After spending a night at the villa, Ying Yin bid farewell to Rich at the first light of dawn and stormed down the mountain, her face burning with anger.
She walked briskly, her fury evident even in the silhouette of her back. A Mercedes followed slowly behind her, the driver’s toe lightly pressing the accelerator. She walked for a while, and the car glided along.
“Stop following me!” Ying Yin’s glare could kill.
“The young master said you’d get tired eventually, and it’s hard to get a taxi around here, so I need to stay with you.” The driver inclined his head. “Are you tired yet?”
Everyone in that house was as polite and impenetrable as the eldest young master himself. Ying Yin was fuming. “I am NOT tired!”
Shang Shao stood by the restaurant window, watching Ying Yin’s figure draw nearer and then farther away, until she became a tiny white dot at the edge of the cliff, starkly contrasting with the deep blue sea in the distance.
“She was fine last night. Why’s she so furious today?” Lin Cunkang asked as he poured Shang Shao’s coffee.
“She asked to borrow money. I said no.” Shang Shao smiled, lifting the handle of a fine British porcelain cup.
“How much?”
“An advance of seventy million, plus a loan of thirty million. One hundred million in total.”
Lin Cunkang raised an eyebrow. “That’s certainly no small sum. But for Miss Ying to actually ask you for help – given her personality – that’s already quite rare. Can you really bring yourself to say no?”
“What’s there to regret?” Shang Shao took a sip of his coffee, eyes lowered. “She’s proud and knows how to keep her distance. If I actually lent her the money, she’d start treating me like a creditor. Why would I ask for that kind of trouble?”
He’d finally made some progress – she was no longer so stiff and nervous around him. He had no interest in going backwards.
Lin Cunkang’s expression didn’t change in the slightest as he casually brought up another topic. “That rare Yongzheng pale celadon-glazed meiping vase you mentioned earlier went under the hammer yesterday afternoon. And that set of 1990 Henri Jayer as well. They’ll be delivered later tonight. Shall I decant them in advance for you, or wait until the young lady arrives to taste them?”
Shang Shao looked indifferent, merely asking, “Hammer price?”
“The Yongzheng pale celadon meiping – eighty-three million, five hundred thousand HKD. It’s already been sent directly to the madam. She’s very pleased with it. The Henri Jayer – three million, two hundred thousand for a set of six bottles. A good price.”
Shang Shao caught the implication and glanced back at Lin Cunkang with a half-smile. “What are you trying to say?”
“Given how furious she is,” Lin Cunkang said evenly, “you had it coming.”
Shang Shao took the old man’s teasing in stride, unruffled, and gave a faint, breezy smile. “I never said I wouldn’t help. Transfer two million to her account later – consider it an advance on her contract fee. Then set up a time with Tiwen and have her come see me.”
His gaze returned to the green lawn just in time to see Ying Yin open the car door and get in. Relieved, Shang Shao went to the dressing room to change into his suit and began another busy day of work.
Ying Yin sat in the car in silence, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
This estate was impossibly vast. No matter how furious or wronged she felt, she couldn’t just slam a door and storm out – her outrage felt inexplicably diminished by three-tenths.
When the car reached the city, Ying Yin suddenly changed her mind and ordered, “Take me to the nearest 4S dealership.”
By afternoon, Lin Cunkang was weeding in the garden when a servant reported that someone had delivered a car from the foot of the mountain.
He took off his gloves as the guard at the gatehouse reported, “It’s a new Wuling Hongguang.”
Lin Cunkang didn’t quite understand. Holding a pair of white cotton work gloves in one hand, he asked, “…What’s a ‘Wuling Hongguang’?”
The guard double-checked. “Wuling Hongguang. An electric vehicle. New model. No plates yet. They said Chairman Shao placed an urgent order for it.”
Lin Cunkang: “…”
The 4S dealership salesperson responsible for the delivery had been nervous the whole way, already worrying about how he’d get back down the mountain by the time he was halfway there. When he finally reached the top as instructed and reversed into the outdoor charging spot, he didn’t dare breathe too loud – after all, the fully-loaded Porsche Taycan parked next to him looked absolutely murderous. One wrong graze and he’d be ruined.
Lin Cunkang looked at the mint-green little car and found himself deeply suspicious of both it and Shang Shao.
