Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 30

Ying Yin only caught the first half of what he said.

Her face drained of color in shock. “What do you mean by ‘forget about the hundred million,’ Mr. Shang? Are you trying to welch on the debt?”

Shang Shao: “…”

After a few seconds of silence, he said in a complicated tone, “Ying Yin, you sure know how to pick out the key points.”

Who would have thought that this woman still had tears on her face? Now it seemed they were nothing but crocodile tears.

Ying Yin was already starting to feel the sting of loss. “So do I have to return the original thirty million to you too?”

Shang Shao’s tone was inscrutable. “What do you think?”

After wrestling with herself for a while, Ying Yin finally settled for the next best thing. “At least you have to pay me for the days I’ve worked.”

With that, she quickly added in a low voice, “It comes to 273,900 per day – I’ve already rounded down the odd change for you. Also, the extra twenty-minute hug you asked for last time and the kiss in the whale shark tunnel…”

She looked at him and held up two fingers in a peace sign. “…Twenty million.”

Shang Shao gazed at her with heavy, dark eyes for a long moment, then reached out without the slightest warning and placed his hand on her forehead.

It was quite warm.

Having found his excuse, he nodded. “The fever really hasn’t broken yet. Time for more medicine.”

Ying Yin could still tell the difference between a good word and a bad one. Her nose wrinkled slightly. “Are you insulting me?”

“Wouldn’t dare.”

Ying Yin choked on her breath, and a faint flush of red slowly seeped into her pallid face.

“I don’t make a habit of bullying the sick,” Shang Shao added calmly. He extended his hand. “Give me your passport.”

“No.”

“Still thinking of running?” Shang Shao lowered his head slightly, his gaze locking onto hers.

Flustered and embarrassed, Ying Yin stammered, “I’m not running, really… Can I not give you my passport?”

She clenched the passport tightly in her palm. It was newly issued, so it should have been crisp and pristine, but in just a few short minutes, the dark red cover had already been wrinkled and creased beyond measure.

Handing over a passport that so completely betrayed her emotions – Ying Yin found it unbearably humiliating.

Shang Shao kept his hand extended, the palm of his black goatskin-gloved hand facing upward. “Give it to me. I don’t want to come back and find you gone.”

Ying Yin froze. An aching, bittersweet feeling surged violently in her chest. Under some strange compulsion, hesitantly and reluctantly, she pulled out her passport, unable to look him in the eye.

What leverage did she have with him anyway? Every glance, every breath, every stubborn word of denial – and now, even a passport that refused to keep her feelings to itself.

Shang Shao took it. But instead of calling her out on the secret of why the passport had aged so quickly, he put it straight into his coat pocket, then curved his lips slightly. “Now, the second thing.”

“Yes?”

“You still haven’t said my name.”

“Shang…” Ying Yin tried. The second syllable circled on the tip of her tongue, but in the end, it landed softly as: “…sir.”

“Are those two syllables unpleasant to hear, or hard to pronounce?” Shang Shao asked flatly.

He was terrible. He knew full well the name was neither unpleasant nor hard to pronounce – yet he wanted to hear her deny it herself.

“No, it’s pleasant to hear,” Ying Yin fell right into his trap. “Shang Shao, Shang Shao…” She murmured it twice under her breath, then broke into a smile. “It rolls off the tongue quite nicely.”

Shang Shao raised an eyebrow.

Ying Yin’s body tensed under his gaze. Realizing she had indeed said his name, she suddenly felt embarrassed.

“Do people usually call you Shang Shao?” She tried to change the subject, looking for an accomplice – someone else like her.

But she had no accomplice.

“Very few people address me by my full name.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“Mr. Shang, Chairman Shao, Leo, Mr. Shang Shao.”

“And Ah-Shao,” Ying Yin added. “That female classmate of yours called you that last time. Do all your classmates call you Ah-Shao?”

Shang Shao curled his lips slightly, his tone cooling. “My classmates call me Leo. As for ‘Ah-Shao’ – my elders at home use that more often. Do you want to?”

“No, I don’t. What if you mistake me for one of your elders?”

Shang Shao gave a faint, amused smile. “How old are you, little girl? Want to be my elder? Unless someone in my family gets married for the second time… or maybe the third?”

Ying Yin let out a “Hmph.”

“Then I’d have to call you Auntie.”

Ying Yin’s eyes flew wide open. “No!”

Shang Shao let out a soft laugh. “Even if you wanted it, I wouldn’t agree.”

