Ying Yin didn’t know what was behind the subtle shift in atmosphere at the venue. She assumed it was simply because her star power was too dazzling and she’d arrived far too late – people were bound to accuse her of acting like a diva. She straightened her back and shoulders, every step graceful and poised, lifting her fingers lightly as she greeted several familiar faces with practiced ease and generous charm.
A trace of amused interest surfaced in Shang Shao’s gaze. When Ying Yin put on her false act, she resembled a proud swan. He was long accustomed to hypocrisy, but he had never seen anyone wear it so openly. Most people strained to appear sincere when they were being fake; this woman did the opposite. She performed openly, freely admitting through her manner that she was pretending, that she was being affected and artificial.
Suddenly, Shang Shao understood. This was her arrogance. Faced with this room full of fame, fortune, and glittering celebrity, she had no choice but to flatter people – yet she could not even be bothered to do it thoroughly.
He wanted to laugh, but amid the clinking of glasses and lively chatter, a crisp, businesslike farewell sounded beside him. “We’re even now, sir. See you around.”
Shang Shao’s steps paused for a moment. Before he could respond, Ying Yin had already turned away without a backward glance, all smiles and radiant charm as she headed toward another woman by the buffet table.
“Hi, babe, you’re here too?” Ying Yin greeted her smoothly, looping an arm through the other woman’s with practiced familiarity.
There were other wealthy businessmen nearby. The woman Ying Yin latched onto froze for a split second, her smile stiffening, before expertly pressing her lips together and widening her smile even further. “Long time no see, darling. You look even skinnier than before.”
The businessman beside them was instantly dazzled. The two women were so warm and attentive, enchanting enough to make his heart tremble. Grinning shamelessly, he asked, “Chengwan, aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Zhang Chengwan lifted a hand and touched the low knot of hair at the nape of her neck with endless charm. “Mr. Su, you really do love to joke. Do I even need to introduce her? This is the famous Ying Yin. Two Best Actress trophies, and you still can’t recognize her? You must be pretending on purpose.”
Ying Yin only felt goosebumps racing up the skin beneath her evening gown, but she forced herself to hold steady. Nodding politely at the man before her, she said, “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Su. Just call me Xiao Yin.”
Sure enough, this Mr. Su had been playing dumb. One coquettish remark from Zhang Chengwan and his soul practically floated away. He took hold of Ying Yin’s hand as well, grinning so broadly the flesh on his half-century-old face quivered. “How could I not know Xiao Yin? It’s just that without Mr. Song by your side, I hardly dared recognize you.”
The two of them forced themselves through a few more polite exchanges before finally managing to send the man away. The moment he left, Zhang Chengwan decisively pulled her arm free from Ying Yin’s grasp, smiling without warmth. “Doesn’t this kind of thing disgust you?”
Ying Yin picked up a champagne flute from the buffet table, perfectly capable of bending when necessary. “Thanks for helping me out just now, Sister Wan. Cheers.”
Among the handful of actresses present tonight, Zhang Chengwan was both the most senior and the biggest star. Yet she hadn’t been invited in the capacity of a celebrity, but rather as the “future” Mrs. Zeng. Because of that, she considered herself fundamentally different from Ying Yin in both status and standing. There was nothing extra worth saying to her – every additional sentence felt like elevating Ying Yin’s social value.
Ying Yin, however, was astonishingly well-informed. It was as though she carried a private directory in her head containing the details of every ultra-wealthy family in South China: the heirs’ names, appearances, personal tastes – she knew them all by heart. Sweeping her gaze around the room and not spotting the person she was looking for, she nudged Zhang Chengwan’s arm lightly.
“Zeng Meng didn’t come?”
The character Meng – meaning “ignorant” or “naive” – was hardly an ambitious choice for a given name, yet among certain elite circles it reflected the older generation’s hopes for their children.
After all, ordinary people wished for their sons and daughters to become dragons and phoenixes. Only those standing at the top of the pyramid could afford to wish for their descendants to live simply, sheltered and blissfully unaware all their lives.
Zhang Chengwan’s expression turned a little strange, and her tone became perfunctory. “He’s sick. I came by myself today.”
Ying Yin silently mouthed a little wow, her expression bright and animated. “The wedding hasn’t even happened yet, and you’re already attending events on his behalf.”
Hit head-on by such an unabashed compliment, Zhang Chengwan couldn’t help looking pleased with herself. Clearing her throat, she adopted an affected tone and said, “No need to envy me. If you can land Song Shizhang, that wouldn’t be bad either.”
Ying Yin knew perfectly well how people gossiped about her and Song Shizhang, but she wasn’t in any hurry to deny it. She merely smiled without confirming or rejecting the rumor.
