Shang Shao held the cigarette between his fingers. His tone remained as indifferent as ever, not a trace of extra emotion on his face.
During the two seconds he waited for her reply, he flicked away some ash and exhaled a stream of smoke. “You don’t want to?”
Behind him, Shang Mingbao stood there dumbfounded, too stunned to even react.
How did he do that? One moment he sounded almost aggrieved – like he’d been wronged, half accusing, half acting spoiled – and the next, he was back to that effortless, unbothered composure.
For the young master to lower himself enough to ask something like that, how could Ying Yin dare say no?
“I do,” she snapped out of character in an instant, her words coming fast before gradually slowing. “I do! …I really do.”
The moment she said it, she realized how intense those words sounded, and unconsciously swallowed.
“If you do, why didn’t you call?” Shang Shao wasn’t so easy to fool.
“I was afraid you were busy… I didn’t dare disturb you…” Ying Yin said quietly.
“Then why didn’t you even message me on WeChat?” Shang Shao pressed on, unhurried but relentless.
Ying Yin couldn’t answer. She held the phone tightly against her ear, the pressure making her cheek and ear ache.
“I’m busier during the day than at night. Yet you dared to disturb me then?”
Ying Yin couldn’t argue with him. She muttered under her breath, “But… you didn’t look for me either.”
Shang Shao was caught off guard by her complaint. “I…”
“You were free after work at night too, but you still didn’t message me. If you had sent me a message earlier, I’d already be standing in front of you right now.”
“…”
He hooked a finger under his tie and tugged at it, narrowing his eyes slightly. His voice dropped, rougher and huskier than before.
“Are you blaming me?”
Ying Yin’s breathing softened. After a long pause, she gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment.
“Mm,” she said, then asked, “Am I not allowed to?”
Shang Shao let out a helpless breath. After a moment, he reluctantly replied, “You are.”
Ying Yin curled up her knees, absentmindedly playing with the crocheted blanket under her fingers.
“Mr. Shang… will you secretly come over again tonight?”
By the time Shang Shao had reached the courtyard, his long fingers were already touching the driver’s side door handle. Hearing her question, he lowered his hand.
“No.”
He turned and walked back, saying in a calm, even tone, “It’s too far. Next time.”
Ying Yin: “…”
After hanging up, Lin Cunkang accompanied him upstairs to rest. Shang Shao entered the study in silence, smoothing the sheet of xuan paper flat with a golden nanmu paperweight. He dipped his brush in ink and lifted it –
The tip of the brush hovered above the paper for a long while, but he made no further move.
Several seconds later, Shang Shao set the brush back onto the rack.
“Aren’t I leaving for a business trip in a few days?”
Lin Cunkang, who had been standing by the side the whole time, replied, “Yes.”
“How long?”
This was the last overseas business trip before Christmas. After that, the overseas branches would go on holiday, and he too would enter one of the rare relaxed periods of the year.
“Six days. Five countries. Including travel time, eight days in total.”
Shang Shao nodded. “What date will I be back?”
“The twenty-third.”
Just one day before Christmas Eve.
“Eight days.” Shang Shao fell silent for a moment before saying casually, “Find some time and tell Junyi.”
“For something this important, it would be better if you told Miss Ying yourself,” Lin Cunkang said evenly.
Shang Shao looked at the blank sheet of paper, both hands braced against the edge of the desk. “Really?”
“I believe so.”
“Should I tell her in person?” Shang Shao asked.
“It would seem more respectful face-to-face.”
“Should I tell her in advance?” he asked again.
Lin Cunkang nodded. “Of course you should tell her in advance.”
Little by little, Shang Shao guided the conversation toward the conclusion he wanted.
“If I’m going away on such a long trip and won’t be able to keep her company… shouldn’t I spend more time with her while I still can?”
Lin Cunkang nodded again, then gave a courteous bow from the waist beneath his suit jacket.
“I’ll arrange a car and driver for you right away.”
