A grand and solemn orchestral symphony swelled through the hall. The curtain rose, the host stepped onto the stage, and the Galaxy Awards ceremony officially began.
Besides the main screen, several split screens around the venue continuously switched between live shots of the audience. The cameras would suddenly cut to this veteran actor or that award-winning actress. Especially in the front rows, the guests were all heavyweight investors and creators in the entertainment industry, sitting upright and composed, ready at any moment for the camera to land on them.
Ying Yin sat perfectly straight, hardly daring to move. She did not even glance sideways. Whoever won an award, she applauded with utmost sincerity; whoever gave a speech, she listened with rapt attention.
Half an hour later, a staff member bent down beside them and said softly, “Mr. Jin, Miss Ying, we can head backstage to wait now.”
The two of them left their row, descended several steps, passed through a winding corridor, and followed the guidance of the staff to the backstage area.
The corridor stretched long and twisting, its walls wrapped in red velvet. Above, a snow-white ceiling held rows of downlights that cast circular pools of light onto the floor. The noise from the front hall suddenly seemed far away. Somewhere ahead, an award winner must have said something witty, because a wave of laughter erupted through the auditorium, rolling over like surf heard from a mountaintop.
The staff member walked in front, while Ying Yin and Shang Shao followed behind.
Originally, they had only been a single step apart. But Shang Shao guided the pace so subtly, so imperceptibly, that Ying Yin, moving in rhythm with him, gradually fell farther behind the person ahead – two steps, three steps, until there were four or five steps between them.
The downlights burned hot against their skin. They were so bright it felt as though everything had been laid bare beneath glaring, unmistakable scrutiny.
Ying Yin knew she shouldn’t do anything. But after a moment, she finally turned her head. Her gaze settled on Shang Shao’s face – lightly, slowly.
Shang Shao’s steps faltered almost imperceptibly. His voice dropped lower. “Ying Yin, don’t look at me like that.”
Her gaze fluttered like a startled butterfly, trembling before dropping back to the corridor ahead.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” she said, the tips of her ears turning red.
Which only made it sound more suspicious.
Shang Shao was silent for a beat.
“The wrong idea about what?”
Before Ying Yin could answer, Shang Shao stopped the staff member. “One moment. I need to take a business call.”
There was still plenty of time before they were due on standby. The young staffer thought nothing of it and nodded. “Of course. Please go ahead.”
She assumed the CEO simply wanted somewhere quieter and more private to discuss work.
Beside them was the waiting area outside the men’s and women’s restrooms, furnished with a long bench and floor vases filled with fresh flowers. The fragrance in the air was cool and crisp.
The motion-sensor lights flicked on.
Instead of heading into the restroom as she had intended, Ying Yin suddenly found herself swept into Shang Shao’s arms. With one arm around her, he lifted her against him and pressed her back against the mirror.
A startled cry rose to her throat but never escaped.
Her eyes shut, and her whole body went soft.
When no one passed by for a while, the sensor lights dimmed again.
The small waiting area was once more swallowed by deep gray shadows.
Separated by only a wall, the staff member could hear the guest’s cool, steady voice. “What did the Housing and Urban-Rural Development Bureau say about the approval for the Ronghua site?”
On the other end of the line was the real Jin Yuanmin. Receiving the young heir’s call, he was full of doubts. Shouldn’t he be at the ceremony right now? Had he left early because it was too boring? That didn’t seem like him at all. Shang Shao was not someone who neglected his responsibilities.
Hearing the question, Jin Yuanmin pulled himself together and began reporting the details one by one.
Shang Shao listened to every word.
One arm circled Ying Yin’s slender waist. His face was buried against the side of her neck as he leisurely pressed kisses beneath her upturned chin.
His breathing remained calm, without the slightest hint of disorder.
He was indeed remarkably composed. After all, he had even anticipated in advance that they couldn’t kiss.
