Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 15

Ying Yin had absolutely no idea where he was taking her.

He gripped her wrist and led her forward; in her high heels, she stumbled along after him across the carpet, barely keeping up. The lights blurred before her eyes, and all she could see was the back of him – black hair, white shirt.

At the entrance hall, the waiters and driver were already standing by. Seeing the two of them arm in arm, none of them showed the slightest sign of surprise. Their faces remained perfectly composed, eyes lowered, though inwardly they were in utter turmoil.

“Get in.” Shang Shao personally opened the car door for her.

Ying Yin widened her eyes and reminded him, “Mr. Shang, you have another engagement. You’re going to be late again.”

“You don’t want to?” Shang Shao looked at her deeply.

The question was so blunt, and the words “don’t want to” carried an oddly intimate weight, making it difficult to answer.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Ying Yin replied with a compromise of an answer.

“Get in first. I’ll tell you later.”

Ying Yin understood better than to defy a man three times in a row – it was one of the survival rules she had learned in this industry. Besides, the man before her was someone she had never truly intended to refuse in the first place.

She stopped asking questions and obediently got into the car. The pearl-white satin gown slid slightly up along her calves as she sat down, then flowed back into place.

One hand braced against the car door and the other against the seatback, Shang Shao bent over her like that, studying her for several seconds before leaning closer.

For a moment, Ying Yin forgot how to breathe. Her whole body stiffened, not daring to move.

The next second, Shang Shao removed the jade hairpin from her coiffed hair.

She had just pinned it back up after washing her face. The moment the pin slid free, her hair spilled down like a black waterfall, fruity fragrance blooming between the two of them.

Soft curls framed Ying Yin’s startled expression, some shadows deep, some light, making her face resemble a moon soaked in ink wash.

Shang Shao handed the hairpin back to her. “It’s inconvenient for you to appear in public places. This way, you’re less likely to be recognized.”

Ying Yin took it from him. One held this end of the hairpin; the other held the opposite end.

Shang Shao did not let go immediately. The brief moment of passing it over stretched inexplicably long.

Almost instinctively, Ying Yin lifted her chin to meet his gaze, faintly bewildered. But that bewilderment lasted only a few seconds. Something in her heart trembled for no reason, and under his lofty, downward gaze, her lashes lowered of their own accord.

The palm clutching the pointed end of the hairpin had grown damp.

For some reason, tonight’s wind was especially fierce – stirring the waves high, surging the water, and making her breathing rise and fall like the tide.

Behind them, the driver’s voice sounded. “Chairman Shao, shall we depart now?”

Shang Shao released the hairpin as if nothing were amiss. His other hand still rested against the seatback as he answered without turning around, “Yes.”

Before closing the car door, he did not look at Ying Yin again.

After walking around the rear of the car and taking his seat on the other side, Shang Shao did not immediately reveal their destination. Instead, he instructed the driver, “Uncle Kang will call you. Follow his directions.”

Before the car had even left the estate, Lin Cunkang’s call came through. It evidently was not a complicated route; the driver asked no questions and simply replied, “Understood.”

From that point on, no one in the car spoke again.

Every now and then, the driver stole a glance at them through the rearview mirror. The two sat properly on opposite sides of the back seat, the center console between them strangely like a transparent barrier. By unspoken agreement, neither leaned even the slightest bit toward the middle.

Ying Yin repeatedly fiddled with the cuff of the suit jacket. It was a compulsive habit left behind by her bipolar disorder. Although her condition had long since come under effective control and she had not needed hospital follow-ups for a long time, whenever her heart was in torment, she became childlike again.

After a while, the man who had been resting with his eyes closed instructed, “Put on some music.”

“Yes, sir.”

The driver switched on the radio. It was a local Cantonese station, and at this hour they were airing a late-night live entertainment commentary program, the sort famous for inheriting the sharp-tongued, cutting style of Hong Kong tabloid media. It was extremely popular.

