Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 58

How much does it cost to set off a fireworks display over Victoria Harbour in Hong Kong? How many government approvals need to be secured? Ying Yin had no idea about any of that.

All she knew was that this dreamlike, fantastical fireworks show had been prepared within just two days.

The New Year’s Eve fireworks over Victoria Harbour are an annual tradition, but a spectacular display on Christmas Eve is a rarity. The municipal authorities hadn’t made any grand announcements, and no posters were hung in the MTR concourses or at bus stops. Pedestrians and tourists shopping and sightseeing around Victoria Harbour hurried past the bulletin boards, glancing briefly at the fireworks notices.

Even in Hong Kong’s most reputable newspapers – those with circulation figures among the highest – there were still pages open to the public for publishing wedding announcements, golden wedding anniversary commemorations, or bereavement notices. Of course, such old-fashioned practices are becoming increasingly rare, largely replaced by public notices of lost official seals and commercial apology statements.

In the morning edition of December 23rd, a fresh announcement appeared, worded with impeccable courtesy:

Notice to the general public:

A fireworks display will be held at Victoria Harbour on December 24th, Christmas Eve, at 8:00 PM. All are cordially invited to attend.

This notice is respectfully presented on behalf of Miss Ying.

The party who commissioned the posting was signed as “Rich.”

Who is Miss Ying? And who is this Mr. Rich?

In the tea houses, the delicate fragrance of pan-fried water chestnut cake mingled with the rich astringency of pu’er tea. Old men playing with their caged birds turned the page on that understated newspaper spread, and no one really took it to heart. Setting off fireworks over Victoria Harbour in a private capacity requires not only an enormous amount of money, but also an extensive web of connections – far beyond the imagination of the average citizen. Perhaps the notice was just an exaggeration, they thought – maybe only a few sprays of golden sparks, hardly deserving of the word “display.”

No one could have anticipated that this fireworks show would be grand and resplendent, lasting a full fifteen minutes without pause. Pinkish-purple light and mist illuminated the entire Victoria Harbour, as well as every face and every pair of eyes looking up from the harbor below. Were it not for environmental concerns and disturbance to residents, the fireworks could have gone on indefinitely.

It was so dreamlike that even the New Year’s Eve fireworks a week later paled in comparison.

The Maybach picked up Ying Yin on the day of Christmas Eve itself, during the daytime.

Ying Yin hadn’t seen that newspaper, nor was she particularly concerned about whether Shang Shao really intended to gift her a fireworks display. When she came out of the villa, she was dressed casually – a ribbed knit pencil skirt, paired with a long-sleeved, half-turtleneck fitted knit top, draped with a dark camel-colored blazer, and pointed crocodile-embossed Chelsea boots on her feet.

She was dressed up, but not in a way meant to please. The outfit was undeniably stylish and pretty, sharp and clean-cut, but for a date, it seemed to lack the right atmosphere.

Shang Shao recalled the pearl-white evening gown she had worn when they first dined together. Back then, she had been beautiful and graceful, dignified and gentle, radiating a charm that was at once innocent and coquettish.

He thought she might be physically uncomfortable and asked, “Do you want to change out of those heels? You can wear flats.”

Ying Yin didn’t say much in reply – she actually turned around and went back inside, swapping them for a pair of low-cut ballet flats.

The drive to Hong Kong took a little over two hours.

Throughout the journey, it was quiet. Ying Yin was absorbed in studying her script, while Shang Shao read and occasionally attended to work matters. He thought about speaking up a few times, but whenever he saw the focused look in Ying Yin’s eyes, he held back – though his gaze would linger on her for a few seconds. He noticed a strand of her hair falling loose and wanted to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, but she was sitting so far away from him.

It was the first time Shang Shao had ever thought this car was too wide.

It was a gift his grandfather, Shang Boying, had given him for his twentieth birthday -back in the 1990s, it had cost over 17 million yuan fully optioned. By the time it reached him, it was already something of a vintage model: the wheelbase was too long, the body stretched beyond six meters, requiring a yellow license plate, and the driver had to obtain a special license just to operate it.