“Hello, this is the vehicle you ordered. Once you’ve inspected it and confirmed everything is in order, you can sign for it.” The salesperson handed over the delivery confirmation slip, pretending to be calm while frantically swallowing his nerves.
Lin Cunkang glanced at the bill… five digits?
He counted again.
Yes, five digits. Not even enough to buy half a bumper guard.
After signing, Lin Cunkang walked around the car once, then stepped back, resting his chin on his hand as he pondered deeply.
…He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.
He took a photo and sent it to Shang Shao. He had to admit – against the backdrop of the garden and the villa, that mint-green little car was quite photogenic.
Shang Shao had just walked into the conference room.
The room was full of men in suits, all silent and solemn, watching him intently. After reading the message, his steps faltered for a moment, and he let out a deeply resigned smile.
What was this supposed to mean? So next time she gets angry, she’ll have a car to drive down the mountain?
After picking out her car, Ying Yin went home and caught up on several hours of sleep. At some point, she received a call from Tiwen asking for time off, but she didn’t think much of it and granted it readily.
When she finally woke up, it was already three in the afternoon.
Junyi finished briefing her on the schedule and let out a long breath. “Just the Galaxy Awards left. After that, you can peacefully read scripts and wait for the New Year. Oh, by the way – Director Li’s script is ready. He wants to take you out to dinner and asked you to pick a time.”
Ying Yin lounged lazily among the throw pillows on the sofa, thinking for a moment. “Let’s do it after the Galaxy Awards.”
“Got it.” Junyi made a note. “Oh, and did you know? This year’s Galaxy Awards has Qinde as a sponsor.” She added this piece of gossip, worried Ying Yin might not remember, then clarified, “That’s the group under Mr. Shang’s umbrella.”
“I know.” Ying Yin was full of post-nap crankiness.
Not wanting to test her luck, Junyi changed the subject. “The company’s annual party schedule is out. I heard even Mr. Tang will actually make an appearance this time.”
“What date?”
“December 21st.”
Ying Yin nodded. “Then I’ll need to speed things up.”
“Speed up? Speed what up?” Junyi looked confused for a moment. “Oh, right – Mr. Ke was looking for you this morning. He heard you were sleeping and asked you to call him back this afternoon.”
“He’s descended from the mountains?” Ying Yin sat up abruptly. “I thought he had no signal?”
“Mr. Ke said the whole team is resting in Pokhara today. They’ll have to go back afterward for more shooting. The weather in the snow mountains has been unpredictable lately – hard to say.” Junyi pulled up the number on her phone and dialed it for Ying Yin.
The weather in Pokhara was clear and sunny. Ke Yu was sunbathing on the white pagoda. When he answered the phone, he smiled before even speaking, and greeted her with a teasing, “Pretty girl.”
Ying Yin let out a muffled sob and burst into tears, crying uncontrollably.
Ke Yu was jolted by her sudden outburst. He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “What, did I die in a snow mountain accident and end up on the trending searches?”
Only someone like him could joke about something so grim with such an air of nonchalant mockery.
Ying Yin only cried harder. “If you don’t show up soon, I’m going to die…”
Ke Yu patiently waited for her to cry for three full minutes before finally hearing her say, “Lend me money.”
Ke Yu: “…”
“Lend me money.” Ying Yin sniffled and repeated herself with emphasis.
“We haven’t spoken in three months, and the first thing out of your mouth is asking for money? You’re something else.” Ke Yu let out a laugh. “How much?”
“One hundred million.”
“Flog me and sell me off – that might get you close.”
Ying Yin’s eyes glistened with tears. “Then fifty million.”
“No.”
“Thirty million, twenty million – but don’t borrow it from Shang Lu. I don’t want his money.”
Shang Lu was sitting right there. Hearing Ying Yin’s words, Ke Yu silently swallowed what he was about to say and asked, “What’s going on?”
Ying Yin parted her lips, still mentally drafting her response, but Ke Yu had already asked calmly, “You want to terminate your contract, don’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“An-Yan has been calling me non-stop. I called him back this morning, and he asked me to talk some sense into you.”
Ying Yin sank back into the sofa, fiddling with the golden tassels of a black silk embroidered cushion. “Go ahead, then – talk.”
How strikingly familiar the scene was. Back when Ke Yu was hell-bent on terminating his own contract, it was Ying Yin who had rushed over to persuade him. Times had changed, and the roles of speaker and listener had swapped.
