The driver got into the car, his face as expressionless as the ostrich outside the window.
In truth, he wasn’t really thinking much. He was a retired mercenary, hired specifically to provide security for Shang Shao during his time in Africa. Though they spent less than a month together each year, he knew Shang Shao quite well –
This Eastern man was deep, reserved, and exuded an elegant, scholarly demeanor in every move he made. There was no way he would do anything improper or indecent in the car.
The car continued moving forward. Distracted, he overheard the low voices from the back seat.
Suddenly, the woman seemed drained by something. She leaned wearily into his boss’s arms, her whole body so limp that she could barely lift a finger.
Shang Shao’s voice carried a languid sense of satisfaction. “Next time you want to go somewhere, remember to find Uncle Kang. Let him make the arrangements for you.”
“He’s your butler. How could I trouble him?” Ying Yin knew her boundaries.
And yet, her sense of boundaries wasn’t unnecessary. Even during the two years when Yu Shasha was dating Shang Shao, she never dared to overstep and order Lin Cunkang around. But Lin Cunkang was attentive to her – after all, she was Shang Shao’s only known girlfriend – and he made sure everything was well taken care of, without Yu Shasha ever having to ask.
“You’ll have plenty of occasions to trouble him in the future. You might as well get used to it,” Shang Shao said indifferently.
“I originally wanted to ask him for your address, but I was afraid he’d tell you, and you’d think I was being a nuisance and forbid me from coming.”
Since things had already come to this, Ying Yin knew she had something to feel guilty about. She swallowed hard and asked, “Mr. Shang, have I caused you any trouble?”
Shang Shao looked down at her.
She was so nervous, her clear eyes filled with fear of displeasing him. So where had she found the courage to put on that poised, grown-woman act on the red carpet?
“If you had caused trouble, what would you plan to do about it?” His tone was profound – hard to tell if he was pleased or annoyed.
Ying Yin looked earnest. “I’m sorry,” she said. Her apology came quickly, her tone and demeanor sinking. “There won’t be a next time.”
“There can be a next time.”
“Hmm?”
Shang Shao curved his lips slightly and changed the subject. “What happened back home?”
This man saw right through her. He knew that with her proud nature, if she had simply missed him, she would never have abandoned everything to come to Africa. Her pride would have held her back, made her stand rooted in place like a princess waiting for a tin soldier to knock on her door.
Something must have made her extremely unhappy – so unhappy that she was desperate to escape that suffocating feeling, no matter the cost.
Ying Yin smiled and brushed it off lightly. “I failed the audition for a pretty good film. It’s not a big deal, really – it happens all the time. The director thought I was too… too much of a ‘star,’ not approachable enough.”
That was indeed what Li Shan had actually said. Besides, she was so beautiful that playing an unadorned revolutionary might make it hard for the audience to stay immersed. Of course, Ying Yin’s acting skills could make up for anything, but a director’s primary consideration isn’t acting ability – it’s fit.
Taking on a role that doesn’t suit you – like a plain face playing a glamorous dancer, or a coquettish, conventionally pretty face playing a schoolgirl with a bob – carries a high cost in convincing the audience, even for an actress as skilled as an Oscar winner.
“Do you need me to step in and have a word for you?” Shang Shao asked directly.
Shangyu Group’s business didn’t overlap much with the entertainment industry, but if he wanted to exert some influence, it wouldn’t be too difficult – just a bit more trouble.
“Absolutely not!” Ying Yin was so startled that she sat up straight all of a sudden. “This film is good, but it’s not that great a loss. Besides, I still came out ahead.”
“Came out ahead?”
“Mm.” Ying Yin nodded. “You know Director Li Shan? He’s invited me to be the lead in his next film. So giving up this role isn’t a big deal.”
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” Shang Shao smoothed her hair and tucked it behind her ear.
On her right earlobe was a tiny mole – a faint, pale red, like an accidental dot from a vermilion brush.
It was the first time Shang Shao had noticed it. His gaze lingered on it for a moment, then he reached out and rubbed it gently, as if barely touching it.
