So the pride she gave him was different from the pride she gave everyone else.
On the plane, he had thought that what he was trying to shatter was her carefully maintained armor – her pretentious composure, the cocoon she had spun around herself with her own cleverness, that stubborn grit with which she clenched her teeth and held on because she didn’t trust him.
But it turned out it wasn’t.
The house in Ning City had been built at enormous expense, including an English-style gravel garden behind it. More than three hundred kinds of plants were cultivated there: pines and cedars, sage, hyacinths, switchgrass, yucca, tulips, and countless varieties of roses.
But at this moment, Shang Shao could think of only one.
That rose was beautiful – full and rounded in bloom, pale pink-white petals with a deep pink heart, delicate and seductive, several flowers bursting freely from a single stem.
But none of that was what mattered.
Among roses, some compete in dazzling beauty, capable of seduction at its most extravagant, while others possess such elegance that one forgets the ordinary at first sight. But only this one held both its branches and blossoms upright through all four seasons.
Its name was “Queen of Sweden.”
From dawn to dusk, through winter and spring, whether in gentle winds or violent rain, it never bowed its head.
After several seconds without an answer, the tears Ying Yin had just managed to stop began spilling again.
She blinked, feeling the man before her grow blurred and distant, her thoughts slowly turning hazy as well. Even so, she protested aggrievedly, “You’re not answering me.”
She could barely catch her breath. The heavy nasal tone in her voice softened her usual mature composure, making her sound inexplicably like a young girl acting spoiled.
Shang Shao lifted a hand. As his fingers brushed against her eyelashes, Ying Yin instinctively closed her eyes.
Her burning tears dampened his fingertips. Shang Shao lowered his gaze to them, studying them with a trace of scrutiny, as though the sensation were unfamiliar.
He truly hated the feeling of his fingers getting wet, yet when it came to wiping away her tears and warm sweat, he felt no aversion at all.
“Ask me again,” Shang Shao ordered her.
Ordering a woman who was feverish, burning hot all over, limp and soft from illness, was honestly a little inhumane.
But he wanted Ying Yin to ask him again, so he could give her an answer seriously and beyond any doubt.
Curled against his chest, utterly exhausted, Ying Yin gave a weary little “mm,” forcing herself to focus as she mumbled, “Do you like SpongeBob SquarePants?”
Shang Shao said, “…Not that.”
“If you like SpongeBob too, then we can be Patrick Star…”
Shang Shao let out a breath, his voice low and steady. “Ying Yin, wake up a little.”
“Squidward… bada bada…”
“Ba…” Shang Shao paused for a moment, questioning his life choices. “What is ‘bada bada’ supposed to mean?”
Ying Yin ignored him. After a while, she suddenly sucked in a breath and startled awake, slumping against his leg as she murmured slowly, “Mr. Shang, why didn’t you answer my calls…”
His face darkened as he said word by word, “Open your eyes and look. I’m right here.”
Ying Yin sniffled once and said sadly, “Fine then, don’t like me.”
The conversation had somehow looped bizarrely back to the original topic. Shang Shao’s expression eased slightly as he answered, “I like you.”
“That’s great. Do you also like hot mulled wine?”
“…”
The endlessly patient man finally snapped.
“Ying Yin!”
The doorbell rang at exactly the right moment.
Shang Shao pried her out of his arms. “The doctor’s here. I’m going to open the door.”
“Don’t go.” Ying Yin wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him on the bed.
No one knew where she found the strength. Shang Shao struggled to peel her arms off. “Ten seconds.”
“Carry me with you.” Ying Yin latched onto him again.
Shang Shao answered decisively, “Impossible.”
After the doorbell rang a second time, the door finally opened. The stern German doctor who had come for the house call was greeted by the sight of a man opening the door with one hand while supporting the waist of the woman beside him with the other.
The woman had both arms looped around his neck, standing on tiptoe. Her flushed face was buried in the hollow of his neck, eyes drunkenly closed.
Doctor: “…”
This was the most absurd situation Shang Shao had ever found himself in. While trying hard to keep her steady, he apologized with a dark expression, “Please excuse her. She’s not fully consci…”
The doctor indicated that he understood.
Then he took her temperature: 39.6°C.
At that point, the doctor understood even better.
Even for an adult, a fever that high was extremely dangerous. Fortunately, Ying Yin was in reasonably good health otherwise, with no vomiting, diarrhea, or electrolyte imbalance.
Shang Shao carried her back to the bed in a princess carry. Her breathing gradually steadied for a brief while, and it was impossible to tell whether she had fallen asleep.
The doctor listened to her breathing and said somewhat sternly, “You shouldn’t drink alcohol when you have a fever.”
