Ying Yin was jolted awake by a sudden thought.
The sheets were wet!
Tossing and turning in her dream, only one thing lingered in her mind – what if the maids came to change the sheets? How embarrassing! She had to stop them. Or come up with a plausible excuse.
She sat up in a rush. “Last night, we spilled some water on the bed…”
But the room was empty.
Ying Yin: “…”
Her nightgown was smooth against her skin, the sheets beneath her dry and crisp. Sea breeze drifted in through the half-open window, stirring the off-white curtains.
Yet this wasn’t Shang Shao’s room – it was the guest bedroom where she was staying. On the side table, the dozen or so diamond jewelry pieces were still arranged just as she had left them the night before, gleaming in the daylight like handfuls of fruit-flavored hard candies.
Ying Yin ran a hand through her hair, her expression twisting in pain.
It hurt… The sudden motion of sitting up had been too much – a sharp, cutting ache tore through her, and every bone and muscle in her body felt as if it had come unhinged.
Just outside the door, footsteps paused in the hallway, followed by lowered voices.
“Is she awake?”
“No sounds yet.”
“Hand me the soup.”
Shang Shao’s voice was unmistakable. Ying Yin’s heart tightened. Grimacing, she swiftly rolled over and lay back down.
Shang Shao pushed the door open just as the white bedsheet settled back down.
Ying Yin was lying on her side, facing away from the door.
Shang Shao stood at the threshold, watching her in silence for a moment.
He had barely slept the night before.
He had always thought he had little interest in such things, and certainly never considered himself prone to addiction. In his thirty-six years of life, he had, of course, experienced desire – but it had always been fleeting, never enough to make him lose himself. Now, however, he had tasted true pleasure – and he craved more.
His shift from asceticism to hedonism had happened far too quickly.
Every prestigious old university in Europe and America has its mysterious fraternities. Those who join are the most elite, the most “noble,” the most blue-blooded and high-born students on campus. They inherit wealth and prestige from their fathers – just as they inherit fraternity memberships and connections.
For a commoner to be admitted, they must endure countless humiliations and trials, each one cutting straight to the core of human dignity. Yet every year, freshmen still flock to the fraternities. Because once you join, it means you can “score” the hottest girls on campus at every party.
At the Cambridge fraternity, whether he wanted it or not, Shang Shao had never lacked for people throwing themselves at him. And to be fair, when it came to physical hotness, Westerners had a natural advantage – plus, they were far more uninhibited.
It wasn’t as if he had never seen a beautiful body before, or never been seduced to the fullest extent of someone’s abilities.
But strangely, in the thick of last night’s intense, chaotic images, his mind had pulled away for a split second – not to marvel at how good sex and orgasm could feel, but to realize: It’s this good because it’s with her.
He had made love to her all night. His heart felt tight, but the hormones and dopamine kept him wired. Sitting in front of his computer at a high-level group meeting, he was sharp, focused, and energetic – betraying no sign of having been up all night.
As for his father, Shang Qingye—chairman of the board—cut straight to the point: “Why weren’t you at the office today?”
At the Hong Kong headquarters, Shang Shao was rarely late or absent. He had even spent New Year’s Eve with Shang Qingye, visiting employees together. One could say he worked year-round without a break, fulfilling the responsibilities of the eldest son to the fullest.
But Shang Qingye was not easily fooled, and Shang Shao wasn’t ready to let him know about Ying Yin’s existence just yet. So he answered coolly, “Fever.”
The father-son relationship had long since hit rock bottom.
Shang Qingye was silent for a moment, then told him to rest well and not overexert himself.
Ying Yin summoned the full force of her award-winning acting skills to fake sleep -brows relaxed, breathing steady, limbs loose. The only thing betraying her was her heart rate, which had shot up to 180.
She wondered if Shang Shao could see through her act.
Just take one look and leave, please… This is so awkward…
But fate had other plans.
First, Ying Yin heard a soft clink – something ceramic being set down on the nightstand. Then came the rustle of fabric.
Shang Shao was slowly, unhurriedly, undoing his suit and tie. Seeing how hard she was pretending to be asleep, he went ahead and removed his cufflinks as well.
The gemstone cufflinks were casually tossed into a metal tray on the dresser with a sharp clack. Ying Yin swallowed involuntarily.
What is he trying to do?
