Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 5

After ten o’clock, the crowd noise gradually died away, and the band switched from dance music to laid-back, languid blues tunes.

Having finished her bath, Ying Yin lay sprawled on the bed as she took a call from her manager, Mai Anyan, who asked how she was enjoying herself.

Ying Yin let out a cold laugh. “Did you sell me off to Song Shizhang? Let me guess -Song Shizhang asked you for me, and you said sure, he could borrow me, but only if Ruan Ye came along too?”

On the other end, Mai Anyan called her “young lady,” “darling,” trying to placate her. “When it’s time to play dumb, just play dumb. I was wrong, okay? Don’t be so fierce.”

“I understand that Ruan Ye has potential and you want to promote her,” Ying Yin said, turning onto her side, the phone pressed against her cheek, her gaze dimming quietly. “But I’m not washed up yet either.”

“What are you talking about!” Mai Anyan sounded almost alarmed, swearing fervently, “If there’s even the slightest part of me planning ahead because I think you’re going to lose popularity, then tomorrow when I go out I’ll…”

“Forget it.” Ying Yin cut off the poisonous oath before he could finish. “We’ve worked together for so many years. If your curse actually came true, I’d still have to shed a few tears over you. What a hassle.”

Mai Anyan knew well that beneath her sharp tongue, she had a soft heart. Over the years, if he hadn’t thoroughly grasped this side of her, someone as proud and headstrong as her – always making decisions on her own – would’ve been impossible to manage.

He chuckled a few times on the other end. “Didn’t you want to come to this kind of banquet yourself? The place is packed with wealthy elites. Maybe your destined match is hiding among them.”

Ying Yin gave a silent, mocking smile and replied in a falsely sweet, coquettish tone, “Then I’ll borrow your good luck.”

Her coyness at moments like this was never genuine. It would never make anyone weak in the knees; it existed purely to disgust people. But after all these years, Mai Anyan had long since developed immunity. Seizing the moment, he pressed on expressionlessly, “About that couture gown, cooperate with the photoshoot, okay? Mr. Song should already have everything arranged. The photographer and makeup artist are downstairs waiting.”

Ying Yin slowly sat up from the bed. “What do you mean? You’re going public with it too?”

Song Shizhang wanted her fans, moviegoers – everyone in the world – to gossip about how exactly she had managed to borrow that dress?

“It’s a couture piece that was only released two weeks ago. Do you know how huge a deal it is to be the first person in the world to wear it? You already offended Manman before, and things got so tense with their studio. Your fashion resources have been declining – you know that yourself. This can help you recover.”

“I don’t need it,” Ying Yin shot back stiffly.

At some point, the entertainment industry had started treating fashion resources as a kind of achievement metric. How many magazine covers someone had unlocked, who landed the major September issue at the start of fashion season, how many times they appeared on covers in a year – these had all become benchmarks for fans to brag and compete over.

A purely serious actor with no connection to fashion circles could ignore all that. But Ying Yin also carried the aura of an idol celebrity with massive traffic and popularity. Even with two Best Actress trophies in hand, if she wasn’t wearing unreleased or next-season couture, she would still be viciously mocked.

“Be good,” Mai Anyan coaxed perfunctorily. “The brand lent out the dress because they want the return photos too. Even the official promotional captions have already been approved.”

This time, he didn’t give Ying Yin the chance to throw a tantrum. He hung up directly.

A little while later, the butler indeed came to ask, “Miss Ying, your photography and makeup team…”

Ying Yin shoved both hands into her pockets, forcing her rising blood pressure to settle for two seconds before replying in an even tone, “Let them in.”

What was doing makeup at ten o’clock at night? Nothing at all. She had endured countless all-night shoots while filming before.

By the time she opened the door, she had already switched to her usual warm smile. “Thanks for your hard work, coming so late.”

There were three staff members – a photographer, a lighting technician, and a makeup stylist – all carrying equipment in their hands. They immediately shook their heads like rattles. “No, no, not at all…”

Behind them followed Zhuang Tiwen. The young girl had truly become Ying Yin’s dedicated assistant for the night. Ying Yin nodded to her and, without ceremony, instructed, “Ah-Wen, go order some late-night snacks and desserts from the hotel.”