After the production line and the brand were fully acquired, this model was discontinued. When people mention it today, they say it carries the true lineage of Maybach – but in name alone.

As a gift for a twenty-year-old, this presidential-class limousine, while steeped in heritage and sentiment, was perhaps a little too somber and rigid.

Shang Shao understood it well – this was Shang Boying’s silent entrustment and admonition to him.

Be upright. Be dignified. Be prudent in solitude. Be orderly.

Others might not say it aloud, but deep down they imagined that a car like this must have witnessed countless tales of decadence and debauchery. But for Shang Shao, it had only ever seen work, reading, and contemplation. This was his compass, his square of discipline – ferrying him to and from the glitzy arenas of fame and fortune, framing him, keeping him straight.

He had never imagined that one day he would allow a woman to sit wantonly on his lap. Still less had he imagined that he would become addicted to it – even to the point of craving it, anticipating it, waiting for it, demanding it.

On which day had his order begun to crumble?

“Ying Yin.”

“Hm?” Ying Yin looked up.

“Is something on your mind?”

“Yes.” Ying Yin admitted quite frankly. “The new film is too difficult to act – it’s been weighing on me. Mr. Shang, am I spoiling your mood?”

A faint frown at her brow came and went in an instant. Shang Shao said flatly, “I’m not that easily disappointed, nor am I that moody and hard to please.”

Ying Yin smiled slightly but said nothing.

On both sides of the Hong Kong–Zhuhai–Macau Bridge, the sea and sky merged into one line. Gulls couldn’t fly this far out; the blue ocean looked utterly lifeless.

In the end, Shang Shao gave in to his inner longing and pulled her into his arms to sit on his lap. Ying Yin didn’t resist – she compliantly moved over, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and let him hold her tight.

“That day in the car, it wasn’t that I wouldn’t answer you, it’s just…”

“I understand.” Ying Yin nodded before he could finish, her expression gentle.

“You really understand?” Shang Shao relaxed visibly, interlacing his fingers with hers and confirming once more.

“Really.” Ying Yin emphasized with a hint of playfulness, her smile obedient and bright.

Shang Shao looked at her deeply for a long moment, unable to see through her facade. The hand behind her back moved with precision to cup the nape of her neck, his palm pressing firmly – the unspoken intention to kiss her was unmistakable.

Ying Yin’s resistance lasted no more than a second, so faint that no one could have detected it. She lowered her head, her lips barely brushing against his, their mingling breaths growing warmer by the moment.

Neither knew who made the first move – but eventually, they were truly kissing.

It felt as though it had been a while since they’d shared such tender intimacy. Both found it unfamiliar, and both felt the loss of control.

His voice was low and husky after the kiss.

“How is your body?” he asked in a quiet tone, his warm palm pressed against her stomach.

“Not yet. It takes seven days.”

Although Ying Yin often had her days and nights turned upside down, and would go on a seven-day carbohydrate fast whenever she had filming or red-carpet events, she surprisingly never suffered from menstrual cramps. Her cycle was always regular, and it would last a full six or seven days each time – she was truly favored by the heavens in that regard.

Shang Shao’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He held his breath in a long, strained line, suppressing the restlessness in his chest.

He had sensed a faint coolness in Ying Yin, but she was so obedient, so compliant – she came to Hong Kong when he asked, kissed him when he leaned in, and smiled at him.

Perhaps that hint of coldness and evasion was just an illusion.

Or perhaps – there was a little awkwardness, yes – but once the fireworks were over, everything would be fine.

She would understand his feelings.

Because a true confession of love could not take place in a car, nor on a street corner, nor on a stormy night. It had to be romantic and grand, solemn and ceremonious – with both parties looking dignified and proper.

Upon arriving in Hong Kong, they had dinner first.

Since Ying Yin was a celebrity and there were too many inconveniences, Shang Shao booked the entire top-floor restaurant – and the elevators along with it. Over a hundred floors, every single one locked, allowing access only from Basement Level 2 straight to the penthouse.

