The phone call between the brothers was very brief.
Hanging up, Shang Lu let out a light sigh of relief. “I almost said that Xie Miaomiao used to have a crush on you just now. Good thing I didn’t. Otherwise, if my brother got jealous, all four of us would be in an awkward spot.”
Ke Yu said, “Why do I feel like something’s off…”
Shang Lu shot him a glance. “Is there?” He gave a soft tsk. “I should go comfort Ji Yun first, after all, he’s been chasing Xie Miaomiao for three years.”
Ji Yun was a student of both his and Ke Yu’s, barely over twenty, pining wholeheartedly over the young literary actress Xie Miaomiao. But Xie Miaomiao had a thing for older men, and wasn’t interested in younger guys.
“Hold on…” Ke Yu grabbed his wrist. “Easy, easy…”
He spoke while thinking, but after months of altitude sickness messing with him, his mind felt like it was shrouded in fog – he really couldn’t piece it together.
“Shang Shao hasn’t said anything yet, so don’t go announcing it for him. He definitely has his own plans.”
“Fair enough.”
Shang Lu put down his phone, thought for a moment, and still sent Shang Shao a WeChat message: [Congratulations. When can I have dinner with my sister-in-law?]
Shang Shao hadn’t replied yet.
When he returned to the lakeside, Ying Yin was still feeding the birds. Clearly distracted, she was pinching bits of food one by one absentmindedly – the birds were probably stuffed to the brim, standing on one leg with their necks curled into bow shapes, dozing off.
Hearing footsteps behind her, Ying Yin scattered the bird food in her hand like a goddess scattering flowers. She clearly wanted to throw herself into his arms, but perhaps afraid that Shang Qingye was right behind him, she held back, restrained and demure, and asked, “Are you done talking?”
Shang Shao seemed to see through her. “No one’s following.”
Upon hearing that, Ying Yin finally threw her arms around him, tilting her face up. “So? How did it go?”
“Thanks to you, he thinks my housekeeper is too pretty, and that I’m slacking off, unmotivated, and letting myself go – he’s very disappointed.”
Ying Yin said, “…Your dad really thinks I’m a housekeeper?”
Shang Shao tapped her nose. “Probably because you drove that little runabout down the mountain last time – you played the part really well. That car only costs a few tens of thousands, right?”
Ying Yin buried her face in his chest and asked in a muffled voice, “Did you clear it up, then?”
“Yes. He knows who you are.”
The panic in her heart, like fine dust, was stirred up by Ying Yin’s pounding heartbeat, floating in the air with no way to settle. She was quiet for a moment, not sure if she was speaking to herself or to him. “It’s still not going to work, is it.”
In the brief silence, Ying Yin heard a low chuckle.
“Ying Yin, can I take that to mean that this time, in your heart, you actually want it to ‘work’?”
In fact, the second mistress story that Song Shizhang had told her was still deeply engraved in her mind, like some kind of cautionary tale.
Someone offers up their sincere heart, but in the eyes of the wealthy, it’s nothing more than a ploy to climb the social ladder. Perhaps a gold-digger with clear motives would make them feel safer, more familiar, more at ease than someone who speaks of true feelings.
“I’ve said it before – no one has ever been able to break up my relationships. Do you believe me?” Shang Shao smoothed her hair.
This time, Ying Yin didn’t stay silent. She nodded. “I believe you.”
Shang Shao didn’t probe whether she truly believed him or was just playing along. “Let’s head down the mountain first. I’ll take you to dinner.”
Ying Yin went back into the house to change. She didn’t dare wear makeup, afraid of being recognized by passersby, so she kept her face bare and dressed very casually.
Today, Hong Kong Island was even hotter than yesterday – almost felt like spring or summer. She wore a pair of loose tapered jeans with low-cut flats, and a bright green button-front knit top on top.
The knit top was form-fitting, accentuating her curves – clearly defining her waist and bust – while her arms, wrapped in the long knit sleeves, looked especially slender.
That morning, Lin Cunkang had already sent her luggage over. She dug out a panty liner and put it on before heading out.
Shang Shao drove down the mountain and, on the main road, passed his mother Wen Youyi’s Bentley going the other way.
