Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 57

The audition for the female revolutionary role was to be held again, but it was open to Ying Yin alone.

At the audition venue sat the executive producer Li Shan, director Xie Buyang, casting director Yu Changle, as well as representatives from all the major production companies. Song Shizhang was among them.

Ying Yin greeted each of them in turn and performed the new audition piece. There was no room for failure – she delivered a flawless performance, leaving no opportunity for anyone to find fault.

“Well…” Li Shan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his folding chair. “So, is it settled then?”

Xie Buyang had once been his assistant director, practically a student of his, so naturally he went along with Li Shan’s lead. Yu Changle had voted for Ying Yin from the very beginning and had no objections either. As for the remaining investor representatives, though each had their own hidden agendas, their interests didn’t hinge on this role, so they raised no difficulties either. That left only Song Shizhang.

He was the largest production backer.

He remained silent for a long while, and no one rushed him. Only after five minutes did he finally give his consent. “So be it.”

As the session ended, the group filed out of the lecture hall one by one. Song Shizhang hung back a step, waiting until Ying Yin had finished discussing her schedule with Xie Buyang before calling out to her, “Yinyin.”

Ying Yin nodded politely, a smile on her face. “Mr. Song, long time no see.”

“You’ve bested me once again.”

Ying Yin’s reply was watertight. “You’re too modest. It’s just work – what’s there to win or lose? Whoever’s right for the role gets it.”

Song Shizhang’s gaze at her remained unchanged. “You don’t seem very happy.”

Ying Yin hadn’t yet reached the pitiful point of pouring her heart out to him. She gave a slight curl of her lips. “Happy or not, it’s not something I show to outsiders.”

“The press release about your birthday – I didn’t arrange it. I’m not that much of a killjoy,” he said out of the blue.

Nearly a month had passed, and Ying Yin had almost forgotten what that press release had said. She hadn’t expected him to still be dwelling on it.

“If there’s anything I’ve done that makes you uncomfortable, tell me, or bear with me. As for Chairman Shao…” Song Shizhang finally said, courteous and tactful.

Ying Yin understood. A flicker of complexity and faint amusement crossed her eyes. “You’re afraid of offending him?”

“I have designs on him, so of course I’m afraid of offending him.” Song Shizhang didn’t dodge the issue, nor did he take offense.

A wise man knows the times. Only a hotheaded greenhorn would stubbornly dig in his heels. Song Shizhang had built his business from nothing – he could stake it all and swallow his pride. Bowing to others wasn’t shameful; making money was what mattered.

“You flatter me.” Ying Yin smiled. “I’m not that important in Chairman Shao’s eyes.”

Song Shizhang made no comment on that remark. He accompanied her from the lecture hall down the corridor, seeing her toward the elevator lobby.

This was his company’s office building; walking her out was simply fulfilling his duties as host.

The rest of the creative team still had meetings to attend and had already headed to the conference room. Mindful of the rumors that had once linked her with Song Shizhang, Ying Yin politely stopped him. “My assistant is waiting in the lounge outside. You needn’t see me any further.”

As she spoke, a group of people happened to emerge from the elevator lobby.

There were about four or five of them. At the front was a stout, heavyset man with graying, shoulder-length wavy hair, wearing a pair of black cloth shoes.

Ying Yin recognized him – he was one of the Hong Kong investment representatives who had come north in recent years, surnamed Liu. In his early days, he had been a renowned stunt performer, and now he held a significant position in the Hong Kong Film Production Association.

Following behind him were a string of attendants, among them a slender, thin-built woman who looked very familiar.

Having spent over a decade on film sets, Ying Yin dealt with countless crew members every day and had been forced to develop a sharp memory for faces.

Just as she was racking her brain trying to recall where she had seen her before, the Hong Kong tycoon, Mr. Liu, had already stopped and was greeting Song Shizhang. “What a coincidence, eh?”

Song Shizhang, effortlessly charming as always, shook his hand with a smile and patted him on the shoulder. “I was just saying I’d see Miss Ying downstairs. Director Li Shan and Buyang are already waiting in the conference room.”

Since he had brought her up, Ying Yin couldn’t very well leave. She could only take off her hat, pull down her mask, and flash the group a practiced, sweet smile.

The group exchanged a few pleasantries about the patriotic film project, then naturally and seamlessly began to take their leave. Only the slender woman hung back a step.