For the past five years, every nomination list for Best Actress at the Nebula and Galaxy Film Festivals had inevitably featured the two of them competing against each other. They were thoroughly used to being rivals by now. Having answered one of Ying Yin’s questions, Zhang Chengwan naturally wanted one answered in return.
“The man who came in with you – who is he?”
As she spoke, her gaze drifted toward the man now standing beside Chen Youhan. Like everyone else at the event, the same speculation surfaced instinctively in her mind.
“Don’t know,” Ying Yin replied.
Zhang Chengwan narrowed her eyes. “Don’t know? Then how did you come in together?”
Ying Yin had no way to explain it, so she brushed it off vaguely. “Long story. Asking this many questions – Mr. Zeng will get jealous.”
Zhang Chengwan gave a snort. She was mocking Ying Yin for not truly belonging to their circle – for being ignorant of how things worked and unable to recognize real importance.
In this room packed wall-to-wall with people tonight, who wasn’t here because of that man?
If Zeng Meng had been present, forget jealousy – he probably would’ve dragged her over personally to exchange greetings and warm pleasantries with him.
“Do you even know who Shang Shao is?” Zhang Chengwan asked.
“At some banquet once, someone pointed him out to me,” Ying Yin replied casually. “He was standing far away, surrounded by people the moment he appeared. I didn’t get a clear look. Why?” She straightened up, somewhat surprised. “He’s coming today?”
“Good lord, you really are just here to make up the numbers, aren’t you?” Zhang Chengwan mocked.
Ying Yin froze for a moment, then swept her gaze across the room once more.
Perfume and tailored suits mingled beneath the soft lighting, figures blurred in shifting shadows. Her eyes moved quickly from face to face in recognition before finally stopping on that man for several seconds.
He seemed quite familiar with Chen Youhan and was currently being introduced around by him, shaking hands and chatting amiably with others. Ying Yin was completely unaware that her gaze lingered too long. She only noticed the way he held a glass of whiskey loosely in his left hand, as casually as if he were carrying a cup of Starbucks. His usually cold, restrained face carried the faintest trace of a smile – polite, businesslike, gentle and impeccably measured, yet stopping precisely at the right distance.
He looked far too at ease in a setting like this.
“Well? Is it him or not?” Zhang Chengwan pressed impatiently.
Ying Yin withdrew her gaze. “No. He looked pretty ordinary – I barely even remember him.”
She couldn’t recall whose wedding banquet it had been, only that the venue had also been packed with social elites, and even a queen of the music industry had merely served as entertainment for the finale. Ying Yin had been invited because she had some private friendship with the bride, a wealthy young heiress, though her seat had still been far from the main table.
At the time, the hall had been buzzing with conversation when suddenly the crowd fell silent, voices dropping into restrained whispers instead. Someone beside her jabbed her arm, breathing tight with excitement. “Hey, Shang Shao!”
Ying Yin lifted her eyes for a glance. Through the layers of people, she saw several men in tailored suits. Every one of them looked unmistakably “rich,” but the man standing in the center was especially unremarkable-looking. With one look, she decided he had to be the one. Peeling a shrimp absentmindedly, she said without much interest, “He’s pretty ordinary.”
Only then did Zhang Chengwan realize how hopelessly unreliable Ying Yin was. Clicking her tongue, she scolded, “You keep calling yourself an expert on rich families, yet you can’t even recognize the right person. And you still want to marry into wealth? Even if opportunity walked right past you, you wouldn’t know how to seize it!”
Ying Yin bit her lip. After being harshly lectured by her senior, she stubbornly muttered, “Anyway, it’s definitely not the one standing beside Chen Youhan.”
Zhang Chengwan wasn’t in any hurry. Internally, she thought that the Shang family kept too low a profile. Although parts of the family business had already been handed over to the eldest son and daughter to manage, the two of them still rarely appeared in public. At press conferences, it was usually company executives or their father, Shang Qingye, who showed up instead. Very little photo or video material of the Shang family’s five children existed. It wasn’t until the second son, Shang Lu, entered the entertainment industry as a director that the family gained even a little public exposure.
A few more wealthy businessmen came over to chat, and after dealing with them for a while, Zhang Chengwan shifted the topic to Song Shizhang.
“So why has your Mr. Song gone off to take care of some little girl instead?”
Ying Yin had noticed long ago that Ruan Ye was together with Song Shizhang. Her heart remained as still as a deep pool, without any extra emotion. It was true that she and Song Shizhang had been circling each other in that ambiguous half-real, half-fake way for some time, but there had never been any sincerity involved. She had only chosen him because he was divorced and because his status and position were suitable enough. Using him as a shield helped block certain malicious gazes.
The entire social circle knew that Best Actress Ying Yin wanted to marry into wealth -and that she was proud and ambitious about it.