If they kissed, her makeup would be ruined. If her makeup was ruined, their secret would be exposed.
Held firmly in his embrace with a single arm, Ying Yin felt her throat working constantly beneath the trail of his kisses. A soft moan was nearly about to escape her lips.
When Jin Yuanmin finished his report, he heard Shang Shao give a simple “Mm.”
Neither praise nor criticism – an entirely noncommittal response.
Jin Yuanmin’s heart remained suspended uneasily. Trying to sound familiar, he asked, “Chairman Shao, how’s the awards show going? Are you finding it boring?”
Shang Shao’s kisses paused.
He let out a quiet laugh, his tone all business – cool, restrained, almost ascetic.
“Not boring.”
After ending the call, Shang Shao’s other hand finally came to rest on Ying Yin as well.
The circle of his embrace was complete.
And Ying Yin felt that the emptiness in the other half of her body had finally been filled.
The staff member had been leaning against the corridor wall the entire time, waiting. Hearing movement, she looked up.
Shang Shao emerged first. A moment later, Ying Yin followed, a trace of dampness still lingering on her hands, not yet fully dried.
“Miss Ying, your earring…” the staff member gestured.
It was a cascading diamond ear chain. Normally it hung neatly, but now one strand had become caught and folded over.
The staffer stepped forward and gently straightened it. “There, all fixed.”
“Thank you,” Ying Yin said softly, then shot Shang Shao a reproachful glare.
The delay had amounted to little more than a minute. By the time they reached backstage, the previous winner had just finished their acceptance speech. One more award would be presented before it was their turn.
“Miss Ying, you’re already familiar with our procedures, so we’ll be relying on you a bit more later,” one of the ceremony directors came over to greet them. After acknowledging both of them, he smiled at Shang Shao and added, “Mr. Jin, there’s no need to be nervous. Just read from our cue cards. There won’t be any improvised segments.”
The atmosphere backstage was relaxed, and the wait wasn’t long.
After a brief transition speech, the connecting music began to play.
Ying Yin took a deep breath, put on a poised smile, and walked onto the stage alongside Shang Shao.
The outfit Chu Anni had chosen for her was exceptionally good. It was a dignified, elegant shade of true red. Combined with her jet-black hair and snowy skin, it made her striking without seeming flashy – exactly the kind of look that could command an entrance.
The livestream comments immediately erupted into a new wave of excitement:
[Best Actress! Best Actress! Best Actress! Best Actress!]
[I’m so excited! The handover between the old and new Best Actress!]
[The nominees this year are all older than Ying Yin. Not sure whether to say others are late bloomers or she’s just insanely strong.]
[This isn’t a handover of old and new – it’s mutual admiration!!!]
Shang Shao stood beside her in a suit and tie. He didn’t speak much and carried himself in a very low-key, refined manner, but the livestream comments still found him impossible to ignore.
[Isn’t this the big-shot CEO from the red carpet just now!]
[Didn’t expect him to be presenting an award with Ying Yin.]
[Can we ship them a little? Why does it feel so… good?]
[Please usher the newlyweds into the bridal chamber.]
[Hey, you’re moving way too fast upstairs!]
[The big shot is great in every way, but his name sounds a bit old-fashioned (can I even say this?)]
[Jin Yuanmin is great though, where’s he old? (nonsense under close-up attack)]
In the front row, Song Shizhang’s expression shifted slightly.
Just then, the camera cut to him. His face darkened, his jaw tightening as if he were gritting his teeth.
Jin Yuanmin? What nonsense. Were they treating this kind of occasion like some sort of flirting game?
But he didn’t dare make any move. Two previously negotiated investments had suddenly fallen through, and he understood exactly what that meant.
The trending topic from last night was still fresh. Cutting away from Song Shizhang during Ying Yin’s moment – was that the director’s deliberate choice, or just an accident?
The camera quickly cut away – so it really seemed to have been an accident.