The old man had clearly learned his lesson this time. In advance, he had already hung a freshly pressed suit in the car and prepared a full set of Shang Shao’s usual toiletries and personal care items. He secretly handed them to the driver and instructed him, “Don’t let the young master know. Quietly give them to that girl called Junyi and have her prepare everything in the bathroom. If the young master asks, tell her to say Miss Ying told her to do it.”
The driver didn’t quite understand, but he was efficient and reliable. He committed every instruction to memory.
Shang Mingbao stood at the doorway with Lin Cunkang, watching him leave. Only after the car had driven out through the gates and descended the slope by the cliffside did she tilt her head and let out a puzzled hiss.
“Is something bothering you?”
Mingbao looked utterly confused. “I’ve clearly been staying at my brother’s place for two whole days. So how is it that I feel like I never see him at all?”
Lin Cunkang chuckled. “Alright then – if you don’t mind spending time with an old man like me, we can sit down and enjoy some tea.”
Mingbao was a sweet and considerate girl. She knew Lin Cunkang and his wife had chosen not to have children, and now, nearing sixty with no children of their own, he was especially fond of younger people. So Mingbao was more than happy to sit and have tea with him.
“Uncle Kang, I want to ask something a bit blunt.” She poured an excessive amount of milk into her black tea.
Lin Cunkang saw right through her immediately and cut her off. “If you’re going to ask whether the young master is sincere toward Miss Ying, I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”
“You can’t tell either? You know him better than anyone.”
“No one truly understands the young master. I can only judge based on habit and intuition.”
Mingbao giggled. “Then what do you think? Compared to Yu Shasha?”
She didn’t like Yu Shasha. They’d met a few times, and Mingbao found her warmth and bluntness overwhelming. But she never dared say so aloud, because everyone else seemed to like Yu Shasha. If she said she disliked her, it would only make her look petty.
Back then, when her eldest brother had gone all in on preparing an engagement banquet, the most troubled person had been Wen Youyi. The second most troubled had been Shang Mingbao. And the third – helplessly furious – had been Shang Qingye.
Lin Cunkang pondered for a moment. “It’s hard to compare.”
“Why? I’ve never seen my brother be this generous with Yu Shasha.”
“But in truth, that money means very little to the young master.”
“But someone like my brother actually allowed someone into his study.”
“The exceptions young master has made for Miss Ying go far beyond that. Though it’s probably better if you don’t know too much.”
Mingbao wasn’t some naïve little girl ignorant of the world. Her mind immediately made connections, and she recalled the scene of Shang Shao and Ying Yin kissing so intensely they seemed inseparable. Her face began to heat.
When her brother kissed someone, he was anything but restrained. His hands lingered where they shouldn’t, every prominent vein and bone in his hands taut with force, carrying an almost uncontrollable possessiveness.
Mingbao held her cup and took a sip of tea, muttering, “So… is he sincere or not?”
Lin Cunkang answered honestly. “I don’t know.”
He left earlier tonight than he had yesterday, arriving before eleven.
Shang Shao came straight over without even showering first. The night air was cold. After stepping out of the car, he strode up the slope on long legs, casually pulling his suit jacket open in his hand. Under the moonlight, his tall, refined figure stretched into a clean silhouette.
The moment Junyi heard the doorbell, she had a feeling it was him. She jogged over and opened the door. Beneath his suit jacket was a pale blue shirt. For once, he wasn’t wearing a tie; two buttons at his collar were undone, giving him an unusually relaxed, gentle look.
“Has she gone to bed?”
“No. She’s in the back courtyard reading her script,” Junyi replied as she unlatched the wrought-iron gate.
“I’ll go see her.”
Junyi gave a quiet hum and didn’t follow to disturb them, but she heard Shang Shao ask, almost casually, “Did she mention me at all today?”
Junyi answered with brutal objectivity. “No.”
Shang Shao froze for a moment, at a loss for what to do, and could only smile faintly.