Very tactfully, Zhuang Tiwen asked, “Would you all prefer seafood risotto or pasta? The seafood risotto and squid-ink pasta here are both very authentic. Of course, the Hainanese chicken rice is also a good choice.”

After the three of them placed their orders, Zhuang Tiwen headed downstairs with the butler.

Ying Yin turned on every light in the suite. “Let’s make this quick. I’ll do makeup here while you figure out the lighting setup over there at the same time, alright?”

The photographer flashed an “OK” sign and took the assistant off to scout locations and arrange the lighting.

By the time Zhuang Tiwen returned with the food, the makeup was nearly finished. Ying Yin told them to eat their late-night meal before starting work. The three staff members ate quietly in the dining area, inwardly astonished by the suite’s luxury.

Ying Yin sat in a chair by the balcony. The balcony door had been cracked open slightly, letting in the cool night breeze after the rain. Faintly carried on the wind were the sounds of people saying goodbye as the gathering around the island dispersed, along with the engines of car after car departing.

Zhuang Tiwen looked for something to keep her warm. Spotting the cashmere shawl, she shook it open and let out a small sound of surprise. “Huh? This scent…”

Ying Yin came back to herself. “Do you know what perfume it is?”

Zhuang Tiwen smiled and shook her head. “No, but I’ve smelled it on Chairman Shao before.”

“Chairman Shao?”

“That’s Shang Shao,” Zhuang Tiwen explained. “Usually, when we say ‘Chairman Shang,’ we mean Shang Qingye – Chairman Shao’s father. For everyone else, we use their given name as a prefix to avoid confusion.”

“You seem to know quite a lot about him.”

Zhuang Tiwen’s expression shifted slightly, though she quickly denied it. “No, it’s just that I work in Mr. Chen’s executive office, so I’ve heard bits and pieces.”

To be able to recognize someone by their perfume, the relationship probably wasn’t shallow. Ying Yin guessed she was hiding something, but didn’t press further. Instead, she asked, “How much does Chen Youhan pay you a month?”

Zhuang Tiwen named a figure. It wasn’t high – just the standard salary for an ordinary executive assistant.

Ying Yin nodded. Just then, the photographer finished eating, and the conversation naturally ended there.

The relationship between celebrities and luxury brands was always one of downstream dependence – especially with a couture house that dealt exclusively in haute couture. Only four official photos would ultimately be released, but they had to shoot at least a dozen or more to choose from.

Ying Yin was photographed from the guest room to the corridor, then downstairs. The restaurant had already been set up, aiming to create that relaxed, chill feeling of dining before setting off on a journey.

As they passed by the window, Ying Yin noticed the rain clinging to the glass like dew. A thought stirred in her mind, and she said to the photographer, “How about we shoot under the streetlights?”

“But it’s still drizzling outside.” The photographer hesitated.

Yet Ying Yin had already pushed open the white glass doors leading outdoors. “Let’s give it a try.”

Outside, the garden overflowed with tropical atmosphere. Areca palms, bird-of-paradise plants, and traveler’s palms rose and fell in staggered layers. The golden rain trees were in bloom, but their flowers were delicate, unable to withstand wind and rain; pink petals lay rotting across the ground.

The black wrought-iron streetlamps hung high overhead. Looking up, the streaks of rain resembled falling snow inside a musical crystal snow globe.

An assistant shook out the train of her dress into wave-like cascading layers. Ying Yin turned her head back slightly and cast the photographer a look through the rain.

The camera shot upward from below, the flash illuminating the melancholy and smile mingled in her eyes.

The photographer had always known that this young Best Actress possessed flawless expressiveness, but today, the stubborn yet fragile sorrow she conveyed felt almost real.

The shoot went more smoothly than expected. In just over half an hour, they wrapped up.

Ying Yin had Zhuang Tiwen and the butler escort the staff to their cars.

“You got drenched again,” Zhuang Tiwen said, looking at her misty rain-damp hair. “Would you like some ginger soup to ward off the chill?”