Wen Youyi was coming back from afternoon tea, completely unaware that earth-shattering changes had already taken place at home. Seeing her husband, she was pleasantly surprised. “I saw Uncle Sheng outside and thought you’d sent him back ahead of you. Why are you back so early?”
At this very moment, Shang Qingye was loafing around in the living room outside the study.
Sprawled across the sofa – wide enough for two – he sat with his legs apart, arms crossed over his chest. Above the white plaster French-style fireplace, the wall-mounted TV played on.
Wen Youyi glanced at the screen. She had no idea what show it was – a woman was chasing after a pig.
“…”
How bizarre.
Her husband never watched movies, nor TV shows. The last time she’d forced him to watch a film was Shang Lu’s Palme d’Or winner Goodbye, Angela. As for the last time she’d made him watch a variety show… that had to be years ago, the one that Ke Yu and Shang Lu appeared on – something about cleaning out a sheep pen, if she remembered correctly…
Recalling that, Wen Youyi glanced at the program title in the lower right corner. It was actually the same variety show?
She sat down beside Shang Qingye. “Honey, what are you doing? What made you suddenly want to watch a variety show?”
Shang Qingye’s face was expressionless as he coldly spat out, “De-stressing.”
Wen Youyi: “…”
On screen, the woman who had chased the pig for several hundred yards finally caught it. …She lunged at it, wrapping both arms – clad in yellow rubber gloves – around the pig’s neck, kneeling on the ground in her jeans, refusing to let go no matter what.
She’d run too fast; the cameraman following her couldn’t keep up. The lens shook wildly as the photographer gasped for breath. “Ms. – Ms. Ying! Slow down!”
There was someone else trailing even farther behind, shouting in some indiscernible accent. “Grab its ears! Grab the pig’s ears!”
In the midst of all the chaos, the half-grown pig let out a heart-wrenching, piercing squeal. The next second, the camera cut – and finally caught both the woman’s and the pig’s faces head-on.
Wen Youyi found the woman very familiar, but couldn’t quite place her at that moment.
Like Shang Qingye, she folded her arms across her chest and leaned back into the sofa, silently watching an hour’s worth of pig-farming content alongside her husband.
During that hour, this tiny pig-raising tycoon – the richest person in the village – went through a series of jaw-dropping events: the village’s able-bodied young men showing up one after another to gawk at the pretty woman, proposing matchmaking (“Uncle, could you put in a good word for me?”), getting shot down (“A toad lusting after swan meat – can’t you see the cameras are right there?!”), the piglets making a mass escape because someone left the pen gate open and crawling all over the ground, a sow scheduled for slaughter the next day rampaging through the village, and another female contestant – who had cheerfully brought back half a watermelon to take a breather – getting chased all over the village by a pig… and a whole slew of other astounding incidents.
The hectic day finally wound down in a serene atmosphere, with Ms. Ying silently wiping her tears as she searched for pigs under the starry sky.
As the commercial break rolled in, Wen Youyi paused for a moment, then it suddenly clicked. “Oh! I know who this Ms. Ying is!”
Shang Qingye felt rather guilty. He cleared his throat and glanced at her. “You’ve met her?”
“I have. She’s the spokesperson Mingxian chose, and she even shot an ad with Xiao Dao.” Wen Youyi remembered it all now. “I was on set when they filmed it.”
“And then?”
“And then I saw her kissing Xiao Dao.”
Shang Qingye: “!!!”
His blood pressure shot straight to his head!
“But I think it was just a camera angle.”
Shang Qingye said, “…Youyi, it’s best if you finish your sentence in one go.”
Wen Youyi replied, “Even though it was just a camera trick, Lulu was the one directing it in person, and his face turned completely green.”
Shang Qingye thought to himself, If only you’d look up and see my face right now.
Wen Youyi was still mulling it over. “Oh right, she’s also Xiao Dao’s hottest CP – CP meaning couple – and she said her favorite actor is Xiao Dao.”
So, his eldest son’s girlfriend’s favorite actor is his youngest son’s boyfriend. His eldest daughter chose the two of them as spokespersons, and in an ad directed by his youngest son himself, they kissed.
