Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 19

Cheng Junyi had just cooked herself a bowl of noodles. She carried it over to the walnut-wood breakfast bar by the window and had barely taken two bites when she noticed the car returning.

She lifted her wrist to glance at her delicate little ladies’ watch. The whole trip had taken less than two hours round-trip – far sooner than she’d expected.

With a mouthful of noodles, Junyi chewed slowly as she watched through the window the two of them getting out of the car, one from each side.

Their goodbye looked perfectly ordinary. She only saw Ying Yin give Song Shizhang a slight nod, while he merely curved his lips faintly in return. Neither of them said anything more before parting ways.

A moment later, the SUV’s engine started up in the courtyard. The tires scraped softly over the tiled driveway, the sound fading down the slope.

Junyi tossed down her chopsticks and ran over to meet Ying Yin.

“Did Song Shizhang at least take you out to eat? I made tomato-and-egg noodles…”

Her voice stopped abruptly.

Ying Yin was sitting on the shoe-changing bench in the entryway. The noon sun had climbed high, but the short slant of light couldn’t quite penetrate the porch. So half of Ying Yin sat bathed in harsh sunlight, while the other half disappeared into cool shadow.

“What’s wrong? Did he bully you?” Junyi instinctively softened both her footsteps and her voice.

It was as if Ying Yin had been startled awake by the sound of her voice. She lifted her face and smiled. “No.”

Her tone sounded deliberately upbeat – the kind of upbeat that pretended nothing was wrong.

“So sleepy. Hungry and sleepy. Song Shizhang is so stingy – wouldn’t even buy me a meal. I ended up drinking tea until my stomach was full.”

“Ugh,” Cheng Junyi said in disgust. “He’s seriously so boring.”

“Yeah, he’s seriously so boring,” Ying Yin echoed as she changed into her house slippers.

Only when she spoke did she wear a smile. The moment she fell silent, all expression vanished from her face, her gaze sinking heavily into a distant daze.

“Then what do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you.” Junyi still hadn’t noticed her low spirits and had already rolled up her sleeves.

“I want to sleep first. Work starts again this afternoon. Contact Zhuang Tiwen and ask what she’s decided, then print out the proposals for the Fashion Gala and Starlight Diamond Awards for me. After that, I’m going to focus on preparing for Li Shan’s audition, so don’t disturb me.”

Junyi followed closely behind her, nodding as she listened. “But you only rested for four days.”

Ying Yin turned back and smiled faintly. “Junyi, work is the only reliable thing.”

Still thinking about the noodles waiting downstairs, Junyi didn’t follow her up. Ying Yin went upstairs alone, lay facedown on the bed, and closed her eyes, her cheek resting against the crook of her slender arm.

Through the half-open window, the breeze carried in the scent of flowers and the sound of birdsong, peaceful enough to calm the mind.

After lying still for a while, Ying Yin reached beneath her pillow and pulled out a velvet jewelry box, black as ink.

With a click, the clasp sprang open. Nestled inside was the ring worth nearly ten million, dazzling with shifting light and radiant brilliance.

And suddenly, she understood everything.

Why he hadn’t returned her old ring, but instead bought her a new one – even more expensive – and given it to her.

Because he wanted her to sever all ties to the past, completely and cleanly.

That line – “The ring goes back to its owner, but the woman – he wants” – sounded less like affection than a kind of requisition. As though claiming possession of an object he found pleasing enough to keep and play with.

Honestly, Ying Yin thought with a trace of dark humor, it suited the style of people like them perfectly – the way they spoke, the way they acted.

Ying Yin suddenly pushed herself upright from the bed in one swift motion. She slipped the ring onto her long, slender ring finger, then raised her hand, spreading her fingers toward the light as she admired it again and again.

This wasn’t moonlight. It was just a ring. Nothing worth locking away in a collection – it ought to be worn openly, flaunted through the streets, through eating and drinking and everyday life.

She fell asleep wearing the ring, only to be awakened by a call from Zhuang Tiwen.

“Miss Ying, I accept your offer. When can I start work?” Zhuang Tiwen asked directly.

“You’ve already settled things with your family and company?”

Zhuang Tiwen laughed lightly on the other end of the line. “Yes, I’ve already completed the resignation procedures with Mr. Chen.”

Ordinarily, a minor PR specialist like her would never have been listed under the board office’s personnel structure, nor would her resignation have warranted Chen Youhan personally handling it. But Ying Yin had no experience in corporate workplaces and didn’t really understand the personnel hierarchy of large conglomerates, so she suspected nothing.

