The cabin temperature was just right, and even the oxygen output from the air system was more abundant than on ordinary passenger planes, giving one a perfectly pleasant sense of cool freshness.
Shang Shao’s private jet was frequently in use, so the in-flight services weren’t handed over to a market-based business jet management company. Instead, he had directly hired a full flight crew.
From the captain and first officer to the flight attendants – they were all his own people. They knew his travel needs, his daily habits, and his work routines inside out. They were also familiar with his butler, secretary, and the bodyguards who traveled with him.
But Shang Shao bringing a female celebrity onto the plane – that was something they had never seen or heard of before.
When Shang Shao asked, the flight attendant who had just set down a fruit platter and poured a glass of champagne couldn’t help but glance at Ying Yin.
Even though she wasn’t wearing makeup, the attendant still recognized her. She turned to Ying Yin and asked with a smile, “Ma’am, would you like me to take your coat and hang it up? If you feel cold, I can get you a more comfortable blanket.”
A voice came through the laptop: “Test, test – Chairman Shao, can you hear me?”
Shang Shao turned his attention back to the meeting. “Loud and clear. Go ahead.”
“Alright. Today’s meeting has three agenda items and is expected to take forty-five minutes. I’ll be your meeting host for today…”
The meeting proceeded in an orderly manner. Shang Shao sat with his legs crossed on a cream-colored single-seater sofa, arms folded across his chest and brows slightly furrowed. Then, out of nowhere, he caught Ying Yin frantically signaling the flight attendant.
Since the meeting had just started and a few pleasantries were inevitable, he allowed himself to be momentarily distracted, watching her little act with amusement.
Ying Yin unconsciously rubbed the lapel of her coat with one hand, while using a finger to point back and forth between herself and the flight attendant, all the while blinking furiously.
The flight attendant understood and smiled. “I know…”
Ying Yin, startled, pressed her index finger to her lips. “Shh, shh!”
The flight attendant: “…”
She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “You’re Ying Yin. I recognized you.”
Ying Yin leaned toward her ear and whispered, “Do you have an extra flight attendant uniform?”
The flight attendant: “…?”
No way. Were they playing this straight?
She coughed twice and declined tactfully. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be quite appropriate… and besides, you have such a great figure. You probably wouldn’t fit into my uniform.”
Ying Yin, ignoring her hesitation, lit up. “So you do have one? Give it to me, give it to me… quick, quick!”
The flight attendant responded with a practiced smile. “It’s in the luggage compartment. You can only get it after we land.”
Shang Shao had been watching for a while. He then gave the flight attendant an instruction: “You can go rest now. I won’t be needing you here for the time being.”
“Yes, Mr. Shang.” The flight attendant clasped her hands slightly and gave a small bow.
Once she had exited the lounge area, Shang Shao called out to Ying Yin in a low voice. “Come here.”
He hadn’t lowered his voice, but the meeting continued as normal on the other end. Ying Yin realized – his microphone had been off the whole time. Relieved, she walked over to his side and stood there awkwardly.
“Sit.”
Ying Yin very naturally sat down on his lap.
Shang Shao: “…”
He turned his face slightly to the side with a look of speechless exasperation. Whether it was Ying Yin’s imagination or not, she felt like the corner of his lips was twitching upward.
But when he turned back a moment later, his expression and tone were both dark. “I told you to sit across from me, not on me.”
Ying Yin was mortified. Just as she scrambled to get up, Shang Shao wrapped an arm around her waist and held her in place. His arm pressed down with a steady weight. “Since you’re already here, don’t leave.”
Ying Yin had been warm the whole time, her long hair piled up against her neck. Now, blushing deeply, a warm, living kind of allure seemed to rise from her, enveloping Shang Shao’s breath.
He looked at her intently for a few moments, then reached out with his slender hand very naturally to her neck and gently swept her hair aside.
The moment his fingers made contact, Ying Yin’s body went stiff.
She could only feel the pads of his fingers brush past the side of her neck and the curve of her jaw – warm, with faint calluses on his palms. As his fingertips lifted away, the mix of cologne and tobacco from his shirt cuff drifted from near to far, falling like a light breeze.
