Letter from Hong Kong Chapter 97

Wen Youyi’s collection of five thousand haute couture pieces wasn’t the sort that sat in storage to be admired from afar.

Wearing couture had long since become part of her everyday life – as natural as eating or drinking. Whether she was attending a state banquet, entertaining business associates, or simply feeding the flamingos at her Deep Water Bay residence, she did it dressed in haute couture. Even so, she had her regrets. She couldn’t tell whether it was age making her taste more fixed, or whether the fashion world itself had lost its edge. Every Fashion Week, after a full week of painstaking selection, she would end up with only a handful of pieces that were acceptable – hardly enough to leave her truly satisfied, much less exhilarated.

What she wore today was also vintage couture: a sharply tailored, double-breasted jacket with a cinched waist and sculptural hourglass silhouette, cut from crisp suiting fabric. The sleeves ended midway down her forearms, revealing a pair of black half-length lambskin gloves. The matching pencil skirt fell just below the knee, its clean lines perfectly balancing the jacket’s dramatic structure. The overall effect was poised, refined, and effortlessly elegant.

Greta’s President for Greater China was already walking forward to receive her.

An Italian with silver-streaked hair and a tall frame, he inclined his upper body ever so slightly before her – a gesture so practiced it appeared entirely natural – and greeted her in a voice as warm and refreshing as a spring breeze, asking whether her journey had been pleasant.

Tilting her chin almost imperceptibly, Wen Youyi acknowledged him with a graceful nod. She slipped off the glove from her right hand and offered it for a light handshake, expressing her sincere regret at having missed the annual gathering with old friends, while also conveying how honored and grateful she was that they had come all this way to stage a private show especially for her.

Also present was the Greater China PR Director – the same woman who had previously invited Ying Yin. She stepped forward with a quiet smile. “There are still thirty minutes before the show begins. We’ve prepared some refreshments and tea for you. You’ve had a long journey, Ma’am – you must be tired.”

With a respectful bow, she extended an inviting hand. The others instinctively stepped aside to either side of the corridor, opening a broad passage down the center so that their president, Albert, and their distinguished guest could walk through side by side with unhurried ease.

The reception team for the event had been assembled from the brand’s top boutique sales associates and PR specialists. In truth, however, none of them knew Wen Youyi’s real identity. They could only exchange glances, barely concealing their amazement.

“Did you see her necklace?”

“One hundred carats?” one of the sales associates estimated by eye.

The 107-carat cushion-cut fancy vivid yellow diamond was so dazzling that the hundreds of colorless diamonds surrounding it faded into insignificance. It was the sort of high-jewelry masterpiece Hollywood actresses commanding twenty-million-dollar paychecks reserved for the Oscars red carpet – yet on Wen Youyi, it seemed no more remarkable than an everyday accessory.

“Did you recognize her outfit? She’s wearing Jacob’s very first collection after taking over Greta. Spring/Summer 1990, Milan.”

Jacob, one of Italy’s national-treasure fashion designers, was the visionary who had defined Greta’s aesthetic throughout the post-millennium era. Now advanced in age, he had long since stepped away from the spotlight. The significance of this ensemble to the house was unmistakable. By choosing to wear it today, Wen Youyi was expressing the utmost respect for the occasion.

One sales associate discreetly covered her mouth as she whispered to someone from headquarters, “So… who exactly is she?”

“I’ve no idea either,” came the helpless reply, accompanied by a shake of the head.

Within the client registries of the world’s major fashion houses, Wen Youyi’s personal information – like that of other elite haute couture patrons – was protected under the highest level of confidentiality. Only a select handful of senior positions were permitted to know anything about her background. As for the boutique sales associates who regularly served her, all they knew was that her English name was Tanya. Beyond that, they knew nothing at all.

Lining Mansion was a historic Western-style villa, built in the classic French architectural style, though years of history had clearly infused it with touches of Southeast Asian influence. Ascending the stone steps from the entrance, one entered a spacious reception hall. As they passed through a long arcade of graceful arches, the PR Director explained, “We’ve also invited two of our brand ambassadors and several supermodels to watch the show with you today. They’re already waiting for you in the lounge.”

