Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 51

Lin Cunkang’s restorative soup, simmered with a thousand-year-old ginseng root, sat warming from morning till noon, and from noon till evening, yet not a single sip was taken.

The earthenware pot simmered gently over a low flame. The clear broth bubbled steadily, little bursts of air pushing up through the surface. The muted gurgling sounds echoed beneath the lid, lending the afternoon an air of profound tranquility.

Ms. Ai, who oversaw the household kitchens, exchanged glances with Lin Cunkang and asked for instructions.

“The young master is one thing – at least he had breakfast. But Miss Ying hasn’t eaten either? Isn’t she hungry?”

After a moment’s thought, Lin Cunkang headed upstairs.

His knock on the door was exceptionally restrained.

Shang Shao was awake, half reclining against the headboard, handling work on his phone. Hearing the knock, he returned the call instead.

It was the first time Lin Cunkang had encountered such a situation. Stepping back a few paces from the door, he asked respectfully, “Would you like to get up and have a meal?”

Shang Shao’s voice was very soft. “She’s still sleeping.”

“It’s already four o’clock. Why not get up and eat a little something? Otherwise you’ll have trouble sleeping again tonight.”

After thinking it over, Shang Shao gave a quiet hum of agreement.

“Wait a little longer. Have them start preparing. We’ll eat at five.”

Lin Cunkang could not help reminding him, “You have an appointment with Tan Beiqiao tonight. Six o’clock, at Rongxin’s flagship restaurant. You’ll need to leave by five at the latest.”

Shang Shao remembered. “I know. Keep everything as planned.”

After ending the call, he replied to several requests on WeCom and instructed the secretariat to follow up on the progress of a few important matters that required urgent attention.

In truth, he had woken up after sleeping for just over half an hour at noon. He had wanted to get up, but when he lowered his eyes and saw Ying Yin’s sleeping face, an inexplicable reluctance settled in his heart.

The arm she had draped around his waist was slender and delicate, making her seem quietly dependent on him.

In the upbringing he received from his mother, Wen Youyi, a bed was a place meant solely for sleeping. Except when one was ill, eating, drinking, studying, or handling work in bed was forbidden, and lying in bed to watch television was out of the question.

No one in the Shang family had televisions or other entertainment devices in their bedrooms. The bedside tables held only books. The children were allowed no more than an hour of reading before sleep.

This was the first time Shang Shao had ever dealt with company business in bed.

And once he started, he spent the entire afternoon doing so.

Throughout that time, Ying Yin never woke up. She slept soundly with her head resting against him. Occasionally, some movement from him would rouse her, but only for a hazy second. Then she would instinctively snuggle closer, finding an even more comfortable and intimate position against him.

Whenever that happened, Shang Shao would set down his phone, kiss the top of her hair, her forehead, and her eyes, and tighten the arm wrapped around her.

By half past four, no matter how reluctant he was to leave her, he had to get up.

He returned to his own bedroom, showered, shaved, tidied his appearance, and changed into a suit. Then he selected a watch with a calm, understated elegance from his cabinet of automatic timepieces.

Once he had finished, he went back upstairs to the second floor, kissed the corner of Ying Yin’s lips, and said softly, “I’m off. See you tonight.”

Ying Yin was still groggy. Her eyelashes fluttered as she tried to wake up, but sleep pulled her back under.

Unable to help himself, Shang Shao smiled. Deepening the kiss, he leaned close to her ear and asked softly, “Will you wait for me tonight?”

As though hypnotized, Ying Yin instinctively followed his lead and murmured, “Yeah…”

Shang Shao felt completely satisfied.

Never before had there been a day when, before even leaving the house, he was already looking forward to the moment he would come home.

Worried that Ying Yin might feel awkward or uncomfortable on her own, he left Lin Cunkang behind to look after her and assigned a driver to be at her disposal as well.

Rongxin Restaurant was a venerable old establishment. Since the Republican era, it had been bustling with patrons, entertaining officials of every rank, warlords, and military commanders. Its branches had spread as far as Hong Kong and Macau. Though it had changed hands several times over the years, this original flagship location had managed, with difficulty, to survive.