But the more proud and ambitious a beautiful woman was about chasing money, the more filth she attracted.
To drag the aloof down into the mud, to make the proud wash feet, to force the haughty to smile and entertain – this was a game the rich in their circle never tired of playing. And the more pathetic a man was himself, the more determined he became to “pluck the moon from the sky.”
Over the years, all sorts had coveted and tested her: middle-aged men gone soft and bloated, men who kept three or four mistresses outside, men past sixty, all emboldened by the little money they possessed.
People like that were impossible to offend. She was just an actress – so what if she was an award-winning one? So what if one film earned her tens of millions? At these gatherings, she was still only there to pour tea and water, to decorate the scene, to be casually praised for her beauty while enduring dirty jokes with a smile, pretending innocence.
Whenever the disgust became unbearable, she could only use Song Shizhang as an excuse.
It was rare for Ying Yin to speak honestly about her feelings, but at this moment she admitted to Zhang Chengwan, “I don’t want a fake act to become real.”
What she had with Song Shizhang was only an act, but Song Shizhang himself was impossible for her to read. His possessiveness was growing stronger and stronger, and it always surfaced at the worst possible moments.
Ying Yin truly was beginning to feel afraid – afraid things would spiral out of control. No matter what, Song Shizhang was a well-known investor and producer within the industry, and also a close friend of the boss of her agency, Chenye Entertainment. There was simply no way she could afford to offend him.
Zhang Chengwan smiled knowingly and sighed. In a soft, lilting Cantonese tone full of feminine teasing, she said – whether in sympathy or mockery, it was hard to tell, “Silly girl. Everyone else pretends to be innocent while genuinely chasing money. You’re the opposite.”
Then she cast a sidelong glance at Ying Yin’s gown. “Such a beautiful couture piece, and Song Shizhang let you be the first to wear it. Looks to me like he wants to announce it to the whole world.”
That very issue had already been bothering Ying Yin, so out of irritation she simply stopped talking.
After a while, perhaps noticing the steady stream of men approaching her with flattery and conversation, Song Shizhang finally left Ruan Ye’s side and walked over.
“Why didn’t you come find me?” he asked gently.
Sensing the situation, Zhang Chengwan tactfully excused herself and left. Ying Yin pressed her lips into a smile. “You looked busy.”
Song Shizhang assumed she was jealous of Ruan Ye, and inwardly he was quite pleased by it.
The crystal chandeliers cast a clear, warm glow that made even ordinary looks appear glamorous – let alone the woman before him. He studied her carefully. She had obviously removed her heavier makeup earlier and now wore only the lightest touch of cosmetics, which instead highlighted the refined elegance of her features. Her red lips complemented her black wavy hair perfectly, giving her an unmistakably Eastern sort of languid charm.
Ying Yin waited for Song Shizhang to question her about why she had gone out into the rain, but he asked nothing at all. He only said, “The dress suits you.”
The man in the Maybach had said the same thing. Remembering it now, Ying Yin’s gaze softened, and a faint smile curved her lips.
That obvious moment of distraction was unpleasantly conspicuous. Song Shizhang’s tone darkened slightly. “Why didn’t you ask why I walked off with Xiao Ruan just now?”
Ying Yin thought there was nothing worth asking. His legs belonged to him; asking a question wouldn’t magically tie him down. Still, she knew Song Shizhang enjoyed little games of jealousy and emotional tugging, so she answered bluntly with what was truly on her mind. “What’s the point of asking? If I ask, will you stop leaving next time?”
As expected, Song Shizhang narrowed his eyes slightly, looking thoroughly satisfied. A waiter passed carrying a tray, and he picked up two glasses of wine, handing one to Ying Yin.
“Since you’re here, come have a drink with me.”
It was perfectly normal for guests to toast the host, but Song Shizhang clearly meant something more. As they crossed half the banquet hall together, he spoke casually, as if mentioning nothing important.
“I heard you once put some effort into pursuing Chen Youhan.”
That was ancient history – who knew from how many years ago. Ying Yin couldn’t believe he still remembered it. Quietly taking a deep breath, she replied with just the right touch of embarrassment, “You must be laughing at me. I was immature back then.”
“As far as I know, he was already wearing a wedding ring at the time.”
Now Ying Yin genuinely felt awkward. “Mr. Chen had a reputation for being flirtatious. I thought maybe he wore it just for show, or… maybe they had an open relationship.”
She had no idea what Song Shizhang was trying to do, dragging up this stale old story to interrogate her over it. Besides, she had only ever had the nerve to fantasize, never to act. Chen Youhan had been rich and handsome enough that she’d briefly gotten carried away with the urge to conquer him – but if he’d actually responded to her advances, she probably would’ve run faster than anyone.