Wen Youyi gave a slight nod. “I’ve kept them waiting.”

Ying Yin and the other supermodels had indeed been waiting for nearly half an hour.

Among the four of them, Ying Yin was Greta’s fragrance-line ambassador. Another was the brand’s full-line ambassador for Asia, a Japanese actress. The remaining two were renowned supermodels: one Chinese, currently a Friend of the House and rumored to be under consideration for a formal ambassadorship, and the other Polish, the face of Greta’s watch collection.

The four women shared no common native language, so they conversed in English. Though none of them knew one another well, they were all veterans of fashion events and celebrity functions. Years of social engagements had made them effortlessly adept at mingling – within minutes they were chatting as though they had been acquainted for years.

They were deep in conversation when a voice came through the staff’s earpieces announcing that the guest had arrived and was on her way.

A staff member stepped forward and reminded them softly, “Everyone, Tanya will be here in just a moment.”

The conversation immediately ceased. Cups and saucers were set down.

After a brief wait, the white French double doors swung open from either side.

A procession appeared in the corridor.

Almost unconsciously, all four celebrities rose to their feet before the group had even entered the room.

Every pair of eyes settled upon the woman walking at its center.

Her stride was measured and unhurried. She carried herself with extraordinary grace, every movement elegant without the slightest trace of effort or affectation – as though refinement were simply her natural state.

That kind of innate elegance was impossible not to admire. Even the most beautiful women, upon seeing it, could not help but feel a quiet longing.

From past experience, Ying Yin had imagined that a society lady of this stature would either be aloof and untouchable, radiating icy superiority, or possess the kind of meticulously cultivated warmth that was so polished it became exhausting to respond to.

The woman before her was neither.

Her eyes were clear and luminous; her demeanor serene. From head to toe, there was nothing about her that was not perfectly appropriate, perfectly measured.

She certainly possessed an air of distance – but it was the effortless distance bestowed by family background and upbringing, not something she deliberately projected.

Ying Yin found herself staring, momentarily transfixed.

She had only ever seen this feeling in one other person.

Shang Shao.

President Albert introduced each guest to Wen Youyi in turn, mentioning only their professions and names, never their titles.

When he reached Ying Yin, he said, “This is the Chinese film actress, Ying Yin.”

Until then, Wen Youyi had greeted everyone with the same courteous expression.

But when her gaze fell upon Ying Yin, it lingered – noticeably – for several seconds longer.

So this is the woman… The one who’d filmed that almost-kiss with Ke Yu in the commercial. The one who was apparently so good at catching pigs… and feeding them.

Her feelings were unexpectedly complicated.

She extended her hand and said, with a smile that carried layers of meaning, “Miss Ying, I’ve heard so much about you. Meeting you in person truly lives up to the saying.”

Ying Yin returned the handshake with effortless composure, but for some inexplicable reason, she felt a flicker of nervousness inside.

…What’s going on?

Compared with Albert’s introductions of the celebrities, his introduction of Wen Youyi was remarkably brief.

“This is Tanya,” he said simply. “An old friend of the house.”

Tea, pastries, and fruit were soon brought in by the staff.

Ying Yin sat with the group for a short while before politely excusing herself and making her way to the ladies’ room.

She opened her clutch, took out her phone, and leaned against the marble vanity as she called Shang Shao.

His car had already arrived outside Lining Mansion, only to be stopped at the entrance by a PR staff member.

With impeccable courtesy – and unmistakable firmness – the man addressed the driver’s seat. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not receiving outside guests today.”

The man resting with his eyes closed in the back seat slowly opened them.

So the very first step of his plan – getting to the venue – had already run into trouble.

Seeing Ying Yin’s name on the incoming call, he answered while absentmindedly flicking a hand, signaling that such a trivial matter was for the driver to deal with.

The driver got out of the car. Behind him, the Maybach’s dark-tinted rear window glided silently upward, concealing the man seated inside.

“I’m at the entrance,” Shang Shao said simply. “Has it started?”