Tan Beiqiao was a native of Lingnan. Inviting Shang Shao here for dinner and business discussions carried a certain host’s pride, as though he were extending the hospitality of his own home territory.

During the meal, Tan Beiqiao seemed especially fond of one particular rice porridge dish and personally urged Shang Shao to try it.

After Shang Shao took a sip and gave a slight nod of approval, Tan Beiqiao slapped his thigh and said, “Do you know what this porridge is called?”

Shang Shao indicated that he would like to hear more.

Tan Beiqiao replied, “It’s called Golden Night Produces White Jade.”

“As for the secret behind it,” he added, “you’ll have to hear it from the owner himself.”

As it happened, Rongxin’s proprietor was actually present.

A man of his standing was undoubtedly a prominent and wealthy figure in his own right. His appearance here was almost certainly something Tan Beiqiao had arranged beforehand.

The owner came over and gave a meticulous introduction: what kind of rice was used, where the paddies were cultivated, which mountain spring supplied the water, when the bamboo shoots were harvested, from what seas the shrimp and scallops were sourced. Even the shredded ginger in the porridge had to come from a particular specialty-growing region in Vietnam.

Because seasonal ingredients changed throughout the year, he explained, the porridge’s flavor varied subtly from spring to summer, autumn to winter.

And yet, despite all this painstaking attention to detail, what was ultimately served to the table was nothing more than a simple bowl of plain white rice porridge – pure, unadorned, and utterly refined.

Shang Shao set down his spoon and nodded. “Beneath great luxury lies the purest flavor. That’s something truly rare.”

“See?” Tan Beiqiao said with a smile to Rongxin’s owner. “I told you he’d understand.”

What made this porridge special was that it wasn’t some fabricated gimmick meant to fool customers. Neither the main dining hall nor the private rooms offered it on the menu. Only distinguished guests whose names were on the establishment’s registry could taste it, and even then only by making a reservation in advance.

Shang Shao accepted the owner’s business card. As though something had occurred to him, he lowered his gaze and curled his lips into a faint smile.

“What are you smiling about?” Tan Beiqiao asked.

“I was thinking of someone,” Shang Shao replied casually. “She’s quite a lot like this porridge.”

Tan Beiqiao failed to see the connection. “This is the first time I’ve heard someone compare a person to porridge.”

He was merely playing at sophistication, and Shang Shao saw no reason to explain himself. He simply smiled and let the subject pass.

After dinner, they finalized the framework for several prospective deals. Shang Shao took the initiative to excuse himself.

Tan Beiqiao had originally wanted to invite him to visit his winery for a while longer, but seeing that Shang Shao’s mind was elsewhere, he graciously let him go.

The Hong Kong–plated Maybach glided past a street corner. A flower shop glowed brightly under the night lights. The man in the dark suit stepped inside.

A few minutes later, he emerged carrying a lavish bouquet.

Against the winter night of mid-December, the flowers looked both gentle and ardently alive.

In the end, Lin Cunkang’s ginseng soup had not gone to waste.

At dinner, Ying Yin drank bowl after bowl of it.

The bowls were not large – small and exquisitely made, fitting perfectly in her hands. When Lin Cunkang moved to refill her bowl for a third serving, Ying Yin waved him off. “I really can’t drink any more.”

“How can that do?” Lin Cunkang said as he attended to her with gentlemanly care. “A bowl like this doesn’t hold much. I called an old friend of mine, a traditional Chinese physician, this afternoon. He said this is exactly the time when you should be nourishing your body.”

Ying Yin: “…”

“I’ve already arranged for a doctor and a nurse to stay on-site. If you feel even the slightest discomfort, Miss Ying, you must let me know immediately.”

Ying Yin’s brows knitted together. Her eyes widened in shock and alarm. “I don’t feel uncomfortable at all!”

There was absolutely no need for any of this!

Lin Cunkang did not press the matter. He merely nodded. “Then it seems the young master is overly worried out of concern for you – borrowing trouble where there is none.”

The moment Ying Yin thought of Shang Shao, a faint blush tinged her earlobes. She was so embarrassed she wished the ground would swallow her whole.

Having nothing else to do, she resigned herself to drinking more ginseng soup.

