Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 20

Lin Cunkang didn’t ask any further. He pulled up the navigation history on the system, and the voice prompt announced that the entire journey was twenty-six kilometers. Since it was the evening rush hour on a weekday, it would take over an hour.

Lin Cunkang wanted to remind him that arriving at this time would coincide with mealtime, which might be a bit abrupt for a man and a woman who were still half-familiar with each other. It could also cause her some hesitation over whether she should invite him to stay for dinner. But then he thought better of it – Shang Shao always did things with thoroughness and precision. He probably didn’t need an old man like him to worry.

The car turned around and drove onto a congested bridge crossing the river.

The red of the taillights stretched into an unbroken line, echoing the tiny glow of the cigarette between Shang Shao’s fingers.

He took two puffs before realizing something. He looked down at the cigarette in his hand, his gaze calm but with a trace of bewilderment.

I’ve gone overboard, he thought. He had just spotted the pack on the center console and lit up without thinking twice.

The traffic crawled forward. Lin Cunkang kept his eyes on the road when he heard the man in the back seat ask, “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m going?”

Lin Cunkang had lived a long life and long understood people as clearly as a fire illuminates the dark. He knew that Shang Shao never needed anyone to question where he was going or what he was doing. But at this moment, Lin Cunkang followed his lead and asked, “What are you going there for?”

Shang Shao stubbed out the long cigarette in the car’s ashtray and gave him an answer. “To get her autograph.”

Lin Cunkang nodded, saying nothing, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Don’t leave cigarettes in the car next time. If I don’t see them, I’m fine – but the moment I do, I can’t help myself.” Shang Shao’s face was expressionless as he lowered his gaze.

Lin Cunkang’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, studying his face. He seemed to be holding back a restless agitation.

Perhaps fate was smiling on them – after they crossed the bridge, the traffic split and the road conditions suddenly improved. The drive was smooth, and by the time they arrived, it had just turned six o’clock.

Though he had only been there once before, Shang Shao was already familiar with that sloping curve of the driveway, paved with marble bricks. A towering Indonesian mahogany tree stood at the turn, its crown spreading like an umbrella across half the sky. When the wind blew, clusters of leaves rustled softly against one another.

The villa’s courtyard was enclosed by a white wall, the electric iron gate shut tight. From the outside, nothing inside could be seen – only the glow of outdoor camping lamps strung among the trees, beneath which came the faint sound of laughter and conversation.

Lin Cunkang stepped forward and pressed the doorbell. As he waited for someone to answer, he glanced back and saw Shang Shao roll up his white sleeve, slowly and deliberately refastening his watch.

His stance was relaxed, almost languid. Dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, the hem neatly tucked into his narrow waist, his broad shoulders and long legs were accentuated, his silhouette striking. With his head slightly bowed and eyes lowered as he fastened his watch, there was a casual elegance about him.

Lin Cunkang smiled to himself for no particular reason. It was the exact same outfit he had worn to the blind date that afternoon, yet now – he simply looked far more distinguished.

After half a minute or so, hurried footsteps approached from behind the iron gate. “Coming! Who is it?”

Before Lin Cunkang could answer, Junyi had already recognized the face beyond the black wrought-iron gate. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Mr. Shang?”

Shang Shao gave her a small nod. “I know this is sudden. Sorry for the intrusion.”

Junyi quickly opened the gate, not even stopping to think about asking Ying Yin. After all, there was no way her boss would leave Mr. Shang standing outside.

Junyi, bless her heart, was still holding a long silver spoon in her hand. Shang Shao smiled. “Having dinner?”

“Yes.” Junyi stepped aside and watched as he walked naturally toward the source of voices, bathed in the clear glow of the lights.

When autumn winds blow, it’s time for cured meats. That evening, Junyi had made a clay pot rice with two kinds of cured sausage and pork belly, sliced half a roast goose from the open hearth, and served it with stir-fried kale, water mustard greens, sugar-preserved Provence tomatoes, a slow-simmered Hong Lake lotus root soup, and a pear dessert braised with autumn flavors. The table was full. In a ceramic pedestal fruit bowl nearby, persimmons glowed in a fiery orange.

As Shang Shao approached, he saw Ying Yin with her side turned to him, sitting across the round table from Zhuang Tiwen.

She was wearing a dress and a wool cardigan draped over her shoulders. Her elbows were propped on the table as she peeled a persimmon and asked, “Who comes over at mealtime?”