“Not yet.” For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Ying Yin felt oddly delighted. She asked again, just to be sure, “You really came? But you’ll have to wait in the car for such a long time.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Unruffled as ever, Shang Shao concealed his true intentions with practiced ease.

“If you get bored watching the show,” he said evenly, “come sit with me for a while. Come see me.”

Ying Yin moistened her lips before lightly biting them. Cleverly – yet with a hint of accusation – she replied, “No… If I come sit with you for a while… you won’t let me leave.”

Shang Shao let out a low chuckle.

“My grandfather gave me this car,” he said. “I wouldn’t dare.”

That was what he said. But his voice was so calm, so measured, that it was impossible to tell whether he meant it.

Rationally, Ying Yin didn’t believe him. Emotionally, however, she surrendered with astonishing speed.

Like a web of silk threads, her heart seemed instinctively woven toward his, leaning wherever his did, without condition.

She folded her slender arms across her chest.

“Then… have you gotten inside yet?” she asked softly. “I could come see you now.”

His voice, already low and mature, became softer still.

The moment it dropped to that quiet murmur, it took on the dusky intimacy of something dangerously close to flirting.

The rear window lowered halfway.

Covering the phone’s receiver lightly with one hand, Shang Shao listened as the male PR representative approached the car. With his hands folded neatly before him, the man bowed apologetically. “My apologies, sir. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Shang Shao said nothing. He merely gave a slight nod before returning to the call.

“One minute,” he said. “They’re letting me into the underground garage.”

Ying Yin glanced at her watch. “Then I’d better go back.”

“Is one minute really all you can spare?” Shang Shao asked, his voice carrying a helpless smile.

“Mmm.”

And she really did hang up.

She tossed her phone back into her clutch, then reached inside again and took out the letter.

Could it be handwritten by Shang Shao?

Or perhaps Uncle Kang had written it? At that time… maybe Uncle Kang had mailed over the unfinished one-hundred-million-dollar contract the two of them had never signed.

She couldn’t decide whether to open it now. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

Pinching the envelope gently between her fingers, she tried to judge from its thickness whether it contained folded contract papers… or a single sheet of letter paper.

Just then, the restroom door swung open.

She jumped.

With a soft pat, the envelope slipped from her hands onto the floor.

Ying Yin recovered almost instantly, smoothing away her surprise behind a polite smile. “Tanya.”

Wen Youyi bent down and picked up the envelope for her.

“I’m sorry,” she said gently. “I should have knocked. Did I startle you?”

As she extended it back, her eyes fell naturally upon the handwriting on the envelope.

The elegant smile on her face froze.

Perhaps there were many mothers in the world who could no longer recognize their children’s handwriting.

Wen Youyi was certainly not one of them.

Shang Shao had always possessed exceptionally beautiful penmanship, whether with fountain pen or brush. His characters were balanced, upright, and impeccably structured. They lacked the flamboyant flourish of some calligraphers, but every stroke, every sweep and turn of the brush carried the quiet weight of restrained power, every line concealing a sharpness beneath its composure.

This…

This was Ah-Shao’s handwriting?

Wen Youyi’s gaze shifted from the envelope to Ying Yin’s face.

It was as though everything had suddenly fallen into place.

Back then, when she had tried to find suitable marriage prospects for Shang Shao, there had been countless beautiful daughters of prestigious families. Yet every single one had been dismissed by Shang Qingye with the words: “He doesn’t like them. None of them.”

After returning from afternoon tea one day, Shang Qingye had, for once, gone against his usual habits and sat down to watch a mainland variety show. He watched for a full hour and a half with extraordinary patience.

Had he enjoyed it?

Not at all.

His expression had looked more like someone attempting to solve an unsolved mystery.

So…

Even his absence on New Year’s Eve had been because of her.

The pity was that, during their phone call at the time, he had only said she was a girl from an ordinary family.

Wen Youyi had spent a long time preparing herself mentally.

Shang Shao was not someone who cared about appearances. Therefore, this girl must have come from an ordinary background and had an ordinary appearance – but she must possess a beautiful heart, intelligence, and knowledge…

Forget it. As long as Ah-Shao liked her, that was enough.