A female announcer’s voice rang out in rapid succession:

“…After having the lead role snatched away by a Best Actress winner, it’s no wonder Cai Beibei showed her displeasure openly at the wrap party set – one spark and her temper exploded.”

After reading the prepared report, the hostess changed her tone, sounding far more relaxed. “Ah, fresh gossip hot off the press. Interesting, isn’t it?”

The male host laughed casually. “But considering Ying Yin’s status, she probably wouldn’t need to steal anyone’s role, right?”

The driver knew very well that the man in the back seat had no interest whatsoever in the entertainment industry, so instinctively he reached to switch to a political news station instead. The audio jumped, replaced by a crisply enunciated report of “international crude oil prices plunging,” when a deep, calm, indifferent command came from behind him:

“The previous station.”

The Cantonese voices returned.

Female host said, “Rumor has it Cai Beibei is Director Fang’s prized protégé, and also the young actress heavily promoted by Director Fang’s Legendary Pictures. Using his final film to elevate his student – such a touching passing of the torch. The problem is that the film’s investors suddenly parachuted our Best Actress winner into the project and snatched the role midway, which is why Cai Beibei showed such a dark expression on set.”

Ying Yin could not understand the radio content at all. From the banter between the two hosts and the canned laughter, she could only infer that it was entertainment gossip.

It was not that she felt no sense of incongruity. Shang Shao did not even watch movies, so why would he pay attention to celebrity gossip? But her thoughts quickly drifted elsewhere, because Mai Anyan called her.

The phone vibrated once inside her evening clutch before she immediately declined it.

Ying Yin then sent him a WeChat message: [It’s inconvenient to talk. Say it here.]

Mai Anyan typed quickly: [Cai Beibei’s side is releasing PR statements. There may be some backlash over the next couple of days, but it’s nothing major. Just be aware of it.]

What kind of PR release could Cai Beibei possibly put out?

As Ying Yin opened Weibo, the lively discussion on the radio continued.

The male host cleared his throat twice, his gossip-laden tone dripping with implication. “I think I know who that investor is. Dropping into the trending searches in the middle of the night the day before yesterday to declare ownership rights – very domineering CEO behavior.”

The two shared an unspoken understanding. Laughing so hard they were nearly out of breath, the female host asked teasingly, “Are we really allowed to say this on air? Our show won’t get shut down tomorrow, will it?”

“Isn’t surviving storms and scandals exactly how our program made it this far? Too many debts to worry about now. We’re not the creators of gossip – we’re just chatting nonsense.”

A wave of canned laughter from the entertainment program flooded the car.

“Hey, hey, how about we make a bet? Hypothetically – and I mean hypothetically, please let the lawyers across the table hear that clearly – if our Best Actress winner really marries into a wealthy family, would she retire into domestic bliss for her overbearing CEO husband, or keep making films?”

“Judging from Song Shizhang’s previous marriage, I don’t think he’d be very accepting of a partner constantly in the public eye.”

At this point, Shang Shao’s patience finally snapped. His brows drew tightly together, his face full of irritation, clearly at the edge of utter disgust.

“Turn it off.”

The driver had already broken into a cold sweat. The moment he heard the order, he hurriedly shut the radio off.

Sneaking a glance through the rearview mirror afterward, he privately marveled at how remarkably composed this Best Actress winner really was.

Ying Yin had already seen the PR articles and trending topics Cai Beibei’s side had bought on Weibo.

The trending tag was #YingYinParachutedIn#, and the gossip accounts were all posting from the same template:

“No way – Ying Yin wrapped filming and left the set yesterday, and Cai Beibei looked upset the entire time [surprised][surprised]. Apparently the production team didn’t even prepare a wrap party for Ying Yin. What’s going on here? Could those rumors about Ying Yin parachuting into the production with investor backing and stealing the role actually be true? If so, Cai Beibei really got treated terribly this round…”

Ying Yin had debuted many years ago. Brilliant, dazzling, and with countless rivals – from top actresses to rising newcomers, from arthouse acting circles to idol traffic stars, male actors and female actors alike – her fans had fought with all of them.