“Mr. Liu, let me have a word with Miss Ying,” she said, acting as if she were already familiar.

The Hong Kong investor carried himself with great authority but was quite amiable toward her. He nodded in approval and added to Song Shizhang by way of introduction. “Our new legal counsel, Miss Yu. A PhD graduate from the London School of Economics – truly a top-tier talent.”

“You flatter me,” Miss Yu replied, taking the compliment in stride. She was warm, confident, and entirely without pretension. “Mr. Liu has a good eye for talent.”

Her voice was even more distinctive than her face – crisp and resolute, carrying the kind of forceful conviction that could hold its own in a courtroom debate. It reminded Ying Yin of those Western politicians who frequently gave televised speeches.

And then it came back to her. The last time she had seen her was at the hotel afternoon tea following the fragrance brand event – she had been there with her fiancé, looking at the banquet hall.

Did she… know her?

Song Shizhang escorted their group to the conference room, leaving just the two of them at the elevator lobby.

“You are…”

“Miss Ying has a short memory for people. The last time we met was also at an elevator entrance – what a coincidence, don’t you think?” She said, raising a hand to gesture in front of her eyes as if covering something: “You were wearing a mask back then, to be honest, I really couldn’t recognize you.”

Ying Yin frowned slightly. She didn’t care for people who talked at her without invitation, so she skipped the pleasantries and waited coolly for her to get to the point.

“Nice to meet you. My name is Yu Shasha, legal counsel for Liu Cong’s company.”

“Hello,” Ying Yin said politely.

Yu Shasha broke into a smile – one with an overabundance of sunshine. “When did Ah-Shao’s taste change? You’re not really his type, are you?”

Now she remembered – she was Shang Shao’s… classmate?

But Ying Yin didn’t care for her choice of words. Between people, there’s a certain chemistry. If it clicks, you don’t even need words to get along. If it doesn’t, no amount of warm, enthusiastic smiling will make it feel anything but grating.

She could sense that the other woman wasn’t extending any goodwill toward her – only a kind of scrutinizing gaze.

That gaze reminded Ying Yin of Shen Ji’s wife.

Her demeanor was cool and aloof, and being taller than the other woman only made her seem more unapproachable. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“At the Galaxy Awards last time, he actually walked the red carpet for the first time ever – I was already shocked, thought I must have been seeing things. And a couple days ago, when you went to Qinde to do your office visit, he played the role of ‘Mr. Jin’ all over again.”

Yu Shasha spoke with a Hong Kong-Taiwanese accent, her tone slightly coquettish. Her smiling eyes were bright, carrying a girlish innocence that seemed at odds with her age.

Her age was discernible – she was clearly in her early thirties at least. She had slender, upward-tilting phoenix eyes and long straight black hair cascading over her shoulders, but her clean, crisp aura, combined with her slim figure, gave her a vibrant, youthful quality. Yet she was also a legal professional, and that elite edge made her seem even more sharp and decisive.

Ying Yin curved her lips slightly, her gaze shifting as she gave a small nod. “If you have nothing else, I’ll be going now. My assistant is still waiting for me.”

“Has he ever mentioned me to you?”

At this light, casual question, Ying Yin paused mid-step.

Yu Shasha watched her back – or rather, her figure.

The first time she had run into them at the hotel elevator lobby, she should have sensed something was off. What kind of PR representative for a summit would dress so ostentatiously? Was she there to pick up a rich man? And yet Ah-Shao had been completely indifferent to her attempt at reminiscing – his attention had followed only that woman.

Later, she saw clips of him at the Galaxy Awards on the trending searches. Walking a red carpet, attending an award ceremony, being captured by hundreds of cameras – these were the things least likely to ever happen in Shang Shao’s life. They appeared on stage together to present an award, and he – a man known for being reserved and stern – couldn’t even conceal the faint smile at the corners of his mouth in front of so many eyes, his gaze fixed on her with focused intensity.

The second time, at the Qinde office visit – that voice hidden behind the camera wasn’t just remembered by netizens; she certainly remembered it too.

Shang Shao shouldn’t like an actress, especially one who had debuted at sixteen, with an empty head and nothing but a pretty face.

Yu Shasha let out a soft laugh. “Did he tell you I’m just his classmate? We almost got married.”

The words – this voice, these sentences – took a moment to register in Ying Yin’s mind, slowly surfacing into coherent meaning character by character, like an ancient incantation carved into a stone tablet, suddenly gleaming with golden light and unleashing its power in that very instant.