She found out soon enough. Shang Shao gently lifted the covers, placed one knee on the bed, and shifted his weight down – as if he were about to lie in and go back to sleep beside her.
If we go another round, I’ll die!
Ying Yin shot up into a half-sitting position, clutching the white bedsheet tightly in front of her. She was about to warn him not to get any ideas – only to suck in a sharp breath from the pain.
She’d forgotten again. She was a wounded woman now. She couldn’t afford to be so full of vim and vigor…
Shang Shao let out a soft laugh. “Morning.”
He was still impeccably dressed – had only removed his suit jacket and tie, rolling up his sleeves. White shirt, black trousers, as if he had just finished handling group business.
Ying Yin swiftly turned red from head to toe, the blush blooming across her skin like the gradient petals of an early spring magnolia.
She didn’t know why she was blushing.
But staying in his house, after spending such an outrageous night there, and then casually greeting him good morning the next day – this routine, she really wasn’t used to it.
It wasn’t as if she had amnesia. She clearly remembered every sound, every scene from the night before. She had only passed out later because she was too exhausted to stay conscious.
“Mr. Shang…” Ying Yin’s voice was as soft as a mosquito’s hum, her heart tightening with each beat. “Good morning.”
Shang Shao sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand in his pants pocket, and said meaningfully, “That’s not what you were calling me last night.”
Ying Yin bit her lip halfway, her eyes full of reproach as she shot him a dark, lingering glare. “I don’t remember…”
“Perfect.” Shang Shao nodded, his fingers coming to rest on his shirt buttons as if he were about to undo them. “I’ll help you remember.”
“No, no, no, no…” Ying Yin used both hands to stop him – one grabbing his forearm, the other pressing against his palm – begging, pleading, surrendering. “…”
She mumbled something very softly, but Shang Shao didn’t catch it. “What?”
“Swollen.”
Shang Shao gave an unnatural cough, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His voice dropped, turning rough. “Let me see?”
“No!”
“I cleaned you up last night,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual. “I called the doctor this morning. Picked up some ointment. Want to apply it after breakfast?”
Ying Yin’s face flushed a deep, almost blood-red, and her eyes darted away. “What did you do last night?”
“Carried you to bathe, cleaned you up, and had the sheets changed while I was at it.”
“Did you say…” Ying Yin clenched her hands tightly, her bright eyes earnest and full of hope. “…that we accidentally spilled water on them?”
Shang Shao: “…”
She probably had no idea just how much of a mess that sheet was – soaked through, stained, and streaked.
He paused for a moment. “Every servant in my house is probably smarter than you.”
Ying Yin: “…”
A tiny, animal-like whimper crept into her voice. “How am I supposed to face anyone…”
Shang Shao sighed, looking at her helplessly. “I changed them myself. Threw them on the floor and told them to toss them out directly. Happy now? No one saw.”
It was no small thing to put him through this – the young master had never helped anyone bathe before, nor had he ever changed a set of bedsheets with his own hands. He was someone who had never touched a drop of water, let alone done chores. The world he was born into was orderly, bright, and immaculate – a life running on sweet, flawless rules twenty-four hours a day, as close to paradise as one could get.
By the time the servants arrived to make the bed and found he had already yanked the sheets off himself and piled them in the corner, they were already thoroughly alarmed. And the subtle, lingering scent in the room – thick with an embarrassingly sensual afterglow – only made his attempt at concealment all the more transparent.
Ying Yin pursed her lips slightly, a contemplative sorrow resting on her face, a single tear hanging from her lashes – barely clinging on.
“I’m still a celebrity, you know…”
Shang Shao’s heart ached for her, even as he found her amusing. He pulled her into his arms. “How about we find a traditional Chinese medicine doctor to sort this out?”
“Huh?” Ying Yin didn’t catch his meaning at first.
Shang Shao leaned close to her ear. “Ask him…” His voice dropped, along with the darkness in his gaze. “…if there’s any way to keep my girlfriend from being so… wet?”
Ying Yin nearly jumped in alarm, trying to escape, but Shang Shao held her tighter. “Enough teasing. Are you hungry?”
Ying Yin wasn’t really hungry, but she was too embarrassed to say what she actually needed.
Shang Shao figured it out and chuckled. “Thirsty?”
Ying Yin covered her face with both hands and nodded.
“Want some sweet soup? They made it especially for you.”
“What is it? Is it good?”