Security personnel were stationed at the elevator entrances on each floor, dressed in suits with earpieces, standing on both sides – a formal and unequivocal rejection to all sightseers. The words “VIP Exclusive” were cold and unfeeling, but every person turned away was gifted a bouquet of freshly air-freighted Kenyan roses, so their moods remained generally agreeable, and no resentment was harbored toward the VIP.

They had no idea that the VIP’s business was so solemn that not a single ill thought could be permitted.

He wanted every passerby to be like the tourists beneath the fireworks – smiling, joyful, with nothing but blessings.

The only blemish was that although this restaurant boasted the best view, offering an unobstructed panorama of Victoria Harbour, the food itself was only passable. So for the evening’s dining, he had brought in a separate culinary team.

Michelin-starred restaurants on Christmas Eve are always in high demand, booked out half a year in advance. He had bought out the entire restaurant, compensated every table for their lost reservations, and flown in the head chef from another top establishment. The cost was, of course, considerable – but compared to the fireworks, it was negligible.

Ten million for the fireworks. Ten million for fifteen minutes.

Hong Kong on Christmas Eve was even more vibrant than Ning City. The streets were decked with colorful lights on both sides; pine-green Christmas wreaths hung at the center of every shop window, paired with bright red “Merry Christmas” stickers, blazing with festive cheer. As the car drove through the bustling neighborhoods, a Santa Claus was even handing out congee to the locals – a fusion of East and West, quintessentially Hong Kong.

Ying Yin put on her mask. Just as she was about to step out of the car, a hand reached out before her.

Shang Shao stood gallantly by the door, offering his hand for her to take.

She would never know that this man’s fingertips were tingling – that he, too, was nervous.

The elevators, sealed off all afternoon, finally received their VIP guests, ascending straight to over three hundred meters in the sky.

Since the restaurant had been booked out entirely, how it was decorated was naturally up to the one footing the bill. The small on-site orchestra had already begun playing, but they were concealed behind folding screens, hidden from the view by the windows. The fragrance of Kenyan roses filled the air – every single bloom full and bursting with vibrant beauty.

Ying Yin paused for a moment, taken aback by the scale of it all.

Shang Shao had considered her professional privacy to the utmost degree. The waitstaff during the meal were brought over from his seaside estate in Ning City. As for the entire kitchen team, only the French head chef was permitted to come out and present the menu.

“Don’t be nervous – they’re all people you’ve met before,” he reassured Ying Yin, placing both hands on her shoulders. “Shall I help you take off your coat?”

Ying Yin removed her blazer, and for the first time that day, revealed a genuine emotion. “Mr. Shang, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

She looked a little unsettled.

“Tell you what?”

“That this was going to be such a formal dinner…”

She wouldn’t have dressed like this.

Shang Shao handed her blazer to a servant and gave a soft laugh. “Don’t worry about it. What matters most is that you’re comfortable.”

Ying Yin still looked troubled. Shang Shao added, “It’s just the two of us eating – there’s really no need to stand on ceremony. If you’re uncomfortable, I can have the orchestra and the flowers disappear.”

“No!” Ying Yin instinctively called out to stop him. “No need… this is fine as it is.”

Shang Shao lowered his gaze, looking at her for a few seconds, then asked in a serious, quiet voice. “Tell me – do you like it?”

“I do.” Ying Yin gave a brief smile. “I told you before – no one has ever given me flowers.”

Today, he had given her an entire sea of them. If it were one bouquet a day, perhaps they could last until she was ninety-nine.

“I remember.” Shang Shao gave a slight nod. “From now on… can you promise not to accept flowers from anyone else either?”

Ying Yin almost startled at his words.

The fireworks over Victoria Harbour burst into bloom at eight o’clock sharp.

Even in the hushed tranquility of the restaurant, the exclamations and commotion from other floors could be heard. In that moment, tens of thousands of people looked up in unison. Every railing along the harbor was packed with crowds; every floor-to-ceiling window and terrace was thronged with heads, everyone holding up their phones, pausing, gasping in awe, rendered speechless by this sudden, unexpected romance.

These fireworks vanished in an instant against the black night sky, yet they seemed to burn themselves searingly onto Ying Yin’s retinas.

What she had wanted – when confessing her heart – was that one line: “I want the Victoria Harbour fireworks to be set off for me.”