Zhuang Tiwen answered, “A delivery?”

The soft tap of black leather dress shoes came to a halt by the bluestone path.

Zhuang Tiwen looked up first and nearly choked on her water again. But she had been shocked so many times today that she’d learned to handle it – she pressed her lips together to hold it in, though her eyes widened to their fullest.

Seeing Zhuang Tiwen’s flustered expression, Ying Yin instinctively turned her face – and without any guard, looked straight toward the figure beneath the light.

There was a faint smile at the corner of her lips, but it was clear her mood was low. Her brows and eyes carried a languid, distracted air.

Then came the clatter of cups and dishes.

At the sight of Shang Shao, Ying Yin shot up from her seat, flustered. “Shang…”

She parted her lips, swallowed once, and only then managed to compose herself enough to say, “Mr. Shang.”

“Am I interrupting your meal?” Shang Shao asked, his tone light – a hint of concern, half an apology.

He knew perfectly well that he was overstepping.

Ying Yin quickly shook her head and forced a smile. “Not at all.”

Wasn’t he supposed to be having dinner with his blind date? What was he doing here?

Shang Shao seemed to read her mind. His voice was casual as he said, “I happened to be passing by, so I thought I’d pick up that autograph.”

“Ah, right…” Ying Yin suddenly understood. She turned to head upstairs. “I’ll go get it for you.”

“No rush.”

Ying Yin paused and turned back, standing where she was. Her cardigan was too big, making her look slender and delicate. With one long arm across her waist, the other rested on top, her thumb unconsciously pressing hard against the neckline of her dress underneath.

Shang Shao realized that he was still making her nervous – startled, even.

He changed his mind. “I’ll come with you. I’ll take it and leave.”

Ying Yin nodded. “It’s in the study on the second floor.”

The two of them walked toward the porch when they heard Junyi ask Lin Cunkang from behind, “Have you eaten yet?”

Lin Cunkang answered honestly, “Not yet.”

Junyi stated matter-of-factly, “Then would you like to stay for dinner? I made too much. If it doesn’t get eaten, I’ll have to throw it out.”

Lin Cunkang couldn’t help but smile. He then raised his eyes and glanced at the silhouette disappearing into the foyer.

The man had clearly heard, but said nothing – leaving it to him to speak up.

Fortunately, the old man had thick skin and could always pull rank with his age. He gladly accepted. “Then we’ll take you up on the offer.”

Ying Yin hadn’t expected Lin Cunkang to decide on his own to stay, but at this point, she couldn’t exactly turn them away. Her heart was pounding like a drum as she forced herself to exchange pleasantries. “It’s just a simple meal – nothing fancy. I hope Mr. Shang won’t mind.”

Shang Shao replied, “It’s fine. I’m the one intruding.”

It was as if there was an elastic band between them. When they were speaking over the phone at a distance, the band was loose and they felt close. But face to face, the band pulled taut – both of them politely civil, yet the distance between them had suddenly widened again.

Upstairs, Ying Yin switched on a brass floor lamp. “It’s a bit messy.”

There was a faint scent of old books in the air. Beside a dark green cigar chair, a side table held a bouquet of roses, their fragrance rich and heady.

Shang Shao followed her to the desk. Scattered across it were many printed photographs – the ones she had rejected that afternoon. A few were quite explicit.

Her usual cool detachment shattered in an instant. Flustered, Ying Yin pressed both slender hands down on the desk. “These are the rejects – very outdated…”

Shang Shao gently pulled one out. In the image, she wore a white swimsuit. One hand gathered her wet hair, the other rested on the curving swell of her chest. Her red lips were slightly parted as she looked up directly into the camera.

It was bold. Unlike any version of her he had seen before.

Ying Yin’s scalp tightened. She snatched the photo from his fingers with a sharp swipe. Just as she opened her mouth to explain, she saw Shang Shao frown slightly. He looked down at his fingertip.

The photo paper was too sharp, and she had yanked it away so abruptly that it had cut his skin.

“You’re hurt?” Ying Yin set aside any lingering unease and immediately took his hand, examining the thin, shallow cut with concern.

Sure enough, a trace of blood had surfaced.

The sting had lasted only an instant – hardly deserving of a word as serious as “hurt.” Shang Shao reassured her, “It’s nothing. Don’t be nervous.”

The scent of her hair was like ripe wild fruit in an autumn mountain. Because she was standing so close, it filled his breath, vivid and unmistakable.

