When the food cart was sent up, it came along with Shang Mingxian, who looked utterly distraught.
“Which one is it – Lucy, Catherine, or Fiona!”
Shang Shao, while personally inspecting the dishes, asked in surprise, “Didn’t I tell you already? Who are these three?”
“None of them?” Shang Mingxian was losing her mind.
Shang Shao shushed her: “Don’t wake her.”
He paused in thought for a moment, then ordered a different wine to accompany the meal and had two heavier French stewed dishes removed. Only after giving these instructions did he turn his attention back, adding casually, “There’s not enough water in the guest room. Have someone send a case up later.”
No need for “later” – since he’d said it now, someone was naturally sent to arrange it. Mingxian, however, was taken aback. “You’re not going back to Ning City? Are you staying here long-term again?”
Shang Shao smiled slightly. “No, I’m leaving in a couple of days. It’s just that she likes to drink water.”
The two of them kept their voices very low. Ying Yin, waking from a short nap, heard no voices at first – only the aroma of food. She was already groggy from exhaustion and starving half to death, so she didn’t have the energy to think carefully. She got out of bed and instinctively walked toward the dining area.
Passing through the living room hallway, she bent her head to tie the belt of her bathrobe and flicked her long hair out from under the collar. The voices became clear then – she froze, wanting to retreat, but it was too late –
Shang Shao was walking and chatting with Shang Mingxian, apparently seeing her out.
For a moment, six eyes met, three faces staring at one another. Feet rooted to the ground, air frozen solid – only the ring of question marks above Shang Mingxian’s head seemed almost tangible.
The three of them: “…”
Ying Yin gulped, her panicked gaze instinctively turning to Shang Shao for help. Shang Shao, however, remained calm, giving a light cough behind his hand. “Mingxian, this is…”
Shang Mingxian pressed a hand to her forehead. “I think I’m running a fever. I’ll be going first…”
Ying Yin had only met her – chatted and had meals with her – on the day of the commercial shoot and at the Christmas lighting ceremony the following year. In her impression, Shang Mingxian was a sharp, decisive, and highly emotionally intelligent career woman; with her around, the entire demeanor of everyone at Qili was noticeably different.
She had never imagined that one day she would scare her big-shot female patron into such a flustered, incoherent state…
Shang Mingxian made to leave, and Shang Shao didn’t stop her, letting her process it on her own. Before she left, Mingxian glanced back almost involuntarily and looked at Ying Yin once more –
“Um…” Her finger hovered between her collarbone and neck.
The bathrobe collar was slightly open, revealing her slender neck and half of her collarbone, where a few pale cherry-blossom-colored marks stood out vividly against Ying Yin’s porcelain-like skin.
Any adult could tell exactly what kind of passionate encounter had left such traces.
Knowing that Ying Yin was thin-skinned in front of his family – and that if Mingxian said even a little more, she’d probably withdraw into herself for a long time – Shang Shao discreetly shot Mingxian a look, warning her not to say anything more. After she left, he naturally tugged Ying Yin’s collar closed and said casually, “Your collar came open.”
The meal was quite lavish, but Ying Yin, mindful that she’d be joining the production crew soon, only ate salad – and even then, she only managed half a bowl of congee because Shang Shao insisted.
“Mingxian… is she going to be okay?” she asked, sipping the congee in tiny mouthfuls.
“She’ll be fine. I was going to tell her anyway.” Shang Shao peeled a shrimp and naturally brought it to her lips. “Have some – protein.”
Ying Yin had no choice but to open her mouth and take it, chewing slowly as it gradually dawned on her. “Did you give…”
“No.” Shang Shao knew what she was about to ask. “I can barely take care of myself -how could I take care of someone else? This kind of thing, I’ve only recently started learning to do.”
Ying Yin, emboldened by the favor, bit down on her little silver spoon, chin tilted up slightly, lips pouted, eyes bright and playful – but she deliberately refused to look at him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman?”
She looked every bit like a young girl. Shang Shao glanced at her, smiling unintentionally. “Being a gentleman and taking care of someone are two different things.”
“Then… I’ll have one more.”
