As the Maybach’s partition slowly rose, the front and rear seats gradually became two private, separate spaces.
Ying Yin had ridden in a Maybach before, but aside from noticing that Shang Shao’s car was unusually long and wide, she had never imagined it would actually have a partition – let alone that it would be raised at this very moment.
The partition was made of glass, so it didn’t feel oppressive, but it was opaque and extremely soundproof – so much so that she could no longer hear Lin Cunkang in the front seat.
The boldness she had shown just moments ago now drained away completely. She wanted to run, but the moment she lifted herself off the seat, Shang Shao’s hand firmly pressed her back down.
He wasn’t using much force, but his grip was assertive and left no room for argument. His hand rested against the curve of her hip.
It just rested there – no further movement.
Ying Yin didn’t know whether to curse him for a scoundrel or compliment him on being a gentleman.
“What are you trying to do?” Shang Shao asked coolly.
“I…” Ying Yin’s hand slid down from his neck. Her lashes lowered, her gaze flustered. “Someone might see…”
“No, they won’t.”
He looked directly into her eyes, which had nowhere to hide. With a light press of his finger somewhere, a soft click sounded, and a sunshade lowered from inside the car window.
Ying Yin: “…”
The car pulled away smoothly, gliding silently past the elevator lobby as two customers at the entrance murmured to each other, “Holy shit, Hong Kong·3…”
They even pulled out their phones to take pictures.
But how could they know that what was truly worth photographing wasn’t the car or the license plate, but the indescribable, ambiguous springtime passion hidden inside.
Shang Shao casually pinned her left wrist – the one with the watch – sliding his index finger into her palm, forcing her pale, delicate hand to bend upward, though her slender fingers hung limply, powerless.
His breath was scalding, low and deep, yet his command came with infuriating composure. “Keep going.”
Ying Yin felt her whole body burn with restlessness. She squirmed, shifting her weight to find a more comfortable position, still trying to reason with him. “…You said you wouldn’t touch me.”
Shang Shao let out a faint, ambiguous snort – whether amused or provoked, it was hard to tell. She was the one who had teased him first, and she was the one trying to run first. Did he really have such a reputation for impotence that she thought she could come and go unscathed?
“Miss Ying, in business, one must act in good faith.” He slowly pulled her phone from her skirt pocket. “Ten million, one minute. I want it now.”
The shortcut for the countdown timer was activated, and in the next second, a sixty-second countdown appeared on the screen.
Ying Yin’s eyes were still dazed and wide. In the midst of her stiffness and forgotten breath, her slightly parted red lips were seized by Shang Shao’s kiss.
He kissed her again.
Unlike the uncontrollable, intense kiss from last night after he had just woken up, this time he kissed her unhurriedly. His hand moved from her hip to her waist, his palm scalding against her as he caressed her, restrained, without kneading.
Her silk blouse was so thin it nearly caught fire. Her legs rubbed faintly against him -completely subconscious, unaware of how dangerous her actions were.
Her teasing made Shang Shao pause for a very brief moment. Then the kiss deepened uncontrollably – from gentle to intense, from light to heavy. After thoroughly sucking on her full lips, the tip of his tongue probed past her teeth.
He entered smoothly, effortlessly, meeting no resistance at all.
The contact between their tongues brought a wave of moisture and sweet yearning. He played with her lips and tongue – first brushing, then entwining, finally sucking fiercely. Ying Yin was forced to part her lips wide, accepting his all-out assault. Her mouth and nose were filled with his scent; her body and mind were utterly defenseless, leaving her at his mercy.
In the confined space, the faint sound of their wet kisses rose.
Ying Yin melted limply in his arms, her high heels barely able to stay on the carpet. A fleeting thought crossed her mind: Could Uncle Kang hear them?
When the alarm clock rang, Shang Shao paused, keeping his word and stopping immediately.
He broke the kiss and lifted his face slightly, yet his lips still barely grazed Ying Yin’s -touching, brushing, brushing again like a dragonfly skimming water.
One minute, it turned out, was far from satisfying.
Shang Shao steadied the pounding of his heart for a moment before slowly opening his eyes. His gaze was dark and obscure, but beneath it lay an unruffled calm that made his emotions impossible to read.
He looked at the person in his arms. Her face was flushed an unnatural shade of red, her breaths hot and sweet. Her kissed-raw lips were pressed tightly together, as if she had plenty to complain about, yet her eyes were moist.
Ying Yin hadn’t even realized that throughout the kiss, she had been clutching Shang Shao’s tie tightly. Her body had gone completely limp, yet somehow her hand had found the strength to crumple his impeccably starched shirt and tie beyond recognition.