The man didn’t make a sound, but his Adam’s apple bobbed – Ying Yin didn’t notice.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, lifting her face to him with remorse in her eyes. “I just didn’t want you to see… that photo.”

Her voice trailed off at the end, the word “photo” nearly inaudible.

“Why?” Shang Shao asked, his expression unchanged.

“Because… because seeing what is improper is impolite.”

Shang Shao raised his eyes slightly, amused by her phrasing.

“So… magazine readers can see it, but I can’t.”

Ying Yin: “…”

Shang Shao didn’t tease her further. He withdrew his hand and reminded her flatly, “The autograph, Miss Ying.”

Ying Yin found the one addressed to Little Wenjun – the one with the delightfully mood-killing inscription: “Study hard and make progress every day.” The ink had already dried. She placed it in an envelope and handed it to Shang Shao with both hands. “I wish your little friend the top score on the exam.”

Shang Shao’s lips curved slightly. He took the envelope between two fingers and gave it a little flick. “Thank you.”

When they went downstairs, extra bowls and chopsticks had already been set out. Everyone was waiting for them.

Ying Yin opened a jar of sweet rice wine she had brought back from Ying Fan’s place and personally poured a cup for Lin Cunkang and Shang Shao. “This was brewed by my mother. It’s a little sweet, but very refreshing – and it won’t go to your head.”

Whether it was because he wasn’t hungry or simply unaccustomed to the food, Shang Shao barely touched his chopsticks. The cup of wine he had been poured, however, he did drink. Since Lin Cunkang was driving and remained completely sober, Junyi brewed a pot of pu’er tea instead. The five of them drank tea and wine at ease, chatting idly under the autumn moon.

Junyi had no concept of easing into a topic. She opened her mouth and asked directly, “Mr. Shang, were you satisfied with your blind date this afternoon?”

Ying Yin kept her composure and smiled gracefully at Shang Shao, waiting for his answer.

Shang Shao’s face revealed nothing. In a flat tone, he asked, “How do you know I went on a blind date?”

Zhuang Tiwen stepped forward to take the fall. “It’s my fault, Mr. Shang. The person you went on the blind date with – I’d received her before for an event. She posted a photo.”

Having confessed, she secretly flashed Shang Shao an “OK” gesture as if taking credit, her little expressions dancing all over her face.

Shang Shao nodded and gave a faint curl of his lips. “When it comes to blind dates, it takes two to match. Me being interested on my own doesn’t mean much.”

“She is interested in you,” Zhuang Tiwen said. “She posted on her Moments asking everyone to cheer her on.”

Junyi chimed in like a straight man in a comedy duo. “Well then, it’s mutual.”

Ying Yin shrugged, the corners of her mouth lifting high. She tilted her head with a smile and said, “Congratulations, Mr. Shang.”

Shang Shao set down his tea cup. His eyelids lowered along with his gaze. After a pause, he said, “Too early to congratulate me. She’s too young. Not really suitable for me.”

Zhuang Tiwen thought she might be overreacting, but she genuinely felt a strange, oppressive low pressure in the air. So cold, so deep – only one person at the table could emit such an aura.

Lin Cunkang was sitting right next to her. He gave her a light nudge under the table. Zhuang Tiwen immediately straightened up, her brain spinning for a long moment. “Ah, well…” She glanced at Lin Cunkang’s expression as she stumbled along, half-guessing, half-deducing: “So… Mr. Shang is also being set up on blind dates? Is it because… you’ve been single too long… or… you’re being… pressured by your family?”

Lin Cunkang took a sip of tea and gave Zhuang Tiwen a thumbs-up.

Zhuang Tiwen smiled and blinked, thinking to herself, Damn.

Their silent exchange of micro-expressions didn’t escape Shang Shao’s expressionless glance. Both of them immediately backed down.

Only then did he reply coldly, “It’s pressure from my family.”

Ying Yin was drinking the Hong Lake lotus root soup, her head lowered. The porcelain spoon clinked against the white jade bowl.

The meal couldn’t exactly be called unpleasant, but when it came time to leave, everyone inexplicably felt exhausted – except for Junyi, who simply said, “I’m so full.”

It wouldn’t do to leave right after eating, nor would it do to kick the guests out. So they went upstairs to have tea.

Zhuang Tiwen, having fully recovered her nerve over the course of this magical evening, found an excuse to take Junyi and Lin Cunkang to the media room to watch a movie.

