A cart loaded with fresh animal dung creaked and rattled over the gravelly ground, leaving a shallow rut behind.
The red sun had already half set, but the temperature was dropping even faster, as if the entire steppe were plunging all at once below the horizon. The scorching, dry heat dissipated, replaced by a fresh, grey dampness that felt clean.
The tall, white-haired older white man named Harry finished his work and came over to take Shang Shao and Ying Yin to their accommodations. Along the way, they passed a patch of yellow mud enclosed by wooden stakes, where a baby elephant was stepping on its own trunk.
“Its mother was attacked by poachers. By the time we found her, she was already dying. It was very difficult to save this little one’s life,” Harry explained. “You can call him Bobby.”
“Bobby…” The name had a boyish, playful feel.
Ying Yin stopped to watch for a while, amused by the little elephant’s contented, silly antics. “Why is it stepping on its own trunk?”
“Well… because he’s still young and doesn’t really know what that long trunk is. He often trips over it while walking.”
The baby elephant noticed someone approaching, walked up to the railing, and raised its trunk.
It smiled adorably, its small eyes gleaming with mischievous intelligence – then ruthlessly sprayed a puff of dirt right at her.
The yellow earth was as fine as flour, billowing gracefully through the air.
“Ahem, ahem, ahem…” Ying Yin was caught completely off guard by the spray. Coughing and grimacing, she brushed the dust off herself. “…Is it bullying me?”
Shang Shao saw how disheveled she looked and really wanted to laugh, but felt that would be adding insult to injury. So he managed to hold it in, lowering his face with a quiet chuckle and shaking his head.
Harry, standing nearby, was nowhere near as considerate. He was already doubled over with laughter, snapping photos while explaining, still chuckling, “He likes you! Kicking up dust is his way of cooling down and making himself comfortable, so he’s doing the same for you.”
“You’re lying,” Ying Yin said skeptically.
“I swear to God, absolutely not.” Harry shrugged. “You can pet his head.”
Warily, Ying Yin took one cautious step, then another. When she finally reached the railing, she mustered her courage, reached out, and gave the baby elephant’s head a quick pat.
“So hard!”
Even though he was still a toddler elephant under two years old, both his skin and his sparse, pale grey hairs were rough and stiff to the touch.
“Feels like a pig…” Ying Yin rubbed her fingers together, dazed.
Shang Shao stood with both hands in his pants pockets – elegant in posture, but a rogue in his grin. The corners of his lips curled upward; in the twilight, his eyes gleamed as brightly as morning stars. He looked far more relaxed and amiable here than when he was navigating glass skyscrapers and rigid boardroom meetings – exuding a kind of casual, effortless charm.
“Don’t say that,” he said, his eyes on Ying Yin, the hint of a smile lifting his lips. “In his eyes, you’re adorable. If you say that, you’ll hurt his feelings.”
Ying Yin had no idea whether she really looked adorable in the baby elephant’s eyes. But hearing Shang Shao say those words, she suddenly grew bashful. Flustered, she turned her face slightly away.
Her black hair, covered in dust, had been tinged orange by the fading sunset, framing her worn, pale, and exhausted face.
Harry sensed the shift in the atmosphere, smiled, and discreetly led them onward.
Shang Shao fell half a step behind and asked casually, “When exactly did you pet a pig?”
“On a reality show that’s… hard to describe. Ke Yu and Shang Lu were on it too.” Ying Yin looked a bit embarrassed.
That show was absurd – no script, and the contestants had to trade labor for room and board in a village. The episode Ying Yin appeared on was filmed in Guizhou. Luckily, her host was the village’s richest resident; unluckily, that richest resident was a major pig farmer…
Shang Shao understood immediately. “The show where Shang Lu had to clean out a goat pen and Ke Yu had to sell apricots?”
Ying Yin nodded, pressing her lips together, her eyes pleading with him for mercy.
Shang Shao felt a laugh rise at the look she was giving him. “Alright,” he promised. “I will absolutely never watch it.”
The conservation base wasn’t large to begin with, and the accommodations were even more basic – just seven or eight large safari tents, their color a yellowish-green that blended in with the grass.
Shang Shao flicked a cigarette out of the pack, twirled it between his fingers, and brought it to his lips. “I told you,” he said. “The conditions here are very rough. You might not be able to handle it.”
Harry led her from tent to tent, explaining as they went. “This one’s for showers and toilets. This is the kitchen. This one’s for me and another volunteer. Those two over there are for the four female volunteers.”
The one remaining in the middle was reserved for them.