“She just landed and hasn’t adjusted to the time difference yet. She hasn’t properly rested at all in the past twenty-four hours.” Shang Shao lowered his eyes to look at her, his voice softening into something low and gentle. “And she’s been in a very bad mood.”
The doctor nodded and put away his stethoscope. “Everything else is fine. She just needs a fever-reducing injection.”
“Does she need an IV?”
“No. There’s no condition requiring an infusion. The priority right now is to bring the fever down as quickly as possible and let her rest properly.”
“How is it administered?”
The doctor had already unpacked the syringe and begun preparing the medication. At the same time, he informed Shang Shao, “Intramuscular injection. Please help the patient sit up.”
The hotel partnered with a high-end private clinic. The house-call fee was exorbitant, and Shang Shao trusted him.
Following the doctor’s instructions, he helped Ying Yin sit up and brushed the hair sticking to her face aside. “Ying Yin, sit properly. You’re getting an injection.”
Without opening her eyes, Ying Yin gave a groggy little “mm” and weakly lifted an arm.
Shang Shao pressed her hand back down. “Not an IV. An injection.”
“Mm…?”
Shang Shao coolly supplied three words:
“A butt shot.”
A butt shot.
A butt shot?!
The distant trauma of childhood memories jolted Ying Yin instantly awake. The corners of her mouth drooped uncontrollably.
That whole night, her tears had been turning on and off like a faucet. Now the tap twisted open again. With tears streaming down her face, she asked in trembling disbelief, in a tiny voice:
“A… butt shot…?”
Shang Shao, overwhelmed by her crying, turned to the doctor to communicate. “Can she take oral medication instead?”
The doctor had already drawn up the medication and said expressionlessly, “She’s consumed a very large amount of alcohol.”
The sharp needle glinted under the light, like some kind of terrifying instrument of punishment.
Shang Shao: “…”
He exhaled and patted Ying Yin’s head, his voice resigned. “Did you hear that? You brought this on yourself.”
Ying Yin, unable to understand what the doctor was muttering in German, only felt that Shang Shao was teasing her. She let out a soft, rising “wu…” – like a small animal throwing a tantrum.
In a dazed state, she was moved to the edge of the bed. Unable to sit steadily, she ended up wrapping herself around Shang Shao, resting her face against his chest.
“Please help lift her skirt a bit,” the doctor gestured, meaning her nightdress needed to be raised slightly.
Shang Shao kept his voice low and gentle as if whispering, but his tone remained calm and formal. “Lift your butt.”
Ying Yin obediently raised herself slightly so he could pull the hem of her dress out from under her.
The moon-white silk nightdress brushed softly against her tender thighs as it was gently drawn upward and then gathered at her waist. Shang Shao held it in place with one hand. Even though his eyes never wavered, he still inevitably saw her lace underwear.
White, covering only halfway, like petals gently pressed against the round curve of her buttocks.
What was Anna thinking? He’d told her to prepare underwear, not something so… improper.
Cold alcohol swabbed lightly over skin that was rarely exposed, making Ying Yin shiver uncontrollably as she clung even tighter to Shang Shao.
The next second, the needle went in – and she burst into loud crying.
“It hurts! Junyi!…”
…Junyi it was, then. At least it wasn’t Chen Youhan.
After the injection, the doctor prescribed medication and gave dietary instructions. By the time the consultation ended, it was nearly two in the morning. Shang Shao saw him out, and when he came back, Ying Yin had finally sunk into the blankets and fallen into a deep sleep.
Compared to the half hour of chaos, crying, incoherent babbling, and complete mutual incomprehension earlier, Shang Shao suddenly found the room utterly silent as he listened to her breathing.
The room was warm and stifling. He walked to the window and cracked it open slightly, taking a slow, deep breath.
The air outside was cold, carrying the scent of the city and snow.
He stood by the window and snow, quietly finishing a cigarette. In the end, he lowered his head and let out a quiet laugh at himself.
He really had no experience taking care of people – he was probably doing a terrible job.
Until three o’clock, after checking her temperature twice more, Shang Shao confirmed that her fever had finally broken. Only then did he lie down fully clothed on the sofa outside the suite.
The next day was the summit’s opening ceremony and the first official conference day. The schedule – meetings and interviews – was packed all the way until four in the afternoon, followed by a host’s banquet. Only after dinner did the day’s agenda finally come to an end.
Around five, Shang Shao was woken by his biological clock. Before leaving, he touched Ying Yin’s forehead; it was warm, and her breathing had returned to a light, steady rhythm.
He left a line on the notepad by the bedside:
“Rest well. Remember to take your medicine.”
Signed simply with a single character: “Shao.”
Ying Yin was sleeping on her side, her cherry-pink lips naturally closed. She was in a deep sleep, unaware that someone had once gently lifted her chin, or that a thumb had slowly brushed across her lips as if unable to let go, as if desire lingered too long.