Ke Yu pinched a blade of grass between his fingers, paused for a moment, then advised her with composure. “Terminate it.”
“You don’t think I’m being foolish?”
“I do,” Ke Yu said bluntly. “But that doesn’t matter. You’ve always been smart and pragmatic. If you’ve made this decision, it must mean Chenye has treated you very badly. How much will it cost to terminate?”
“Compensation plus penalty fees come to 150 million. Lend me 20 million. Once I liquidate my extra properties and investments, I’ll pay you back within three years. Okay?”
“Okay. But what about the rest?” Ke Yu asked pointedly. “No matter how you look at it, you’re still far short.”
“The rest…” Ying Yin took a deep breath and smiled bitterly. “There’s someone who won’t lend to me. But I still have friends. I’ll manage to scrape it together somehow.”
After hanging up, she scrolled through her contacts and WeChat friends. Having worked in the entertainment industry for years, she wasn’t without connections – but who among them could generously lend her tens of millions? Money didn’t grow on trees. Between investments, spending, and financial planning, even a celebrity’s liquid assets were just a drop in the bucket against a shortfall of 100 million.
Ying Yin finished scrolling through her contacts and dialed her bank relationship manager’s number. “You know the properties I currently own. How much can I borrow against them?”
She looked up abruptly and saw that Cheng Junyi had gone completely slack-jawed.
The bank would need some time to get back to her. Ying Yin hung up and smiled at Junyi. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”
Junyi knelt onto the sofa. “I feel like I haven’t been paying you enough attention. Whatever’s been going on with you, whatever decisions you’ve made, I haven’t picked up on any of it in time. I’m sorry.”
Ying Yin gave her a hug. “It’s okay. Everything’s still fine.”
Junyi didn’t notice her slightly reddened eyes.
Twelve years in the entertainment industry, and here she was – unable to borrow the money she needed, unable to buy her freedom. That was a kind of dark comedy in itself.
Ying Yin laughed at herself, finding a bitter amusement in it. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the sofa, her fair body buried among the gold-thread embroidered cushions. Amid all that brilliant, heavy color, she looked pale – like a dying swan, or a silkworm waiting to break free from its cocoon.
It was cold in Ning City today, with a gray, overcast sky outside. Zhuang Tiwen had barely stepped inside and breathed a sigh of relief in the warm air from the air conditioner before heading straight up to the second floor.
She pushed the door open. Inside, there was a deathly silence – it felt like the end of the world.
She took off her coat, tossed aside all the opening lines she’d been rehearsing on the way, and cut straight to the chase. “I have something to announce.”
The other two looked listless. “Oh…”
“I’m going to start my own business.”
Ying Yin’s eyes shifted slightly. “You want to resign?”
“I want to resign, and then…” Tiwen said earnestly, “Miss Ying, have you ever considered going independent?”
Junyi said, “She has. She doesn’t have the money.”
“I do.” Tiwen’s expression was resolute.
Ying Yin remained calm and unmoved. “It’s almost the end of the year. Don’t play with your finances – just hold onto your money…”
“No. I met an investor this afternoon. He’s very interested in my business and put in a large sum. Combined with my own funds – Miss Ying, I can pay off your penalty fees.”
Ying Yin lifted her eyelids slightly. “A hundred and fifty million…”
“I can put in eighty million. As for the remaining seventy million, Miss Ying, I believe you have it.”
“I don’t.”
“Why not take a look at your account?” Zhuang Tiwen insisted. “Just one look.”
Ying Yin didn’t move. Junyi did it for her – unlocking the phone with the gesture passcode. She gasped, “Wow, you have over seventy million now! That’s so much money! Should I count it again?”
Ying Yin snatched the phone back, furrowed her brow, and scrolled through the transaction records. There had been a transfer of twenty million that morning, but she had been asleep and missed it.
She held the phone in both hands, took a deep breath, and her pupils sparkled. “The God of Wealth has answered my prayers!”
Tiwen smiled as well, flipping open her laptop. “This is the plan I put together for you last night. It takes into account all the projects, scripts, announcements, variety shows, and endorsements you currently have, as well as Chenye Entertainment’s current roster of artists, and the performance and reputation fluctuations of your market competitors over the past two years.”
Ying Yin: “?”