“I’ll arrange it myself.” Ying Yin removed her necklace, lowering her gaze. “You should go.”

The necklace felt heavy in her hand: two diamond-encrusted loops holding two emeralds, one above the other, at the center.

She weighed it in her palm, staring at it expressionlessly for a moment, wondering whether Song Shizhang would banish her to the cold palace if she somehow lost the thing.

She didn’t dare.

She knew perfectly well where she stood.

The rain drifted sideways in the wind. The wet brick pathway gleamed under the lights as though scattered with gold. Beyond the lush cluster of greenery on the peninsula came a low male voice.

“I don’t have time to see her.”

The voice was too beautiful to mistake for anyone else.

The click of high heels stopped abruptly.

Ying Yin hesitated, uncertain whether she should leave or remain where she was, when, after a brief silence, the man said, “Miss Ying.”

She had no choice but to walk over.

Under the streetlamp, Shang Shao stood holding a black umbrella, his other hand holding a phone. He was clearly in the middle of a call.

Closing the short distance between them, Shang Shao told the person on the other end, “One moment,” before walking up to Ying Yin.

The umbrella tilted over her head. Shang Shao lowered his gaze to the dirty train of her gown and her stiletto heels. “Why do you end up this bedraggled every time?”

His tone was natural and flat, the kind of absent-minded question one asked someone they had known for years.

There wasn’t any particular emotion in it. Perhaps he showed more warmth even when expressing concern for his subordinates. Yet the question still made Ying Yin’s chest tighten.

But Shang Shao paid no attention to that fleeting vulnerability of hers and returned to his call.

Whatever the other person said made him curl his lips in a faint smile. “Really? She’s getting married? Then congratulate her on my behalf – may she get what she wished for.”

What a strange blessing. Not may she be happy, but may she get what she wished for.

Ying Yin felt puzzled for a moment. She stole a sideways glance at him and realized that although he was smiling, there was no trace of amusement in his eyes.

The private affairs of the Shang family’s crown prince were hardly something she should overhear. Sensibly, she tried to step away, only for Shang Shao to lightly draw a hand across her back.

The touch stopped precisely at the point of restraint, never actually touching bare skin.

He was stopping her.

Ying Yin halted and turned back. Shang Shao had already lowered his hand.

“Sorry,” he said first, apologizing for the touch, before continuing, “This will be over soon. I’ll take you back.”

Ying Yin could only step back beneath his umbrella again, tilting her head up to watch the rain threads and lamplight beyond its edge.

A man who valued his word, once he made a promise, truly did not keep her waiting long.

After ending the call with just a few brief sentences, he put away his phone and removed his suit jacket, offering it to Ying Yin.

Holding an umbrella in one hand while taking off a suit jacket with the other should have looked awkward no matter how you thought about it. Yet Ying Yin could not understand how someone could perform the entire motion with such unhurried composure – one hand easing out of one sleeve and then the other – elegant to the point of being almost pleasing to watch.

“If you don’t mind, you can put this on.” Shang Shao lowered his lashes slightly as he looked at her, his eyes calm and dark as ink.

Ying Yin didn’t actually feel cold, but for some inexplicable reason, she still lifted her hand to take it. She spread the jacket open with both hands and draped it over herself.

The lining brushed against the skin at the back of her neck, dry and warm. The collar gently drew close around her, and that clean fragrance of perfume drifted faintly into her nose.

In truth, if she so much as let out a tiny sneeze, countless men would rush to drape their clothes over her shoulders to shield her from the wind.

But all of them were always so impatient, scrambling over each other, terrified that they might be even a second too slow in taking off their jackets.

And never once had anyone asked whether she minded.

Most of the guests had already left, and only a few were staying overnight. The entire hotel carried a lonely, deserted stillness after the crowds were gone.

Shang Shao held the umbrella as the two of them strolled back at an unhurried pace. The soft clicking of her high heels followed one after another, slow and measured.

Ying Yin sensed the absent-mindedness and irritation in the man beside her.

Perhaps it was because of that phone call just now.

She broke the silence, making conversation for the sake of it. “How did you know it was me?”