Shang Qingye’s temple veins bulged. “Uncle Sheng.”
From outside the door, Uncle Sheng replied, “Yes?”
“Blood pressure meds!”
“…”
Wen Youyi expressed her sympathy. “I understand how you feel.”
Shang Qingye shook out the pills. “No, you don’t.”
You really, really don’t!
Wen Youyi watched him swallow the medicine with water, looking concerned. “You’ve been back for a while now – have you seen Ah-Shao already? Did you two fight again?”
Shang Qingye let out a cold snort.
“You two weren’t like this before.”
“He used to be sensible. Now he acts like he’s eighteen! He’s going to drive me to my grave!”
Wen Youyi quickly soothed him. “It’s okay, he’ll settle down once he’s married. I found a few more girls for him this afternoon. You know what – he asked me this morning what kind of girl would be considered qualified. I was thinking, family background doesn’t really matter. Since we haven’t decided on an arranged marriage, we might as well be more open-minded…”
She spoke gently and warmly, pulling up her photo album on her phone. “Look at this one, she’s…”
Before she could even introduce her, Shang Qingye said, “He won’t like her.”
Wen Youyi was taken aback, but followed his lead and swiped to the next one. “This one is…”
“Won’t like her either.”
Wen Youyi swiped to the third. “This…”
“Won’t like her!”
Won’t like, won’t like – that unfilial son won’t like any of them!
Wen Youyi couldn’t take it anymore. “They’re all very pretty!”
Shang Qingye roared like an angry dragon. “Right now, he won’t settle for anyone less than a celestial goddess descending to earth!”
“Ah-Shao isn’t the type to only look at appearances!”
Shang Qingye gritted his teeth, his brows knitted tightly in frustration. “In any case, stop worrying about him. He’s a grown man – let him handle his own love life!”
It wasn’t that he intended to keep Wen Youyi in the dark, but Shang Shao’s relationship with that woman was still uncertain. And although he kept saying that woman came from a decent family and had a simple personality, people in the entertainment industry could probably act even better than Yu Shasha. If this Ying Yin really turned out to be trouble, in the end it would be Wen Youyi who’d be tossing and turning at night.
Having learned from past experience, Shang Qingye preferred to investigate thoroughly first, set his mind at ease, and then let Wen Youyi enjoy the good news without a care in the world.
“But Ah-Shao isn’t like Lulu. Lulu is straightforward and direct. Ah-Shao is quiet, doesn’t do anything romantic, and throws himself entirely into work – he doesn’t know how to win a girl’s heart…” Wen Youyi let out a sigh. “If he were a playboy, that’d be one thing.”
A cold smirk curled at the corner of Shang Qingye’s mouth – it couldn’t have been colder. “You have a huge misunderstanding about that unfilial son. He’s very capable now!”
And indeed, that unfilial son was very capable – he was taking Ying Yin to the Hong Kong flagship location of Rongxin Lou for congee.
The dish “Golden Dawn Emerges as White Jade” normally required advance reservation, but for a VIP like him, it was a different matter. Upon arrival, they were ushered to the top-floor private room and treated as honored guests. The young heir of Rongxin Lou, currently serving as an intern manager at the Hong Kong branch, had received instructions from his father and was about to personally introduce this congee dish, but Shang Shao politely declined.
Outside, the restaurant was buzzing with activity – the clatter of woks, the intoxicating aroma of fine food and drink, a riot of colors and flavors. Inside the private room, however, it was serene and elegant. The Suzhou-style embroidered screen on the carved lattice depicted a picturesque landscape in vivid detail, while beyond the Manchurian windows sprawled the neon-lit bustle of Jordan Road.
Old-school restaurants favored round tables, and this one had legs of reddish-brown wood carved with the Eight Drunken Immortals – a relic from the Republican era. At the edge of the table, a silver filigree teapot steeped a cake of aged pu’er tea. In two small chicken-fat-yellow porcelain bowls, the “Golden Dawn Emerges as White Jade” congee sat like solidified cream.
There were only the two of them in the private room.
Ying Yin drank it with earnest attention, spoonful by spoonful, carefully blowing away the scalding steam before sipping it into her mouth. The first taste was unremarkable, but more layers of flavor slowly spread across her tongue, lingering there.