He passed through the doorway in the night, crossed the brightly lit first-floor hall, and entered the back courtyard. The bluestone courtyard was carefully swept by Junyi every day and kept spotless, its dark stone gleaming faintly under the moonlight and garden lamps.
And in that dim glow lay Ying Yin.
She was holding a potted plant in her arms – a young camellia sapling, it seemed. Her script, slightly curled and softened from handling, rested across her stomach.
Shang Shao stopped in his tracks. “Ying Yin.”
She had been lost in thought. Hearing his voice, she gave a faint “Mm,” only slowly registering who it was.
“Mr. Shang?!”
Still clutching the camellia sapling, she scrambled to her feet in a fluster.
In weather barely seventeen or eighteen degrees Celsius, she wore only a gray square-neck long-sleeved top. On her lower half were the same tight jeans and riding boots she’d worn during the day.
Shang Shao took off his suit jacket and carefully draped it over her shoulders before asking, “What are you doing?”
“I…” Ying Yin found it hard to explain. “I was trying to find the right emotional state for the character.”
Shang Shao paused for a moment, then pulled the lapels of his jacket closer around her. “I came at the wrong time.”
Ying Yin shook her head. She carefully set the camellia down, then bent forward and wrapped her arms around him. “You said you weren’t coming.”
“I couldn’t bear not to.”
Those words made her chest tighten with a mix of nervousness and aching sweetness. Her arms tightened around him, and she rose onto her tiptoes, instinctively seeking a kiss.
One of Shang Shao’s hands pressed against her back, while the other supported her waist. Before kissing her, he stared at her deeply for several long seconds, then gave a low command:
“Say that you missed me.”
“I missed you.”
Only then did Shang Shao kiss her.
The jeans hugged her curves snugly, accentuating the soft roundness of her hips. As he kissed her, the mood gradually shifted. His touch grew firmer, more possessive.
Ying Yin stumbled back two steps, overwhelmed by how fiercely he was kissing her.
Hadn’t they only parted this morning?
It had been barely more than a dozen hours.
Just as Cheng Junyi finished arranging the toiletries the driver had secretly passed to her, she heard a loud bang from the study next door.
Apparently, the door had been slammed shut.
Junyi couldn’t exactly open the door and check what was happening inside. All she knew was that the two of them stayed in there for nearly half an hour.
If she had been bolder – nosier, perhaps – and pushed the door open, she would have learned that jeans were annoyingly difficult to remove. Only halfway peeled down, they exposed a section of smooth, porcelain-like leg. She also would have discovered that the gray square-neck T-shirt, originally elegant and modest in design, was unfortunately quite convenient for mischief: tug it down a little, and it revealed more than enough.
Ying Yin’s heart raced. Her throat felt dry. She swallowed, trying to steady herself, and pleaded softly, “No more.”
“Mm.”
Though Shang Shao agreed readily enough, his movements remained unhurried. He stayed close to her a while longer before finally helping her straighten her clothes.
“I’m leaving for Europe on a business trip in a few days.”
“How many days?”
“Eight or nine.” After saying it, he kissed her lips lightly. “Will you miss me?”
“Mm.”
“How will you miss me?” His gaze darkened as he asked with perfect seriousness.
What other answer could there be to a question like that? Pretending not to understand, Ying Yin bit her lip slightly. “With my heart. With my mind.”
Shang Shao smiled and let her off easily. “That’s enough.”
Even after they had showered, the matter still wasn’t over; it resurfaced again.
He asked her quietly, “Not here?”
Ying Yin trembled under his teasing, warm and flustered, speaking against her own feelings.
“It’s still not okay yet…”
“Just for a moment.”
They both inhaled sharply, each letting out a low breath.
Held in Shang Shao’s arms, Ying Yin found him talking to her with lazy casualness, as if nothing unusual were happening.
“Did they make things difficult for you when you terminated the contract today?”
In truth, he had already asked Zhuang Tiwen about it earlier. He hadn’t pressed for details – knowing things had gone smoothly was enough to reassure him.