When Chen Youhan heard that she’d given up a position in the board office to become an assistant to a celebrity, he found it both baffling and amusing.

“How did you convince your dad?”

Tilting her head slightly, Zhuang Tiwen replied, “If I lose interest, I can always come back.”

“You’re not Shang Mingbao. You’re usually such a careful, calculating girl – it’s rare for you to act on impulse for once.”

Shang Mingbao was the youngest daughter of the Shang family, probably the happiest person in the universe: carefree, living incognito while obsessively fangirling idols and boosting rankings online. Comparing Zhuang Tiwen to her was practically comparing different species.

“I just thought her offer sounded interesting. I’m interested in it.”

As she spoke, Zhuang Tiwen leaned against the desk with both hands, watching Chen Youhan sign off on her resignation paperwork.

“And besides, you know what my dad’s like. He listens to Brother Shang about everything.”

“Your dad even asked Shang Shao about it?” Chen Youhan looked up. “What did he say?”

“He didn’t say much. Just, ‘It’s fine.’”

A trace of leisurely interest flickered across Chen Youhan’s face, though he said nothing more, merely smiling before casually asking, “I heard that at the banquet the other day, you even helped her stop Song Shizhang?”

“She asked me to protect her,” Zhuang Tiwen recalled. “Song Shizhang happened to want the room keycard, so I stopped him. It was close, honestly – he didn’t take me seriously at all. I had to try really hard to block him.”

Chen Youhan nodded. “When you worked for me, it didn’t matter if you acted however you pleased. But now you’re going to be someone else’s assistant. Remember to keep a lower profile and be more restrained. Think about things from your boss’s perspective, and don’t help her make enemies.”

“Wow.” Zhuang Tiwen tilted her head with a smile. “What you just said is exactly the same as what Brother Shang said.”

“Not exactly.” Chen Youhan curled his lips into a smile. “I’m teaching you how to conduct yourself. He was warning you not to cause trouble for someone else.”

“Hm?” Zhuang Tiwen didn’t quite process that, but Chen Youhan only smiled mysteriously and refused to elaborate.

The black-and-gold Hermès bag was the perfect size to use as a briefcase. Carrying it in one hand, Zhuang Tiwen strode briskly through GC’s open office floor, every step full of momentum. Before entering the elevator, she said to Ying Yin, “Looking forward to working with you, Miss Ying.”

The next day, when Zhuang Tiwen officially arrived to start work, Ying Yin was on the rooftop rehearsing lines with Cheng Junyi.

Her fluffy bun was tied high on her head, and she wore an oversized sweatshirt with loose cream-colored sweatpants, looking more like a college girl than a celebrity. When she saw Zhuang Tiwen arrive, she wrapped up rehearsal, rolled up her script, and gave her a once-over.

White blouse. Pencil skirt. Standard black heels, five centimeters high.

Ying Yin unscrewed her water bottle and took a sip before smiling. “You don’t have to dress so professionally. Wear whatever you like. Sometimes our schedule gets hectic, or we’re stuck standing around for appearances for hours. High heels are torture.”

Zhuang Tiwen nodded. “Okay.”

“When I’m free, I stay here. When work gets too busy, I stay at the apartment downtown. Where are you renting?”

Zhuang Tiwen was fully prepared. “Near the university district. The rent’s cheaper there.”

“That commute must be awful, right?” Ying Yin wasn’t very familiar with public transportation.

Still calm and methodical, Zhuang Tiwen answered, “Thirty-six subway stops, two lines, one hour and fifty-five minutes. It’s manageable.”

“That’s way too far!” Ying Yin was genuinely shocked by her tolerance for hardship. “You should just live with us instead.”

Zhuang Tiwen: “…”

“My work schedule is completely upside down. It’ll be more convenient if you move in. Officially you’re an assistant, but I don’t have an executive agent, so what you’re really doing is an agent’s job.” Ying Yin’s tone was casual despite her patience. “Try it first. If it doesn’t work out, we can adjust later.”

Although Zhuang Tiwen was from Hong Kong, her family had bought her a three-hundred-square-meter luxury flat here in Ning City – a top-tier apartment in the city center. The kind of place where you could go home and sink straight into a bath, where the fully automated smart-home system maintained the indoor humidity at a precise fifty-three percent no matter the weather outside, complete with twenty-four-hour personal butler service.

Her smile stiffened slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching. She was already beginning to regret this.