“It’s getting dark now, and dinner is already being prepared. You can rest a while and wait. One thing to remind you: after nightfall, absolutely do not go back outside the tent,” Harry warned considerately.
“Why?”
“Because you’ll be at serious risk of attack by wild animals – lions, for example.”
Ying Yin: “…?”
Harry spread his hands, indicating that was just how things were. “Although I’m saying ‘in case of’ – just to be on the safe side – you really cannot leave the tent.”
Ying Yin was dumbfounded. A sensational headline flashed through her mind:
[ACTRESS YING YIN MAULED TO DEATH BY LION PACK, SCENE GRUESOME, FANS WEEP IN MOURNING!]
She whipped her head around and darted into the tent without the slightest hesitation.
The wilderness tent was tall and spacious, allowing one to stand and move around freely. In the corner stood a 1.5-meter-wide air mattress, covered with a red-patterned blanket and topped with a down comforter.
There were two coffee tables, one large and one small, both with storage space. On them sat an electric kettle and disposable paper cups. One table also held an open notebook filled with dense handwriting and simple sketches – clearly, this had originally been a workspace, hastily cleared out for them.
The only things that eased the nerves were two linen-white camp moon chairs, giving the space the faintest hint of a vacation vibe.
A coat rack, split from tree branches, held two thick down jackets. Shang Shao, cigarette clamped between his lips, took one down and draped it over Ying Yin’s shoulders. “The temperature is about to drop fast. Put this on.”
Having said that, he quickly took the cigarette from his mouth, turned his face away, and coughed a few times.
The evening wind swept through the empty campsite, carrying a wild, untamed breath, and the breeze was filled with the calls of small animals.
Ying Yin’s tense voice relaxed a little as she let out a long sigh. “Bird calls are so much more reassuring…”
Shang Shao pinched the cigarette between his fingers, took a sip of water, and glanced at her with an amused look. “Miss, those are hyenas.”
Ying Yin: “…”
Dinner was simple – fried rice with sea crab meat – but there was a large bowl of cut fruit: mango, mangosteen, and pineapple, sweet and fragrant. They were also served a light, mildly sweet wine to cleanse the palate and cut through the richness.
Harry was very talkative, and the atmosphere relied entirely on him to keep it lively. This small, volunteer-run African elephant conservation base operated entirely on goodwill. They roamed the vast Serengeti National Park, rescuing wildlife that had been injured, orphaned, or fallen ill, while also engaging in real, often dangerous, confrontations with poachers.
“The first time I met Leo, I was at Cambridge giving a fundraising talk.” Harry looked at Ying Yin, explaining. “I only had a small lecture hall. A few students came to listen and signed up, but I knew it was just a drop in the bucket for me. Then he walked in – tall and handsome in his suit.”
Shang Shao lowered his face with a faint smile and warned him lazily, “Don’t add drama.”
“Nonono,” Harry, now in his sixties, said with utter seriousness. “You walked in, sat down in that tiered seat, and in that moment, I knew something was going to be different. I still remember how I felt giving that speech while looking into your eyes. You made me feel like every word I said, everything I was doing, was incredibly important and meaningful – well, even though you actually had no expression at all.”
Ying Yin listened quietly. Beneath the dark blue night sky, her gaze traveled across the narrow, oval dining table and settled on Shang Shao.
The scent of fruit came in waves, its sweet warmth filling her every breath.
Every word Harry said, she felt deeply.
He was the kind of man who could make you feel an overwhelming sense of destiny with just a single glance.
The camp’s generator was powerful and loud – unfriendly to the animals – so it only ran until eight o’clock. After eight, darkness fully descended, and the entire camp fell silent, relying solely on the kerosene lamps inside each tent.
Fresh water was limited, so Ying Yin only managed a very quick shower. The moment she entered the tent, she started sneezing.
She had lost all her luggage, and the afternoon had been rushed. Shang Shao had only had time to have someone prepare some basic underwear for her – forget about pajamas. He tossed her his own shirt. “Make do with this. Don’t catch a cold.”
His shirt was silk, crisp yet soft. Ying Yin slipped it on directly. The silhouette was wonderfully loose.
She turned her face slightly and began carefully rolling up the sleeves.
The dim light hanging from the top of the tent cast a gentle glow around her slightly damp hair.
Shang Shao had just taken his medicine. When he looked back and saw this scene, the words on the tip of his tongue suddenly vanished. His gaze lingered on her in a way that invited interpretation.