Shang Shao lowered his gaze to look at the moisture on his fingertips, then held them out for her to see. In a cool, probing tone, he asked, “Why are you sweating so much?”
Disliking the feeling of being dampened, he unfolded a napkin from the side and wiped his fingers slowly and deliberately. Then, half-squinting his eyes, he gave Ying Yin a once-over from head to toe.
“You’re not wearing anything underneath?” he asked directly.
“I am!” Ying Yin jolted and answered super loudly, then quickly regained her composure with her remarkable acting skills. “I am, I am, I really am… Who would leave the house without wearing clothes?”
Shang Shao nodded. “Then take it off. Don’t let yourself get all steamed up and fall ill.”
It was early winter in Europe, and he knew how cold it could get there. Getting overheated on the plane like this, then stepping out into the cold upon landing – she’d very likely catch a cold.
On the laptop, the R&D team’s presentation had reached a critical point. His attention returned to the meeting, but with his two fingers pinching the bow of her belt, he pulled it open quite casually.
The moment the bow came undone, the drapey, camel-colored cashmere coat slipped off Ying Yin’s legs under gravity.
There was her semi-sheer slip. Her extra-long cami straps. Her cream-colored lace bra that barely covered half of her.
Both of them stopped breathing. Caught completely off guard, Ying Yin was too stunned to react. All she could do was blush furiously and stare at him in disbelief, her eyes glistening – whether from urgency, shame, or shock, it was impossible to tell.
Though “see no evil” was deeply ingrained in his upbringing, Shang Shao’s gaze still lingered for two uncontrollable seconds.
It was true that she had been hot the whole way. Not only was her neck damp with sweat, but the skin between her breasts was flushed pink from being overheated, thin beads of sweat slipping down her curves and disappearing into the deep V between them.
Ying Yin didn’t know how to explain herself. “I left home early in the morning, spent the whole day trying on clothes, and after work I decided to get a spa treatment, so I was only thinking about what would be most convenient… And besides…”
“My fault.” Shang Shao cut off her self-reproach.
His voice was subtly hoarse, but his tone remained very steady.
“It’s my fault.”
His gaze was calm and unruffled, giving Ying Yin a full sense of security. Then, with gentlemanly poise, he drew the lapels of her coat back together. “But isn’t it a bit much, how much you like wearing pajamas?”
Ying Yin did indeed have a mountain of pajamas – high-thread-count cotton, mulberry silk, chiffon – in every color, filling an entire cabinet. Whenever she had no meetings scheduled, she would wear nothing but pajamas at home or in hotels.
“Pajamas are comfortable,” she replied, feeling a bit guilty.
Shang Shao looked at her quietly. “Comfortable enough that you always answer the door in them?”
He was dredging up the past, but Ying Yin refused to admit it. Dropping her gaze to his eyes, she murmured in her own defense, “Not ‘always,’ and not ‘people.’ It’s only you who always…”
Shang Shao’s breath caught. The arm circling her almost tightened, as if he wanted to pull her into his embrace without a second’s delay.
But he restrained himself.
After two seconds, suppressing himself deeply, he exhaled a thin, burning stream of air through his nose and asked in a hoarse voice, “Shall I have someone bring you a wrap?”
Ying Yin hummed in agreement, seeing no better option. She nodded and rose from Shang Shao’s lap.
Shang Shao waited a moment before pressing the service bell. The flight attendant found a wrap for Ying Yin – a dark crimson one, just like the one he kept in his car.
She deliberately stepped behind Shang Shao before taking off her coat, then spread the wrap open.
It was too small. It barely reached her upper thighs, but at least it covered everything that needed covering.
Wrapping herself up, she quietly curled into the sofa behind Shang Shao and casually picked up a fashion magazine.
There wasn’t much to see in a fashion magazine. Ying Yin closed her eyes and was instantly reminded of all kinds of plastic, insincere pleasantries and hollow compliments. She flipped through distractedly, half-listening to Shang Shao’s conversation with his executives. Some people on his team were foreigners – the presentations were entirely in English, packed with business and technical jargon. Ying Yin could only understand about half.