Once everything was settled, Cheng Junyi enthusiastically led her to the room.

“Look, isn’t it huge? I’m telling you, this bed is super comfortable!”

Zhuang Tiwen glanced around.

There was no standalone bathtub.

Her bath-soaking lifestyle was over. From now on, she would have to live the life of a hardworking fake poor person – pretending to struggle while secretly splurging on six-star hotel penthouses during vacations as emotional compensation.

The moment Cheng Junyi left, she flopped onto the bed and sent Shang Shao a WeChat message in complaint: [This is all your fault. I lost my perfectly good apartment and now have to live a communal lifestyle with other people.]

Outside, among the glittering forest of glass skyscrapers, a Maybach glided smoothly down the road, leaving behind an elegant streak of black.

In the back seat sat Shang Shao, just finishing a phone call.

“There has been contact from Ning City, but I don’t have time to meet for now.” He smiled faintly, his tone gentler than ever before. “Don’t worry about me. If you have the energy, worry instead about whether Lulu’s getting altitude sickness over in the Himalayas.”

The person on the other end said something. Shang Shao considered it briefly before replying, “I’m not considering a marriage alliance for the time being.”

He curved his lips slightly, his tone cool and light.

“You can tell Shang Qingye that coming to Ning City is already the biggest concession I’m willing to make. As for interfering in my marriage – that’s not open for discussion.”

Lin Cunkang couldn’t help glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

Over the past two years, the relationship between father and son had deteriorated sharply. The boy he had watched grow up was no longer as gentle and warm as he once had been.

After the call ended, the atmosphere in the car turned noticeably colder. Shang Shao closed his eyes, a faint frown pressing down on his irritation.

“Madam is actually in a difficult position too. The girls she’s selected for you – their character, looks, and family background would all be beyond reproach,” Lin Cunkang said in persuasion. “Why not find some time to meet them?”

Shang Shao pulled out a cigarette. Resting his hand on the center console, he pressed his temple lightly. With his eyes closed, his eyelashes cast a pale bluish shadow under his eyes.

He was truly exhausted.

After smoking for a while, he finally said, “You know whether I have the time or not.”

Lin Cunkang obviously understood his schedule better than anyone. Teams, partnerships, development, markets – everything was new, everything required alignment. Endless meetings, repeated discussions, decisions made and then overturned. Separated by a river, the working styles on the two sides were completely different, greatly increasing the cost of communication.

On top of that, being newly arrived meant there were too many people and matters that only someone of his level could handle directly. So his days were filled with either golf courses or banquet dinners – all social obligations, in one form or another.

Lin Cunkang smiled and teased him lightly, “Even just a dinner wouldn’t take that long. At worst, a cup of afternoon tea would do. You spent seven hours having a meal with Miss Ying – how did you suddenly have time then?”

Although he was formally a housekeeper, he was more like an elder and family member. Since Shang Shao went to study in the UK at ten years old, it had always been Lin Cunkang who stayed by his side taking care of everything. Their bond was close – there was little they couldn’t talk about.

Shang Shao had smoked nearly half a cigarette. Hearing that, amid the chaos of his thoughts, he curved his lips almost imperceptibly without a sound.

He opened his phone and just then saw a WeChat message from Zhuang Tiwen.

His cousin had been complaining so dramatically, yet he completely ignored her suffering and only asked: [How is she?]

Zhuang Tiwen replied out of context: [She’s very nice. Very approachable.]

Shang Shao typed: [I didn’t ask that], but after thinking for a moment, deleted it.

His agreement to let Zhuang Tiwen become Ying Yin’s assistant had actually come from noticing that she herself was eager to try it, and that Ying Yin genuinely needed someone like her.

Keeping a smart person close was dangerous – the prerequisite was trustworthiness. Among all of Ying Yin’s unknown possible candidates, Zhuang Tiwen was the most reliable.

But Shang Shao had no intention of letting her know about this subtle connection between him and Ying Yin.

He opened Ying Yin’s WeChat and saw that her display name had already been changed to: Yinyin starts working now.

“When was the dinner with Miss Ying?” he suddenly asked.

Lin Cunkang, caught off guard, replied, “Five days ago.”

Shang Shao said nothing in response. Only his fingers resting between his legs tapped lightly. His brow remained furrowed, as if dissatisfied.

Counting it up, it had already been four days since the last time the two of them had any contact. Ever since that drunken night, Ying Yin hadn’t looked for him again.