“I thought it was just plain white congee,” she said, surprised.
The congee was the color of jade – so clear and pure – how could it possibly contain so many hidden depths of flavor?
“On the surface, it really is quite unremarkable,” Shang Shao said flatly. “But it tastes rather good.”
Ying Yin didn’t think anything of it at first – until she heard him pause, then continue in an offhand tone. “Some people are the same.”
“Pfft…”
Blame her hypersensitivity to the words “quite unremarkable” – hearing that line, she choked outright.
Shang Shao glanced at her.
Ying Yin coughed guiltily while frantically looking for a napkin, until Shang Shao pinched a stack from the table and handed it to her.
His long, slender fingers carried a cool elegance; Ying Yin didn’t dare look at them.
“Why such a big reaction?” Shang Shao asked, feigning ignorance, his tone light, betraying neither pleasure nor displeasure.
“I…” Ying Yin pressed the wad of tissue to her lips, “drank too fast…”
“Do you think what I just said was right?”
Ying Yin said pitifully: “Yes.”
“So now, do you think I…”
“I’m sorry!” The jig was up. Ying Yin slapped her hands together and bowed her head in a dramatic kneeling gesture. “I didn’t mean to say you’re quite ordinary, and I definitely didn’t mean to spread rumors everywhere and tell everyone I met!”
… “Spread rumors everywhere” and “tell everyone I met,” indeed.
Shang Shao paused for a moment, not expecting her to confess so readily.
“So, you really did think I was quite unremarkable at first.”
His tone was calm and casual, but no one knew that beneath those words lay a faint, barely perceptible bitterness.
He carefully replayed in his mind what he had worn, how he had acted, and even the chance encounter with Ying Yin in the hallway at Chen Youhan’s banquet – the cigarette between his fingers, the shadows cast by the lights.
It probably… couldn’t have been that bad.
But then he thought of how that had been Chen Youhan’s turf, and how Ying Yin had taken one look at Chen Youhan and already entertained the wicked thought of seducing him.
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.
Ying Yin gripped the handle of the white porcelain spoon, looking pitiful. “Brother Ah-Shao, at first I actually thought you’d had plastic surgery.”
Shang Shao narrowed his eyes slightly. “Plastic surgery?”
Ying Yin rushed to add, “It wouldn’t matter even if you really did have it! You can’t even tell.”
The conversation was veering further off track.
Shang Shao raised a finger impatiently. “Come here.”
Ying Yin sat down in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, his palm settling perfectly against her waist, steadying her upright as he questioned her bit by bit. “Why did you think I’d had plastic surgery?”
“Because you look good now.”
Shang Shao hadn’t expected that answer. He was genuinely taken aback, his lips pressed together for a long moment before he said flatly. “You don’t need to flatter me like that.”
Though his face was expressionless, his Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably, and his arms tightened around Ying Yin.
“I’m not flattering you,” Ying Yin said earnestly. “I don’t know if you saw me the first time we met, but you don’t know about the first time I saw you either. It was at a wedding banquet. Lots of people were surrounding you. I was across half the ballroom, and I caught a distant glimpse of you.”
“And then?”
“Someone said, ‘That’s the young master of the Shang family.’ And I said…” Ying Yin started shrinking her neck like a quail, guilt written all over her face: “He’s nothing special… quite ordinary… unremarkable-looking… I was wrong!”
Shang Shao gazed at her steadily. “Which parts do you think I had done?”
He asked unhurriedly, his gaze deep as a still pool, yet it made Ying Yin’s fingertips tingle. Her eyes traced over his brows, his eyes, his nose, his lips, his jaw – one by one.
“Here, here, here…” Her slender fingertips followed her gaze, brushing down over his features with a cool touch and the fresh scent of green rain, “…and here.”
The moment she finished speaking, her waist bent backward as Shang Shao kissed her breathless.
When he’d had his fill, he forced himself to calm down for a moment before asking in a low, measured tone. “Have you ever considered that maybe it wasn’t me who had surgery, but that you mistook me for someone else?”
Ying Yin’s lowered lashes couldn’t quite hide her timidity.