It was a restrained kind of ambiguity, carrying a dim, submerged fascination that he himself had not yet recognized.
By the time Ying Yin finished rolling her sleeves and looked up, the man before her had already returned to normal – except that the small bottle of purified water in his hand had been drained to the last drop.
“Will you dare act on such a whim again next time?” he asked casually.
“Yes,” Ying Yin replied, her eyes bright. “Why wouldn’t I dare?”
Shang Shao let out a soft laugh. “Come here.”
Ying Yin had been kneeling on the air mattress with both knees. Upon hearing his words, she straightened up, stepped one long leg out, and placed her bare foot on the dark red Paisley-patterned rug.
Shang Shao put his arms around her despite her awkward posture. Beneath the white shirt was a waist so slender it could barely be encircled by a hand.
His palm curved around her waist. Under the lamplight, his sharply defined, handsome face leaned close to hers, and his voice dropped low as he asked, “Did you brush your teeth?”
The sudden question made her flustered. She knew what he was about to do, and her heart pounded chaotically in her chest.
Was this tent really so windproof? Otherwise, why would the air feel so stifling, leaving her breathless and her cheeks flushing hot again and again?
Ying Yin gave a slight nod.
Shang Shao’s gaze fixed on the small, light red mole on her right earlobe. His deep voice carried a rough, gravelly texture, his tone slow and elegant. “Did you brush them very carefully?”
What kind of question was that? On the surface, he was asking about brushing her teeth, but it made one suspect there was another meaning behind it.
Yet, as he breathed in the scent of her hair, his warm breath grazing Ying Yin’s ear with a featherlight touch, he left her no room to lie.
“I brushed them carefully,” Ying Yin answered. Her usually composed voice carried an almost imperceptible tremor.
Inside and out, thoroughly, she had rinsed her mouth who knew how many times, until the inside of her cheeks and the tip of her tongue felt dry and astringent.
Just as he was about to kiss her, Shang Shao’s lips stopped. The side of his curled finger gently brushed her face. “I shouldn’t kiss you. I’d hate for you to catch another cold.”
Ying Yin pressed her lips together, about to protest his teasing, when her small earlobe – never before visited by anyone – fell into the warmth of his kiss.
It was as if a jolt of electricity shot up her spine. She went rigid in his arms, a fine, tingling tremor seeping from deep within her bones.
She closed her eyes, her hands climbing to his shoulders, tilting her neck and turning her face so instinctively, so willingly, into his kiss.
Her long, swan-like neck, even under the dim light, glowed with a luster as smooth as pearl and jade. Beneath the surface lay the involuntary swallow she could not suppress.
So his lips and tongue were not only skilled at kissing her mouth.
She couldn’t even withstand his attention to the tiny mole on her earlobe – teased so languidly, unhurriedly, until it was wet and sensitive.
She had no idea when his calloused hand had settled on the back of her neck, nor when his thumb and forefinger had cupped her chin. All she knew was that his lips lingered again and again over the delicate skin of her neck, trailing along the exposed line of her collarbone.
Several shell buttons on the shirt had come undone. The collar slipped from her shoulder, sliding down one side.
“Mr. Shang…” she called out to him, unable to help herself. Whether from kneeling too long or something else, her legs – unsteady and faltering – began to tremble, her whole body shaking.
“What is it?”
Ying Yin’s eyes were moist, almost pitiful. “My knees hurt…”
Shang Shao let out a low, husky laugh and gently pulled her collar back into place.
His surge of desire had come quickly, and now it receded just as fast – as if summoned and controlled entirely by his will.
He gave her a light pat on the hip, his expression already returned to that unshakable calm. “Go to sleep.”
The air mattress let out a series of soft creaks as Ying Yin sat back down. As expected, the temperature was dropping fast. She spread the down comforter over herself and wrapped it around her, her cheeks still flushed. “Can I borrow your phone? Would that be alright?”
Shang Shao tossed her his phone.
Ying Yin didn’t really want to deal with the messy situation back home, but after all, it was her birthday. The least she could do was let Ying Fan know she was okay.
Taking the phone, she first called her mother.
Ying Fan, seeing an incoming call from Hong Kong, probably assumed it was a spam call. She answered with a dismissive tone – until Ying Yin said, “Mom.”
“Where’s your phone? I’ve been calling you and it’s always off. Did you run off to Hong Kong to have fun?”
Ying Yin answered honestly, “My phone was stolen. This is a friend’s.”
Friend?
Shang Shao gave her a light, amused glance, the dark gleam in his eyes not yet faded.