Ying Yin intended not to look for him again in the future either, as if she had been unreasonable and ignorant all along – pretending not to understand, accepting his favor in silence, and carrying his kindness in her life forever, owing him both gratitude and obligation.

These past few days, she had been working through one of Li Shan’s tribute films. The role she was invited to play was a famous revolutionary figure. There were two audition scenes. One was a speech delivered from a high platform – over five hundred words of semi-classical, semi-modern dialogue, extremely difficult to perform. The other was set in the countryside, where the character, living under an assumed identity while evading capture, writes a letter to her husband and reads out a monologue.

Zhuang Tiwen had handed over her previous duties with Junyi. She now handled business coordination, liaised with a new styling studio regarding wardrobe brands for two upcoming events next month, and also dealt with magazine scheduling inquiries for next year’s season cover shoot.

She had never done such a loosely structured job before. Every day she simply brought her laptop up to the rooftop to sunbathe, and occasionally, when she looked up and listened to Ying Yin rehearsing her audition lines, a lightning-like tremor would pass through her heart.

So this was Ying Yin – delicate and refined like a vase – yet when acting, the energy inside her body surged like a mountain flood.

They also ate meals together, all prepared by Junyi. Zhuang Tiwen discovered her cooking was excellent; in the past, after work she would always order hotel delivery. Accustomed to soulless hotel food, her palate had been completely reawakened to the warmth of “real life” cooking.

Ying Yin also preferred to eat in the courtyard. Sometimes flower petals would fall into her plate. The sunlight was strong, and it wasn’t the first time the ring on her finger had caught Zhuang Tiwen’s eye.

Her level of carelessness toward that ring was so extreme that Zhuang Tiwen almost began to suspect it was fake.

But she couldn’t have been mistaken – it was a genuine sapphire, with a one-carat diamond beside it that looked like nothing more than a grain of sand.

This completely overturned Zhuang Tiwen’s imagination of how much mainland film stars could earn. Because she knew that even someone like Shang Mingbao would have to submit a request at home before being allowed to buy a piece like that.

“Yinyin, can I borrow this ring and try it on for a bit?”

It was Junyi who had the most courage. She bit the tip of her chopsticks and blinked with a grin.

“Sure.”

Ying Yin answered carelessly, immediately taking the ring off and tossing it to her.

Junyi caught it with both hands, her heart nearly stopping from fear. “Damn, I almost went weak in the knees!”

Ying Yin glanced at her. “Pathetic.”

Junyi’s fingers were thicker than hers, and the ring got stuck at the second knuckle.

“Who gave this to you?” She held it up to the sunlight. “If I keep using it to focus sunlight and reflect it onto dry leaves, would the pile of leaves spontaneously combust?”

Zhuang Tiwen: “…”

Hey, have some respect.

“I bought it myself,” Ying Yin said.

“You’re lying. You’re stingy with yourself – at most you’d buy moissanite,” Junyi snorted. “I know. It was Mr. Shang who gave it to you.”

Pffft…

Zhuang Tiwen spat out her iced water.

Both of them turned to look at her. Junyi asked, “Why are you so excited?”

Zhuang Tiwen took a deep breath. “I-I-I…” She quickly changed the subject. “Which Mr. Shang? Chairman Shao?”

“No.” Ying Yin cut her off coldly.

Junyi glanced at Ying Yin a little strangely, then leaned toward Zhuang Tiwen. “You know him too?”

Having just choked on her drink and looking thoroughly flustered, Zhuang Tiwen now felt a bit guilty, like she’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Mm… I know a little,” she said.

“Is he a good person?”

“Um… he’s pretty good,” Zhuang Tiwen said awkwardly.

She was actually afraid of him. No one in the Shang family dared to cross him. That level of respect had nothing to do with whether he was “good” or not – it was the kind of person where even asking for a gift in a coquettish way required mental preparation and hesitation.

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

Ying Yin glanced sideways at Zhuang Tiwen, then looked away again, casually picking at her food.

“Probably not… he used to have one.”

Ying Yin put a candied tomato into her mouth, chewing slowly and carefully, her expression calm.

“Was she pretty?” Junyi kept asking.

“I’ve never seen her,” Zhuang Tiwen said honestly, shaking her head. “Mr. Shang’s last relationship was very mysterious. And they didn’t end on good terms.”

“So he must still be hung up on her,” Junyi said, very much like someone who enjoyed stirring conversation.

Clack.

Ying Yin put down her chopsticks, expressionless.