His touch sent a tingling sensation racing up Ying Yin’s spine.
Her body stirred with ripples, but deep down she was very calm. “That’s not persuasion – it’s just the truth.”
“But even if that’s the truth, something behind it has still worn you out.” Shang Shao closed his eyes and coolly saw right through her.
Ying Yin froze. After a long moment, she finally murmured, “Mm.”
“Mr. Shang, in this world, some people are born as commodities – used by others to exchange for value. Look at me: I have a lot of money, and many, many people admire me, look up to me. But in the end, I’m a commodity, something to be bought. I see that very clearly. It’s just that sometimes, when the nature of the transaction is too obvious… even someone who’s good at being a commodity can feel humiliated.”
Before Shang Shao could respond, Ying Yin smiled again. “Actually, it’s not that big a deal. Look at all those people walking by outside – the taxi drivers, the guides, the ones selling flowers and fruit with baskets on their heads, the ones squatting by the roadside waiting for tips as laborers. Everyone’s working hard as commodities. We’re all human, but I get paid much more than they do. If I still wallowed in self-pity and narcissism, wouldn’t that be terribly ungrateful?”
She had comforted herself so well that Shang Shao didn’t even need to say anything.
After a moment, he smiled. “Ying Yin, hearing you say all that, I feel like I’ve just been scolded.”
Ying Yin curved her lips into a smile. “How could that be? You work very hard too. Those wealthy oil tycoons in the Middle East only work three hours a day. Compared to them, you work day and night, you’ve caught a cold and have a cough – you’re much more pitiable.”
Not only Shang Shao, but even the driver and bodyguard who had been quietly listening the whole time couldn’t help but curl their lips into a smile.
She’s a clever woman, the bodyguard thought to himself.
Shang Shao let out a laugh. He gazed at Ying Yin for a moment, then couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss her.
“You’re right about everything. But if you see our contract as me buying something and you selling something…”
He paused. His indifferent tone made it impossible to tell if he was being deliberate. “I wouldn’t mind taking back this hundred million, just to put your mind at ease.”
Knowing full well that she treated money like her life, teasing her with words like this was more than a little bullying.
Ying Yin pressed her palms together with a smack, raised them to her forehead, and sincerely confessed. “Please don’t. That hundred million is my source of happiness and my healing medicine for the next year. Taking it back would be the death of me.”
The hotel Shang Shao was staying at was on the outskirts of the city – a resort estate where each room had its own private courtyard. Tall cacti of various shapes stood in the white sandy soil, creating a garden landscape unique to the equator.
But Ying Yin had arrived at an unfortunate time. Despite such a nice hotel, she had no time to enjoy it.
Upon arriving at the hotel, the luggage had already been taken care of by the staff. After a brief meeting with a French friend, Shang Shao bid farewell and set off for the Serengeti.
“Actually, maybe…” Shang Shao paused thoughtfully and temporarily stopped the jeep. “Why don’t you wait for me at the hotel? I’ll be back by noon the day after tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“The accommodations there are quite rough. I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle it.”
“Impossible.” Ying Yin said with conviction. “Is there any place you can handle that I can’t?”
The jeep left the city behind. The streams of motorcycles, the hustle and bustle of the streets, and the billowing dust all faded away like thin mist, replaced by an endless, vast wilderness.
In December, the Serengeti had a damp, humid quality to the air – the scent of growing grass and rising lakes, and also the breath of the coming great animal migration. Near the Mara River, herds of wildebeest had already gathered, followed closely by zebra families. Hippos lurked, giant crocodiles lay in wait, and lions circled nearby. Amid the thriving, serene silence, slaughter was brewing in tandem.
Along the bumpy dirt roads, animal remains could be seen everywhere. Some were still fresh, others had weathered into specimens. Ying Yin didn’t recognize any of them. It was Shang Shao who told her: this was a wildebeest skull, that one a buffalo skull, and those tall, reddish mounds of earth were actually termite nests.
As they ventured deeper into the savanna woodland, all that could be seen were tall grasses swaying in the evening breeze. Aside from the guide vehicle leading the way ahead, there were no other humans in sight.