“No…” Ying Yin answered, though discomfort made her brows knit slightly. Even her voice and breathing were unsteady.
“What’s wrong?” Shang Shao asked lightly, glancing down at her though he clearly knew the answer. “What’s making you so uncomfortable?”
Ying Yin bit her lip, shut her eyes, and stubbornly refused to answer.
Shang Shao wasn’t in any hurry. He absently played with her earlobe, his breath warming the curve of her ear as he murmured in a low, husky voice. “You’re amazing, baby. It feels like soaking in a hot spring.”
Ying Yin wanted to curse him, but when she opened her mouth, what came out instead was. “Brother Ah-Shao…”
She rarely called him that. Usually it was always Mr. Shang this or Mr. Shang that. Over the past two nights, when half-conscious with emotion, she had unconsciously called him honey.
But “Brother Ah-Shao” – those words – were something he almost never heard.
The expression in Shang Shao’s eyes shifted. His breathing stilled into a taut, strained line.
Suppressing himself, he kissed her lips – rougher this time, as though hovering at the edge of losing control.
“What are your plans for work next?”
The question sounded impeccably proper. Too proper.
“Filming…”
Shang Shao’s fingertip pressed lightly against her wrist, rubbing the center of her palm. “What film?”
“A revolutionary film.”
“What else?”
“And another one…” Ying Yin finally couldn’t hold on any longer. Tears streamed down her face. “Mr. Shang, I feel really uncomfortable.”
“Answer first.” Shang Shao remained unmoved by her pleading.
That place – like his heart – was equally cold and unyielding, motionless. Occasionally, when he brushed against her, it wasn’t intentional, yet it still left Ying Yin numb and trembling from head to toe.
“There’s another one not confirmed yet… nothing’s even been decided…”
After she finally answered, her eyes glistened with moisture as Shang Shao, still holding her in place, turned her over.
The movement came so suddenly she had no time to react; her voice broke, and her heels pressed tightly together as all her strength drained out of her body.
Shang Shao really had no way with her. After enduring it for a long while, he finally buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed her skin there. As he did, he ultimately couldn’t hold back a low laugh.
“Am I just inexperienced, or are all women like you?” he asked.
Ying Yin’s heartbeat was frantic. As the intensity gradually passed, she felt both embarrassed and irritated.
“If you’re so curious, try more in the future and you’ll know,” she blurted out. “There’ll be chances anyway.”
The moment the words left her mouth, the room fell completely silent.
She had said the wrong thing.
Shang Shao’s faint smile faded slightly. He looked down at her from above and, after a moment of silence, pressed his fingertip against her lips.
“Don’t say things like that out of anger.”
His expression was almost blank. Ying Yin fell quiet instantly, a heavy stone pressing down in her chest.
After a while, she pressed her lips together, softened, and gave a small obedient “mm,” as if conceding.
But that small act of submission did not satisfy Shang Shao.
The last trace of amusement completely vanished from his eyes. He got up without hesitation, dressed himself without any lingering hesitation or slowness.
He didn’t even seem to have any intention of finishing what they had started.
Only after fastening the last button did Shang Shao turn toward the bed. After a brief silence, he bent down and rubbed the corner of her eye.
“There’s still work at home. I’ll go first.”
For some reason, an indescribable tightness gripped Ying Yin’s chest. Before she even realized it, she had already grabbed his wrist.
Shang Shao turned back slightly, looking down at her, waiting for her to speak.
Waiting for her to say that what she had just said was only spoken in anger – that she didn’t actually mean she wouldn’t end up staying with him in the end.
Ying Yin swallowed. Her boneless hand slid slowly down his wrist, past his thumb, his palm, his fingertips, until it finally fell back quietly to her side.
“Drive safe. Rest early,” she said, saying something completely unrelated.
Shang Shao’s expectations in his heart also sank.
He curved his lips slightly and said, somewhat abruptly, “Ying Yin, if you regret it, you can always change your mind. Think it through properly.”