All she knew was that faint, cold scent of agarwood and tobacco from his fingertips – so pleasant it had slipped so easily into her dream in a foreign land.
Shang Shao returned to his room, showered, changed clothes, composed himself, and drank two cups of black coffee before going downstairs.
The hotel lobby was elegant and luxurious, its marble floors polished to a mirror shine. At that hour, conference guests were heading out; among the blurred figures in suits, only one Eastern face stood out – calm, refined, and dignified, walking with unhurried ease as if strolling through a courtyard.
His assistant, who had been waiting nearby, stepped forward. Together they walked out through the glass revolving door toward the Maybach with its door already opened for him.
Ying Yin didn’t wake up until after eleven, and even then it was hunger that pulled her out of sleep.
The soreness in her body hadn’t faded. Her muscles were still weak and drained, and worst of all – when she turned over, her right butt hurt like hell…
Her head felt like it was splitting open. Her memory was a complete blank.
Vaguely… did Shang Shao come?
“Wait…” Ying Yin slowly sat up, her delicate brows furrowing as she sensed something was seriously wrong.
Why would Shang Shao come here? She clearly remembered that even when she felt like she was dying, she hadn’t messaged him for help.
Junyi received her frantic call and immediately asked, “What did you say to Shang Shao?!”
Junyi honestly replied, “I called Mr. Shang and asked if he was bullying you.”
“And then?”
“Then he went to your room and told me you had a fever, but that he would take care of you, so I didn’t need to worry.” Junyi reported everything truthfully. “Mr. Shang is really a good person.”
“…”
“I’m doomed.”
Ying Yin’s vision went black, and her phone dropped straight down with a thud.
Doomed. Completely doomed.
She had drunk a lot the night before – seriously drunk.
When she got drunk, she said anything. She became emotionally fragile, extremely irritable and volatile. She would laugh and cry in turns, couldn’t keep secrets, sob uncontrollably, and even force people to watch SpongeBob SquarePants with her.
It was over. It was all over.
On the other end, Junyi kept saying “hello?”, but all she heard was Ying Yin suddenly bursting into loud crying.
Before Junyi could even comfort her, Ying Yin wrapped herself in the blanket, scrambled up, and immediately checked her entire browser history.
Thank goodness – no SpongeBob.
Wait…
Then what exactly had they been doing all that time?!
Ying Yin sat on the bed with her hair in disarray, slowly chewing a strand of it as she tried to recall.
She… vaguely… seemed to… might have… said that man’s name.
Ying Yin’s eyes widened. Her pupils scattered, her breathing stopped, her pulse raced, her heart nearly flatlined. With the signs of someone on the verge of death, she collapsed backward onto the bed with a thud.
Did she say Chen Youhan?!
The doorbell rang once, and Anna swiped her key card to enter. While greeting her, she said, “Good morning, Miss Ying, I’m here – ah!”
Anna let out a scream, startled by Ying Yin’s “dead-with-eyes-open” expression, until she saw her suddenly roll off the bed in one swift motion.
While pulling on her clothes, Ying Yin said calmly and quickly, “Hello Anna, it’s like this, I suddenly have a work commitment back in China and need to leave immediately… thank you for your hospitality but I really have to go to the airport right now, or I won’t make it!”
Anna looked at her agile movements, clear mind, and coherent speech, and said a bit confused, “But Mr. Shang said you were seriously ill and asked me to take good care of you, and to keep him updated at all times.”
“No updates! I’m perfectly healthy! Everything is fine!” Ying Yin spun around the room like a headless fly. “My passport – where’s my passport? Do you have any cash on you? What’s German currency called again? Lend me some, Mr. Shang will pay you back!”
Seeing how serious and solemn she looked – and recalling that Shang Shao had said everything should be based on Ying Yin’s needs – Anna only hesitated briefly before agreeing, “Alright, I’ll arrange a car to take you to the airport.”
“Okay!” Ying Yin grabbed her hand tearfully. “You’re so kind, may you live a long life, girls help girls!”
Anna, as expected of an outstanding employee trusted by the European office of Shangyu Group, was reliable, efficient, and extremely capable. Within two minutes, the car she ordered was already waiting downstairs, and she even handed Ying Yin a stack of cash.
“For emergencies,” she said.
Ying Yin nodded.
Even though her whole body ached, her head was dizzy, and her legs felt weak, she still managed to dress herself with impressive speed.
Hat on, black lambskin gloves on, passport tucked into her coat pocket – she looked like an agent heading out on a mission.
Until she reached the doorway and was blocked by the man who had been listening for a while.
Shang Shao raised his eyes slightly. He casually stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, exhaling the last breath of smoke as he asked, “Running off to where?”