During a break in the presentation, Shang Shao asked a few questions. Listening to his even, steady, unhurried English, Ying Yin understood for the first time what it meant to have elegance in one’s tone.
By the time Shang Shao finished his forty-minute meeting, Ying Yin had only gotten through two pages of the magazine.
The flight attendant had timed her re-entry perfectly. She poured Shang Shao a glass of whiskey with double ice. As she left, she couldn’t help but wonder: With Ying Yin down to practically nothing, she had expected Shang Shao to pull her into his arms, lazily toying with her body while listening to the reports.
Why was he being so proper? They were even sitting apart.
Shang Shao tugged at his tie, looking a bit tired. As he got up to clear his mind, he noticed Ying Yin staring intently at her magazine, appearing completely absorbed.
Ying Yin was 1.68 meters tall, but her proportions were exceptional – “wasp waist and long legs” might as well have been coined for her. Curled up on the sofa, her long legs were bent with her knees pressed together, and against the dark crimson cashmere wrap, they were so fair they almost dazzled.
His brain, exhausted after a busy day, began to wander. Shang Shao found himself thinking, almost involuntarily – compared to the premium leather sofa beneath her, which one would feel better to the touch?
He calmly looked away and took a sip of his iced whiskey, the gesture almost too deliberate in its attempt to conceal his thoughts.
Ying Yin closed her magazine and rested her chin on its spine. “Mr. Shang.”
Shang Shao gave a cool “Mm.”
“What meetings are you going to in Europe?”
“A global energy summit.”
“For how many days?”
“Three days, two nights.”
Ying Yin did the math. After he returned, there would be another three days before the fashion gala. Not too bad – the schedule wasn’t too tight, and she’d have time to adjust to the jet lag.
Shang Shao asked casually, “Do you have work?”
“Asking me now is a little too late, don’t you think?”
Shang Shao smiled. “You’re right. That was very disrespectful of you.”
“I did tell you – there are two banquets, and then a few film festivals.”
Shang Shao sat down across from her. “Walking the red carpet?”
“Mm.”
“That champagne-colored one from last time was nice,” Shang Shao mentioned casually.
Ying Yin laughed. “That one was borrowed from a brand. I can’t wear it a second time.”
“The one you wore to dinner with me would work too.”
Ying Yin laughed even more, hugging the magazine to her chest. “That one won’t work. I bought that one myself – it was only a few thousand.”
Only then did Shang Shao ask, as if naturally arriving at the question, “So how are your preparations for the red carpet gown coming along?”
“Not much to say. I’ve already chosen one.” Ying Yin didn’t confide her troubles to him.
She knew that if she told him, Shang Shao would most likely solve the problem for her.
She was also afraid that if she told him, Shang Shao might not solve it.
What she didn’t realize was that this was actually Shang Shao giving her an opportunity.
He could help her, or he could pretend not to know – it all depended on Ying Yin herself. Just moments ago, he had given her the chance, casually and subtly steering the conversation so she could naturally bring it up without having to endure any awkwardness or humiliation.
But Ying Yin had rejected him – and her rejection carried a lightness and ease no less composed than his own.
A sharp, crisp sound came from the dark, precious bird’s-eye maple dining table -Shang Shao had set down his whiskey glass. Looking down at her from his height, his gaze was unyielding and uncompromising. “So you don’t have any difficulties at all, is that it?”
Ying Yin’s heart gave a tremble. This question was almost an open admission – he knew.
He knew she was facing difficulties.
Ying Yin was silent for a moment. Then she raised her face to look at him and, instead, lifted her lips into a smile. “And what if I do?”
“That depends on what you want to do about it.”
“Would you necessarily help me?” Ying Yin held his gaze, her eyes deep.
“How would you know whether I would or not, without asking?”
“If you wouldn’t, then there’s no point in me telling you. What, am I supposed to give you a story to listen to?”
A flicker of impatience crossed Shang Shao’s brow – very brief. He returned to an expressionless face and looked at Ying Yin with deep intensity for several seconds. “So you absolutely won’t ask?”
“Didn’t you say you’re very good at respecting others? Then why do you keep pressing?” Ying Yin pressed her lips together. Though she was looking up at him, her neck was long and graceful as a swan’s.