“Hm? You’re done eating?” Junyi asked. “This is your last serving of candied tomatoes – you’re going to start cutting sugar and carbs next.”

Ying Yin held herself back for three seconds, then picked her chopsticks up again and continued eating her beloved tomatoes, with a faint air of forced endurance.

Zhuang Tiwen smiled but didn’t respond to Junyi’s increasingly boundary-crossing questions.

“Oh, then… Mr. Shang…” Junyi cupped her hands around her mouth, lowering her voice slowly, “does he keep female celebrities…” then quickly added, “or male ones too.”

After finishing, she sat up straight, hands neatly placed on her lap, looking extremely expectant.

Zhuang Tiwen felt a faint sense of mental collapse.

Why on earth was she sitting here discussing her extremely ascetic cousin’s private life with other people?!

She coughed twice. “I think… he probably wouldn’t.”

Unexpectedly, Ying Yin let out a cold snort – almost a mocking laugh.

You can never truly know a person just by appearances. A love-struck young girl like this – how could she possibly see through a man’s disguise?

She swallowed another sweet candied tomato and said coldly, “Don’t blindly admire or idealize him just because he’s rich. All men are the same – none of them are good. Especially the ones who look gentle, humble, restrained, and proper. Those are exactly the ones who are best at pretending.

“How do you know he wouldn’t? He would. He just wouldn’t let you know. And he sits back calmly, never tells you, never discusses it with you, never even gives a warning – playing a game where everything is framed as fair exchange, mutual willingness, willing bait taking the hook, debts of kindness repaid as if it’s all perfectly natural.”

Junyi & Zhuang Tiwen: “…”

Both of them sat there slightly slack-jawed, staring blankly.

Ying Yin took a deep breath and slammed her chopsticks down.

“I’m not targeting him. I don’t even know him. What I mean is: rich men are all trash.”

Zhuang Tiwen pressed her temple.

Ying Yin continued earnestly, as if delivering a warning from above:

“Don’t idealize wealthy men. Understand? Ignore your elders’ advice and you’ll suffer for it.”

Cheng Junyi blinked twice and nodded blankly. “Mm… mm.”

The next second, Ying Yin’s phone vibrated twice.

She glanced sideways – her private phone. One unread message.

“It must be Ying Fan,” she said, turning on the screen. “Only she dares to disturb me while I’m working…”

She froze.

Her voice cut off. Her heartbeat seemed to stop for a moment.

A faint flush slowly rose on her face.

The man she had just been fiercely criticizing had sent her a message: [Miss Ying.]

With a dull thud, Ying Yin flipped her phone face down.

Junyi looked from the tomatoes to her face in confusion. “Are you allergic to tomatoes?”

Ying Yin covered her face with both hands. “No… it’s just… it’s a stalker fan!”

Junyi was shocked. “Delete it! Delete the dirty thing quickly!”

Ying Yin stood up, picked up her phone, her voice inexplicably softer now. “I… I’m going to the bathroom.”

Wait.

She handed the phone to Cheng Junyi. “Turn it off for me – and don’t look at it.”

Junyi naturally complied. She long-pressed the power button, brought up the shutdown option, and swiped. The screen went black.

Ying Yin walked away.

Zhuang Tiwen, sipping water, asked with concern, “Does she often get harassed by stalker fans?”

“Not really. The last time was Mr. Shang.”

Pfft… cough cough cough!

Zhuang Tiwen quickly wiped her mouth.

She really shouldn’t have been drinking water…

Junyi looked at her with full concern. “Zhuang Tiwen, do you have some kind of temporomandibular joint disorder or something?”

“No, I don’t.” Zhuang Tiwen raised a hand, signaling that the topic should be dropped, then asked seriously, “The Mr. Shang you mentioned… is that Shang Shao?”

“Yes, him. Last time I misunderstood him as a stalker fan and scolded him badly. It was actually pretty funny – he thought that Yinyin had sent him a distress message, so he came rushing over with a whole team of bodyguards to save her.”

“It’s not really his fault,” she added kindly. “His younger brother Shang Lu was kidnapped by a nanny when he was a child, so he’s always been a bit sensitive about that.”

Zhuang Tiwen explained it thoughtfully, but inside she was silently thinking: What should I do… am I going to get assassinated by my cousin…

The two of them waited for a long time – long enough for the wind to cool the rice and the sun to warm the iced water – but still no response from Ying Yin.

When they went upstairs to check, the person who had said she was going to the bathroom was now running intensely on the treadmill. On such a pleasantly cool autumn day, she was drenched in sweat.