Ying Yin listened to his footsteps moving farther and farther away, but after waiting a long time, she still didn’t hear the sound of an engine. A small hope lingered in her heart; she thought he hadn’t left.
She got up and went downstairs to check – only to realize he had taken the electric sports car from the night before. Because it was fully electric, it drove in near silence, so quiet that she hadn’t even noticed when it had gone.
She stood alone in the courtyard for a long time, not even sure what time it was anymore.
A young master as busy as he was had come twenty or thirty kilometers there, and twenty or thirty kilometers back, only to leave without even being fully satisfied in seeing his girlfriend.
At that thought, Ying Yin couldn’t help but let out a faint smile.
In truth, she didn’t regret it.
How could she regret telling him she liked him on that night of torrential rain?
That had been something she had long understood, long decided would make her happy. She was not the kind of person who lacked resolve.
That careless line earlier – “there’ll be opportunities in the future anyway” – had not been intentional. It had simply slipped out in the moment. It was not a hint, not a complaint, not a demand.
She was not asking for anything.
In fact, she did not dare ask for anything at all.
He was the moon in the sky, the snow on a mountain peak. Admiring him for a year was already enough – how could she possibly hope for something stable or long-term?
In truth, all he had to do was say something lightly false like “there won’t be any future chances,” or “there won’t be anyone else,” or “only you,” and the matter could have been laughed off and left behind.
But he didn’t say any of it.
He was too proud, too unwilling to flatter women with sweet talk.
Or perhaps those kinds of promises were too weighty for him – unless he had truly decided on someone, he would not speak them lightly.
In the following days, Ying Yin was busy with re-auditioning for the role of the female revolutionary. She also had in-depth discussions with several talent agencies and PR firms that had come knocking after hearing the news.
Her contract termination with Chenye had been handled beautifully and amicably, without any ugly fallout or public rupture, which astonished the industry – no one knew exactly how both sides had reached such an agreement. In any case, she was now a clean, unencumbered free agent with no troublesome disputes, instantly becoming a highly sought-after target for several major companies.
She had spoken at length with Zhuang Tiwen. Zhuang Tiwen only wanted to focus on film production and artist management; business contracts required strong networks and experienced operators. But after careful consideration, Ying Yin still rejected all the offers.
“I still want freedom.” In her city-center apartment, she personally saw off the CEO of Angye, who had made a third personal visit. “Even if it means less money, freedom matters more.”
Angye was the second-largest agency in the industry after Chenye, but in commercial resources – especially luxury fashion resources – it was unmatched. That was largely because its major shareholder and CEO, Ye Jin, came from an elite family.
Ying Yin had seriously considered Angye. After Ke Yu left Chenye, it was Angye that supported him, and their collaboration had gone very smoothly. Ke Yu’s outstanding success in menswear luxury endorsements was also largely thanks to Ye Jin.
“Not bad,” Ye Jin said, unbothered even after being rejected three times, though her tone carried a faintly ironic humor. “As expected of a woman who’s been a puppet since she was sixteen. What you want is indeed different from others.”
She had a slender hand tucked under a peacock-green clutch bag, flicking a lighter between her fingers before lighting the slim women’s cigarette at the corner of her lips.
“However, haven’t you always aimed to marry into a wealthy family? That seems to conflict with your so-called ‘freedom.’”
Ying Yin smiled lightly. “You make it sound like you know me very well, Miss Ye.”
“Not at all. The yacht you boarded is not something ordinary wealthy families can even approach – I’d have to stretch myself to reach it. Miss Ying, cross-class marriage is like swallowing needles: it looks glamorous on the outside, but only the person in pain knows it. If you really marry into that world, freedom or not, it won’t be up to you. Compared to all that in high society, signing a business contract with me can hardly be called a restriction.”
Ying Yin’s smile deepened as she listened to the barbed, sarcastic words. She still looked sweet and composed as she replied, “You’re right. Whether a woman in high society is free or not, you are the best example. Even a legitimate eldest daughter like you, born into that world, lives like this – so for someone who marries in as an outsider, it probably won’t be any easier.”