She said, “I’ve already declined. More than once.”
Shang Shao gave a small nod. Then came a cool, detached command: “Stand up.”
Ying Yin stood up, knowing she had crossed him again and displeased him. She smiled, as if brushing it off as a joke. “I’ve ruined your mood – are you going to throw me off the plane…”
The next second, the wrap lifted before her eyes and then fell.
It was now clutched in Shang Shao’s hand, trailing on the floor, still carrying the lingering warmth of her body.
Caught off guard, Ying Yin’s hands instinctively flew to cover her chest, her long legs pressing tightly together. “Mr. Shang? What are you doing!”
There was a faint tremor in her voice. She swallowed, looking up at Shang Shao with a mix of fear and uncertainty.
She had no idea what he meant.
Because the way he looked at her held no trace of romance, ambiguity, or desire.
She was so beautiful – slender yet full – but he only looked at her coldly, his gaze condescending, piercing through her undergarments like a meticulous examination.
“Since you insist on being so proud in front of me,” Shang Shao said flatly, “then stay just like that.”
He had been right when he said it before: “Miss Ying, if this is all you’ve got, it’s not enough to seduce me.”
She truly couldn’t seduce him. Even now, stripped down to this level – every curve of her body tempting the desires of others – he remained utterly unmoved.
Though she was still wearing undergarments and a slip, Ying Yin felt as though she had nothing on at all. Shame and humiliation made her body tremble uncontrollably, wave after wave, seeping up from deep within.
She lowered her face slightly, smiled to herself, and then asked softly, “Does it have to be like this?”
Shang Shao didn’t answer her. He leaned half against the dining counter and pulled out his cigarette case.
Ying Yin was still for two seconds, then let her hands, which had been covering her chest, drop. They hung quietly at her sides.
Gradually, her body visibly straightened. Her flat, slender shoulders opened up, and from her heels to her calves to the line of her spine, she drew herself into a stubborn, defiant line of defense.
She understood. He wanted to shatter her pride in front of him – thoroughly and completely.
But she refused.
Instead, she stood with her head high and chest out. She didn’t shrink away, didn’t flinch, didn’t feel shame. Her chin was lifted slightly, her gaze clear and steady, her lips pressed together in stubborn silence. She even wore a smile on her face, unafraid to show her body without reservation.
Like when she was sixteen, lying about her age to walk in that swimsuit show.
Her pride had been shattered that afternoon, only to be pieced back together later, stitched up tight.
He wanted to pull the rug out from under her, burn the boats, put her in a position where she had to rise from the ashes – make her give up all that excessive pride. But what he didn’t understand was: how could she not dare?
Shang Shao never once looked at her. With no one to enforce rules on the plane, he had no idea how many cigarettes he smoked. Eventually, the smoke choked him, and he couldn’t stop coughing.
The flight attendant came in several times – for dinner, late-night snack, breakfast. There was fresh chilled fruit, Black Pearl seafood, Michelin-prepared dishes. She poured wine, refilled water, brewed tea. Buckets of ice, ashtray after ashtray of cigarette butts. Before leaving, she silently placed a new pack of cigarettes on his table.
She hardly dared to breathe too loudly, moving as quietly as possible. She had no idea what the two of them were in a standoff about, nor who was winning and who was losing.
Shang Shao rarely lost his temper at his staff. During her final service in the early morning hours, the flight attendant finally mustered the courage to pause and ask Ying Yin, “Miss Ying, would you like something to eat?”
She knew Shang Shao hadn’t eaten anything. But what about Ying Yin? Perhaps she was hungry, just too proud to ask, needing someone to coax her gently and offer her a way out.
Shang Shao had his back to both of them. Two seconds later, without waiting for Ying Yin’s answer, he issued a command in an extremely cold voice: “Leave.”
Long-haul flights are grueling. The Gulfstream’s double electric sofa could have been laid flat to turn into a double bed. But over those long, ten-plus hours, it seemed neither of them had closed their eyes.
One was buried in work, phone calls nonstop. He drank glass after glass of ice water from a clear cup, his throat burning, and gave everyone in his contacts a harsh dressing-down.