After all… she had no experience in that area. There was no way she would casually climb into someone’s bed.
Song Shizhang lowered his eyes to look at her. “When I was married, how come I never saw you put effort into pursuing me?”
Alarm bells instantly went off in Ying Yin’s mind as she heard the second half of Song Shizhang’s half-smiling question. “What, do you think I’m not as good-looking as him? Or do you just happen to have moral boundaries when it comes to me?”
Even an idiot would have sensed by now that Song Shizhang’s jealousy and anger were far from ordinary.
Inviting her to be his companion without telling her beforehand, forcing her to change outfits at the last minute, giving her the global first wear of a couture gown – everything tonight, it turned out, had been about staking his claim in front of Chen Youhan and reclaiming his pride.
Realization struck Ying Yin all at once, and her heart skipped violently –
Song Shizhang had gone mad. He genuinely thought she belonged to him.
Song Shizhang liked her cleverness, but he despised her restlessness and pride. Looking at the man standing beside Chen Youhan diagonally ahead of them, he let out a cold little laugh. He had never expected that after he’d merely punished her slightly for running out into the rain – left her hanging for a while – she would immediately seize the opportunity to attach herself to another powerful and influential man.
“How did you end up coming in with him?”
He never mentioned a name, but both of them knew exactly who he meant.
Ying Yin told the truth. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I said it. You left me there alone, and I happened to run into him. He said he got lost, so I brought him in.”
A chance encounter in the rain. The favor of the umbrella. The shawl that had brushed against her bare skin.
She omitted every bit of it.
Song Shizhang remained silent for the rest of the walk, as though weighing how much of Ying Yin’s explanation he could believe.
The closer they got to the host’s side, the more intensely Ying Yin’s heartbeat became for no clear reason. The stem of her champagne flute had been warmed by her grip, and her palm and fingertips were damp with sweat, to the point where she could barely hold the delicate crystal glass steady.
Only when the two of them came to a stop did Shang Shao finish speaking with the people beside him. He turned his head, his gaze settling properly, lowering slightly as it landed on Ying Yin.
Song Shizhang first clinked glasses and exchanged greetings with Chen Youhan. “It’s been a while, Vic.”
After a brief, polite exchange, he naturally turned to the other side and raised his glass toward Shang Shao. “And this is?”
Of course, he already had a guess, and was simply waiting for Chen Youhan’s introduction. Chen Youhan was just about to speak when Shang Shao cut in first. A faint, careless smile lingered on his lips.
“Ladies first. Why not introduce the only lady here first?”
Song Shizhang paused briefly, then placed a hand on Ying Yin’s shoulder. “This is Ying Yin, Miss Ying.” He then added with a light, conversational tone, “By the way, you came in together just now – what, you two don’t actually know each other?”
Only then did Shang Shao finally address Ying Yin directly for the first time.
“Miss Ying.”
How excessive he was – he had clearly known her name all along, yet insisted on waiting for a formal introduction before deigning to call her anything.
Ying Yin assumed her reputation simply wasn’t significant enough for him to recognize her. She put on a bright, practiced smile, about to say a few polite words to navigate the situation, when she heard the man opposite her speak in a low, cool voice, “You look radiant and dazzling tonight.”
Ying Yin was used to being called beautiful – she heard it hundreds of times a day. There was no reason those words, “radiant and dazzling,” should have made her blush.
And yet her face really did warm up, even leaving her slightly at a loss, as if it were the first time she had ever been complimented like that.
Song Shizhang lowered his head and looked at Ying Yin with an almost affectionate expression. Whether intentionally or not, he lightly placed his hand on the curve of her waist and murmured, “Aren’t you going to thank him?”
Ying Yin’s whole body stiffened. Her breathing became uneven, causing the champagne in her glass to tremble slightly as well.
“Thank you…” she stuttered. “…this very perceptive gentleman.”
For the first time that night, Shang Shao let out a soft laugh. He lowered his gaze with a faint smile, then extended his hand. His eyes passed over the others and landed directly on her with a meaningful look.
“A pleasure to meet you. Shang Shao.”
The false smile on Ying Yin’s face vanished instantly. She froze completely.
Which Shang, which Shao?
There might be many people in this world with the same name, but there was only one Shang Shao with this kind of presence – always arriving last, escorted by bodyguards, the center of every gaze in the room.
Only when Shang Shao slightly nodded toward her did she snap back to reality and, like a fool, reach out to shake his hand.
His palm was broad and dry, making her slightly damp palm feel even more conspicuous, as though she were hiding some guilty secret.
But what guilt could she possibly have?
Spreading rumors that this young master was “plain-looking” – that probably… wasn’t a crime punishable by death, was it?