The teasing in his look made Ying Yin’s breath catch. Distracted, she let Ying Fan ramble for a while, then reassured her, “Got it. It’s nothing. I just didn’t want you to worry.”
She looked so well-behaved talking to her mother on the phone – like a little girl.
Ying Fan sighed. “You know I’d worry about you, don’t you? On your birthday, getting dragged through the mud on Weibo like that, and then no one could reach you. Don’t even mention me – Junyi was frantic too.”
Ying Yin froze for a moment. “Who’s criticizing me? And why?”
Now it was Ying Fan’s turn to pause. “You haven’t looked at Weibo?”
“Not yet.”
She’d been feeling resistant to logging onto Weibo lately. She’d rather use her anonymous alt account than bother with her main account and the publicity obligations that came with it. But hearing Ying Fan’s words, she furrowed her brows, found the Weibo app on Shang Shao’s phone, and opened it.
She already knew about the hashtag the brand had bought for her -#TimeForYingYinToHaveHerWishFulfilled#. Aside from that, though, her name wasn’t even on the trending list.
So she manually searched and landed on the real-time feed.
Promotional posts from marketing accounts were everywhere, all claiming that Ruan Ye had stolen a role from her. But no one was criticizing Ruan Ye.
The reasoning was simple: no fool would happily announce to the world on Ying Yin’s birthday that they’d snatched a role from her.
Ruan Ye was no fool. Therefore, the only explanation was that Ying Yin herself had orchestrated this wave of publicity.
The real-time feed was full of people attacking her and Mai Anyan, saying they were birds of a feather, ganging up to bully the innocent little flower of the company – a dirty trick twelve years in the making.
Ying Yin’s expression froze, but only for an instant. Shang Shao, catching the shift, sobered and asked with a frown, “What’s happened?”
“I…” Ying Yin’s brow was tightly knit. “It’s a long story. Mr. Shang, let me make a call first.”
It was nine o’clock in Tanzania. Back in China, it was two in the morning.
Mai Anyan had just finished cursing out Ruan Ye and was in the middle of sending his warmest regards to Song Shizhang’s entire family tree. Seeing a call from Hong Kong, he hung up without a second thought.
After the third attempt, he exploded and answered, “Fuck off! What the hell?!”
“It’s me.”
Mai Anyan froze, his anger instantly deflating. He swallowed hard.
“Yinyin?”
“Explain.”
“You saw it?”
“I’m sorry. I lost my phone and only just got around to checking.” Ying Yin’s tone was coldly sarcastic. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“It wasn’t my doing. Do you believe me?” Mai Anyan took a deep breath. “Song Shizhang paid for it. I just finished ripping into Ruan Ye. She’s only just gotten together with him, and she doesn’t have your spine – how would she dare talk back to him? That bastard Song wanted to use her to take you down a peg. She didn’t know. I didn’t know either. I truly, truly was blindsided.”
Ying Yin was silent for a long time.
“Listen to me. I’ve already paid to have it taken down. The feed will be cleaned up soon. Don’t worry – just enjoy your birthday.”
“You still remember it’s my birthday,” Ying Yin said with a faint laugh.
“Happy birthday. No matter what, I would never do something like this to you.”
“Wouldn’t you? Wasn’t the press release using me to pave the way for Ruan Ye already prepared long ago?” Ying Yin’s voice remained calm throughout. “It would’ve worked well, wouldn’t it – released on my birthday? Did Ruan Ye gain any sympathy?”
“This is pointless. The company’s strategy is the company’s strategy. Our bond…”
Ying Yin couldn’t help but laugh. “Our bond. Twelve years. How many sports cars can that buy you, Mai Anyan?”
“Don’t forget,” Mai Anyan paused, his chest heaving, “When your bipolar disorder was at its worst, who stayed by your side? Who convinced Mr. Tang not to give up on you? Who went to every brand, one by one, to apologize and beg them to give you another chance, to give you time? Two years! Ying Yin! From your mild depression to bipolar disorder – when you swallowed those sleeping pills, I carried you to the hospital on my back! Outside that operating room, there was only me! Only me waiting to see if you’d live!”
“You’re so loud, Anyan.” Ying Yin blinked. “If I didn’t remember all that, do you honestly think I’d have taken every crappy film you shoved at me, brought along every new actor you signed, and done all those pointless variety shows and promotional events?”
Mai Anyan always half-expected to hear her choke up, yet her voice remained so calm.