Shang Shao smiled even more. Though he had just taken off his gloves, he put on a fresh pair for her at her words. His innate elegance – whether in action or in speech – carried a slow, unhurried nobility that was a pleasure to behold. Even peeling shrimp was no exception.
Ying Yin watched him peel the shrimp with great focus, when she suddenly heard him ask, “Is it time for me to meet those annoying siblings of mine?”
“No,” Ying Yin instantly tensed up, blurting out, “Too soon!”
“Too soon?”
“Mhm…” Ying Yin gave a slight nod. “We’ve only just gotten together. How can I already expose you to all my family…”
“You’ve already met my father,” Shang Shao had to remind her.
“That was an accident.”
Though a little disappointed, Shang Shao wasn’t entirely surprised by her reaction. He curved one side of his lips and fed her the shrimp. “Alright, then we won’t.”
Ying Yin hesitated. “Do you want me to?”
What a pointless question.
Shang Shao gave her a deep look. “Ying Yin, if you weren’t a celebrity, by now everyone in my world would already know about you.”
“Then…” Ying Yin thought for a moment, “I haven’t introduced you to any of my friends either.”
Shang Shao lowered his gaze to pour the tea, and smiled at her words. “You can pick one.”
“Mr. Ke?” Ying Yin picked up her phone, then put it down again. “No way. He was with Shang Lu back then and hid it from me for years – he didn’t even invite me to their engagement. I’m not telling him.”
“So that’s how it was.” A trace of laughter carried in Shang Shao’s breath. “If he had invited you, then we would have met that day.”
“That’s not quite right either.”
The French blue-and-white porcelain teapot was set down, making a crisp, cold clink against the marble tabletop. He remembered something, and his smile faded away. “Chen Youhan was there that day too. You didn’t see anyone but him.”
Ying Yin’s heart suddenly tightened. “It’s not what you think…”
“You said it yourself – he’s handsome and rich. So the first time you met him, you seduced him and left a lipstick mark on his shirt.” Shang Shao spoke calmly, his expression unreadable. As he said this, his gaze sharpened and narrowed slightly, fixing on Ying Yin’s face. “How did you manage it? He’s not easy to get close to.”
That trace of displeasure was no easier to detect than a thin mist under twilight – it came and went in an instant, and Shang Shao deliberately reined it back in. He didn’t want to appear as a frightening, moody man in Ying Yin’s eyes. But after all, he had long been accustomed to wielding power; even if his facial expression hadn’t changed in the slightest, the mere subtle shift in his aura was enough to make others fall silent.
Shang Shao kept in mind his promise to manage his expressions. He pressed his lips together. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not angry.”
“I’m not afraid.” Ying Yin answered quickly, afraid that even a second’s delay would make him doubt her.
“I… that day, I ran into him in the hallway outside the banquet hall. I pretended to lose my balance, stumbled into his arms, and my lips grazed him.” She honestly recounted the details as best she could remember. “He was actually wearing a wedding ring, but I thought it was fake. After I found out it was real, I never had another private conversation with him.”
Shang Shao gripped his napkin tightly, crumpling it in his fist.
He gave a small nod. “I see.”
His heart ached.
More than it had that night in Germany when he first heard about it.
He also thought back to their first dinner together, when she had seduced him. In those images – was she wearing the same expression she’d worn when facing Chen Youhan?
“Mr. Shang, that was four or five years ago. The person I was back then is completely different from who I am now.” Ying Yin unconsciously turned the handle of a fork over and over in her hand, a hard-to-describe smile appearing on her face. “Back then, I thought I could conquer any man, take on any challenge, no matter how difficult. Looking back now, that youthful arrogance – even with all its reckless, foolish bravado – doesn’t seem so bad after all.”
“Of course, one thing I’m certain of is that even if he had really been single and tried to take me away back then, I would have found an excuse to slip away. Like I said – I had the nerve to flirt but not the guts to follow through. I was afraid of catching something, and I was afraid of being controlled and ruining my own future.” Ying Yin looked at Shang Shao again and gave him a radiant smile. “If we had met back then, and you stood at my door and said, ‘Miss Ying, if this is all you’ve got, you’re not going to seduce me,’ I would have thrown everything I had at conquering you. Or maybe – if you’d said nothing at all, just walked past me – I would have wanted to win you over anyway.”