Everyone except Junyi knew that Shang Shao rarely watched movies. Junyi invited him anyway. “Mr. Shang, won’t you join us?”

Lin Cunkang volunteered an explanation. “He hardly ever watches movies. Don’t mind him.”

It wouldn’t do to leave him outside all by himself, so Ying Yin had no choice but to say, “I’ll keep Mr. Shang company. You all go ahead.”

As Zhuang Tiwen walked, she exchanged fierce, silent opinions with Lin Cunkang through her eyes. She didn’t understand! She was on exactly the right track, but she had no idea why they were doing this!

Lin Cunkang spread his hands gracefully, as if to say, Don’t ask me.

The media room had been a major investment during the renovation – the soundproofing was excellent. The moment the door closed, it was like sealing off two separate worlds.

The two of them stood in the living room. A draft blew through the hallway, and the silence was so deep that birdsong could be heard.

Ying Yin pulled her cardigan tighter and invited Shang Shao to rest in the study. “Let me brew you a fresh pot of tea. How about raw pu’er?”

Shang Shao nodded. Ying Yin went downstairs to boil spring water and look for that ridiculously expensive cake of Lao Banzhang tea. While waiting for the water to boil, she leaned against the counter, silently pleading for it to take its time.

She truly had no idea what the purpose or meaning of his visit tonight was. She only knew that after five days without seeing him, his face, his voice, his presence – all of it felt dangerous.

White steam billowed from the kettle, filling the small wet bar area. The face of Song Shizhang’s mistress – that beautiful, clear-eyed woman – floated once again before Ying Yin’s eyes.

Though she had sold her body and certain other precious qualities, unburdened by material worries, her gaze surpassed that of most women. It looked utterly clear and pure, as if untouched by life’s hardships.

But Ying Fan was no less beautiful than her.

Yet Ying Fan’s eyes were so murky, so worldly – capable of calculation, of flattery, of sharpness, of longing, of envy. Every wrinkle on her face told a story of past poverty and hardship.

Ying Yin smiled. She wasn’t sure if she found the world amusing or bitterly ironic.

The water had been boiling for a long time when she received a call from Mai Anyan. Mai Anyan was trying to convince her to take on a drama role to help promote Ruan Ye. Ying Yin didn’t act in TV dramas and could have refused outright, but instead she deliberately hesitated, letting Mai Anyan talk herself hoarse trying to persuade her, doing whatever it took to keep her from hanging up.

In the end, the call lasted twenty minutes.

Perhaps Shang Shao had grown bored and reluctantly gone to join the movie. Perhaps he had come downstairs looking for her, seen she was on the phone, and decided not to interrupt.

But Ying Yin never expected that Shang Shao had fallen asleep.

The air was thick with the faint scent of flowers. The brass floor lamp had been dimmed to its softest, most gentle setting.

He sat in that dark green cigar chair, his entire body sinking into the wide seat. One hand rested loosely on the armrest, the other elbow propped up, supporting his temple.

Ying Yin set the teapot gently down on the thick carpet by the door and unconsciously lightened her footsteps.

As she drew closer, she could hear his long, steady breathing. His eyes were closed, but his brow was faintly furrowed – as if he had drifted off with something weighing on his mind. There was a faint dark shadow beneath his eyes, suggesting he hadn’t been resting well lately.

In the lamplight, his face was half-illuminated, half in shadow – dark contours and soft glimmers outlining his silhouette.

A breeze occasionally drifted in. Ying Yin picked up a blanket, gently unfolded it, and leaned over to lay it over him.

She hadn’t expected that even asleep, he would be so alert. Almost the moment the blanket touched his lap, Shang Shao seized her arm.

It hurt. It was an instinctive reaction from his waking vigilance – his grip so tight that her bones ached. Losing her balance, she fell forward, one knee landing between his legs, one hand braced against his chest, just barely stopping herself from tumbling straight into his arms.

“It’s you.” Shang Shao had woken, but his eyes remained heavy-lidded as he looked down at Ying Yin from above.

After a long moment, he spoke, his voice low and hoarse. “What were you trying to do?”

One of her hands was still pinned in his grip, her posture awkward. She could only stiffen her back as best she could and say, “There’s a draft here. I was afraid you’d be cold, so I brought you a blanket.”

What blanket – that pale ginger-colored cashmere blanket had long since slipped silently away from between them.

Shang Shao’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her coldly, but beneath that chill, his gaze was thick and dark, almost impenetrable.