After chatting with him for a bit, Ying Yin found herself breaking out in a sweat. She figured it was because she was bundled up from head to toe – how could she possibly stay comfortable in a heated room? That parched, dry feeling kept rising endlessly from the bottom of her heart, the soles of her feet, and her palms, like pins and needles, a prickly, maddening itch.

“Just call me Shang Shao,” he decided for her, putting the matter to rest.

“Why? No one else calls you that. Won’t it sound strange to you?”

“A name is already a pity if no one says it. I should thank you for being willing to use it.”

He had a way of sounding indifferent about everything he said, yet his pace was so elegant and unhurried, his volume perfectly kept at the level of a face-to-face whisper – it made you feel that whatever he was saying, he was sharing it only with you.

Ying Yin thought to herself: he’s a natural when it comes to sweet talk.

“Shang Shao.” She finally said his full name, in a moment of complete lucidity.

Her gaze flitted away hastily, then deliberately returned under the daylight, quietly meeting his.

The flowers on the carpet were white camellias, lightly traced into the fabric’s texture by the winter sun. Her coat was emerald green, with a fitted peplum waist design. Her lips and the tip of her nose tinged with a faint pink – making her look, in the chill of a German winter, like a white spring blossom on a green stem.

Just for that coat alone, Shang Shao thought he ought to give Anna a quarterly bonus.

Neither of them spoke, but his gaze lingered on her face. The atmosphere was terrible -the kind that made you want to look away.

The hotel’s room service arrived just in time. The sound of the doorbell – whose relief it was, really, was hard to say.

Ying Yin had been hungry for nearly two days. After drinking a bowl of French velouté, she instantly felt soothed from body to soul. When it was time for her medicine, she noticed the note Shang Shao had left for her – and on the pill box, he had thoughtfully written down the dosage and instructions.

“Miss Ying, you’re the first girlfriend Chairman Shao has ever brought out like this,” Anna said, trying to charm her with sweet words.

“I’m not…” Ying Yin’s first instinct was to deny it, but remembering the contract terms, she swallowed her words and asked instead, “His last girlfriend – you never met her?”

“I did, but not like this, the way we’re hosting you.” Anna lowered her voice. “She wasn’t as pretty as you. Not even close.”

Ying Yin pressed her lips together, trying to hold back a smile, but in the end, she couldn’t help but break into a grin.

Of course – she was widely considered the most beautiful woman of her generation. Marketing accounts had once claimed that her looks struck directly at the primal instincts of men. Even though that was just some paid fluff bought by Mai Anyan, passersby had actually agreed with it wholeheartedly.

“But didn’t Mr. Shang protect his last girlfriend pretty well? How did you get to see her?”

“That time, he came to Germany alone to inspect a potential partner. His girlfriend must have flown over from England specially to see him, but since Chairman Shao was very busy, she disguised herself as one of his staff members. Chairman Shao thought we didn’t notice, but everyone knew.”

Ying Yin maintained her smile. “Sounds very romantic.”

“Not romantic at all.” Anna earnestly corrected her. “Chairman Shao is extremely strict when it comes to work – he doesn’t go for that kind of thing. They had a fight, and the girlfriend left in a huff that very night.”

Ying Yin hadn’t expected things to take that turn. She couldn’t help but ask, “And then?”

“Don’t know,” Anna shrugged. “Maybe he flew to England to make it up to her.”

She didn’t ask any further. After taking her medicine, she lay down on the bed for an hour’s nap. When she woke up, the scheduled salespeople had already arrived and were waiting in the living room and outside the hallway.

Although Anna had given her a list, Ying Yin hadn’t been in any state of mind to look at it the night before. Now, seeing the scale of it all, she was taken aback.

Garment bags and shopping bags marked with all kinds of logos, along with shoeboxes, were piled high in the living room, leaving hardly any space to stand. The sofa was covered with dresses in silk, satin, tulle, and sequined embroidery – in emerald green, rich plum, raven black, and sapphire blue. Two rows of delicate high heels sat on the carpet. Sparkling, diamond-studded jewelry was displayed gracefully in velvet jewelry cases.

Several portable steam irons were running, and a number of sales assistants were carefully pressing out the wrinkles caused by transportation – some of which were intentionally designed soft pleats, requiring considerable skill and attention.

“This is the first batch. The second batch arrives at three, and the third at five. Twenty brands in total,” Anna explained.

Ying Yin was completely dumbfounded.

Her suite had been flooded with luxury clothing. How long would it take to try all of this on? And making a sick person do this – could that count as working while ill? She’d end up with a workplace injury from exhaustion!