Shang Shao furrowed his brow. “Ying Yin, ever since you’ve known me, the thing you’ve said most often is that you know what’s good for you and how to read the room.”
“Mhm.” Ying Yin nodded firmly, smiling even brighter. “People change. Days flow by like water, and so much happens every day – even mountains get worn flat, even stones get polished smooth.”
She spoke with great ease. In the entertainment industry, the powerful trample the weak; in the world of fame and fortune, the rich look down on the poor. Marriage, morality, love, loyalty, sincerity – all of it is put on public display and picked apart day after day. Fans and capital endlessly discipline and rewrite who you are. And then there was what he said – “the gaze.”
People change. How could they not? Blame her for not having a stronger will.
Shang Shao didn’t press further. He casually changed the subject. “Have you ever thought about what you’d want to do if one day you weren’t in the entertainment industry anymore?”
“I want to study.” Ying Yin answered without hesitation. “I’ve talked to Mr. Ke about it many times. He also wants to study and teach, but Shang Lu won’t let him – she’s got him trapped on set.”
Shang Shao let out a soft laugh.
“Come to think of it, Mr. Ke is really pitiful. What if…” Ying Yin picked up her phone again, miraculously circling the conversation back. “What if I tell him after all?”
“Are you sure?” Shang Shao took a sip of tea, hiding the smile at the corner of his lips.
“Yes, I want to tell him.” Ying Yin looked at him steadily. “I can tell him now, can’t I?”
That fragile wild spring shoot growing in her corner – the one that had trembled and nearly broken – had indeed grown up. It had bloomed, and perhaps it would bear fruit.
“Mhm.”
Ying Yin immediately sent Ke Yu a WeChat message.
For some reason, her mood was unusually solemn as she typed, yet her fingers trembled slightly.
Ying Yin: [Brother Xiao Dao, I need to tell you something seriously.]
Ke Yu was waiting at the airport in Kathmandu. Kathmandu Airport was as old and chaotic as the city itself – even the first-class lounge was no exception. He sat side by side with Shang Lu, her head resting on his shoulder, and replied to Ying Yin with succinct brevity: [Go ahead.]
Ying Yin: [I’m in a relationship. My boyfriend is Shang Shao.]
She quickly added: [Don’t tell Shang Lu! If you do, I’ll cut you off!]
Ke Yu stared at these two lines in silence for five full seconds, then let out two steady, weighty syllables, “Holy shit.”
He sat bolt upright, pulling away from Shang Lu in one swift motion.
Shang Lu had been napping. Hearing Ke Yu’s rare curse, he cracked open an eyelid. “What?”
“…Nothing.” Ke Yu kept a straight face, his phone gripped tightly in his hand.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Shang Lu’s flat tone called him out.
Ke Yu thought to himself, I have seen a ghost.
“Tch.” Shang Lu gave up on sleeping, crossing his arms with an impatient look. “Can’t sleep. All I can think about is whether my brother is with Xie Miaomiao.”
Ke Yu: “…”
Great. Now on top of being spooked, he was also in agony.
“Maybe…” he said casually, “you could just ask your brother directly?”
“If he were going to say it outright, he would have last time. That’s just how he is.” Shang Lu furrowed his brows, thinking. “Cheng Cheng? But she’s in her forties! Does my brother like that type? I mean, it’s not impossible…”
Ke Yu didn’t dare make a sound.
“I’ve got it!” Shang Lu clenched his fist and smacked it into his other palm. “It’s Rita!”
Ke Yu: “…”
He had been holding his breath, right up to his chest – and now it was stuck there, stifled and unable to come out.
Shang Lu was utterly certain, letting out a cold laugh. “First of all, Rita is the female lead of my documentary. Second, Rita is the queen of world sailing. Shang Shao also likes boats and the sea, so they have common ground. The only issue is that Rita used to like me… No wonder Shang Qingye used that tone to question me that day. I can understand now. Make sense.”
Ke Yu said, “…Great guess. Don’t guess next time.”
Shang Lu closed his eyes again, slumping back into his seat, and said coolly, “Whatever. I’m done guessing. I’ll find out eventually anyway.”
While he was dozing off, Ke Yu took preemptive action and messaged Ying Yin: [Do you two have any plans to meet family and friends soon?]