Ying Yin couldn’t help but wrap her shawl tighter around herself.
She wasn’t just cold – she was also a little tense. The violent jolting of the vehicle made her body, already exhausted from the long flight, feel waves of dizziness.
The lead vehicle ahead slowed down. Ying Yin could only half-understand the English coming through the radio – something about asking them to look to the right.
Among the grass, the lion pride, alerted by the engine sound, raised their heads warily and glanced over. Seeing that it was a human jeep, the sentry lioness sat upright, watching calmly as they drove past.
In the flattened grass, the remains of some unrecognizable animal had already been torn apart into chunks of meat. Blood was splattered everywhere, flies buzzed around, and a few vultures perched on a distant mound of earth, staring intently, waiting.
So this was the lion pride having their dinner.
The male lion had already eaten his fill and was lying to the side, yawning contentedly.
The scene of ripped-open bellies and entrails was bloody and brutal. The pungent stench of blood carried a thick, cloying sweetness.
Ying Yin held back as long as she could, but waves of dry heaving kept rising in her throat. “Stop the car…”
Shang Shao frowned and teased her lightly, his tone calm and unhurried. “Going to feed the lions?”
Ying Yin grabbed his sleeve. “Ugh…”
Her eyes were brimming with tears from holding it in, her face scrunched up.
On the savannah, predators were everywhere. Sticking one’s head or hands out of the window was a very dangerous move. Shang Shao let out a deep, heavy sigh and swiftly took off his suit jacket. “Vomit into this.”
This was a suit custom-made by the finest tailor on Savile Row. The old London tailor would probably faint if he knew that his painstaking work – every stitch sewn with care – had become a vomit bag.
How could Ying Yin afford to refuse at a moment like this? She took the jacket with both hands and –“Ugh…”
…It was over. She had vomited into her patron’s suit. She had thrown up messily in front of the man she loved.
But the feeling of an empty stomach was so good – it was as if even her bad mood had been healed. She threw up until she was completely empty.
Shang Shao pulled out two tissues and handed them to her between his fingers.
There was a condescending, slightly disdainful air to the gesture.
Ying Yin looked pitiful. “The suit… I’ll wash it and give it back to you…”
Shang Shao was firm. “No need.”
“What a shame – Ugh…”
She turned her face away again after just a couple of words.
Shang Shao closed his eyes. His slightly furrowed brow seemed impatient. “Miss Ying.”
It had been a while since he last called her that.
“Finish vomiting before you speak!”
Ying Yin’s voice was weak. “I’m done. Really done…”
Shang Shao unscrewed a bottle of water and said, word by word, with a dark expression. “Rinse your mouth.”
Ying Yin obediently rinsed her mouth and clutched the suit jacket.
Shang Shao’s long index finger pointed to the left. His command was very concise. “Sit farther away.”
Ying Yin: “…”
Huh. It seemed he had a bit of a cleanliness obsession… Normally, you really couldn’t tell.
But thinking about his living environment, there probably wasn’t much room for him to indulge that obsession.
Ying Yin let out a soft “Mm-ngh” – a sound from her nose, like a little dog, full of grievance.
In Tanzania, it was four in the afternoon. Back home, it was nine in the evening – the time when her birthday party would have been happening.
On Weibo, the platform had automatically posted a birthday reminder. Ying Yin’s comment section was flooded with blessings. The text flower walls designed by her fans were lovely and magnificent, and her fan club had posted pictures of the light-up signs they had arranged for her.
On the light-up sign poster was a photo of her from a red carpet event a few years ago, wearing a crown. She was looking down with a gentle smile, as if she was being crowned. That was the year she had achieved a Grand Slam of both major awards. She had set her sights on Cannes, basking in boundless glory.
That year was now two years in the past.
Ying Yin rarely disappeared on her birthday.
She would dutifully attend the birthday party arranged by her company, take a bunch of photos, post them thoughtfully on Weibo, and make a wish with genuine sincerity.
The wish was the same every year: “In the new year, may I get what I truly want.”