Anna checked her watch. “Since we’re short on time and you’re still sick, we don’t need to try on everything. Just try the ones you like. If you really can’t be bothered, we can also just take all of them.”

“No, no, no, no…” Ying Yin stopped her, saying with great self-discipline, “I don’t need the thrill of taking all of them.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Respect.”

Ying Yin really didn’t have much energy – even though her fever had gone down, her muscles still felt heavy and sore. She sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed, flipping through a lookbook as she asked, “Why is Mr. Shang having me buy evening gowns? Did he say anything?”

He wouldn’t be sending her these to attend some major fashion gala, would he? While these clothes were certainly beautiful and high-end, in terms of the strict hierarchy and seniority rankings of the fashion world, they were far from haute couture level. There was no need for Shang Shao to go through all this trouble with her.

“This has to do with your upcoming schedule in France. I don’t know the specifics, but Chaiman Shao said to pick at the level of cocktail parties and after-parties – as long as they’re pretty and comfortable.”

Ying Yin nodded. She had a great figure with nice curves and a poised, generous demeanor. She didn’t care much for overly flashy styles. Besides, after so many years in the entertainment industry, she had a firm and confident sense of her own taste, so she picked items very quickly without the slightest hesitation.

Once she had settled on the styles, it was time to try them on. She untied the thin blanket wrapped around her, revealing her moon-white nightgown underneath. Anna helped her unpack a new bustier. As Ying Yin fastened it, the heavy yet soft feel of it suddenly reminded her of something –

Wait. Last night… had she not worn a bra?

Seeing her expression change, Anna asked in confusion, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

The next second, Ying Yin’s face exploded like a splash of rouge – flushed in uneven, messy shades of red, a total wreck.

She really hadn’t worn a bra!!

Help! What had she done last night?!

Scattered fragments of memory, now spinning wildly like a carousel in her mind.

She had held him… clung to him… collapsed onto his chest… rubbed against his arm… pressed against his thigh… leaned into his chest…

Anna shook her, practically trying to wake her from a trance. “Miss Ying?”

Ying Yin snapped back to reality, clamped her hands over her chest, and squeezed herself in suspicion.

Anna: “…”

“Anna… let me ask you something,” Ying Yin murmured blankly.

“Go ahead.”

“Have you ever… you know…? That thing with a… a boyfriend…”

Anna asked, “Sex?”

“Shh, shh, shh,” Ying Yin whispered urgently. “That thing – the chest… does it hurt? Like if someone… touched it?… maybe a little forcefully.”

“You mean groping?”

“Jesus! Just get the idea – don’t say it out loud!”

Anna nodded. “It hurts a little – that depends on…” She had caught Ying Yin’s language dysfunction and started stammering as well, “…the, uh, technique and pres-pressure?”

“Jeez.”

Ying Yin took a deep breath, cautiously and thoroughly felt herself up, then let out a sigh of relief. “Seems okay.”

Anna was genuinely speechless. “Miss Ying, do you have no experience in that area?”

“Not yet.”

“You’re already twenty-eight, aren’t you?” Anna was indeed a bit surprised.

“I debuted at sixteen. The entertainment industry is a mess. I’m afraid of catching something – it’s not like I can ask someone for a medical report before going to bed, right?” Ying Yin said matter-of-factly. “And what if he has ulterior motives? Like taking my photos, videos, then blackmailing me? That would cut off my income!”

Anna’s expression grew complicated. “Don’t you think you’re a little paranoid…”

“Not really?” Ying Yin looked innocent. “Better safe than sorry. Ruining my career for a man – that’s just not worth it!”

Anna pressed a hand to her forehead, then gave her a thumbs-up. “Well played.”

“Right?” Ying Yin looked pleased with herself.

“So then, you and Chairman Shao?” Anna asked in a low voice.

Ying Yin coughed twice. “Between the two of us, shouldn’t Mr. Shang be more afraid of me blackmailing him?”

Anna’s face went blank. She thought to herself: No. Not at all. He doesn’t have to be afraid.

Ying Yin dropped the subject and focused on trying on clothes. But every time she adjusted a bra cup, she couldn’t help but picture in her mind the hand that had unfastened her clasp.

In the deep blue light of the whale shark tunnel, his hand – like a jade fan rib – was so long and slender, each finger distinct and refined.

After about an hour of trying things on, Ying Yin picked out a Greek-style black gown with pearl shoulder straps and a bare back, a velvet strapless mermaid dress in pale jade green, plus a loose, comfortable white robe. She didn’t have the energy to try on jewelry or shoes, leaving the salespeople to make the calls on those.