“Why were you gone so long?”

“I took a phone call.” Ying Yin met his gaze steadily, looking back at him.

Was the light here too soft? She regretted it.

How dare she hold his gaze? He was a king, a lord, a beast patrolling his territory. What was she? Just a deer who couldn’t see herself clearly – trapped between advance and retreat, lost and pitiful.

The longer she looked at him, the more violently her heart pounded. The tips of her fingers, the ones trapped in his grip, began to tremble faintly.

His thumb was so domineering, pressing against the center of her wrist, against the blue pulse beneath – as if ringing the doorbell to her heart.

A jolt of electricity shot up from her wrist. She pulled back, not too forcefully. “Mr. Shang… my hand…”

Shang Shao’s voice remained slow and deep, his face utterly expressionless. But beneath it all, his eyes were like a dark, stormy sky.

“Your hand… what about it?” he asked, lowering his face even closer to hers until their noses nearly touched.

Ying Yin’s heart trembled into chaos. “My hand…” Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. In contrast, the breath she was trying so hard to hold back was growing clearer and clearer.

Shang Shao almost kissed her. The air was saturated with her fragrance. But in the end, he eased off the pressure.

Ying Yin’s slender hand slipped free from his broad palm, and her stiff, rigid back finally softened. Steadying herself on his shoulder, she slowly rose from his lap. With her eyes cast down all the while, her lashes were elongated by the lamplight, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings.

That warm, fragrant presence gradually drifted away from Shang Shao’s chest.

Before his embrace could fully cool, his gaze turned cold. Abruptly changing his mind, he caught her by the small of her back and pressed her entire body against his.

Ying Yin, taken completely by surprise, let out a soft grunt. Frowning, she lifted her face – and fell into his eyes, now shrouded by dense clouds.

He wanted her.

He still wanted her.

Ying Yin heard a voice inside her – a thud, like a ring toss game landing squarely around its target, settling the outcome with finality.

The next moment, Shang Shao lowered his face and kissed her, almost fiercely.

Ying Yin closed her eyes in acquiescence. His arms encircled her soft, slender waist, holding her so tightly that she nearly bent backward. Her moon-white silk dress bunched messily between her legs, baring her smooth calves.

She was half-kneeling. One of her Mules had long disappeared; the other, still hooked by her toes, dangled with its bee embroidery swaying, swaying – until, at last, pat. It fell to the floor.

Junyi’s voice came from outside the door, and Ying Yin suddenly snapped awake. The moment she came to, she knew that Shang Shao had woken at the exact same time.

His eyes were clear, but his voice was hoarse. “Go lock the door.”

It sounded like an order.

Ying Yin actually went. She locked the door. Half of her cardigan had slipped off, along with the strap of her dress underneath. Her thin back pressed against the cold wooden door. Her gaze was unyielding as she looked straight at Shang Shao. With a click, she turned the lock.

Shang Shao took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to withstand the inexplicable desire that squeezed his heart. He rose from the sofa.

Ying Yin stood motionless by the bookshelf, waiting for him.

Shang Shao approached her until they were inches apart, breathing the same air. But he didn’t kiss her again. Instead, he reached out, pulled her cardigan over her shoulder, and gently straightened it. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice burned raw. “I lost control.”

Ying Yin lowered her eyes. “It’s all right. You have done me such a great favor. Whatever repayment you want, it’s only right.”

Shang Shao stiffened. “What repayment?”

Her heart ached, but Ying Yin still lifted her face and curved her lips into a smile. “You helped me return the ring to Song Shizhang and told him that Ying Yin was yours. He didn’t dare offend you, so he officially let go of me. Mr. Shang, I’ve always known – you have everything. There’s not much I can give you in return. It’s rare that you happen to fancy me…”

Her voice suddenly caught on a sob, but she hid it well. She paused only briefly before continuing with a smile, “It’s my honor.”

The desire and emotion that had been stirring in his blood just moments ago vanished completely in an instant.

Shang Shao’s face darkened. He was silent for a long moment. “Ying Yin, do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I know.” Ying Yin nodded. In the dim room, her face was very pale. “I just can’t be your mistress. Let me go – if not for anything else, then for the sake of Mr. Ke and Shang Lu.”

To protect herself, she had even invoked the goodwill of Ke Yu and Shang Lu – the unspoken understanding between them, the wild spring in her corner, the rain dripping lush and green on his side.