Shang Shao silenced the alarm, his expression returning to its usual stoic composure.
“This kind of business…” He paused, then looked down at her. “How many men have you done it with, Miss Ying?”
Ying Yin, with her unyielding streak of defiance, replied, “Mr. Shang makes thirty-one.”
Shang Shao betrayed no sign of pleasure or anger. After a moment of silence, he simply instructed her, “Don’t do it again.”
His tone was calm and composed, impossible to tell whether he believed her or not.
Ying Yin had just been thoroughly kissed and was thinking she could finally get up now. But the moment she lifted herself off, Shang Shao pressed her back down again.
“Don’t move.”
“Hmm?” A faint, puzzled sound escaped her nose.
“It’s inconvenient.”
Ying Yin was dazed. After a moment, some realization seemed to dawn on her, and she instinctively began to lower her face –
Shang Shao didn’t give her the chance. His large hand cupped the back of her neck and pressed her face firmly into his chest.
“Don’t look.”
His solid chest was still heaving, the scorching heat of his masculine pheromones radiating out, breaking through his cologne like a sudden volcano erupting on an icy surface. Ying Yin’s face flushed crimson. She just wanted to scramble away immediately, but Shang Shao’s hold was too tight – there was no escape.
“Didn’t the papers say…” She swallowed.
Shang Shao’s expression didn’t change. “You cured me.”
…Who would believe that!
Furious and embarrassed, Ying Yin thought it over. There were many types of dysfunction – maybe it wasn’t erectile dysfunction, but… premature ejaculation?
But no matter how she tried, she simply couldn’t connect this man’s dangerously virile aura with the words “premature ejaculation.”
She listened, not daring to make any rash moves, carefully maintaining a delicate distance from him.
After a full two minutes of silence, she heard a cold, deep voice from above. “It’s fine now.”
Ying Yin kept her head down and awkwardly pulled back from his embrace. “I…I’ll go sit over there…”
Although the Maybach’s rear seat had a continuous center console she would have to half-climb over, which might not be the most graceful sight.
But she couldn’t stand to stay in this man’s arms another second!
“Sit right here.” Shang Shao pressed her back down by the waist and pulled her against his shoulder.
“Ah?”
Shang Shao looked down at her with a hint of resignation. “Let me hold you for a while.”
He… seemed to need her.
For some reason, at that thought, she suddenly softened. The stiffness, the awkwardness, the restless heat she couldn’t dispel – all settled back down like dust that had been stirred into the air, now gently coming to rest.
“Mr. Shang, are you very tired?” she asked softly.
Shang Shao’s eyes were closed. “Yes.”
Ying Yin said nothing more, letting Shang Shao hold her. The car had remained parked in a secluded corner of the parking lot the entire time. She didn’t even know if Lin Cunkang was still in the car.
Lin Cunkang, of course, was not. He had long since gotten out, a cigarette between his fingers, smoking one after another.
He couldn’t imagine what was happening in the car that was taking this long.
But… to put it bluntly, the car wasn’t even moving – not even a slight jiggle.
He’d better stop thinking about it. Lin Cunkang coughed twice, just for his own ears.
His young master wasn’t that kind of person. Messing around with an actress in the car – such a thing neither suited his status nor aligned with his character. He would never do such a thing.
Ying Yin was held steadily and securely in Shang Shao’s arms for a few seconds when she heard him ask, “Do hugs cost extra?”
How wicked. Was he doing it on purpose?
“They do. Ten million… for half an hour.”
“Have Uncle Kang transfer it to you.”
“No renewal fee for the kiss?” Ying Yin asked, as if starved of oxygen in her brain.
Shang Shao paused, then let out a soft laugh. “Do you want me to renew it?”
A light blush rose to Ying Yin’s cheeks, but her tone was casual. “If there’s money to be made, why not?”
“Hmm. This does seem to make money faster than the one billion for sleeping together.” Shang Shao’s tone was suggestive. “After all, a proper night’s sleep probably isn’t something that can be settled in ten minutes.”
Ying Yin choked on his words. Embarrassed, she murmured pleadingly, “Please stop bringing that up…”
Shang Shao smiled.
Strangely enough, he truly didn’t feel as tired as before. The weight in his arms was real, and a lazy sense of comfort seeped from the very marrow of his bones.
“Earlier, when you got in the car, why did you say you were feeling down?” He looked at the woman in his arms.
It wasn’t really concern, but more of a reward of sorts. Ying Yin could sense it.
Because she had brought him pleasure, he was rewarding her – condescending to ask about her feelings and troubles.
She smiled quietly. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Shang, but I’m not feeling down anymore.”