She was completely unprepared, stunned into stillness. The dull ache would take a moment to spread through her, but in that immediate second, the only thought that crossed her mind was –

So this is the kind of person he likes.

Ordinary. Slim. Sharp. Sunny. Seemingly full of fighting spirit. Quick-witted. With an exceptionally high level of education.

They were polar opposites. Neither bore the slightest trace of the other.

“Miss Yu,” Ying Yin steadied her breath, “we are complete strangers. I don’t understand a single word you’re saying to me.”

“Don’t misunderstand – I already have a new fiancé. I’m not trying to take him from you.” Yu Shasha smiled. “I was just curious. After seeing you today, I think it makes perfect sense that Leo likes you. You have a fantastic figure – I’m so envious. He used to tease me all the time about being too skinny.”

Song Shizhang’s office building was so stingy – only a few elevators, and the building was so tall. Ying Yin waited and waited, but the one that would take her down just never came.

She could only stand there and listen. Wary of recordings, or traps hidden in the conversation, she could neither acknowledge nor refute anything – she could only pretend to be completely detached from it all.

But her demeanor was icy and imposing. Her body was ramrod straight, her face pale and haughty – to the point that if a photo of her surfaced online, she’d be crucified for being a diva.

“Alright, I still have a meeting to get to. Let’s have tea sometime when we’re free.” Yu Shasha abruptly called off her attack, retreating like a sleek hyena stepping back from a hunt. “Take good care of him. After all, if it weren’t for circumstances beyond our control, we wouldn’t have parted ways. I still care about him in my heart – and he does too.”

The elevator finally arrived.

Yu Shasha even reached out to hold the door for her, perfectly courteous and proper.

“Miss Ying, see you around. Next time we have tea, I’ll have to ask you for your secret to a fuller bust.” She winked.

Ying Yin finally couldn’t hold back. “You’re a bitch.”

Yu Shasha hadn’t expected to be cursed at. That effortless, polished smile of hers froze on her face.

Ying Yin pulled her mask back on. After the elevator doors closed, she couldn’t help but tilt her face upward. Her nasal cavity was too raw, her eyes too hot – she didn’t want to cry, so she looked up, keeping her eyes wide open.

But a person can’t go more than ten seconds without blinking.

She couldn’t help it – she blinked once, lightly, and a single tear slipped down quietly. She wiped it away with an expressionless hand.

Mr. Shang has terrible taste.

When she got downstairs and saw Junyi, that was the first thing she said.

Junyi was completely baffled. “Mr. Shang got in touch with you?”

The light in Ying Yin’s eyes dimmed. “No.”

They hadn’t spoken since that question in the car yesterday.

Ying Yin understood that, given their relationship, saying like, like very much, or like passionately was all perfectly appropriate – but the word love was either too solemn, or perhaps too reckless.

After all, they had only known each other for two months. They had slept together a few times. There was a contract between them and a deal worth a hundred million. Beyond that, what else was there?

Mr. Shang was probably someone who took the word “love” very seriously. He wouldn’t allow just any little starlet, any little mistress, lover, or bedmate to defile that word. That was why, when he confessed his feelings, he said “you have a place in my heart.”

After she had said what she said in the car yesterday, the spacious, lavish Maybach fell into dead silence – along with the man who held such power and stood so high above all.

“I’d end up taking it seriously that you love me deeply – I’d believe it.” She smiled, the sting in her nose known only to herself. “But you don’t, so wouldn’t I just end up looking pathetic?”

He didn’t say a word. He simply loosened his arms around her, lifted his face slightly from the curve of her neck, leaving only the tip of his nose still barely brushing against her skin.

The light, refreshing scent of wild fruit in the rain – like a drizzling green downpour.

The light inside the car was soft and muted, casting the eyes of Shang Shao – half-hidden in silhouette – into an obscurity that made them unreadable.

He told the driver to turn back and take her home. Even Cheng Junyi was taken aback, standing there with a high-pressure water gun in hand, the car only half-washed.

…

Returning home from the audition, Ying Yin lay on the chaise lounge and stared into space for a while. In winter, the sun set early, and before long, darkness had fallen.

Under the dim, murky sky, she received a call from Shang Shao.

It was so unexpected that she didn’t even know what tone to take, what trivial pleasantries to exchange. Should she ask about the weather?

“Christmas is coming. What do you want?”