“Snow jelly, milk, red dates, silver ear fungus… stewed with…” Shang Shao couldn’t quite remember all the ingredients. “Peach resin? Or bird’s nest?”
He picked up the bowl and stirred with a silver spoon. The milk swirled, mingling with the floating, translucent peach resin – it looked quite appetizing.
Ying Yin took it carefully, sipping bit by bit. “Is this soup very good for something?”
“Replenishes blood and energy.”
Ying Yin choked unexpectedly, burying her face in the small bowl, her guilt overwhelming her.
In truth, the servants had also prepared a whole spread of soups, congees, and broths for her. Lin Cunkang had even brought out his treasured thousand-year ginseng that he’d been saving for years. But Shang Shao, being the type of gentleman who “keeps his distance from the kitchen,” had no idea what was what. So he figured he’d just let her try everything herself when lunch came around.
After finishing the sweet soup and downing another half bottle of water, Ying Yin began to feel drowsy again. Rubbing her eyes, she asked, “Mr. Shang, I’ve been eating in bed nonstop. Aren’t you going to find me disgusting?”
Shang Shao let out a small laugh, unable to follow her train of thought. “It’s fine. If you want to have lunch here too, that’s fine.”
“I want to sleep.”
“You want me to keep you company?”
Ying Yin sat up stiffly, nervous, her hands clenched into tight fists pressed against her thighs.
The gesture seemed like a refusal.
Shang Shao rose to his feet. After a moment of silence, he ran his fingers through her hair. “Then get some good rest.”
He turned to leave. Two steps later, he heard her voice behind him. “Aren’t you busy?”
Shang Shao stopped. “No.”
“Don’t you have work at the company? Or social engagements?”
“Neither.”
“Won’t I be holding you up?” Ying Yin’s palms were sweating.
Shang Shao turned around. Instead of leaving, he began unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time, looking her in the eye as he answered, “No.”
His body radiated heat. He carried with him the scent of the outdoors after a clearing rain – the kind of moisture left behind when sunlight hits rain-washed earth.
“Sun shower,” Ying Yin said, seemingly out of nowhere.
She was already pulled into Shang Shao’s arms, resting against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of him.
“I was just playing with Rich for a while. There really was a sun shower. He got soaked and shook all over me.”
Ying Yin curled her lips into a smile. “What else did you do?”
“I took the kayak you didn’t tie down properly yesterday and rowed it to the dock, then secured it. The water level rose quite a bit. Don’t go down there alone so late anymore – the ramp is slippery, the water’s deep, and it’s dangerous.”
Ying Yin nodded, lay quietly for a moment, then lifted her head.
Shang Shao bent down and kissed her – a very quiet, gentle kiss. Her mouth was sweet, her tongue warm and soft.
“Mr. Shang, aren’t you tired?”
“No.”
“I am.”
Shang Shao couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry? It won’t happen again.”
He gently squeezed Ying Yin’s arms, massaged her waist, and asked if those places hurt.
“They hurt. I feel like you’ve beaten me up.”
She was soft and obedient, drifting in that hazy space between waking and sleep, and it made Shang Shao’s heart feel utterly tender.
“I’ll go lighter next time,” he promised.
“Was it really your first time?”
“Yes.”
“Who taught you?”
Shang Shao chuckled softly and kissed her forehead. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Which newspaper wrote that you had erectile dysfunction?”
“Why?”
“I want to file a complaint. They published fake news without verification – it violates the spirit of truth and fact-finding in journalism.”
“Alright. How about we buy those papers first, then let you give their staff a proper lesson?” He was almost willing to indulge her every whim.
“And what about you?” Ying Yin murmured, half asleep. “You’ve been lying to me all along.”
“I’ve never tried before,” Shang Shao said, suppressing a smile as he tapped her nose. “What if they were actually right? You should never speak too definitively.”
Besides, the way she kept trying so earnestly to comfort him was just too adorable – it made him want to tease her.
Ying Yin had nothing to say to that. She pouted slightly.
Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, she heard Shang Shao ask, “Why didn’t you tell me before that you had no experience?”
“There was nothing to tell. If someone is meant to know, they’ll know. If they’re not destined to know, why say anything in advance?”
In the end, she fell asleep in Shang Shao’s arms, pressed against his chest, cradled by his arm – like a long-stemmed flower nestled against him.
He held that flower so tightly, so tightly, he could hardly bear to let go.