Actually, according to Shang Shao’s plan, he was going to take Ying Yin to dinner with a few of his siblings during the New Year. But Ying Yin had previously been booked for shows and events every New Year’s Day, and this year she finally had a rare break. She had already promised Ying Fan that she’d spend the holiday with her, so two days later, at the end of December, she left Hong Kong and returned to Ping City directly.
Shang Shao personally drove her there. The Hong Kong·3 pulled up outside Ying Fan’s old villa, stopping amid the dappled shadows of the frangipani trees.
He unlocked the doors but was reluctant to let her go. “Are you really not going to invite me in for a cup of tea?”
“No,” Ying Yin said, her mask half-pulled down, her voice muffled and soft with a hint of coaxing. “My mom can be really naggy. She’ll interrogate you for ages.”
“Aren’t we just ordinary friends? What’s there to ask about?” Shang Shao asked, fully knowing the answer.
“I’m going now.” She said this and was about to push the door open to get out, but Shang Shao pulled her back by the waist and held her in his arms. “You’re heading to the set the day after tomorrow, and I won’t be able to see you. That’s it?”
“It’s only a week or two on set.” Ying Yin’s whole body was heating up.
Shang Shao lowered his eyes, quietly gazing at her for a moment, then kissed her deeply.
“Tell me you’ll miss me,” he sighed, his nose brushing against the sweet scent of her neck.
He didn’t know if it was a command, a plea, or a wish.
It should have been her asking first, her thinking of it first – so how had he become the one to say it?
Ying Yin wrapped both arms tightly around his shoulders and neck. She didn’t speak, only pressed her body closer into his hands, deeper into his embrace.
Deep Water Bay, Hong Kong.
A few tabloid articles had been written with great detail, complete with photos that -though blurry – were clearly identifiable as Shang Shao. The woman’s face was obscured by a mask and hard to make out, but the reporters unequivocally stated in their text that she was mainland actress Ying Yin.
According to the reports, Shang Shao had not only treated her to a fireworks display over Victoria Harbour, but had also accompanied her late at night to a private cinema, strolled the streets with her, and bought her flowers and goldfish.
“What’s the price they’re asking?”
Uncle Sheng then reported the figure the other party had demanded.
Ten million. Shang Qingye held a cigarette between his fingers. “You go handle it. Warn them – if any trace of this material surfaces in public, I will hold only them accountable.”
Once Uncle Sheng left, the study fell silent again, leaving only him.
The smoke hung thick in the air. Shang Qingye tapped off the ash and looked at the report on the desk.
A woman with a history of suicide.
He stubbed out the cigarette and stood up, stepping out onto the terrace. Leaning both hands on the railing, he let out a long, deep sigh.
A major member of a wealthy family cannot have a suicide on their record – it’s bad for fortune and, even more so, a catastrophic blow to public image. Especially when that member is the matriarch of the family, and a social celebrity to boot.
If she relapsed and took her own life after marrying into the family, what would public opinion look like?
Who would care that she had a medical history? Who would care that she’d long had bipolar disorder? Who would care whether she couldn’t separate herself from a role or was simply tired of living?
People would only say: she couldn’t bear the oppression of high society, she was unhappy, her husband was abusive, unfaithful, impotent, perverted – she was powerless, nothing but a puppet. She’d seen too much filth and ugliness that couldn’t be spoken of aloud.
And what if – what if she really wasn’t a suicide at all? What if it was a suspicious death? Murder? Domestic abuse? All covered up by the family’s power and wealth?
These speculations would follow them like dark clouds, never dissipating.
And not a single person would care about the man who truly loved her – and the deep, secondary suffering he would endure under those very rumors.
Shang Qingye gripped the railing tightly. Beneath the night sky, his usually stern face revealed a deep hesitation and self-mockery.
Before he became the head of the family, he was first and foremost a father. He knew Shang Shao’s character well – he couldn’t stand by and watch him walk headlong into that vortex of losing the one he loved.
He wouldn’t be able to get out of it. For the rest of his life, he would never get out.
But the fireworks over Victoria Harbour…
He loves her.
This unfilial son of his – he could never love the right kind of woman for a wealthy family.