Her long strides, which had just been moving briskly, came to an abrupt halt. She then slowly, step by step, backed back into the room in a guilty retreat.
Ying Yin stared at Shang Shao without blinking, swallowing nervously.
Terrified – and embarrassed.
Anna, completely unaware of the situation, was only startled by Shang Shao’s sudden appearance. “Chairman Shao! Weren’t you in a meeting? Why are you back?”
“If I hadn’t come back,” Shang Shao said calmly, “you would’ve let her run away.”
Hearing the words “run away,” Anna immediately sensed something was wrong. She looked up at Ying Yin. “Miss Ying?”
Ying Yin forced herself to hold her ground, though her confidence was visibly collapsing. “I really do have a work commitment…”
Shang Shao raised his left hand slightly and lazily gestured with two fingers, instructing Anna, “Go out first. Order her something to eat – something light and good for the stomach.”
Anna pressed herself against the wall and slipped out quickly. Before leaving, she thoughtfully closed the door tightly behind her.
Ying Yin swallowed nervously. “Shang… Mr. Shang…” She gave an awkward laugh, trying to act calm and composed. “Weren’t you in a meeting?”
“I was thinking about you. I had a bit of time at noon, so I came to check on you,” Shang Shao said lightly. He removed his lambskin gloves from his fingers and touched her forehead. “Still running a fever?”
Ying Yin only dared to shake her head.
“What kind of work commitment back in China?” he asked, lowering his gaze to her as if it were a genuine question.
“A…” Ying Yin’s mind froze. She couldn’t make anything up.
“Last night you were drunk out of your mind, but your brain was working just fine,” Shang Shao said with a faint smile. “Now you’ve suddenly gotten stupid?”
Ying Yin’s brows furrowed and her mouth pouted; her entire expression crumpled in a way that was both vivid and beautiful. She shut her eyes tightly and said in a near-crying voice, “I was wrong!”
Shang Shao found her fluent apology amusing and deliberately asked, “Wrong about what?”
“Wrong… everything that made you unhappy is my fault!”
“I don’t have anything I’m unhappy about.”
Ying Yin snapped her head up. Her eyes were bright like stars. “Really?”
“Except for one thing.”
Ying Yin asked carefully, “W-which one?”
“When you were feeling so unwell and Junyi wasn’t with you, you’d rather call her than call me.”
“I…” Ying Yin blinked, her eyes lifted slightly. There was something in them – whether grievance or panic, it was hard to tell. “I thought I made you so angry, and you were busy.”
“Is that so?” Shang Shao asked casually. “Is it because you made me angry, not because I made you angry?”
Ying Yin’s nose suddenly stung. “I didn’t dare.”
There was a hint of temper in her words.
Shang Shao smiled faintly, looked at her for a few seconds, then said in a low voice, “Sorry for making you feel bad.”
The words “I’m sorry” seemed to have such power that her tears suddenly fell without warning.
She lowered her head, repeatedly pressing her lips together as tears slid down her jaw, pattering onto the carpet and leaving small dark spots.
“You gave me one hundred million. Whatever you do to me is only right.” Ying Yin said this with her hands in her coat pockets, her fingertips pressing hard against the edge of her passport, turning her lowered face into the warm midday sunlight of Germany.
The words were not just sulky – they almost sounded like an insult. Yet she said them sincerely, and with an oddly calm tone.
Shang Shao didn’t know whether to be angry or to laugh. Just the night before, she had been so honest, yet today she was once again stubborn and proud with him.
Being with her felt like conducting a business war – there was no room for ease or control. It required him to know her inside out, to give everything he had, to stay fully focused.
To be wholehearted.
Shang Shao reached out with the hand that had removed his glove and wiped away her tears.
His fingers were once again damp with warm tears, but it was not something he found unpleasant.
“Last night you said,” he paused, his fingertip resting beneath her soft eyes, “that you wanted a fair start with me.”
Her heart thudded violently, so hard it hurt Ying Yin’s chest. After drinking, had she really been that reckless? The things she had fantasized, imagined, things so unrealistic, so undeserved – she had actually dared to say them out loud, to even ask him for them?
“If I said that while drunk, please don’t take it seriously, Mr. Shang.”
“I did take it seriously.”
Ying Yin’s heart twisted into a tight knot, as if it had been squeezed. She closed her eyes tightly, her tears falling even harder.
She took a deep breath, swallowed, and when she spoke again, she even let out a small laugh through her breath.
“Mr. Shang…”
But her words were cut off by Shang Shao.
“Call me by my name.”
Ying Yin suddenly lifted her face, the corners of her eyes and the tip of her nose equally red.
“I spent the whole morning thinking about it,” he said. “If you want equality, then let’s start from you being willing to forget that one hundred million – and call me by my name.”