The entire internet had long suffered under Ying Yin’s fandom.

Professionally speaking, she had no weak points, no scandals, and no romantic controversies. In the past, anti-fans could only mock her for being abandoned by the fashion industry or lacking luxury fashion resources. But this time, the accusation of “using investor backing to steal a role,” absurd as it was, had come with supporting “evidence”: first Song Shizhang parachuting onto the trending searches in the middle of the night and effectively confirming the romance rumors, then Cai Beibei’s photos from set –

A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

In the gossip-account comment sections and under the trending tag, fandoms from every corner of the industry gathered in unprecedented celebration:

[Not surprising. Isn’t she focused on becoming a rich man’s wife now? Her acting’s declined, so of course she has to buy her way into productions lol.]

[Seriously though, she dragged down Goodbye, Angela all by herself. Thirty minutes of screentime and she still had the nerve to fight for top billing over Ke Yu. Embarrassing all the way to Cannes.]

[LMAO, how long has our ‘double-grand-slam Best Actress’ gone without winning anything? Everyone from Goodbye, Angela won domestic awards except her – she came home empty-handed. Who’s the embarrassed one? I won’t say.]

[People have been vaguely hearing rumors about her and Song Shizhang for ages anyway.]

Given Ying Yin fans’ notorious combativeness and sky-high pride, there was no way they would swallow the insults quietly. They immediately began dragging up Cai Beibei’s dirt in retaliation:

[LOL, Ying Yin needs to steal screentime from someone who got roles by getting pregnant before marriage with her mentor?]

[One actress had her performance clips used in public film-school lectures; the other graduated from some obscure bottom-tier department. Don’t even compare them.]

In the middle of the chaos, Ying Yin’s fandom once again became the target of everyone’s attacks:

[No way, no way – are a Best Actress winner’s fans really spreading sexual rumors about another woman?]

[Their idol steals roles, their fans spread slut-shaming rumors about actresses. Hehe, the fans really do follow the idol.]

[So because Cai Beibei is a single mother, your fandom thinks it’s okay to fabricate dirty rumors about her? Absolutely disgusting.]

No one was unfamiliar with this kind of fandom war anymore. Every fan furiously hammering away at their keyboard in the chaos – whether her fans or Mai Anyan – none of them would get a result. There would be no winner, and no truth either. By the end of it, nobody even remembered what they were fighting about; they only remembered to argue until red-faced, as though it were a matter of life and death.

After years in the industry, Ying Yin’s life had become nothing more than the endless repetition of noisy spectacle.

She put down her phone, reassured Cheng Junyi that everything was fine, and told her not to argue with anyone online. Then she replied to Mai Anyan: [Handle it however you think best.]

As for all the remaining messages of concern, she did not click into a single one.

She recalled Nancy’s ill-timed joke on set, and the frenzy of camera shutters after she and Cai Beibei had exchanged a smile. Most likely, at that very moment, Mai Anyan had already guessed this PR campaign was coming and begun preparing a response strategy in advance.

As for the fandom side, the fan club leadership would soon impose discipline and unify messaging – orders carried out without question, like a rigorously trained army.

Her phone dropped back into the small hard-shell evening clutch with a soft, muffled thud.

Coming back to herself, she pressed her lips together and smiled at Shang Shao. “What was the radio talking about just now? It sounded very lively.”

The driver’s hands paused on the steering wheel as he glanced at her again through the rearview mirror. So this Best Actress winner did not understand Cantonese.

For some reason, there was now a trace of pity in the way he looked at her.

The man who had been resting with his eyes closed opened them, turned his face toward her, and in that moment lied to her calmly. “Advertisements for New Year’s events.”

Ying Yin did not doubt him in the slightest. No wonder he had listened for a while just now.

She took a deep breath. Both hands clasped tightly together, her shoulders dipped slightly with the motion of breathing, delicate and thin-boned.

Looking at Shang Shao, the curve of her smile grew sweeter and sweeter. “Do you also have a sense of ceremony for New Year’s celebrations sometimes?”