On the trending keywords list, the hashtag #TimeForYingYinToHaveHerWishFulfilled# made a surprise appearance. It was bought by the skincare brand she endorsed – both as a birthday tribute and a product promotion.
But at the same time, although another piece of news didn’t make it to the trending list, it was being shared with astonishing intensity across major gossip and entertainment accounts:
[Ying Yin failed her audition for Li Shan’s film [shocked][shocked]. It was supposed to be a sure thing for her, but I heard Ruan Ye got the role instead?]
[What did Ruan Ye do to deserve snatching a role from her fellow apprentice, a Best Actress winner?]
The discussion section was quite telling.
[Posting this kind of PR article on her birthday? Trying to rally sympathy?]
[Poor Ruan Ye. What did she do wrong to be made a target on a day like this?]
[Don’t spread rumors, don’t believe rumors, okay? Ruan Ye works hard and puts her work first. Everyone should focus on her projects instead.]
[Ruan Ye never should have signed with Chenye. They’ve had their top actress for over a decade – she calls the shots in the company. People said Ruan Ye would only get the leftovers, and now it’s come true, hasn’t it?]
[OMG, Ruan Ye, don’t be so calculating. You got the role and now you’re spinning it around with this kind of PR? You really take the cake.]
[? Is Ruan Ye out of her mind? Buying this kind of PR to crash someone’s birthday? No one with a normal brain would do that, okay? Ying Yin, stop being so scheming.]
“Don’t call him.”
“I have to call him!”
Zhuang Tiwen tried to grab Cheng Junyi’s phone. “What’s the use of calling Mai Anyan? Could he possibly not know about that PR article?”
Cheng Junyi’s eyes were blazing with fury. “I’m going to call him! I want to ask him -what does he mean by pulling this stunt on her birthday? Picking on her while she’s away?”
“What are you thinking? Do you think Ying Yin is an idiot? Would she not know what Mai Anyan is up to? She knows – that’s exactly why she went to Africa!”
Zhuang Tiwen pressed down on her hand and pried her fingers open one by one. “Give me the phone. Don’t cause her more trouble.”
“She’s being wronged!” Junyi was quick-tempered and absolutely furious.
“She’s not. She must have gotten a price she could accept before allowing Mai Anyan to do this,” Zhuang Tiwen said seriously. “She’s not completely passive. She knows how to fight for the best advantage possible.”
“I don’t care. What gives him the right? Even if he wants to promote Ruan Ye, this isn’t the way to do it…” Junyi suddenly deflated.
“The transition of old and new star power is just this bloody,” Tiwen said slowly. “This is only the beginning. There will be others who will launch attack after attack against her. From the company’s perspective, making use of her remaining popularity to promote their own new talent is the most win-win deal.”
“You’re defending Mai Anyan?” Junyi couldn’t believe it.
“Business is business.”
“But she’s still clearly very popular.”
“That’s because you’re not seeing the pattern. Every artist as a product has a lifespan and a trajectory that can be traced. Becoming an evergreen is very difficult – ups and downs are the norm. She’s been in the industry for twelve years, famous for twelve years. Even the sun has to set eventually.”
Zhuang Tiwen looked at Junyi with pity. “The company has to prepare for the future.”
“Ruan Ye just acts in period costume dramas.” Junyi pursed her lips, unconvinced.
“Times have changed. The pay for acting in TV series is much higher than for films, and the fanbase is more stable. The old hierarchy that placed film above television isn’t as pronounced as it used to be. Can’t you see? The company’s operational strategy for its female artists is also undergoing a subtle shift. Start with TV, elevate your status with film, solidify your position with a hit drama, and secure a place in the fashion world. Then, a new top-tier female star is born.”
“If it were as simple as you say, there wouldn’t be so many female artists stuck in the middle.” Cheng Junyi clenched her fists.
“Of course, the prerequisite is that they have decent acting skills.”
Upon hearing this, Junyi pressed her palms together. “God bless, please let Ruan Ye’s acting skills never improve, never improve, never improve.”
Tiwen: “…”
“You do it too.” Junyi pulled her, making her stumble. “Two people praying together is more effective.”