He had kissed her fiercely – perhaps because he had been holding back for so many days.
She nodded slightly and gave a soft “mm” in acknowledgment. “I figured it out later, but by then I’d already told so many people that you were quite ordinary…”
Her voice trailed off even lower. “Maybe the reason you’re still not married yet is all my fault…”
Half the credit for that goes to the Hong Kong tabloids with their “dysfunction” headlines, and the other half to her “quite unremarkable” comments.
“Have you ever considered that my father looks the way he does in those press photos, and you’ve met Shang Lu – I…”
It was truly baffling, to the point that a hint of amusement flickered in his dark eyes. “In your mind, just how little did I inherit from the gene pool?”
“There’s also genetic mutation…” Ying Yin grabbed his collar and buried her face in his chest. “I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong! You didn’t have surgery – I did!”
He’d never heard a female celebrity volunteer that she’d had plastic surgery.
Shang Shao pinched her earlobe. “Where? The nose?”
Not that he blamed her for guessing that – her nose bridge was simply too perfect, luminous as jade, both noble and endearing.
Ying Yin shook her head.
Shang Shao thought of something, his eyes darkening, and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Here?”
He cupped one hand over the fullness beneath her knit top.
Very soft.
His low, steady voice delivered the words straight into her ear. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
Ying Yin let him conduct his inspection and verification, then raised her hand, pressing her fingertip against his as they both pinched her earlobe. “Here. This mole – it was added later.”
“That’s not really plastic surgery.”
“It’s still fake.”
“Fake? Then how come every time I kiss you there, you…”
Ying Yin quickly covered his lips, her pretty eyes glaring at him pitifully. “Don’t say it.”
Shang Shao fell silent, took her wrist and moved her hand away, then chased after her lips and kissed her.
Ying Yin was kissed into a daze, murmuring fragmented truths between breathy sounds.
“My mom is superstitious… she found a fortune-teller who calculated my birth chart and said I needed a mole here – it would be the finishing touch,” she gasped, “so when I was sixteen, mm… she took me to get this mole done.”
Shang Shao let out a low laugh upon hearing this. “How come you’re even more superstitious than us Hong Kong people?”
Ying Yin nodded, her eyes brimming with tears, their gaze hazy and shimmering under the light.
“Only you know about this. So can you forgive me for going around telling everyone you’re quite unremarkable?”
Shang Shao looked down, his gaze fixed on her. “So the first time you saw me was still at Chen Youhan’s place.”
“Mm.”
Under his stare, Ying Yin’s face flushed uncontrollably. “Even though it was there, when I look back on it, it always feels like I saw you in Iceland.”
“Why?”
“Because the first time I laid eyes on you, I thought of the black sand beach and blue ice I saw when I went there before.” Her courage and shame were both spent, so she could only cling tightly to Shang Shao’s neck.
Shang Shao paused for a moment, then let out a soft laugh and slipped into Cantonese: “Chi sin.” [Crazy.]
Ying Yin squeezed her eyes shut and said, “I wanted to get to know you – from the very first moment I saw you.”
Shang Shao’s lips burned against the shell of her ear. “Why? Why did you want to know me from the very first glance?”
His heart felt as if it had been soaked and swollen, even rotted, by seawater.
He could almost picture her languid indifference at the time – when she knew he was the young master of the Shang family but, finding him quite ordinary, had felt no urge to make his acquaintance. Yet later, when they met again, even though she had no idea his status far surpassed everyone else present, she had wanted to know him at first sight.
“Because…”
“Because it was love at first sight.”
Ying Yin couldn’t bring herself to say it. Instead, she softened that overly blunt confession and took the initiative to lean in for a kiss. “Because I love the words you had Uncle Kang pass on to me – ‘If you want to listen to the rain, you don’t have to get wet yourself.’ And I love the cashmere shawl you had him give me – I was soaking wet, and I used it to dry myself.”
That last line was practically an aphrodisiac.
“It had my scent on it,” Shang Shao said, his voice low and husky, his Adam’s apple bobbing with barely restrained desire.
The shawl in his car wasn’t used often, but it was always kept there, inevitably picking up his scent – from when he’d drape it over his knees while reading or dozing off.