After a while, her bird-like appetite had been thoroughly defeated by all the liquid. Feeling full from soup alone, she asked, “Will he be back tonight?”

Lin Cunkang raised his wrist to check the time. “He should be back soon. Would you like some mulled wine before bed tonight?”

Christmas was approaching, after all. It would be quite fitting for the season.

Ying Yin shook her head. “I have something to do tomorrow. I’m leaving tonight.”

A look of sudden realization crossed Lin Cunkang’s face. “Have you told the young master?”

“Not yet.”

Without missing a beat, Lin Cunkang remarked, “No wonder he was in such a good mood when he left.”

Ying Yin silently mulled over his words. Before long, she caught the roundabout implication hidden within them. Unable to help herself, she pressed her lips together, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to curve upward.

After dinner, she finally had enough energy to go out for a walk and clear her head.

The night after the rain had cleared was beautiful – like a deep sapphire velvet brushed with emerald tones. Wind blew in from the sea up toward the cliffs, vast yet gentle, pressing across the rolling fields and sweeping at Ying Yin’s feet, lifting the hem of her oversized shirt.

Life here was leisurely, something to pass the time. She was beginning to forget she was a celebrity with a hundred public appearances a year.

Rich had recently become picky about its food, with fresh batches of grass being flown in from England on private planes. Cost was not an issue; customs clearance, however, was a real hassle. The groomers had inspected more than a dozen high-end stables and were testing different feeds for Rich one by one.

“It can be very picky. It can tell the difference. Every time, it precisely leaves half of it uneaten,” the groom said.

Ying Yin: “…”

She grabbed a handful of fresh hay and sighed.

“You’re being so precious right now. What are you going to do when we eventually part ways and you come with me? Live in a small apartment, eat the greenery in neighborhood parks, and live like a little donkey grinding a mill every day?”

Rich: “…”

With a snort, it shook its golden mane and trotted off briskly, like a wind-up toy horse.

Short little thing, and quite full of attitude.

Before Ying Yin could even get properly annoyed, she heard a soft laugh behind her.

She turned around, her long black hair swept across by the wind.

Shang Shao stood under the night sky, holding a bouquet of pale, long-stemmed flowers mixed with wild berries, wrapped in old newspaper – like something put together on a sudden whim.

“Your little horse has crossed mountains and seas to be here with you. How can you make it suffer like that?”

Such a romantic scene, yet he opens his mouth with moral blackmail.

Ying Yin pouted slightly. Shang Shao’s smile deepened, and he said gently but firmly, “Come here.”

Ying Yin leaned closer. Under Shang Shao’s clearly meaningful gaze, she obediently, yet as if slightly unwilling, wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Not welcoming me?” he asked in a low voice, lowering the flowers in his arms to his side as he pulled her into his embrace with his other arm.

Only then did Ying Yin tighten her grip and fully hug him.

What was she supposed to do? She wasn’t good at dating. This felt even harder than being a social butterfly in the world of fame and status.

Shang Shao took her hand and led her toward the house. He handed the flowers to a servant, instructing them to put them in water to revive them and then send them to Ying Yin’s room.

Seizing a moment, Ying Yin said, “No need. I’m leaving tonight anyway. I’ll come again next time.”

Shang Shao completely ignored her and lifted her up into his arms with her legs together.

This posture was familiar. Just last night, in this exact position, she still vividly remembered what he had done.

She immediately tensed up. “No – don’t… it hurts… it still hurts!”

Shang Shao laughed. “What are you thinking about? I’m not some high school kid who, after trying something once, spends every waking moment thinking about it.”

Ying Yin: “…”

Shang Shao carried her into the study.

His study was slightly smaller than his bedroom, but still spacious. The layout was clear and uncluttered at a glance. All the interior lines had been softened and polished so there was no cold sharpness – everything flowed instead, like water.

A matte white tone filled the entire space, giving it an inexplicably calm and intellectual atmosphere.

Shang Shao sat her down on his lap. “I still have some work to handle. Stay here and play by yourself for a bit?”

“I’m not playing, I need to go home and get ready…”

She didn’t even get to finish before he kissed her.

Sitting in his arms made it the perfect position for kissing. Ying Yin was soon dizzy from it, her breath turning soft and uneven.

