only after seeing that he truly was keeping his promise and keeping his eyes closed did she lower it again, this time to his collar.

But the interior of the Mercedes was spacious, the center console between them wide as a chasm. Ying Yin had no choice but to straighten up, kneeling with one knee on the console, her whole body leaning across toward the driver’s seat, waist bending softly.

Her movements as she untied a man’s necktie were surprisingly deft.

“I know twelve different ways to tie a tie, because ever since I was little, I was determined to marry a rich man. On television, rich men’s wives are always very good at tying ties.”

Who knew what she was so proud of.

Shang Shao’s patience had limits. His voice was slow and restrained, every word carrying an oppressive warning. “I’m warning you – don’t even think about using that thing to cover my face.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Ying Yin, at least, knew where the line was.

Shang Shao forced himself to suppress the irritation running through his entire body, until she finally loosened the knot of his tie and gently drew it away from around his neck.

The friction of satin fabric sliding against itself sounded faintly beside his ear – a soft rustling, like rain falling through a forest.

His Adam’s apple rolled involuntarily, though so subtly, so restrained, that it was almost impossible to notice.

He had no idea what she was doing now.

Shang Shao rarely broke his word to anyone, but at this very moment, he opened his eyes. In those usually unruffled eyes, dark ripples stirred.

He saw Ying Yin kneeling on one knee atop the center console, the slender waist wrapped in her dress stretching in a soft, graceful line as she calmly tied his honeysuckle-patterned necktie over her own eyes.

Ying Yin never noticed that he had gone back on his promise. Only after fastening the tie and sitting properly back in the passenger seat did she say, “You can look now.”

She sat with impeccable posture, her slim back resting against the seat, face turned toward the windshield. The hands that had just been causing all sorts of trouble on Shang Shao’s person were now folded neatly together, fingers interlaced and resting demurely on her lap.

The nape of her slightly lowered neck curved beautifully from the straight neckline of her gown, glowing beneath the night.

Like a swan bowing its head in quiet contemplation.

Shang Shao forced his gaze away with calm restraint.

All at once, his fingertips began to itch with the urge for nicotine. He wanted very badly to take a drag of a cigarette.

But he had already finished today’s allotment.

He was unwilling to break his rule.