“I know.”
The moment Ying Yin finished those two words, the trailing end of her voice barely fading, she never got another chance to speak. Shang Shao kissed her, his tongue sweeping over hers, curling and drawing in her sweet moisture, both of them deeply stirred.
That bowl of congee took a long time to finish.
Before leaving, Ying Yin went to the restroom. The panty liner was clean and dry, with only a bit of clear, silky fluid on it.
She tore it off and didn’t put on a new one, instead cleaning herself carefully with a special wet wipe, then washing her face under the faucet for a long time.
The coolness was bracing, carrying away the flush and heat from her face.
It was nearly eight o’clock when they left Rongxin Lou. Shang Shao accompanied her for a stroll under the night sky.
He hadn’t driven, unafraid of paparazzi recognizing him in the crowd – but Ying Yin was different. Her mask was securely fastened.
Shang Shao kept a step’s distance from her, not daring to be too intimate – until his hand, hanging at his side, was brushed by hers.
After two fleeting, almost imperceptible touches, neither said a word. But he made a snap decision and firmly took her hand in his.
Ying Yin visibly trembled, but she didn’t pull away.
She wanted this. She wanted him to hold her hand, openly walking down the street, weaving through the bustling crowds, accompanying her as she browsed tiny shops and ate at the most time-honored street-side eateries with the worst service – just like any ordinary couple in the world.
If paparazzi or passing fans caught a photo, let it be a wedding gift to her and him.
Shang Shao simply couldn’t figure out how a movie star who barely left her house except to go to film sets could walk so much without ever losing interest.
They wandered until the early hours of the morning. The city never slept, and neither did she.
Spotting the brightly lit cinema sign, Ying Yin perked up with interest. Shang Shao didn’t watch movies, but she acted coy and pleaded with him. “Come watch one with me.”
This wasn’t a regular commercial theater, but one that specialized in screening old classics, restored films, and uncut art-house movies. There were no separate screening rooms – just a single auditorium with a 24-hour rotating playlist, the air conditioning cranked up high. Some travelers who hadn’t gone home for the night were resting there, or dozing off in their seats.
When the two entered, the previous film had just ended.
Ying Yin spoke in a hushed whisper, “I’ve never seen a theater like this in the mainland.” She covered her mouth. “They won’t be showing anything weird, will they?”
Shang Shao almost laughed but held it in, replying with his limited knowledge of cinemas. “No.”
Ying Yin nodded, linked her arm through his, and leaned into his embrace.
The screen went dark for a moment. The projectionist changed the reel, and a beam of light cast out hazily through the darkness.
As soon as the opening titles appeared, Ying Yin had a bad feeling.
「1937 · Shanghai」
The clatter of hooves shattered the morning on Avenue Joffre.
“Commander?”
A lazy, soft voice – clearly still in bed, not yet fully awake – but the trailing note carried a playful lilt.
Ying Yin sat bolt upright.
“What’s wrong?” Shang Shao had already recognized that familiar, velvety mature voice.
Very coquettish – she’d never called him that way.
“I-I-I suddenly don’t want to watch anymore…” Ying Yin frantically searched for her bag. “Let’s go home, Mr. Shang, I’m so tired…”
“Mr. Shang” and a string of inexplicable filler words had already tumbled out.
Shang Shao sat with his knees apart, hands clasped over them, remaining still for two seconds – until the cast list appeared on screen.
「Starring: Shen Ji」
Shen Ji wore a crisp military uniform made of serge, his posture straight as a ramrod, his profoundly soulful eyes even deeper and more captivating on the big screen.
The camera followed his footsteps, moving forward, tilting up, rounding a folding screen – to reveal a canopied bed. On it lay a woman, her calves slender, her thighs rounded, half-asleep and sinking into layers upon layers of soft bedding.
「Starring: Ying Yin」
“You’re here so early?”
Her voice was soft and alluring.
Finally, the title card appeared – against a backdrop of the neon-lit, intoxicating night scene of old Shanghai, in lean gold calligraphic strokes: 「The Bitter Beauty」
Ying Yin slapped a hand to her forehead. Behind her tightly shut eyes, a single line flashed through her mind: I’m done for.