Although… she had really hoped he would find a beautiful girl, preferably someone who could stand alongside Ke Yu…

Mm. No, wait.

Standing alongside him was one thing, but wasn’t the relationship between those two a little complicated…

A wildly chaotic stream of thoughts rushed through Wen Youyi’s mind.

She remained lost in them until suddenly her fingers felt empty – the letter had already been taken back by Ying Yin.

Ying Yin slipped the letter back into her clutch. Just as she was thinking of offering some polite remark before excusing herself, she heard the woman in front of her ask, “Miss Ying, are you very close with Ke Yu?”

Ying Yin froze for a moment.

After carefully considering her answer and giving the most official response possible, she replied, “Yes. Mr. Ke and I have been friends for many years.”

“I’m his fan.”

“Ah.” Ying Yin suddenly understood. Her smile brightened with genuine warmth. “So am I.”

Wen Youyi stood with perfect composure, continuing the conversation in a reserved manner. “What do you think of Ke Yu?”

“I think…”

Ying Yin was completely confused. She had no idea why they were discussing Ke Yu in the ladies’ restroom.

“His acting is excellent. He’s also a very good person.”

“His figure isn’t good?” Wen Youyi asked the question with surprising directness.

Ying Yin: “…”

So this is what a wealthy lady is like?

Sure enough… very straightforward.

She answered cautiously and tactfully, “I think it’s good. But he’s not my type.”

Wen Youyi nodded. Deep inside, she quietly let out a sigh of relief.

As soon as Ying Yin stepped out, she couldn’t help but send Shang Shao a WeChat message: [Mr. Ke has so many wealthy female fans.]

Shang Shao’s interest was clearly minimal, but out of courtesy he still asked: [How come?]

Ying Yin: [The guest watching the show today is his fan. She even asked me whether I thought Ke Yu’s figure was good. Do you think she wants to keep him?]

Shang Shao: [If you have so much free time, why don’t you come downstairs and tell me in person?]

Ying Yin switched to another chat window. [Director, Xiao Dao is very popular with wealthy women.]

Shang Lu: [?]

Ying Yin: [She said his body is great. You know?]

Shang Lu: [Location.]

Ying Yin: “Lining Mansion.”

Then she added: [Don’t be like this. You have to trust that Mr. Ke still loves you… for now.]

Seeing the characters “Lining Mansion” on the screen, Shang Lu – who had just sprung to his feet – froze in place again.

He called out to Uncle Ming and asked, “Last week, when Xiao Wen asked me to accompany her to a show, where was it held?”

The butler, Uncle Ming, answered, “Greta’s show. It was at Lining Mansion.”

The very next second, Shang Lu calmly sank back into the sofa. He crossed one ankle over his knee, raised his leg leisurely, and let out a cold laugh before replying to Ying Yin: [Good luck.]

Ying Yin finally opened Ke Yu’s chat window: [Mr. Ke, your charm is truly something else.]

The screen displayed: [Your message has been sent, but the recipient has rejected your messages.]

On a wet, gray-black beach, Ke Yu stood barefoot with his trousers rolled up, tossing some kind of shellfish into a red plastic bucket.

Today was yet another perfect day for collecting seafood from the shore, and avoiding people trying to kill him.

Half an hour later, Greta’s Spring/Summer runway show was officially recreated at Lining Mansion.

There were no photographers, no throngs of media, celebrities, or VIP guests.

The entire event was quiet and intimate.

To be fair, Greta’s designs this season were genuinely outstanding. Whether it was the use of color, the combination of fabrics, or the originality of the tailoring, every aspect was striking enough to make people look twice.

But Wen Youyi’s attention was entirely focused on Ying Yin throughout the show.

At one moment, she thought:

As an actress, that artificially sweet expression of hers is truly too perfunctory. It hardly shows any dedication to her profession.

But she is beautiful.

A while later:

She looks so bored. How could she be completely unmoved by fashion – the magnificent, brilliant, and deeply moving art form that it is?

But she is beautiful.

Then:

Why has her sitting posture become so relaxed? With no cameras pointed at her, has she already abandoned her self-discipline and her sense of maintaining proper poise?