A flicker of a frown crossed Shang Shao’s brow, gone in an instant. He said flatly, “Ying Yin, the foremost principle of the education I received since childhood is respect. Whether it’s personal matters or business, happiness or sadness, I will only ask once. If you choose not to answer, I will take it as your wish not to tell me. I will respect that – no further questioning, and certainly no private investigation. I hope you understand.”
“Are you teaching me not to play hard to get or say one thing while meaning another?” Ying Yin’s pride resurfaced. She pressed her lips into a smile. “Then I’ll thank you in advance for your respect.”
Shang Shao released his hold, an impatient look on his face. “Get out.”
Ying Yin opened the car door, planted her high heels firmly on the ground, and slammed it shut without looking back-
Too hard! Very impolite!
She spun around, reopened the door, her proud demeanor shifting to one of flustered apology in a split second. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it! Did I startle you?”
Lin Cunkang, who had witnessed the entire scene from nearby: “…”
Shang Shao rested one hand against his temple. With his eyes closed and brow furrowed, his expression was far from friendly. After letting out a deep, heavy sigh, he said impatiently, “I told you to get off, not get out of the car.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Ying Yin was quick to admit her mistake, as if following the best advice.
Shang Shao asked, “…What did you call me?”
Ying Yin caught herself and gasped. “No, no, that’s… that’s just how us young people…”
“You. Young people.” Shang Shao repeated her words.
Ying Yin slapped her forehead, her face full of regret.
What was she saying!
It was Lin Cunkang who walked over and patted her on the shoulder, kindly rescuing her. “Better get back in the car.”
Ying Yin scrunched up her face and looked at Shang Shao with cautious eyes. “May I?”
Lin Cunkang shook his head, glanced at Shang Shao, and said, “You may. He won’t stay angry at you.”
Shang Shao tapped his finger impatiently on the center console and asked coldly, “How much longer do you plan to stand there chatting?”
Ying Yin quickly hurried around to the other side and got back in the car.
Lin Cunkang didn’t lower the partition, but the atmosphere between the two in the back seat had already become completely different from just moments ago.
The air felt frozen to minus eight degrees.
Ying Yin didn’t know where Shang Shao was taking her, nor how long the drive would be. The window on her side had no sunshade drawn over it. The streetscape shifted and changed as the autumn afternoon sun wove between blue glass skyscrapers – now vanishing, now dazzlingly bright.
Her emotions last night and today had been on a rollercoaster – plummeting and soaring – and she had spent half the day putting on a façade at the event. Now, with the sunlight flickering before her eyes, exhaustion crashed over her like a wave. The moment her eyelids closed, she fell asleep.
Everything in the Maybach was soundless – it drove in silence, the partition rose in silence, the sea breeze was sealed out in silence.
In the midst of her deep, peaceful sleep, she could only faintly make out voices.
“Miss Ying is rather adorable,” said a slightly older voice.
Someone gave a low, amused snort and said something in Cantonese – “Little girl”? – as if utterly helpless with her.
When she opened her eyes again, the scene outside the window had become nothing but coastline.
An endless coastline. A deep blue coastline dotted with sailboats and yachts.
“You’re awake?” Shang Shao didn’t even look up – how he knew was a mystery.
He had put on a pair of glasses and was quietly reading a book. The title was unfamiliar; Ying Yin only recognized the author’s name: Hegel.
So he really did study philosophy?
“Where are we going?”
“Home.”
“Home…” Ying Yin hesitated. “Your home?”
Shang Shao’s gaze lingered on the last few lines. After calmly turning a page, he gave a soft “Mm” and said casually, “After the contract is signed, you can think of it as your home too.”
Ying Yin wasn’t the type to be difficult for no reason, and she had no intention of correcting his distinction between “home” and “house.”
She turned her gaze back to the window and watched the sea for a while.
The weather was beautiful today. The setting sun shimmered on the deep blue waves like scattered flakes of gold. In the distance, someone was wakeboarding, pulled by a speedboat, leaving a long trail of white foam behind them.
Such a splendid view was infectious. Ying Yin rolled down the window to breathe in the sea air.
As the sea breeze rushed in, she suddenly remembered that Shang Shao was reading. She turned her head in a fluster, a startled look in her eyes.
Her dark hair was tousled by the wind, lifting from the back of her neck. She had to brush it away with one hand.
A loud rustle of pages – Shang Shao’s book had indeed been messed up by her wind.
“Sorry,” she said, already reaching to roll the window back up.
“It’s fine. Leave it open.”
With a soft thud, Shang Shao closed the thick book with one hand and tucked it into the storage compartment in the back seat.
Ying Yin’s gaze lingered on him for a moment.