The booming detonations of the fireworks almost rattled the high-altitude glass, and they made Ying Yin’s bright eyes tremble as well.

She stood by the window, watching intently from start to finish. She didn’t take a single photo, didn’t record a video, didn’t pose for a picture. She simply pressed both hands against the cold glass, like a little girl.

Just as the faint mist of her breath was about to fade, Ying Yin traced her fingertip lightly across the glass, drawing half a heart – just one half, the left side.

When the mist vanished along with that sketched half-heart, she laughed in a childlike way, silently, her eyes growing moist without her realizing it.

She didn’t dare turn around, unaware that Shang Shao was watching her with such deep, unwavering intensity. It wasn’t until the fireworks were nearly over that he drew close to her, his hand resting gently on her waist, sharing the final minute with her.

The world fell quiet, and the piano melody of Jingle Bells resumed once more.

“That day in the rain, you said you wanted the Victoria Harbour fireworks to be set off for you. I remember.”

“Thank you,” Ying Yin said politely. “I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.”

Shang Shao sensed something off in her tone. “You don’t seem very happy. Is it that the fireworks weren’t good enough? Give me enough time, and I can have a designer…”

“They were beautiful,” Ying Yin said firmly. “Beautiful. It’s just that you, Mr. Shang, always stand so high up – you don’t know that fireworks are best enjoyed from the ground.”

Shang Shao was taken aback. He truly had never considered that perspective. Would watching fireworks from below be more splendid than looking down from above? He had never tried it, so it wouldn’t have occurred to him.

Ying Yin smiled faintly. “That’s because fireworks are about longing. When you watch them from below, they’re within sight but out of reach – they vanish in the blink of an eye, and that’s what makes them precious.”

“I’ll arrange another display,” Shang Shao decided, brief and decisive.

Ying Yin let out a soft laugh, unable to help herself – she found Mr. Shang actually had quite an endearing side.

“No need,” she said, pressing her lips together.

A white cruise ship glided past through the sulphur-tinged smoke, while the reflections of the buildings’ lights on both shores stretched long across the silent, undulating waves of the harbor.

Shang Shao steadied himself. “Ying Yin, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say – I was waiting for you to ask first, but today…”

Odd – he had rehearsed this, so why was it coming out so poorly?

Shang Shao was not good at professing his feelings. Yu Shasha had pursued him for a long time; they had naturally fallen into a relationship without any “I love you” or “do you love me” exchanges.

“Mr. Shang, on such a wonderful day, I’d like to ask you for something,” Ying Yin interrupted him.

Caught off guard, Shang Shao paused mid-confession. “Alright – what do you want?”

“I want… respect.”

Shang Shao was stunned, at a loss as to where this was coming from.

Had he been negligent in some way, offended her, made her feel disrespected? He thought about it very seriously.

In bed? Or the few times they’d done it in the car? Did she not like those settings – did she prefer something more traditional, more conservative, happening in the bedroom? Or was it that he wanted her too often, without waiting for her to fully recover, being insatiable?

Or perhaps – was it that last time they slept together, he had simply left afterwards? That was indeed lacking in grace, but she had already been satisfied; the one left unfulfilled was him, so that didn’t count as…

In an instant, a flood of thoughts raced through his mind, his full attention scouring every possibility. And so it was completely unguarded that he heard Ying Yin’s next words –

“I regret it.”

She was still right there before him, close enough that he could smell her perfume.

But Shang Shao felt his blood run cold.

“Don’t joke about that.” He swallowed almost imperceptibly, his tone turning somewhat cold.

That coldness was his protective armor – it had always served him well, and it was rarely seen through.

“You told me that day to think it through carefully – and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Thank you for giving me so much time,” Ying Yin said, looking into his eyes. “I’ve made up my mind. I regret starting this, and I want to end this relationship.”

Before her words had even fully faded, Shang Shao’s reply came swiftly. “I don’t agree.”

It was as if he feared that a single second’s delay would make the matter final and irreversible.