“You were filming here just now.”

“You saw it?” Ying Yin was startled.

“Only for a little while.”

Without realizing it, Ying Yin tightened her grip on the suit collar around herself, her voice lowering tensely. “And you didn’t say anything…”

Her tone sounded as though she were blaming him.

A gust of wind slanted across them. Shang Shao tilted the umbrella a little more toward her side. Lowering his gaze, he looked at her for a moment before speaking again in that cool, restrained tone. “Are you blaming me?”

Ying Yin only dared keep her eyes on the path ahead. “I wouldn’t dare.”

One corner of Shang Shao’s lips lifted slightly. A trace of amusement, barely there, slipped into his breath, and that earlier absent-mindedness vanished.

After walking in silence for a while longer, Ying Yin finally gathered her courage. “Mr. Shang, there’s something I hope you won’t misunderstand.”

Shang Shao responded lightly, “What is it?”

“Back in the guest room… I thought it was a junior colleague from the company. She’d come looking for me twice already…” Her explanation came out disjointed and confused. Ying Yin faltered before blurting out, “Anyway, I didn’t look through the peephole, so I didn’t know it was you. I wasn’t deliberately… trying to let you see me like that.”

Shang Shao waited quietly for her to finish, then knowingly asked, “Like what?”

Ying Yin pressed her lips together awkwardly.

She shut her eyes, deciding to smash the jar now that it was already broken. “Like I was deliberately trying to seduce you!”

Shang Shao had only teased her on a whim, but he hadn’t expected this girl – who could put on such an act when she wanted to – to become so utterly unguarded when she stopped pretending.

For a moment, he fell silent. Then, after a pause, he said calmly, “Miss Ying, I hope you understand that if it’s only to that extent, it isn’t enough to seduce me.”

“Hope I understand?” Ying Yin repeated, her tone turning it into a question.

“…”

“…”

Why was her mouth so fast?!

“Sorry, sorry.” Ying Yin lowered her face, her voice low and muffled. “I didn’t mean that you wanted me to seduce you…”

Shang Shao glanced at her without saying anything.

Well, this was bad. Ying Yin’s mind was full of a single thought: disaster. She had made the crown prince unhappy.

The short garden path soon came to an end. Under the portico hung rattan lamps in a Southeast Asian style, casting a dim golden glow.

Ying Yin racked her brains, but couldn’t come up with any remedy that was both tactful and natural.

Shang Shao closed the umbrella and asked evenly, “You’re a celebrity. I assume it wouldn’t be convenient for me to escort you all the way to your door, correct?”

Ying Yin nodded. Her heart was full of frustration, but her face remained composed and restrained. “That’s true. You needn’t trouble yourself.”

So Shang Shao only walked her to the elevator and pressed the button for her floor.

The elevator doors slid shut. Ying Yin pressed her thin arms against the walls of the elevator car and buried her face in them.

“Ugh…” She was such an idiot. A perfectly good hand of cards, utterly ruined.

The elevator didn’t go up. Instead, it gave a ding and opened again.

Instinctively, Ying Yin lifted her face. Warm light enveloped her utterly dejected, aggrieved, and deflated expression.

Shang Shao: “…”

A beat of silence passed.

“…My suit jacket.”

Ying Yin snapped back to herself as if waking from a dream. She hurriedly took it off, smoothed it once, and handed it back with both hands.

That was just how she was: the more embarrassed she became, the more she forced herself into an appearance of poised generosity, the smile at the corners of her lips flawless beyond reproach.

The elevator doors began closing once more, slowly enough that Ying Yin felt unbearably tormented by every passing second.

She didn’t dare let her gaze overstep propriety. Keeping her eyes politely lowered, all she saw were the man’s long, impeccably tailored black suit trousers.

The image framed by the narrowing elevator doors grew thinner and thinner.

Then suddenly, the closing motion stopped abruptly. The metal doors gave a faint shudder.

Ying Yin jerked her head up.

One hand braced against the doorframe, Shang Shao looked at the woman inside the elevator and asked with perfect composure:

“The shawl – when exactly are you planning to return it?”