“What do you need to go home for?” Shang Shao asked.

“I need to go home…”

He kissed her again.

He seemed to be teasing her, yet every kiss was taken seriously, with full attention.

After the third kiss, when he asked again, Ying Yin gave up on going home. “I’ll talk about it tomorrow morning…”

Lin Cunkang personally brought up some black tea. When he reached the doorway, he didn’t make a sound, simply turned around tactfully and left, even gently closing the door for them.

Ying Yin was barefoot, her long legs drawn together. Her white shirt and black hair had been left messy from his kisses. He clearly looked restrained and abstinent at all times, yet when he kissed her, there was a dangerous undertone – like he could lose control and take things further at any moment.

Neither of them noticed someone coming upstairs – until a girl’s hand turned the doorknob.

“Do you wanna build a snow – ahhh!!!”

Shang Mingbao covered her face with both hands and screamed, startling the two people inside.

Heaven help her. She had been sent back by Lin Cunkang the night before, and today she had specially come over to ease her brotherly longing!

How could this be? Her respected, steady, stern older brother – the kind of man who looked like he could become a monk at any moment – how could he be in such a proper place like a study, kissing a woman so intensely?

Shang Mingbao clearly remembered that afternoon when she was just a carefree little girl. She had tried to curl up in his study to watch a thirty-second clip of her idol, only to be coldly and mercilessly lifted up with one hand and thrown out.

And she had only been eight years old then!

Shang Shao reacted quickly, pulling Ying Yin’s face into his chest. Only after seeing that it was Shang Mingbao did he let out a steady breath and said coldly, “Get out.”

Mingbao shivered. Peeking through her fingers, she said, “I have some information worth a fortune. Do you want to hear it?”

“…”

Shang Shao didn’t bother responding. Instead, he patted Ying Yin’s waist soothingly. “My sister. Don’t worry.”

“Shall I meet her?” Ying Yin asked softly, her face burning with embarrassment.

“If you want to, then meet her. If not, I’ll throw her out.”

Shang Mingbao: “? I can hear you!”

Shang Shao shot her a sharp look. Mingbao pouted and immediately yielded – she could be flexible when needed.

After all, she still owed her brother five million. She couldn’t afford to be reckless.

Ying Yin steadied herself. “Can we do this another day? Today isn’t very convenient.”

Shang Shao respected her. The words of dismissal had already reached his lips, but he suddenly changed his mind. “Another day is no better than today. She’s not someone important. I want you to meet her.”

The “not someone important” Shang Mingbao didn’t even have time to protest before she heard her brother say, “Come here. I’ll introduce you.”

Ying Yin’s nerves shot up to her throat. She first stood up from Shang Shao’s lap, then took several deep breaths, smoothing down the oversized men’s shirt she was wearing.

Once she had composed a proper, polite smile, she turned around.

Shang Mingbao’s gaze went from curiosity to shock, from shock to confusion, and finally she muttered, “Wow… bro, you really know how to play.”

Shang Shao remained calm. “She’s your sister-in-law.”

That single phrase made Ying Yin’s heart tighten before Shang Mingbao even reacted. She instinctively tried to refuse. “No, no need… hello, I’m…”

In truth, she normally would not need to introduce herself anywhere. But at this moment she steadied herself and said very seriously and modestly, “My name is Ying Yin. I’m an actress.”

Of course Shang Mingbao knew her – how could she not?

She quickly shut her mouth, swallowing her shock. “Hello. My name is Mingbao. ‘Ming’ as in bright pearl, ‘Bao’ as in treasure.”

“Mingbao.”

Just hearing the name, one could tell she was a treasured daughter who had been doted on all her life.

“You can also call me Babe. Babe is my English name.”

Ying Yin paused for a moment, then smiled. “Babe.”

So the phone call from last night that made her a little jealous – it had been with her.

Shang Mingbao had already been so shocked she was barely conscious when, through the large glass window, she suddenly noticed a car’s headlights approaching slowly in the distance.

She panicked and blurted out in a jumble, “Bro, I’ll give you that 500,000-info advance first, remember to pay me back later – Shang Qingye is already downstairs!!!”