“Also, I looked up all the court rulings and trial records from entertainment industry contract termination cases over the past ten years. According to your contract, we’d have to pay a hundred and fifty million, but I’m confident I can help negotiate – or have a lawyer help you get it down to under a hundred million. Of course, that’s only if you’re willing, because once it turns into a legal battle, things will get very ugly.”
Ying Yin: “…”
“And here’s another spreadsheet. It lists all the Taiwanese and Hong Kong directors who have publicly expressed admiration for you, along with their recent project performances and their critical influence at international film festivals. But this isn’t urgent, because I believe Li Shan’s project is not to be missed and is worth keeping your schedule open for.”
Junyi stood there dumbfounded. “Tiwen… you haven’t been sleeping these past few nights because you’ve been working on all this?”
Zhuang Tiwen glanced at her. “If I were hoarding oil, I’d have to spend six months drifting on the high seas and get into gunfights with Somali pirates. Compared to that, I’d rather spend a few all-nighters making PowerPoints.”
Though, after she’d gone to see Shang Shao that afternoon and given him a half-hour presentation, his response had been succinct and to the point: “All flash, no substance.”
Tiwen tossed the laptop to Junyi for her to marvel over, then crouched down beside the sofa in front of Ying Yin and took her hand. “Miss Ying, I’ve been looking for a field that truly interests me, and I find artist management and film production fascinating. I don’t know if you’d be willing to give me this chance? Our contribution ratio would be eight to seven – consider that ten million as my gesture of goodwill. We’ll split profits fifty-fifty and start over together.”
A young person’s way of doing things is inevitably deeply influenced by the person they admire.
Ying Yin narrowed her eyes at Tiwen, feeling that strong sense of familiarity rising within her again.
Back then, at Chu Anni’s studio, when Tiwen had suggested she choose Musel, she had been just as articulate, just as composed, just as certain of victory.
She said coolly, “If you want to work with me, you first have to tell me your real identity.”
“My surname is Zhuang. I’m from Hong Kong,” Tiwen said simply.
All hiring procedures had been handled by HR. Ying Yin had never asked about it – she had no idea Tiwen was from Hong Kong.
She was well-versed in the ways of wealthy families. Since Tiwen had only offered those six words, Ying Yin understood immediately.
Cheng Junyi was completely lost yet somehow awestruck.
So impressive.
She straightened up with reverence and mimicked the introduction: “My surname is Cheng. I’m from the mainland.”
Ying Yin nodded. “Your mother’s maiden name is Shang – she was the third daughter of the previous generation of the Shang family. Shang Qingye is your maternal uncle. And Shang Shao… is your cousin.”
“My cousin said…” Zhuang Tiwen couldn’t wait to explain.
“So you know Shang Shao so well – know when he’s going on a blind date, know what girlfriends he’s had, know his temperament and habits, can recognize his cologne. You became my executive assistant, and when there was an issue with my haute couture, you tipped him off, which is why he took me to Europe. What else? What else have you been spying on?” Ying Yin’s face was cold. She wasn’t exactly aggressive, but her presence was powerful, pressing down on the chest like a weight.
“When I became your executive assistant, you invited me first, and I was interested second. Although I did ask his opinion, at the time he had absolutely no ulterior motives.” Tiwen swore to the heavens.
Ying Yin gave a cold laugh. “No ulterior motives? And you believe that too.”
Tiwen was dumbfounded. “Shang Shao truly is an upright man from an honorable family. Miss Ying, you…”
“Honorable family? Does that include fooling around with female celebrities in a car?”
Tiwen: “…”
Ying Yin jabbed a finger at Tiwen’s shoulder. “Your cousin is all talk. A golden facade with a rotting core. Worse than an animal, dressed in fine feathers but a beast at heart. Tell me – when he agreed to let you become my assistant, wasn’t he full of deceit, scheming every step of the way, with deep and treacherous intentions?”
Shang Shao had one arm draped with his coat and a cigarette between the fingers of his other hand. After hearing that brilliant string of four-character idioms, he lowered his head with a smile and started applauding.
The three women in the room all froze.
Tiwen braced herself. “The gate wasn’t closed…”
Shang Shao walked a few steps, and his figure appeared in the doorway – black shirt, dress pants, a casual demeanor, and lingering amusement in his eyes.
“Tiwen has more than one cousin. I wonder which one Miss Ying is talking about?”
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