“You see – that’s exactly why I’m asking you for respect,” Ying Yin said with a faint smile. “You’re a gentleman, and you…”

“Everyone out,” he cut her off, ordering everyone in the restaurant to clear out.

No one dared to make a sound. Having just witnessed the young master’s failed confession, they were all worrying about their own jobs.

What a lovely Christmas Eve.

What rotten luck – why was earning a living so hard?

“You’re a gentleman, and you’ve given me money. Aside from asking for your respect, I don’t have any other leverage,” Ying Yin continued, her articulation clear and composed. “Or, according to the contract terms, since you’ve engaged in physical contact with me, I have the right to terminate the agreement.”

For the sake of atmosphere, the restaurant’s lighting had been dimmed very low.

Why? What had he done wrong? Where had he misstepped, that she would suddenly want to end things?

Under the dim, hazy glow, Shang Shao’s eyes were dark and unreadable. No one could see the crack in his gaze – flickering with the bewilderment of being at a complete loss, and the frantic churning of his thoughts.

Hadn’t she said she understood why he hadn’t given her a direct answer that day in the car? Wasn’t that their unspoken mutual understanding?

Shang Shao’s gaze rested on Ying Yin without compromise – distant, and dim. “I thought our contract had ended long ago. From the day you said you liked me.”

Ying Yin was genuinely taken aback, her lips parting slightly. “How could that be. You gave me an advance of fifty million, and I’ve only been with you for a few days? You haven’t even introduced me to your parents.”

“That’s why you told Rich that when you two parted ways, you’d have to figure out how to take care of it.”

Shang Shao propped one hand against the back of the dining chair.

It was an abrupt gesture, and with the dim lighting, Ying Yin didn’t see the pale, bloodless white of his knuckles.

“And that day in bed, you said that in the future, I’d have plenty of chances to try other women.”

Ying Yin gave a soft “mm” in acknowledgment.

“It’s not that you don’t dare to imagine a future with me – you simply never considered having a future with me at all.”

Ying Yin didn’t even dare to blink, though her lashes curved into a bright smile. “Mr. Shang, your future is far too precious – it’s not within the realm of what I would allow myself to think about.”

She drew in a breath, and her clasped hands made her collarbones curve into a beautiful hollow. “You’re so wealthy – this single evening’s date alone cost more than what I make from one or two films.”

Shang Shao understood. “I’m too rich, so you don’t want a future with me.”

Ying Yin laughed even as tears streamed down her face. “Exactly.”

She was smiling, her mature, velvety voice carrying a note of resigned ease.

Her dream of marrying into wealth had been a case of Lord Ye’s love of dragons – a superficial fancy that crumbled when faced with the real thing. If the man in that wealthy world had been someone she didn’t care for, it would have been fine.

But as it happened – she did care for him.

She loved him.

She had fallen for him at first sight, helplessly and irreversibly.

She had debased herself, willing to take his hundred million and become a contract lover, just to get close to him, to sit in his arms.

She couldn’t do it anymore – couldn’t go on pretending to enjoy the money, the jewels, the romance, the endless chauffeured rides from the Maybach.

Couldn’t bear being held by him, kissed by him, sharing tender moments with him –

And then losing it all.

A little bit of like was enough for her to play with ease.

But this much love – this deep, consuming love – would leave her badly wounded.

She was terrified. What frightened her most was that, after learning everything he had done for his ex-girlfriend, she felt no jealousy at all. She was so docile, telling herself: You were never his type to begin with. What you have now is more than enough, already a rare gift. Don’t compare. Don’t covet what isn’t yours.

That docility frightened her.

She was afraid that one day, even her womb would no longer obey her reason – that she would quietly bear him a child out of wedlock, ask for no status, and settle into being nothing more than a mistress kept on the side.

“Fifty million – once I’ve earned enough, I’ll pay you back.” Ying Yin blinked, not quite daring to raise her hand to wipe away her tears.

She was probably feeling embarrassed.

She still had some domestic brand endorsement deals she could take on – since they were up-and-coming labels, they were eager to have celebrities boost their visibility and could afford to pay well.

There were also some television offers… it wasn’t anything new for a film actress to “descend to the small screen.” Making money – there was no shame in that.