But the livestream comments were already overflowing with mockery:
[Mr. Song’s shot only flashed by, but he didn’t look too happy lol.]
[I’m dying laughing – where’s Ruan Ye? Is Ruan Ye fuming underneath right now?]
[Ruan Ye even deserves to be here? Let him act in a real film first. Even an online movie would do!]
The chaos on the livestream didn’t affect the live event in the slightest.
The two of them finished reading their lines and moved on to announcing the nominees.
On the giant screen, footage flowed as clips from the nominated works played in sequence, accompanied by expressive narration.
After the showcase ended, two tall etiquette attendants stepped onto the stage carrying a ceremonial tray holding the trophy, certificate, and the envelope containing the winner’s name.
Ying Yin opened it and naturally invited Shang Shao to share this moment with her as she read out the winner’s name.
As the two moved closer together, the camera also zoomed in.
Even though Shang Shao’s gentlemanly silence carried a clear sense of distance, the livestream comments still enthusiastically started shipping them:
[Red and black – this looks like a wedding scene.]
[Why is Ying Yin smiling like that? She looks like a bride happily holding a marriage certificate.]
[I remember Ying Yin has a pretty strong aura. Why does she seem so soft today?]
Some entertainment bloggers, never missing a chance for drama, screenshotted the two of them on stage together and paired it with the unrestrained livestream comments, adding captions like:
[Who would’ve thought watching an awards ceremony could turn into shipping CPs [gossiping emoji].]
The comment section fully agreed:
[As long as they’re good-looking, anything can be shipped.]
[Confession: I’ve already started imagining a wealthy-family romance novel.]
In an entertainment discussion group, someone also posted sporadically:
[That big shot really stands out, so I couldn’t resist checking the official website of Qinde Real Estate… um… but in the news, Jin Yuanmin doesn’t look like that? Did they mislabel the photo or did the film festival get it wrong?]
Once someone raised the question, everyone quickly followed suit and, driven by curiosity, searched through Qinde Real Estate’s news coverage.
Fortunately, Jin Yuanmin rarely appeared at public events, and only two old press releases contained his image.
At that time, Jin Yuanmin had not yet resolved to lose weight due to fatty liver concerns. He weighed over 80kg, with a broad, heavy build that strained his belt, and a pair of smiling eyes. No matter how you looked at it, he bore no resemblance to the refined, elegant, reserved man on stage.
The situation was developing somewhat beyond Shang Shao’s expectations.
In his original assumption, the venue was filled with eye-catching celebrities. No one would be bored enough to pay attention to a completely ordinary, silent, dull, plain, and visibly awkward sponsor representative with a low presence.
Lin Cunkang was out walking Rich when he received a public relations alert about online sentiment. Looking at the flood of comments on the screen – “big shot,” “six-million watch,” “reality-turned-novel,” “young wealthy heir” – he fell into a moment of silent contemplation…
Twenty minutes later, after Shang Shao finished presenting two awards and stepped offstage, he received a call from Lin Cunkang.
After the call ended, the board office immediately received an order to delete all press releases containing Jin Yuanmin’s photo across the entire internet. At the same time, the PR department quietly stirred the waters online, posting messages such as:
[This Mr. Jin is married, his child is already in middle school, everyone should stop shipping them. Please respect the family of an ordinary person.]
[Stop shipping female celebrities with CEOs. He has a wife – doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?]
[Ying Yin fans, please stop shipping! Otherwise we’re the ones who’ll get dragged when things go wrong! No fandom wants their own idol paired with randoms – just so everyone knows!]
Such precise fandom-style phrasing was something even Shangyu’s PR team would never have come up with.
Shipping expert – and the third young miss of the Shang family, Shang Mingbao -looked at the immediate results with satisfaction and called Shang Shao. “You have to thank me, right?”
“What do you want?” Shang Shao asked with a faint smile. His tone was still gentle and patient.
Shang Mingbao hadn’t gotten under his nose for a while and was now a bit restless. “I want to stay at your place for a few days.”