It was Shang Shao who spoke first, his voice casual and unhurried on the other end of the line.

“I…” For a moment, Ying Yin felt entirely without desire. “I don’t really want anything.”

“From me – you want nothing at all?” Shang Shao’s voice dropped, and he asked again.

“Mhm, nothing at all. If you have something in mind to give, just send it over – I’ll like anything,” she replied obediently.

On the other end of the line came the sound of a lighter flint striking.

Shang Shao lit a cigarette, sitting in that folding chair, gazing at the whale shark swimming through the deep blue light.

Smoke veiled his features.

“Ying Yin, whatever you want, I can give it to you. But the premise is – you have to tell me,” he paused, “you have to say it out loud. At the very least, let me see that you have the courage to speak up.”

Ying Yin kept herself firmly in her place. “I have no wishes where you are concerned.”

The ember at his fingertip glowed and faded. Shang Shao curled his lips into a self-deprecating smile. “Ying Yin, I really don’t know what to do with you.”

“I can be even more well-behaved,” Ying Yin said, pressing her lips together, a little sad.

She thought, Your ex-girlfriend was so out of line, and I only said one curse word – I’ve already kept myself in check and been very good.

“I don’t like giving people things they don’t need, because what’s not needed is just a burden.”

Shang Shao tapped his cigarette ash and gazed in silent stillness at his whale shark friend.

“I know a couple – the man is about as wealthy as I am, and the woman comes from a politically prominent family. They had similar educational backgrounds and could be considered like-minded. But as it turned out, the woman only wanted his money, his connections, and his power – to pave the way for her and her father’s political ambitions. Unfortunately, what my friend gave her was his genuine heart. His sincerity ended up being nothing but a burden. When they broke up, the woman said to him: ‘If it weren’t for your surname, if it weren’t for your status, why would I ever love you? If I had known you were…'”

He paused for a moment, as if swallowing a name.

“‘If I had known you were that someone, I would have loved you back in school. Why would I have waited until returning to the country, until Hong Kong, until my thirties?'”

“I don’t love you at all. If I did, I would have fallen for you back in the UK. You know why? Because in the UK, I didn’t know you were the famous heir to a Hong Kong tycoon family – I didn’t know you had money and power! Otherwise, would I have waited until my thirties to love you? What is there about you worth loving? Outside the Shang family, I wouldn’t even glance at you!”

Whenever Shang Shao closed his eyes, he could see that confrontation.

Yu Shasha’s voice, hoarse with tears as she hurled accusations. The silhouette of her back as she walked out of that apartment, swallowed by the blazing white light of the afternoon sun. All of it would appear before his eyes, at his ears, in his heart whenever he shut them.

He had never been one to dawdle. Once he learned of her and her father’s anti-China political activities in the UK, as well as their exploitation and harm toward Shang Lue and Ke Yu, he cut things off decisively.

He severed it too quickly – without a blink, without mercy – so much so that the aftershocks were cruelly suppressed. Like a shot of morphine, but the wound remained. Those wounds never had the chance to ache, and over the years, they festered into a strange, lingering aftermath.

Sometimes fine, sometimes not – it would surface and torment him.

At times he wondered: without the name Shang Shao, perhaps he truly was nothing -not worth a single glance. At other times, he thought: money and power – he was born with them, inseparable from his very being. He had to learn to accept that when people loved him, they loved him along with his money and power. Or rather, he had to learn that his being loved was merely incidental, and that money and power were the true essence of the name “Shang Shao.”

In truth, he really loved hearing Ying Yin say his name.

Ying Yin heard his story for the first time and took a moment to process it. “So Mr. Shang, you were inspired by him?”

Shang Shao was almost charmed by her choice of words.

“Inspired” – what an innocuous, harmless little word.

He let out a soft, amused “Mhm”. “Yes, I was inspired by him. Thank him for selflessly sharing his experience – it gave me a revelation. You like jewelry, so I give you jewelry. You like gacha machines, so I give you a gacha machine. When you were in Tanzania, you liked getting close to animals, so I dared to give you Rich – otherwise, if you saw a little animal as a burden, the little creature would be quite wronged too. You may not love haute couture dresses, but you need them, so I took you to the yacht. You like money, so I give you money.”

Shang Shao took a drag of his cigarette, his face slightly lowered. “Ying Yin, what else do you want? How about fireworks over Victoria Harbour? Let’s go watch the fireworks at the harbour.”