Ying Yin’s thoughts had already drifted far ahead, when she was abruptly pulled into Shang Shao’s arms. She froze, unresponsive.

“What you’re saying is – your feelings for me were never real,” Shang Shao said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion, his breath faintly quick and cold, yet his embrace burning hot.

He held her tightly, with no sign of letting go.

“They were real.”

“You said you liked me very, very much – that was just to placate me.”

“That was real too.”

“That day in the car, you said you’d mistake my actions for deep love, and you looked like you were about to cry – was that fake?”

Ying Yin stumbled over her words. “…That was real.”

“That shape you drew on the glass just now – half a heart – I must have imagined it.”

Ying Yin swallowed hard, feeling his arms tighten around her.

“It was real… but…”

Shang Shao’s broad palm cradled the back of her head.

His lips pressed against Ying Yin’s earlobe – a solemn, prolonged second that rendered her utterly speechless.

He kissed her to shut her up – it was a foul move.

Ying Yin’s body was cold; wrapped in his warmth, she began to tremble faintly.

She fell silent, and Shang Shao continued in his measured, methodical way. “I asked Anna – the German Anna, do you remember? When I went to Germany this time, I saw her again. She said you were the funniest actress she’d ever met – because you’re so afraid of being recorded or catching an STD that you don’t date. She said you have paranoid delusions.”

Ying Yin frowned. “That was…”

“Why aren’t you afraid of me recording you? Why aren’t you afraid I’m some pervert? Why aren’t you afraid I have a disease? Why aren’t you afraid I’ve been putting on an act all this time just to toy with you? Why did you sleep with me? The first time is precious – it’s meant to be given to someone you love, isn’t it?”

“I…” Ying Yin suddenly broke out in a sweat, her tears inexplicably stopping. “The mood just carried us there…”

“Mood?” Shang Shao’s heart and body were both wound tight, yet he let out a single laugh at that. “So you do understand mood?”

“Of course I do…” Ying Yin’s voice dropped, almost like a protest.

“You understand mood? Then tell me – what’s the mood here today?” he coaxed, though his heart was still suspended in uncertainty, far less calculated than he appeared.

“It’s…” Ying Yin’s mouth went dry. “A Christmas date… for lovers…”

“Who’s the lover? Say it again.”

“For…”

“Girlfriend, is that it?” Shang Shao answered for her.

“No.”

Shang Shao was silent for a moment. “I like you, you like me, we kiss every day, we’re two people in a relationship – so why aren’t you my girlfriend?”

“Mr. Shang,” Ying Yin felt overwhelmed, her head spinning, “you – give me a little time… I need to think…”

“Think about what?”

“I… I hate you.” The words came out almost recklessly.

“Hate me?” A sudden pain struck Shang Shao’s heart, utterly irrational.

After the ache passed, he closed his eyes, slowly calming down and regaining his composure. “Are you serious, or are you being petulant? Why do you hate me? Ying Yin – don’t hate me.”

“I hate that you’re always so high and mighty. I hate that you… always leave me alone to calm down and think things through. I hate that you’re… moody and unpredictable, and you pull – pull…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word, and averted her gaze. “…heartless.”

“Pull what, heartless? Your mainland internet slang – I don’t understand it,” Shang Shao said coldly.

“…”

“I leave you alone to calm down because I believe that when people are angry or agitated, they prefer quiet and solitude. If you’re the opposite, then fine – from now on, when you’re upset, I’ll just stay and not leave. I asked you to think things through – that was my plea, because I hoped that once you’d thought it over, you’d forgive me or let go of your anger. If you don’t like figuring things out on your own, then from now on, I’ll reason with you point by point.”

“No!” Ying Yin blurted out.

“Can’t leave, can’t stay? Can’t think on your own, can’t reason with you either?”

“…”

“I’m moody and unpredictable… am I really?” he asked, with a hint of doubt. “Maybe it’s because I don’t feel secure when I’m with you.”

“You don’t feel secure with me?” Ying Yin’s eyes widened at those words. She found it utterly absurd.

“You like men like Chen Youhan – that does make me insecure, after all, I’m nothing like him.”