“Not much. Occasionally.”

Ying Yin nodded. “I think Cantonese sounds beautiful, but I could never learn it. Actually, I grew up in Ping City, but all my classmates spoke Mandarin.”

Shang Shao noticed that she had begun talking more, yet showed no sign of impatience. Instead, he asked, “What would you like to learn?”

Ying Yin paused for a moment, then smiled. “I only know dim gaai (why), leng jai (handsome guy), and nei gong me ye? (what are you saying?). The rest I’d all like to learn. Oh, and also the phrase you taught me before — gwaan jai gwat gwat.”

Shang Shao smiled along with her words, faintly. The way she said “nei gong me ye” carried a lively hint of complaint, almost like coquettish pouting.

“Where are you taking me? Being this late to your other engagement – does it really not matter?”

Only then did Shang Shao tell her the truth, his tone flat and casual, as though it were nothing important.

“I already informed them that I wouldn’t be going.”

Ying Yin stared blankly for a moment and began fiddling with the suit cuff again.

“If you’re in a bad mood, you don’t have to force yourself to act generous.”

Ying Yin had no idea how he had seen through her. She only felt her eyes suddenly grow hot.

Tears had a kind of inertia too. She had already cried once tonight, which made it especially easy for her to tear up again.

But she held it back. Her eyes merely glistened as she lowered her face and smiled quietly to herself.

Their destination, however, was not far. Leaving the estate, the car drove back toward the city along the coastal highway before finally stopping in the middle of a luxury shopping district.

This is the most luxurious, decadent part of Ning City – like Fifth Avenue in New York or the Champs-Élysées in Paris. Luxury brands line the streets, lights shimmer and flash, and every storefront window is bright enough to make people long for it.

Inside the windows stand elegant, statuesque models wearing expensive clothes and dazzling jewelry – always polished, always smiling. They are so perfect that one can almost wish to take their place, to be frozen inside the display window and become an eternal image of beauty and wealth.

It was already ten o’clock. There were few pedestrians left, and most shops were closing and tallying up for the day. In front of a jewelry store among them, black-and-white security tape had already been set up to clear the area. A triangular sign at the entrance read “CLOSED,” while four male staff members stood on either side, politely blocking customers who tried to enter.

The Mercedes slowly came to a stop. Ying Yin withdrew her gaze from the street scene and heard Shang Shao say, “Put your mask on.”

She took the black mask from her pocket and obediently put it on. She was smart – she could vaguely guess what he intended by bringing her here. Her heart began to pound, but it wasn’t quite happiness; instead, it felt heavy and sinking, making her breathing tight.

The driver got out first to open the door for Shang Shao. After stepping out, Shang Shao personally turned back to her. “Don’t be nervous.”

On the grey marble pavement, a pair of slender high heels landed.

Seeing them approach, the staff who had been guarding the entrance automatically parted. The store manager and all the sales staff were waiting in the lobby, bowing slightly as they said, “Welcome.”

Behind them, an unclear protest came from a customer. “…Didn’t you say the store was closed? Then why are they going in…”

The staff replied with mechanical politeness, “Sir, we are indeed past operating hours.”

The two of them entered. The security tape was removed, the glass doors closed, and only the “CLOSED” sign remained.

“Mr. Shang, it is our honor to serve you. Please come to the VIP lounge on the second floor.” The store manager bowed and gestured to lead the way.

“Just attend to her,” Shang Shao said.

“Yes, of course.”

The line of staff behind them all stopped automatically, each of them guessing who the woman accompanying Mr. Shang might be.

“Hey, who exactly is Mr. Shang? I checked the registry and couldn’t find him.” One of the sales associates looked confused.

“Hush. He’s a reception contact directly assigned by Greater China headquarters. How could he possibly be just a normal customer here?”

“You don’t know? Ross almost came in person. If the guest hadn’t specifically requested low-profile simplicity, the VIP room would’ve been covered in at least a hundred kilograms of roses.”