Ye Jin held a cigarette between her fingers and maintained a brief, formulaic smile.
“So your idea of marrying into a wealthy family is just like the fable of the man who longs for something he has never truly seen – right?”
“Miss Ye, we’re not familiar enough for that level of commentary.”
Ye Jin shrugged. “Fine. You like money because it can give you freedom – but too much money also takes freedom away. You’re smart, and clear-headed enough. I’ll be watching.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, Miss Ye. I haven’t made my relationship…”
Ye Jin smiled and lightly pointed at Ying Yin from a distance. “Alright. I’d actually like to see who loses between Shang Shao and you.”
Ying Yin’s expression changed abruptly. By the time she tried to steady herself, it was already too late.
“Don’t worry. Only one clever person knows about this – I haven’t even told Mr. Ke,” Ye Jin said, exhaling smoke. “As for Leo, he’s the type who would give up everything and leave with nothing for someone he’s decided on. He’s comparable to you, in that sense.”
She leaned casually, one arm draped across herself while the other held the cigarette, laughing softly as if watching an entertaining scene.
But she hadn’t expected that she wasn’t just watching for amusement – she had just thrown fuel onto the fire.
In the back of her mind, Ying Yin asked herself: for whom would he give everything up?
And for whom would he abandon inheritance worth hundreds of billions?
It wasn’t clear what kind of restraint or acting ability allowed her to keep that faint smile perfectly in place, unmoving – so much so that even someone like Ye Jin failed to see through her.
But her eyes were blank.
Almost instinctively, she closed the door, walked back into the apartment living room, sat down on the sofa, then lay down.
She curled up without thinking, holding a cushion in her arms, tightening her grip little by little.
“Leaving with nothing. Giving up hundreds of billions in inheritance.”
“Leaving with nothing. Giving up hundreds of billions in inheritance.”
She repeated the phrases silently three times in her mind, each word feeling increasingly unfamiliar.
“Leaving with nothing. Giving up hundreds of billions in inheritance.”
How much money did he actually have?
In short – billions at a time, nothing to him. Tens of millions in jewelry were just things to amuse someone. Wherever he went, he was the center of attention, untouchable and above all others. People looked up to him, admired him. His shoes never touched dust, his fingers never touched the mundane world. Power opened every door for him, wealth was just numbers passing by. He had everything without needing to fight for it, and therefore treated the world with indifference.
Then she thought of that night in Germany.
“You’re so stingy when it comes to relationships, Mr. Shang.”
At this moment, Ying Yin suddenly laughed out loud. The smile was light, relieved, almost childlike. She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes bright, not even caring that the corners of her eyes were wet.
Now she understood the faint smile on his lips back then.
She had been ignorant, inexperienced, unaware of the depth of his feelings.
For someone else.
A private jet took off from Ning City Airport, first heading to the United Kingdom.
Shang Shao waited for a long time, but Ying Yin never took the initiative to contact him.
One day.
Two days.
Three days.
He considered himself a person with abundant patience, but when the plane crossed through the clouds for the fourth time, he began to feel restless, even experiencing a faint sense of weightlessness in his chest.
He drank water, read, smoked – uneasy and irritable.
Under the cabin lights, the man’s silent features remained sharply defined, but anyone could see the dark, heavy impatience in him.
Perhaps that night he should not have left. Worse still, he should not have left behind those seemingly calm, authoritative words. “Think it through properly.”
Think what?
What did “if you regret it, you can always change your mind” even mean?
Always change to what?
Interrupt it? End it? Stop the relationship?
No.
When the Gulfstream landed in Frankfurt that night, moonlight spilling into the hotel suite, he stood by the bed unfastening his suit button one by one – and a thought, like an ice drill, suddenly pierced through his mind.
If she truly thought it through… and decided she wanted to regret it, what would he do?