After running ten kilometers, she finally slowed down to a walk. Sweat dripped down her face drop by drop as she wiped it away, panting heavily.

That was enough.

After showering, she took her phone back from Junyi. Her body, pushed to its limit, sank into exhaustion; her heart was beating even slower than that of an eighty-year-old granny. She would no longer entertain any unnecessary fantasies about him.

She would not, because of a short, meaningless message – “Miss Ying” – fall into complete chaos alone.

After turning on her phone and switching back to WeChat, Ying Yin saw that Shang Shao had only sent that one message.

He truly was unfazed by anything – calm, effortless, as if everything were under control. Even when reaching out to a woman, he only casually called out to her first, saying nothing else, not discussing anything personal. In every step forward or back, he always held the initiative.

She didn’t want to be at a disadvantage. She didn’t want to be casually controlled by him every time.

Steeling herself, she directly dialed his number.

Shang Shao hesitated for three seconds before answering. “Hello.”

He didn’t say “Miss Ying,” which meant there was someone else beside him.

Ying Yin kept her breathing steady. “Mr. Shang, sorry, I was napping just now. Did you need something from me?”

Her tone was noticeably colder now. Shang Shao could tell.

There was no longer that perfectly measured, faintly captivating deference from before. No softening of her voice. It was now completely ordinary, brisk, and slightly businesslike.

The woman on the other end quietly waited for him to finish the call.

He should have just hung up, but since he had already answered, and the call was with a woman he had just met, ending it abruptly would have been rude.

So Shang Shao could only say briefly, “It’s nothing important. I originally just wanted to ask for your autograph. We can talk another time when it’s convenient for you.”

Ying Yin also picked up on his cold, businesslike tone.

She paused for a moment, then simply said, “Mm. Okay. Bye.”

After the afternoon passed, Ying Yin learned from Zhuang Tiwen’s Moments that he had actually been… on a blind date.

A man like him, who clearly didn’t lack women, was actually going on blind dates.

For a moment, she didn’t know whether to laugh or be speechless.

Was it because choosing a girlfriend or mistress only required liking the appearance and temperament, but choosing a marriage partner had to be done carefully, cautiously, and once chosen, treated with utmost seriousness?

In fact, Zhuang Tiwen hadn’t meant to share it – it was just that Junyi happened to be scrolling with her and saw it.

Shang Shao was wearing a white shirt and black suit trousers. Perhaps because it wasn’t an official date, he hadn’t worn a tie. Or perhaps because the weather outdoors was nice, his sleeves were rolled up, revealing a section of his forearm – the blue veins making his arms look both strong and subtly sensual.

He was even wearing glasses – a silver frame – and was looking down at his phone. In front of him on the small table was a coffee cup and saucer.

Junyi let out a “wow.” “Mr. Shang! How do you have Mr. Shang in your Moments?”

The caption on the photo was extremely direct: Out on a blind date. Sisters, are we going for it? Press 1 if yes, 2 if no!

So how was Zhuang Tiwen supposed to respond?

This was a classmate and close friend from her British girls’ school – very beautiful, very open-minded, and someone who clearly liked Shang Shao’s type.

She kept a blank face. No need to guess – this was definitely a candid shot, and since it was shared in a private group, it was most likely only visible to their circle of close friends.

“Um…” she racked her brain. “It’s… a wealthy young lady I once received in the board office before!”

Junyi didn’t doubt her. She zoomed in on the photo again and again. “So Mr. Shang is on a blind date today? No wonder he’s dressed differently.”

Someone below asked who it was, and her friend replied: Can’t say – a super big shot.

Ying Yin stood with her back to them, her script tightly rolled in her hand. Those five hundred-plus words of semi-classical nonsense she had memorized by heart suddenly vanished from her mind completely.

She didn’t make a sound for a moment. Junyi didn’t find it strange – she just assumed she was tired and poured her a cup of cold-brew oolong tea.

“Mr. Shang looks even more stylish when he’s not in a suit.”

Ying Yin gripped the glass tightly and smiled faintly. “Why are you so concerned about him? He’s already on a blind date.”

“Just some gossip,” Junyi said, putting down the cold brew pitcher and turning to ask Zhuang Tiwen, “Do you know that rich young lady? Is she pretty?”

The smile on Ying Yin’s face stiffened – perfectly seamless, almost flawless.

Zhuang Tiwen shrugged and nodded casually. “Mm, she’s pretty. And she and Mr. Shang should get along quite well? They both studied philosophy – Mr. Shang was at Cambridge, she was in London.”