The sales staff laughed. After a while, the assistant manager came to inform them that they could leave work as usual and didn’t need to stay standing there.

“Ross asked me to send his regards. He very much wanted to come personally, but he was afraid of disturbing your enjoyment,” the store manager said politely.

Up in the VIP lounge, although they had been instructed to keep things simple, they still managed to arrange it within the limited time. The room was filled with the fragrance of fresh flowers, mixed with a faint perfume. Hearing that Shang Shao had studied in the UK, they catered to his tastes and brewed a pot of fine Earl Grey tea, accompanied by a lychee rose cake.

“Time is limited, so things are a bit simple and crude. We hope you’ll forgive us.” The store manager smiled and nodded to them, hands clasped neatly in front of her. “The collection you wanted to see has already been fully displayed. Shall we begin now, or would you prefer some tea first?”

Ying Yin stepped closer to Shang Shao, slightly pulling down her mask and tilting her head to ask near his ear, “What are you doing?”

Shang Shao couldn’t help but curl his lips. “If you can’t speak it properly, then don’t speak it at all.”

Then he said to the store manager, “Take Miss Ying directly to see them.”

Ying Yin: “…”

“You can take off your mask,” Shang Shao reminded her lightly.

Ying Yin glanced at the store manager and hesitated, but the manager was already smiling.

“Miss Ying, please rest assured. If even a single word of what happens tonight gets out, I might as well not stay in this industry anymore.”

Only then did her mind settle. She simply removed the mask, revealing a bare, makeup-free face beneath loose, soft curls.

Shang Shao handed the emerald ring to the store manager. “Check this.”

The store manager was highly experienced; with a piece of high-end jewelry like this, she could identify its origin at a glance.

“This is from Valeridge’s Museum Collection. It’s very good – only one tier below our Royal Collection. The difference is that theirs is a tribute reproduction using newly mined stones. Our Royal Collection is different; it is made from original, unreleased design blueprints. You could say every piece was originally designed for queens and princesses.”

She had likely already realized that Ying Yin was the one in control of the situation today, so she addressed her directly, her gaze sincere and fervent in just the right measure.

“Our Royal Collection is not on public display. Even VIP clients can only view the lookbook. You are the first customer ever allowed to wear it.”

Ying Yin could no longer care about social etiquette and subtly tugged at Shang Shao’s sleeve.

Shang Shao glanced at her but said nothing.

Ying Yin blinked. The store manager understood and tactfully excused herself on an pretext.

“What do you mean by this?”

She didn’t care about the royal lineage or which princess it was for – just listening to the introduction made her heart feel like it might stop. In her mind, it felt like a price counter was spinning wildly upward into the tens of millions.

“I like this ring of yours,” Shang Shao said lightly, as if it were no more than a piece of glass candy in Ying Yin’s hand. “A fair exchange. You don’t need to feel burdened.”

Ying Yin looked confused. “But this belongs to Song Shizhang.”

“You were able to throw it onto my balcony like a stone. You must have already been prepared not to get it back.”

“But…” Ying Yin hesitated, lifting her chin slightly to look up at him. “Mr. Shang, I can’t return a gift this valuable.”

“It isn’t valuable. It only becomes valuable because you accept it.”

Ying Yin did not know that the next day, the emerald ring from the Museum Collection was placed in a jewelry box by Lin Cunkang and delivered properly and courteously to Song Shizhang’s home.

He was an unexpected visitor, but Song Shizhang did not dare to be careless. Not only did he not dare to be careless – he was even somewhat flattered.

But his polite smile froze the moment he saw the ring.

He would never fail to recognize it. It was the one Ying Yin had lost. He had been generous to her in a way that bordered on tenderness, saying it didn’t matter – and he meant it. But that did not mean he could accept it ending up in Shang Shao’s hands.

Lin Cunkang did not even drink a sip of tea. He gave a slight bow, his politeness carrying a cool distance. “Mr. Shang asked me to bring you a message…”

“The ring has been returned to its rightful owner. As for the person… she is under his protection.”