But she is beautiful.

…

Forget it.

Putting everything else aside – she is beautiful. And Ah-Shao likes her.

Greta’s President for Greater China, Albert, sat beside Wen Youyi and provided her with professional yet concise commentary throughout the show.

She listened intently, her brows slightly furrowed, occasionally nodding in approval. Every time she nodded, the highly trained sales associates nearby would immediately make a note.

As they continued taking notes, they gradually realized that Wen Youyi’s preferences seemed to have undergone a subtle shift this year…

She appeared to be favoring things that were younger, more lively?

Because the runway at Lining Mansion followed its circular staircase design, it was longer than the runway route used at the Milan show. As a result, the entire presentation lasted more than forty minutes.

Afterward, an additional twelve haute couture pieces were presented.

These gowns had not appeared on the runway. They were part of a private showing reserved only for true haute couture clients.

When the main show ended, Wen Youyi rose to her feet and applauded gracefully. “Bravo.”

She exchanged a warm embrace with Albert and greeted him with the customary cheek kisses. “Greta never disappoints me. I truly regret missing your March show.”

Her simple remark caused everyone present to quietly clench their fists, secretly cheering in their hearts.

Albert immediately followed up. “I’ve prepared afternoon tea. It’s outdoors on the third floor. The weather is wonderful today.”

But Wen Youyi only inclined her head apologetically. “I would very much like to sit down and hear more about this season’s breathtaking designs, but I’m afraid today won’t work. I still have something else to attend to.”

Then she called her assistant over. “Xiao Lai, coordinate with them and reserve all the pieces displayed in today’s show.”

She spent a fortune with a single sentence.

The entire venue fell silent.

But the Italians knew exactly how to handle such a moment. Albert immediately praised Wen Youyi’s unparalleled eye for fashion and extraordinary sense of style.

Wen Youyi only smiled and shook her head. “You are becoming younger. All I can do is let younger people wear your designs.”

No one understood what she meant.

She declined the brand’s offer to arrange transportation for her departure.

When she called out to Ying Yin, Ying Yin was currently doing mental arithmetic in her head:

One times two is two. Two times four is eight. Three times eight is twenty-four…

Twenty million?

What kind of family is this? Spending twenty million on clothes in a single purchase…

“Miss Ying.”

Ying Yin’s voice rose slightly in surprise. “Mm?”

She turned around, a distant yet polite smile already appearing on her face. “You were calling me?”

For the first time, Wen Youyi looked at her carefully, face to face.

Her skin, her flesh, her bones – all of them seemed perfectly balanced and obedient to beauty itself. At first glance, her appearance carried a gentle, innocent purity. Yet beneath that softness was a layer of stubbornness, revealed through her bone structure and her features.

It was precisely that contradiction that kept her beauty from ever appearing foolish, or calculating.

Wen Youyi’s gaze was perfectly courteous. Before Ying Yin even had the chance to feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny, she heard her ask, “When you go out, you don’t bring an assistant?”

“Today I left too early. She wouldn’t really have been able to help with anything,” Ying Yin said with a smile.

For some reason, in front of Wen Youyi, she didn’t put on her usual sweet, poised, worldly persona – the one she had perfected from countless public appearances.

The brand representatives were busy wrapping things up. The expensive garments and jewelry needed to be carefully inventoried and loaded for transport. Several coaches were parked outside in the open area, waiting to take the high-fashion models to the airport.

The PR team was also escorting the other ambassadors and representatives into their business cars.

Based on past experience, wealthy society ladies were often very enthusiastic about befriending celebrities and figures from the entertainment industry. They had already prepared themselves for socializing – after all, such connections could be highly beneficial to them.

But clearly, Wen Youyi’s strictly “businesslike” attitude toward attending the show had left their expectations unmet. Because Wen Youyi had given instructions beforehand, no one dared to interrupt the quiet corridor.

It felt as though this peaceful passageway had been completely separated from the chaos on the floors above and below – the bustle of staff moving about, the loud English conversations in various accents echoing through the stairwell.