“Mr. Shang studied philosophy? Not business or management or something like that?”

Zhuang Tiwen smiled. “With his background, people like him usually study philosophy, literature, or other classical humanities subjects. Those departments are full of old aristocratic families – or old European ‘old money’ types – people inheriting surnames and titles. Business, finance, economics… that kind of thing,” she shook her head, “is never in their consideration. It’s too practical, not classical enough.”

Junyi thought for a moment. “Because only people like that have the leisure in life to study things that aren’t practical.”

Zhuang Tiwen looked at her with newfound respect. “You’re right. That’s exactly it. It’s itself a kind of aristocratic symbol.”

She smiled again. “But Mr. Shang is a bit different. He also studied law and finance. He’s very clear about what he wants.”

Cheng Junyi suddenly thought of something and laughed. “So when they’re on a blind date, do they talk about philosophy?”

Zhuang Tiwen couldn’t help laughing too.

Only Ying Yin didn’t smile.

She was thinking about their phone call from earlier.

She had interrupted his blind date.

So why, during a blind date, was he still messaging her?

Ah – to ask for an autograph.

For whom?

The questions came one after another, unclear whether she was interrogating the truth, or her own heart – each one tightening something inside her, again and again.

During his blind date, he asked her for an autograph for his date partner – casually, right there on the spot. Maybe even smiling as he said, “You like Ying Yin? I happen to know her quite well.”

When the phone rang, Ying Yin looked at the caller ID and knew she had no standing to ignore or reject it.

Don’t be too strange.
Don’t be too self-righteous.

She walked past the two assistants and said, “I’m going out to take a call. I won’t be having dinner – you can arrange it yourselves.”

Once she was in the room, she answered, smiling brightly, her tone lifted and light. “Mr. Shang, I’ve been waiting for your call.”

Shang Shao took the phone away slightly and frowned as he checked the contact name – it was indeed Ying Yin.

He was standing in the outdoor smoking area, a cigarette between his fingers. This was already his last cigarette of the day; the blind date had been so exhausting and tedious that he had to rely on smoking to ease his irritation.

“Did something happen?” he exhaled slowly and asked in a calm voice.

It wasn’t clear whether it was the cigarette or her voice, but his irritation did seem to ease slightly.

“No,” Ying Yin said with a smile. “Why do you ask?”

“Ying Yin,” Shang Shao called her name, narrowing his eyes. His whole presence grew heavier. “Don’t pretend to be happy when you’re not.”

“Mr. Shang is perhaps being overly suspicious. My day has been very ordinary – neither happy nor unhappy. By the way, you said you wanted my autograph. Do you want it personalized? What should I write? I’ll prepare it and have someone deliver it to you later.”

Shang Shao thought for a moment. “To Little Wenjun. I’ll send you the characters on WeChat. The rest is up to you.”

Hearing him say “Little Wenjun,” Ying Yin felt as though tears were about to fall.

It was completely unreasonable – she didn’t even know why she was being so unreasonable today.

Before hanging up, Shang Shao confirmed once more, “Really nothing?”

Ying Yin pressed her lips together firmly and gave a soft “mm.”

After the call ended, she rummaged through her desk and pulled out a stack of her own photo postcards. She picked through them one by one, then frowned – it felt too strange. How could she send a photo of herself?

In the end, she chose a still from one of her films, printed it on photo paper, and wrote:

To Little Wenjun:

Tears fell and blurred the ink from her marker.

She had no choice but to start over.

To Little Wenjun: Wishing you happiness every day, sweet and fulfilling life.

After finishing, she threw the marker aside and leaned by the window, taking deep breaths.

Something was wrong with her. She must have slipped into character from the film – wasn’t that role the one writing a letter to her husband in the countryside? The lines were full of deep affection. She had become immersed in the role and lost herself in it.

Afraid that Shang Shao might have opinions, or that he might want something more intimate or fitting in the message, Ying Yin took a photo of the postcard and sent it to him: [Is this okay?]

Shang Shao didn’t usually like typing, so he sent a voice message instead, a faint smile in his tone. “Wishing an eight-year-old kid a happy and fulfilling life – isn’t that a bit over the top, little sister?”

Ying Yin: [Eight years old?]

Her phone vibrated again – this time it was a voice call.