When he wasn’t wearing glasses, he gave off an unfathomable, inscrutable depth – cold, noble, unapproachable. Even taking a step closer to him felt like a stroke of undeserved luck.
But with the glasses on, he took on a refined, scholarly air. He no longer looked like a chairman or a businessman, but rather a university professor – eternally dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, his legs extending far beneath the lectern. Before class, he would habitually snap off a piece of chalk, slip one hand into the pocket of his suit pants, and bend slightly to glance at his lesson plan. When writing on the blackboard, his stance would be languid, the lines of his forearm beneath his shirt sharp and firm.
Shang Shao curved his lips slightly. “Didn’t you say you didn’t dare look at me? It’s been more than five seconds now.”
As if waking from a dream, Ying Yin hastily looked away, grasping for a change of subject. “Mr. Shang, are you nearsighted? I don’t usually see you wearing glasses.”
“A bit of astigmatism. I wear them occasionally for meetings and reading.”
“You clearly wore them yesterday for the blind date.” Ying Yin called him out without thinking, as if she had an issue with him dressing up for the occasion.
Shang Shao shot her a glance and removed his silver glasses.
His long index finger pressed down on the temple piece as he said casually, “Because I heard that the young lady didn’t like men who wear glasses.”
Ying Yin paused. “Oh,” she said, saying nothing more. She turned her face back to look at the sea, the corners of her lips pressing upward into a subtle smile.
After the car drove past the famous sailboat harbor, it followed the coastline around a bend and onto a quiet, secluded asphalt road.
On both sides of the road stretched vast, endless fields of green – so immaculate and deeply verdant that they were clearly beyond the scope of municipal maintenance. Every glance at them felt refreshingly new.
After driving along the asphalt road for about five minutes, a white security guard booth appeared up ahead, with a parking barrier arm blocking the way. Beside the booth stood a sleek silver metal sign that read:
PRIVATE ROAD – UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS PROHIBITED
To the right of the barrier arm was a thin wall of white marble, on which hung simple, dark bronze plaques with slender lettering. One read: XXX University Marine Animal Conservation Institute, and the other read: Marine Animal Breeding and Rehabilitation Center.
The security guard in the booth wore a black suit. He was tall and stood as straight as a pine, with an earpiece connected to his radio. As the car approached, he bowed deeply and remained in that posture until the vehicle had passed through.
The parking barrier recognized the license plate automatically. Once through the entrance, the endless green fields continued. In the distance, the sea rose and fell; closer in, waves lapped against the rocks. A stretch of white sand beach would occasionally flash into view, like a pearl emerging from an open clam shell.
Only then did Ying Yin realize that they were now driving across a cliff-top plain.
Perhaps they had leveled half a mountain. Who knew.
Another fifteen minutes passed like this – coconut groves carrying fragrant breezes, broad fan-palm leaves – without seeing a single person or car, until they reached a second guard booth.
This time, buildings could be seen behind it – not tall, just two or three stories, but sprawling across a wide area. Their white exterior walls bore grayish marks left by the sea wind, suggesting they had seen quite a few years.
Behind the booth was a small parking lot where Ying Yin could spot about a dozen cars. They weren’t luxury cars, but sedans and SUVs that ordinary people could afford.
But the car didn’t head toward the booth. Instead, it circled around a fountain and turned onto another road.
At the entrance of this road stood a “Private Road” warning sign. There was no guard on duty, but a whole array of cameras hung above the intersection, giving off a strong and chilling sense of deterrence.
It was a very gentle uphill slope. All that met the eye were blue skies, white clouds, and a wide, grand avenue. Towering pines lined both sides – spaced with elegant symmetry, standing tall and imposing.
It was utterly silent. The sound of the sea faded into the distance. Birdsong rang clear and melodious, leisurely rising into the clouds.
After another three minutes of driving, with a few turns here and there, a third guard booth appeared. This time, however, it was a black electric wrought-iron gate. Having recognized the license plate, it was slowly opening to both sides.
Once through the gate, more green fields stretched ahead – but now the road itself had turned an elegant, pristine white, stretching for about a hundred meters. At the end of the road stood a Roman-style triple-tiered fountain. Behind the fountain lay a three-story villa, sprawling outward in an irregular geometric form.
It was so vast and magnificent that the human eye could scarcely take it all in. The white exterior walls were spotless and fresh – whether newly renovated or meticulously maintained, it was impossible to tell. Each facade featured a transparent panoramic glass wall, revealing different glimpses of the villa’s interior. On the second floor, an approximately twenty-meter-long outdoor infinity pool faced the deep blue sea at the edge of the cliff, the two complementing each other beautifully.
Ying Yin: “…”
You call this a home…