The other alternated between standing when tired of sitting, and sitting when tired of standing. She didn’t seek entertainment, but filled her mind reciting lines – whatever came to her, a chaotic mix of scenes from twenty or thirty different dramas. She stared out the porthole window at the overcast sky.
The plane landed. Germany had entered winter, with wind and snow swirling against the porthole windows.
The business jet had its own dedicated tarmac and transfer vehicles. The black commercial van glided to a silent stop in the heavy snowfall. Within moments, the roof was piled high with snow, while the windshield wipers turned quietly. The van’s heating was running high. The driver, dressed in a stern, immaculate uniform, kept his eyes fixed on the gangway of the Gulfstream G550.
A long time passed, but no one came down.
Ying Yin wasn’t wearing her coat. She was tired from standing and tired from sitting. Her leg bones had gone stiff; bending them even slightly sent a dull ache through her.
“You insist on doing this,” Shang Shao said this time.
“I don’t know what’s good for me and won’t take a kind offer. I’ve crossed you and ruined your mood. It’s only right that you punish me, humiliates me.”
“You still won’t say it.”
Ying Yin smiled. This smile wasn’t as defiant – it was almost gentle. Calmly and evenly, she said, “Don’t be fooled by how I look. I’m not used to spreading my legs for favors.”
“Ying Yin.”
The flight attendant had already opened the cabin door. Wind rushed in, carrying snow, billowing Shang Shao’s tie and Ying Yin’s slip. Her chiffon petticoat floated in the wind like a lotus leaf.
In the midst of the wind and snow, Shang Shao said quietly, “No one asked you to spread your legs.”
“Don’t you want me to?” Ying Yin looked at him and asked directly.
She seemed to be asking about spreading her legs, yet also about something else.
The flight attendant leaned silently against the doorframe and watched as the ground crew retrieved the luggage and trudged down the gangway through the snow.
She didn’t hear Shang Shao’s voice before she left.
Not now – does that mean not ever?
She wondered what Shang Shao’s answer had been.
After picking up the luggage, she hurried back up the stairs, her footsteps clattering, and gestured to the driver in the commercial van to wait patiently. Stepping back into the cabin – warm one moment, cold the next – she shivered, crouched down, and opened her own suitcase, which she had planned to use for duty-free shopping. From it, she pulled out a down jacket.
Mr. Shang really was something. This flight had been arranged in an extreme rush. A few days ago, word was that he wasn’t going to the summit – no time. Then that morning, he said he was going. The crew had been thrown into chaos; the captain had to cut short his vacation in a neighboring city and drive back.
He was the big boss – he could come and go as he pleased, no need to pack. Wherever he arrived, someone would always have everything properly arranged for him.
Amid the swirling snow, the flight attendant silently shook out the down jacket and thought to herself: this was the only thing she had that could offer that Miss Ying a bit of warmth.
Folding the jacket over her arm, the flight attendant stepped softly in her leather shoes across the carpet and approached.
She hadn’t expected the two of them to be arguing again. The man before her – suit and tie flapping in the wind – looked pale and tired after a sleepless night, but he also seemed to have lost his temper once more, impatiently stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray.
Ying Yin turned away, taking neither the coat nor the wrap. Her long hair was blown backward by the wind from the cabin door, rippling like black waves.
Unsteady from the wind, she gripped the doorframe with her bare arm and looked back at Shang Shao one more time.
Shang Shao lifted his gaze and looked at her.
She looked so pale, she seemed almost to dissolve into the heavy snow.
“If you don’t want me, then don’t bother. Even if you buy me a hundred haute couture gowns, I’ll be so grateful I’ll chant scriptures for you year-round and light an eternal flame for you in the main hall of a temple.”
The flight attendant was about to warn her that the floor was slippery – only to realize she wasn’t even wearing shoes. The next second, the down jacket was suddenly snatched from her hands.
Shang Shao shook the jacket open, wrapped it around Ying Yin, and in one swift motion lifted her into his arms.
Her stubborn face was half hidden by the black down jacket.
Lips pressed tightly together. Eyes wide open.
Shang Shao held her close and walked into the wind and snow. “No, I want.”