Outside the door, Junyi had returned and was calling her name. Ying Yin suddenly spoke, her voice tight. “Junyi! Go downstairs and help Mr. Shang find the autograph. The autograph is lost!”

Junyi said “Oh,” and obediently turned to go downstairs.

Because she was standing against the light, Ying Yin couldn’t clearly see Shang Shao’s face. She only heard him let out a cold laugh – whether mocking himself or mocking her, she couldn’t tell.

“Miss Ying, repaying me is actually very simple. You don’t need to sell yourself.”

Ying Yin hummed softly in confusion. “Go on.”

“I want you to date me for one year.”

“I said I won’t be a mistress, Young Master Shang. You think too little of people.”

Shang Shao released her, his tone light. “You mean once is fine, but not every time. Is there really any difference in dignity between the two?” He stared coldly at Ying Yin. “It’s as if in your heart, I’m no different from Song Shizhang – just fifty steps laughing at a hundred. Same root, same essence.”

Ying Yin’s brows knitted, her heart stung. “And where do you think you’re any better? If you gave me a ring, I could grit my teeth and pay you back. But you know very well that I can’t repay this favor of yours – not fully, not ever. Before you helped me, did you ever ask what I wanted? You acted first and informed me later, gambling that I’m a woman who knows gratitude. You waited casually for me to throw myself into your arms – all so you could preserve your reputation as a man of noble character and untainted integrity. Isn’t that right?”

“Ying Yin, what you’re saying,” Shang Shao said, his face expressionless but every word suffocating, “is that all your reactions to me, all this time, have only been because you know gratitude and recognize which way the wind blows.”

Ying Yin silently clenched her jaw and turned her face away. The line of her jaw radiated clear stubbornness and pride.

Shang Shao nodded.

These words felt familiar to him. Some people wanted his money, others feared his power. It was all the same.

He enunciated each syllable. “How considerate of you.”

The word “considerate” landed heavily, like a hammer driving a nail into Ying Yin’s soft heart.

“You flatter me, Mr. Shang.” She tilted her chin up slightly, pressing a forceful smile to her lips.

Shang Shao let out a deep, mirthless laugh. “Very well. I just happen to need a woman to help me fend off family pressure to marry. Miss Ying, we know each other’s true natures, and with Mr. Ke acting as a guarantor, you’re the most suitable candidate.”

Ying Yin stiffened. “You’re vetting me?”

“That’s no different from being a mistress.”

“I won’t touch you,” Shang Shao said, lowering his gaze. The look was condescending, as if she wasn’t even worth his regard. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I don’t believe you.” Ying Yin swallowed. She turned her face away, her eyes reddening. “Then what the hell were you just doing?”

Shang Shao: “…”

“You have no credibility.”

“One hundred million.” Shang Shao undid his shirt collar with one hand while the other rested on his hip. Pacing a few steps in agitation, he added, “After taxes. Think it over yourself.”

Ying Yin let out another confused “Hmm?” “What about not sleeping together?”

Shang Shao’s impatient footsteps halted. “What?”

“A hundred million after sleeping together. So what about not sleeping together?” Ying Yin suddenly understood. “If we don’t sleep together, that’s me repaying you for the favor with Song Shizhang. If we do sleep together, you add another hundred million for me.”

She let out a snort, her smile turning mocking. “Not bad. Quite generous. So then, how many times? Is it a hundred million regardless of the number of times, or a hundred million per time? Because if it’s the latter, I’d be more than happy to sleep you into bankruptcy. Can your body handle that, Mr. Shang?”

Shang Shao: “…”

What was this woman talking about?

“Wait a moment.” He raised his hand slightly, as if calling a timeout across a negotiation table. Then he lowered his head and sorted through his thoughts for a while. When he looked back up, his eyes were full of disbelief. “Miss Ying, it’s tax, not sex.”

Ying Yin had a whole arsenal of insults aimed at men ready to fire back at him – until she heard the word “tax.” Her offensive momentum screeched to a halt. Then she sucked in a sharp breath, spun around abruptly, and pressed her forehead against the bookshelf. [1]

Shang Shao heard her let out a very, very soft, utterly mortified exclamation. “Holy shit…”

She wanted to bury herself alive!

Translator’s Notes:

[1] The misunderstanding here lies in the word “tax” has the same pronunciation as “sleep” in Chinese. So when Ying Yin heard Shang Shao say “after tax”, she thought he meant “after sex”.