He let out a deep breath. “Let’s not talk about this anymore, alright? I would never hurt you. You’ve made enough money – you can act in whatever you want, as artistic as you like. While you’re still young, don’t fade from your fans’ sight… I would never hurt you. Even if I’m not good enough to you… I would never hurt you.”
Ying Yin pressed her lips together and lowered her face. In the end, she couldn’t hold back her tears, but she made no sound.
Apart from Shang Shao, no one knew she cried on her birthday.
“Yinyin?” Mai Anyan called her by her nickname, then paused for a moment. “You believe me, don’t you? Deep down, you’ll be fine.”
“Yes,” Ying Yin replied, tears falling even as a mocking look crossed her face. Yet her tone was steady, composed. “I’m fine. Just like before.”
In that single moment, she was fragile and sad, yet also calm, calculating, and insincere – all at once.
That kind of acting should have been reserved for her moments as a Best Actress winner, yet here it was, absurdly playing out in her own life.
Mai Anyan breathed a sigh of relief, though a vague unease lingered at the bottom of his heart.
He felt as if he had missed Ying Yin – missed her at a crossroads in her life.
But what that crossroads was, Mai Anyan couldn’t quite figure out.
The penalty for breaching her contract was 130 million. Ying Yin wouldn’t be willing to pay that. He was sure of it. Besides, hadn’t Ying Yin just said she was fine?
Ying Yin hung up the phone, wiped her tears in silence for a while, took a deep breath, and handed the phone back to Shang Shao. “Sorry you had to see that.”
“So you do get angry.” Shang Shao sat down by the window and reached out; the back of his finger was dampened by her tears. “But crying while you’re angry – that still puts you at a disadvantage.”
Ying Yin laughed through her tears. “My agent, he’s just…”
She let out a sigh and smiled. “He loves money even more than I do. We met early on -he was a junior assistant, I was an extra. After we got paid for a job, we’d sit in his rented apartment counting our earnings together, feeling like the future was full of promise. Mr. Shang,”
Her voice caught. “People change, don’t they?”
Shang Shao didn’t answer. He knew that right now, Ying Yin didn’t need an answer from him.
Only after she had wiped her own tears away did he ask, “I think I heard the name Song Shizhang just now. Is he still making trouble for you?”
“He… took a liking to that young girl you danced with. I don’t know if he’s targeting me, or if that girl just has it out for me.”
“I seem to recall,” Shang Shao said casually, “that I had Uncle Kang return the ring to him and tell him that from now on, you have me looking out for you. He shouldn’t be…”
“Tell him what?” Ying Yin froze and cut him off.
“Tell him that from now on, you have my protection.” Shang Shao repeated the words indifferently, as if it were nothing important.
To him, shielding Ying Yin was as effortless as handing her an umbrella – nothing more than a simple gesture.
The only difference was that he didn’t have the patience or the kindness to extend a sheltering hand to just anyone who passed by.
“You didn’t mean ‘Ying Yin the person’ – you wanted…” Ying Yin asked cautiously.
“You’ve been watching too many dramas,” Shang Shao shot her a glance.
Ying Yin choked on her words.
“However…” Shang Shao added leisurely, “Even if I didn’t say it that way, in practice, it’s more or less the truth.”
Ying Yin’s face flushed hot. “He lied to me.”
It dawned on her then – belatedly, absurdly, and yet with a kind of resigned relief. “He actually lied and said you wanted to make me your mistress. And I actually believed him.”
“I see.” Shang Shao’s response was light, almost dismissive. “He offered me several business deals hoping to collaborate. I’ll reconsider.”
“Mr. Shang, you’re so petty,” Ying Yin joked as she wiped her tears.
Shang Shao smiled and tapped her forehead with two fingers pressed together. “Do you know the Maasai people? A long time ago, the Maasai rite of passage into adulthood was to single-handedly hunt and kill a lion. They would take the creature’s life in the cleanest, most efficient way possible. By the same token, if a pride of lions killed their prey with a single, fatal blow, the locals would praise them as well. They call this – honor killing.”
“Honor killing.” Ying Yin repeated the words, looking at him before breaking into a radiant smile. “Mr. Shang, tonight I am your student.”
Back in China, it was three in the morning.
A well-known entertainment reporter received a phone call from Hong Kong.
“Song Shizhang’s house is at No. 2, Ninth Avenue, Xiaguang Yuan. Ruan Ye should be staying there recently.”
“Who is this?” The reporter didn’t recognize her voice.
“Why, I’m… just a sasaeng fan of Ruan Ye’s.” Ying Yin smiled faintly and answered lightly.