“You didn’t sleep well?” Wen Youyi looked at Ying Yin with a smile that was not quite a smile. “I noticed you nearly fell asleep during the show just now. Your head was bobbing up and down.”

Ying Yin genuinely froze in embarrassment.

Truly.

“Last night… I didn’t sleep very well,” she admitted guiltily.

Wen Youyi looked thoughtful. “Then perhaps I should let you go back and rest. However, speaking from my own wishes, I would rather invite you to have a cup of tea.”

Ying Yin was stunned. “Invite me for tea?”

Is she going to talk to me about Mr. Ke?

If this had happened before, Ying Yin would have happily accepted.

But not now.

Right now, there was only one thing on her mind: She wanted to see Shang Shao.

She politely declined. “I’m afraid today isn’t very convenient. My car is already waiting downstairs.”

Wen Youyi misunderstood, assuming she had other work to attend to, and didn’t insist. “I’ll accompany you downstairs.”

Ying Yin had no choice but to secretly type a message to Shang Shao for help:

Ying Yin: [What do I do? The wealthy lady says she’ll see me to my car. Did you bring car?]

Shang Shao was not in the car.

He had only one thing on his mind: getting the letter back.

He was afraid that if he waited too long, something unexpected might happen, so he had gone straight inside to intercept her.

Glancing at WeChat, he frowned slightly and replied: [Find an excuse and get rid of her.]

But what excuse could Ying Yin possibly come up with?

And clearly, she couldn’t afford to offend Wen Youyi either.

So she could only say, “I suddenly… don’t feel like leaving anymore.”

“You’re not leaving?”

“Yes, I…” Ying Yin racked her brain.

For some reason, in front of Wen Youyi, she had temporarily lost the effortless ability she usually had to smooth over any situation.

Fortunately, Wen Youyi was considerate. She gave a slight nod. “Then I won’t disturb you any longer. I’ll have my assistant contact you. Until next time.”

After Wen Youyi left, Ying Yin let out a long breath of relief. But she had barely taken a few steps down the corridor when a hand suddenly pulled her into the corner.

She let out a soft “mmph.”

Recognizing the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the fabric of his sleeves and collar, her heart immediately settled.

Shang Shao pressed one hand against the wall beside her ear, while his other arm wrapped around her waist. “Why do you look so absent-minded?”

He actually has the nerve to ask.

Ying Yin wrapped her arms around him, her lightly made-up lashes drooping sleepily. “I didn’t sleep well last night…”

“How were the clothes? Did you like any of them?”

Ying Yin shook her head.

She felt these questions were very unlike Shang Shao’s usual style. But before she could figure out why, he kissed her.

Her heart immediately jumped into her throat. Her entire body tensed, and she almost wanted to disappear into his arms.

When he slightly pulled away, she barely had time to catch her breath before saying, “There are other people here!”

“There is no one else.” Shang Shao held her in place, looking at her heavily for a moment.

Then he kissed her again – with a possessiveness that left no room for retreat.

His other hand slid down along Ying Yin’s arm.

His palm was warm and dry, carrying the faint roughness of calluses. As it moved from her arm, over her skin and the delicate line of her veins, finally reaching the inside of her wrist, every movement was deliberate and practiced.

Ying Yin instantly went weak, her thoughts turning hazy. She couldn’t even hold onto her bag anymore. At some point, it had quietly ended up in Shang Shao’s hand.

The man who appeared completely serious while kissing her couldn’t help but smile once he got what he wanted.

It had been even easier than the five steps he had imagined.

Ying Yin tilted her face up, her mind moving sluggishly. “What are you laughing at?”

“I’m laughing…” Shang Shao didn’t have time to answer.

Looking at her face, her eyes, he couldn’t help but kiss her again.

This time, there was no ulterior motive behind it. Yet somehow, it was even more uncontrollable.

He didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching from the other end of the corridor.

It wasn’t until they were almost right in front of them that he finally realized what was happening. Acting purely on instinct, he pressed Ying Yin’s face into his chest, shielding her from view. Then his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked toward the approaching person, his gaze full of warning.

Wen Youyi stood there expressionless.

“…Jesus.”