Flustered, she picked up immediately. On the other end, Shang Shao explained, “It’s the daughter of a business partner. She said she really likes your work and originally wanted me to ask Shang Lu to help get your autograph. Since we know each other, I just asked you directly instead. Hope you don’t find it abrupt.”

Ying Yin: “…”

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“…Mm.”

“Why did you think of writing ‘happiness and sweetness’ for a child?” he asked, unable to deny that those four words had actually rescued him from a long, exhausting blind date – so much so that he almost wanted to laugh.

“I…” Ying Yin hesitated. “I thought she was one of your female friends…”

“What female friend of mine would be called ‘little’?” Shang Shao said calmly, though his tone carried a subtle implication.

Ying Yin stayed silent.

Even though he clearly understood, he pretended to suddenly realize something, lowering his voice as if revealing the answer step by step. “A girlfriend?”

Ying Yin quickly defended herself. “I didn’t mean that. You also call me little sister.”

Shang Shao let out a soft laugh on the other end.

Ying Yin’s legs started to go weak. She forced herself to continue explaining, “I meant… since you call me little sister, I wouldn’t mistake your ‘little friend’ for a girlfriend…”

“Mm,” he responded. Then, after a pause, he picked up on her slightly nasal tone. “Did you cry?”

“I didn’t,” Ying Yin said, her face burning. Her dry, tear-streaked face made her feel feverish. “I was rehearsing an audition scene. It’s a tragic role. I… I got into character. Please don’t laugh at me.”

“So,” Shang Shao paused, “the reason you haven’t been drinking these past few days is because of ‘Yinyin Starts Working Now’?”

Ying Yin only felt a boom in her mind. The tightly held tension in her body collapsed like a bursting flood – from head to toe, inside and out, she went completely weak.

Covering her phone, she paced unsteadily around the room.

“That name… although a bit childish, it’s actually quite useful… I mean, it’s very self-explanatory…”

Shang Shao’s smile widened. In the end, he couldn’t hold it back and lowered his head, letting out a rare soft laugh.

“It is indeed very self-explanatory.”

After hanging up again, Ying Yin struck her forehead with her fist.

“Look at you getting into character. Look at you overacting. Look at you getting carried away!”

She was extremely frustrated, yet at the same time, something stubborn and lively inside her kept growing back like weeds.

Mr. Shang wasn’t that kind of person – why did she believe Song Shizhang’s nonsense?

But he had helped her. He had said, “The woman – he wants.”

Want.

No matter how you looked at it, that word didn’t sound innocent. It was enough to make anyone blush.

What she didn’t know was that at home, there was a small undercover agent who was thoughtfully messaging Shang Shao:

“Brother Shao, the photos from your blind date were seen by Ying Yin and her assistant. Should I subtly hint to them not to spread it outside?”

According to the original plan, after afternoon tea they were supposed to continue into dinner – this was Madam Wen Youyi’s earnest hope for him. But after seeing that message, Shang Shao put his phone away and made his decision within a second.

When he returned to the table, he politely apologized with regret:

“Miss Su, I’m very sorry, something urgent came up. I’ll have to excuse myself. Thank you for your valuable time this afternoon.”

It was so distant it was almost like receiving a rejection notice after an interview.

The Miss Su he was meeting felt her heart sink, but still asked, “We didn’t even get a chance to add each other on WeChat.”

“I don’t have the habit of using WeChat. If there’s anything, you can contact Uncle Kang – he is usually with me and will pass the message on promptly.”

He then removed his napkin, asked the waiter for a pen, wrote down Lin Cunkang’s number, and nodded politely.

“Please keep it. Goodbye.”

Miss Su: “…”

But he had still been quite patient this entire afternoon…

Lin Cunkang was unexpectedly met with him returning early, and couldn’t help sighing in mock complaint.

“You sat there drinking tea for so long, I thought you were interested. Now you’re leaving again – looks like you weren’t interested after all.”

As soon as Shang Shao got into the car, he removed his wristwatch and let out a deep breath.

“Spare me,” he said.

Lin Cunkang knew him very well. “But knowing your style, since you already went, even if it was unbearable you wouldn’t leave early. So what is it – something came up at the company?”

The Maybach had already driven out of the hotel’s underground garage and onto the street.

It was only around five in November, yet dusk had already begun to fall. Streetlights came on one by one, their glow blending with the deep blue of late autumn skies, reflecting in the eyes of the man in the back seat.

His gaze was clear and cold, yet also carried an unfathomable depth, like thick mountain mist.

After a moment, Lin Cunkang heard his instruction. “Go to Ying Yin’s place.”