After finishing this part of the task, Anna briefed her on the upcoming schedule. “Chairman Shao should finish up around a little past eight. He won’t be coming back to the hotel. I’ll take you to the airport in advance to meet up with him. The plane takes off for France at nine sharp.”

Ying Yin had no objections. Her mind, foggy from the cold medicine, felt heavy and sleepy. She lay down on the bed. Just as she was about to drift off, she sat up abruptly as if jolted by a sudden realization – a doctor had come by last night!

Had the doctor seen anything?

The celebrity’s paranoid tendencies kicked in, albeit belatedly. She whipped out her phone and, without worrying about whether she might be disturbing him, directly asked Shang Shao. “Mr. Shang, was I exposed last night?”

It was during a break between meetings. Shang Shao was in the lounge, having just finished a brief interview. After seeing the journalist out, his assistant handed him an opened bottle of water and confirmed the materials for the upcoming meeting.

“Hold on.” He unlocked his phone and saw the message.

Although the young master of the Shang family was famously unflappable, capable of handling anything with ease, and able to remain composed even if Mount Tai crumbled before him… the water bottle in his hand was unconsciously squeezed.

Some water spilled out. He set the bottle down, stood up, walked to the window, and gave a couple of conspicuously theatrical coughs.

His assistant: “?”

Was something wrong? Was the indoor heating cranked up so high that it was wasting natural gas? Shang Shao folded one side of his suit jacket and fanned himself as if he were unbearably hot. Then, quickly realizing the impropriety of the gesture, he suppressed it, planting his hands on his hips and taking deep breaths, over and over.

She had indeed been a bit exposed.

The straps of her nightgown were long, and the gown itself loose. The way she had clung to his neck and collapsed into his arms last night – even if he hadn’t wanted to look, he had gotten an unobstructed view. Without the support of a bra, her curves weren’t as full and bouncy as they had been on the plane that day. But.

It was even more parching.

And did he really not want to look? A hundred versions of Shang Shao inside him were chanting “Don’t look,” but it only took one traitor to cost him the whole game.

“What Heaven has conferred is called Nature; accordance with this nature is called the Path; cultivating the Path is called Instruction. The Path cannot be left for an instant; if it could be left, it would not be the Path. Therefore the superior man is watchful over himself when he is alone. He guards himself in what he does not see and fears himself in what he does not hear. There is nothing more visible than what is hidden, and nothing more manifest than what is subtle. Therefore the superior man is watchful over himself when he is alone. Before the feelings of pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy are aroused, it is called the Mean. When they are aroused and each attains its proper measure, it is called Harmony…” Shit.

The assistant could sense his agitation even from his back and couldn’t figure out why -he had seemed perfectly composed just a moment ago.

Remembering that Shang Shao was from Hong Kong and had studied in England, the assistant wondered if he was unaccustomed to the German winter. So, very thoughtfully, he asked, “Are you perhaps suffering from excess heat? Should I get you some medicine to reduce the heat and cool you down?”

Shang Shao: “…”

He coughed again, then resumed his deep, detached demeanor. “No need.”

Back in the hotel, Ying Yin waited anxiously, biting her nails, until his reply arrived: [No.]

Ying Yin: [How is that possible!]

Shang Shao opened his contacts, then closed the app again. Making a phone call right now was probably not a wise choice.

He replied coolly: [What answer do you want to hear?]

Ying Yin pressed on relentlessly: [Did the doctor see everything?]

So that’s what she was asking about.

Shang Shao breathed a sigh of relief and reassured her: [Really, no. When he came, I draped a blanket over you.]

When. He. Came.

Thud. Ying Yin dropped her head and collapsed face-down onto the bed.

[Mr. Shang], she wrote, utterly dead inside, yet stubbornly refusing to let it go even until death: [What about before he came?]

Shang Shao replied bluntly: [I’m sorry.]

The apology was sent – and then vanished into the void.

He was due to report on the second half of the meeting shortly. For the first time ever, he brought his phone inside. He spent a long time distracted, then carefully chose his words: [Just think of it as wearing a bikini.]

A glaring red dot appeared on the screen: Your message has been sent, but the recipient has rejected it.

Shang Shao: “…”

A little while later, this woman who had deleted him as a friend had the energy to change her nickname instead:

[Yinyin Suffering Work Injury…]

Shang Shao’s face darkened. The bright, high-end conference room was utterly silent, but the sound of camera shutters and flashes never stopped.

The photographers captured his frown and his cold, handsome features – but who could guess that his text message said:

[How do you want to claim reimbursement for your work injury?]