“No.”
“Why?” she dragged out the syllables in protest.
Lin Cunkang, standing nearby, silently thought to himself – why? Because lately he’s been bringing actresses home…
“You already have a boyfriend. It’s not convenient for you to stay here,” Shang Shao replied coldly.
“Hmph,” Shang Mingbao snorted, then suddenly said, “Then tell me – why did you go to the awards show today? You didn’t go there to chase someone, did you?”
She had hit the truth precisely.
Shang Shao dismissed it lightly. “Mr. Jin was ill. I attended in his place.”
“Hah,” Shang Mingbao laughed twice coldly. “You think I believe that?”
Shang Shao had no energy to play games with her. The gentleness in his voice faded as he called her name seriously. “Babe.”
Then said, “Go play on your own. Don’t tell anyone about tonight. If you want anything, ask Uncle Kang.”
Ying Yin had been quietly listening the entire time. At first, she thought he was unusually gentle. Then she heard him say she “already has a boyfriend and it’s inconvenient to stay over,” and later that affectionate “babe” – and she had already, in silence, reached her own conclusion.
…His ex-girlfriend came looking for him.
So gentle.
Living together.
And he called her “babe.”
Softer than “bb,” fresher than “baby.”
Shang Shao hung up the call and sharply sensed that the atmosphere beside him seemed to have dropped.
There were no outsiders around at the moment, and the side entrance to the hall was just ahead. He stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Shang,” Ying Yin said, her hands loosely clasped together, “you and your ex-girlfriend… seem to get along quite well. Are you still friends after breaking up?”
Shang Shao immediately understood she had misunderstood.
Just as he was about to explain, “That just now…”
“Ying Yin.”
Someone called her name.
Both Shang Shao and Ying Yin looked up at the same time.
The person standing before them was elegant and composed, with narrow, deep-set eyelids and eyes that naturally carried a lingering emotional depth.
It was the next award presenter – Shen Ji.
Ying Yin froze slightly. She had not expected to run into him here.
But her momentary fluster was extremely well hidden – gone in an instant. Half a second later, she smiled again effortlessly, full of charm.
“Mr. Shen.”
Shen Ji showed no interest in the “Mr. Jin” standing beside her. After a polite nod in greeting, his gaze remained fixed on Ying Yin.
“You performed very well on stage just now,” he said.
A strange kind of praise – like that of an elder or a teacher offering guidance, as if he had naturally instructed her many times before, and thus had every right to feel pleased with her growth.
Ying Yin lifted a hand and lightly brushed her smooth arm.
“You flatter me,” she replied.
Under certain emotions, it is very difficult for a person to control their body language and micro-expressions – even for someone as well-trained as her.
Those traces of restraint, awkwardness, and unease… should not belong to Ying Yin.
Shang Shao said nothing. There was no expression on his face at all, but the atmosphere around him had inexplicably grown colder.
“Are you doing well lately? It’s been a while since we last met…”
“Mr. Shen.” Ying Yin called out to interrupt him. “I should go in now. It wouldn’t be good to be absent for too long – the cameras will sweep over.”
She didn’t realize that if it were anyone else, she would never have needed to string together three sentences to excuse herself. She would simply have smiled brightly and politely said, “I’ll go in first, we’ll talk next time.”
Shen Ji paused for a moment, then nodded in understanding. His gaze flicked briefly toward Shang Shao. “Alright. See you another day.”
The two of them brushed past each other – one heading backstage to present awards, the other returning to the auditorium.
She looked somewhat distracted, or rather… unsettled.
Shang Shao fell a step behind, watching her back with complex emotions and a deep gaze, waiting for her to stop, or turn around, and invite him to walk with her.
But Ying Yin didn’t.
It seemed she had completely forgotten – forgotten that only moments ago she had still been concerned about whether he was entangled with his ex-girlfriend, and about who he had called “babe.”