Zhuang Tiwen found it both funny and exasperating. “Fine, then I’ll ask for God’s blessing too. But paths are made by people. There is one path, full of thorns, yet it lies outside the rules.”
“What path?”
“The path of an internationally recognized Best Actress who actively abandons her mainstream popularity.”
Junyi’s eyes suddenly lit up, but the spark died out just as quickly. “Mai Anyan won’t allow it. Popularity is money, and money is his life.”
“What gives him the right to allow or disallow anything?” Tiwen smiled, asking with interest, “Junyi, don’t you think being an agent or a producer is very interesting? You can control everything from the highest place, and even challenge the rules.”
“It is interesting…” Junyi didn’t understand why she was bringing this up.
Tiwen pulled a card from her bag, holding it between two fingers. “Actually… I have a pool of startup capital, specifically meant for trial and error.”
Tanzania.
The jeep finally arrived at its destination. This was a research institute, primarily dedicated to protecting wild African elephants, but also helping other endangered animal groups.
The rainy season is the time for animal mating and breeding, and the institute was busy. Only one tall, thin white man came out to greet them.
He had curly grayish-white hair, looked to be over sixty, and had ruddy skin. He was wearing overalls and rubber boots, and his body carried a strong animalistic scent.
Well… the smell of fresh feces, to be precise.
“Leo, good to see you.” He took off his glove and shook hands with Shang Shao, his smile warm and familiar.
Ying Yin stared without blinking.
He must have just shoveled poop!
Shang Shao shook his hand without changing his expression, even giving him a pat on the shoulder and a hug.
Ying Yin: “…”
After the greetings, Shang Shao turned his head and noticed Ying Yin had gone into a shell-shocked silence.
“What’s wrong?”
“You only find me repulsive.” Ying Yin’s mood was very low. “You disliked me when I threw up. Why don’t you dislike this Harry? He’s shoveled poop…”
Shang Shao let out a helpless laugh, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into his embrace. “I kiss you, not him.”
Ying Yin stood on tiptoe, leaned in, and closed her eyes to ask for a kiss. “Then kiss me.”
Shang Shao covered her face with his large hand and said flatly, “Stop fooling around.”
Ying Yin let out a “hmph” and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Mr. Shang, I’ve been bullied badly today. Give me a kiss, just to heal me.”
Shang Shao: “…”
She rarely acted spoiled. It felt as strange as seeing the Queen of Sweden striking a coquettish pose in the wind – very odd.
But… it didn’t feel bad.
Seeing that Shang Shao didn’t react, Ying Yin sniffled. “Really. The person who bullied me – you know her too. And you couldn’t take your eyes off her.”
“Who?” Shang Shao’s smile faded. He frowned slightly and asked coolly.
Who could he possibly have stared at?
The only thing he’d ever stared at was a whale shark.
Ying Yin scuffed the grass with her toe, a little embarrassed to speak. “You… when you danced with Ruan Ye… weren’t you staring at her? Is she that beautiful?”
Shang Shao searched his memory. “Ruan Ye…”
The search came up empty. He gave an indifferent little laugh. “That name – isn’t it even stranger than yours?”
“…Don’t say her name is strange,” Ying Yin mumbled in vague protest.
What was there to argue about? Was this some kind of honor?
“…Fine,” Shang Shao placed his hand on her slender shoulder, as if coaxing a child. “Only your name is the strangest.”
Ying Yin bit her lip. “So did you, or didn’t you?”
“I think… probably not.”
“What do you mean ‘probably’?”
“I can’t rule out that my mind was elsewhere and I simply forgot to look away. But as for this Miss Ruan’s face – I really didn’t register it.”
“You danced with her while your mind was elsewhere?”
Shang Shao smiled.
The sun was setting.
The fiery red sun sank toward the horizon, smeared by clouds and evening mist into wave-like ripples.
His words were low and gentle, each one. “That night, I was lucky enough to pick up a date. But after we entered the banquet hall, she seemed to be scared off by my identity. If my mind was elsewhere – or perhaps wandering with desire – it was probably because I was thinking of her.”