“When did I ever…”

Ying Yin wanted to argue, but suddenly remembered that night in Germany when she was drunk and feverish. She had indeed let it slip!

“See? You’re not denying it.”

“No, I…I-I…”

“Let me finish.” Shang Shao continued unhurriedly, reaching his final point. “You think I’m high and mighty, and I apologize for that. But you see me as your benefactor, your boss, your young master – and you almost made me your hundred-million creditor. If I so much as let my expression drop, you get scared and think I’m displeased, isn’t that right?”

“…Yes.”

“I’ll practice smiling. I’ll learn your techniques for managing expressions.” His tone was very gentle, but there was a teasing lilt to it.

A fine sheen of sweat covered Ying Yin’s back.

She had picked up the wrong script – she didn’t know how this had happened.

“Now tell me again – this atmosphere tonight, the Victoria Harbour fireworks, the tens of thousands of Kenyan roses – what kind of atmosphere is this?”

Ying Yin’s hands, having nowhere to rest, had unknowingly clenched into tight fists, resting lightly against his shoulders and back.

Her neck was getting tired from craning upward, because Shang Shao was holding her so tightly.

“It’s… for a girlfriend…”

“If I say ‘I love you’ today – would that be too soon, or too late?”

Thump.

What was that sound?

Ying Yin’s heart tightened, her eyes opening so wide that her pupils seemed to dilate.

Her heart had been shot – so much so that her blood, her bones, her limbs, her fingertips – all went numb.

Tears came pouring down, irrational and unstoppable.

“You love me?” she asked again, tears slipping through the seam of her lips – warm, and very salty. “You love me?”

“I love you.”

“Two months?”

“Less than that,” Shang Shao said calmly.

Ying Yin laughed through her tears. “How reckless.”

“I wanted to wait until you asked me yourself – then I would tell you. Otherwise, if you didn’t need it, this gift would be awkward. But today you said you regret it – I don’t believe that. Ying Yin, I wish I could say that I have nothing to my name, and that only my loving heart is precious. But I have too much money – so much that it frightens you. What am I supposed to do about that?”

He looked up at the moon in the sky.

Thank heaven – a bright full moon shone over the Pearl of the Orient, the harbor and the horizon sharing this beautiful moment.

“Tonight, the moonlight is clear and bright – purer and more precious than mountains of gold and silver. Will you permit me…” he asked solemnly, saying it with all his heart, “permit me to love you?”

Why did he ask it like that?

He was above her, in every sense – if he wanted to love her, why did he need her permission?

Was he so afraid that his affection wouldn’t be accepted?

So afraid that his feelings would be scorned?

So afraid that his sincere heart would be discarded like a worn-out shoe?

“Mr. Shang, from the very beginning, our relationship has never been fair.” Ying Yin squeezed her eyes shut, her tears scalding. “You have room to make mistakes and try again – I don’t. For me to love you is to risk my life just to keep you company.”

“Why do I have room to make mistakes and you don’t? Just because I have money? Ying Yin, the weight of a person’s heart has nothing to do with money. You have one heart, and I have one too. Having a great deal of money does not make me more confident when it comes to loving you.”

“Right now, I’m just an ordinary man. My only advantage – wealth and power – is a flaw in your eyes. I stand before you, begging you to give me a chance to love you. You’ve never been in a relationship before – I have. I’ve had my heart broken. So maybe, in this, I’m the one risking my life to keep you company. You can walk away – I might not be able to afford to lose. Do you understand?”

He voluntarily brought up his past relationship, and a dull ache spread through Ying Yin’s heart.

“Back then, your family… tore you apart – are you still very sad about it?”

She asked it tactfully, not asking whether he still thought about his ex-girlfriend.

Shang Shao let out a relieved laugh. “I wasn’t torn apart. No one can tear apart my relationship unless I myself choose to let it go.”

“You still think about her.”

“Whether you’re in my life or not, I’ve never thought about her.”

Ying Yin fell silent, her tears half-dried on her face.

Her silence was peculiar – and in a flash of intuition, Shang Shao grew sharp. “You’ve met her?”