In Wen Youyi’s “Jesus,” Shang Shao’s usually wary and stern eyes softened, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
What was going on? The wealthy woman who wanted to keep Ke Yu as her kept man –was that his mother? His girlfriend had spent two hours in close contact with his mother without his knowledge? His plan to introduce them “at the right time, in a carefully chosen place, in a well-orchestrated manner” had officially gone bankrupt before it even launched?
Knowing that Shang Shao had a girlfriend was one thing; witnessing her eldest son’s romantic affair with his own eyes was quite another.
Wen Youyi had recently been driven to distraction by Shang Qingye’s behavior. She wanted to soften and call him back to the master bedroom, but felt that would be letting him off too easily. Yet he had been sleeping in the guest room for months now – she didn’t show it on the surface, but deep down she worried he wasn’t sleeping well. Between the two impulses, she herself had ended up with terrible insomnia, sleeping so lightly that she’d developed neurasthenia and constantly felt drained.
Now, having witnessed Shang Shao passionately kissing a female celebrity in broad daylight, Wen Youyi hadn’t yet felt any emotional turmoil, but her mind had already gone blank.
In public, no less. How utterly improper.
All those years of education – down the drain! All that talk of propriety, self-restraint, refinement, eloquence, and diligence… Wen Youyi nearly choked, her body swaying. Listen to what he’d just said and done! Never mind not deceiving even in the privacy of one’s chamber – in broad daylight, he was deceiving with a vengeance!
Just as she was about to fall, Shang Shao made a snap decision, released Ying Yin from his embrace, and stepped forward to catch and support Wen Youyi.
Ying Yin: “…”
What?
Shang Shao first asked Wen Youyi softly, “Are you all right?”
Only after receiving her reply did he feel at ease, lifting his gaze to look at Ying Yin.
Ying Yin’s emotions came on fast – fierce, overwhelming, and utterly unreasonable.
Her eyes were still wide with shock and bewilderment, but they had already misted over, as if tears were about to spill at any moment.
She was overcome with hurt and bitterness.
In the dead silence, the scene was utterly bizarre.
Shang Shao: “…”
He had no choice but to clear his throat softly, and under Ying Yin’s gaze – which seemed ready to sever all ties of love – said, “Call her Auntie.”
Wen Youyi looked up, staring at him in disbelief.
Yes, she had indeed borne five children and was no longer young, but her family had always called her “Xiao Wen,” and the younger generation outside called her Tanya – the word “Auntie” felt utterly foreign to her. Besides, in her youth, she had been the muse of none other than the nationally treasured designer Jacob… Wen Youyi felt a pang of hurt.
Ying Yin thought to herself, Auntie? She’s not nearly that old. Don’t think you can just make something up and brush this off… There’s something fishy going on here!
Under her gaze, which burned with righteous interrogation, Shang Shao suppressed a smile, the corner of his mouth curling slightly, and said calmly, “Ying Yin, this is my mother, Wen Youyi.”
Ying Yin’s breath caught, her pupils lost focus, and her voice vanished along with her intelligence.
…There was nothing fishy here. It was all just mother-son affection.
Unruffled, Shang Shao gave Wen Youyi’s shoulders a gentle squeeze and formally introduced her. “Mom, this is my girlfriend, Ying Yin. The two of you have already spent the afternoon together.”
What should have been an awkward and jarring scene, he handled with steady composure. After the introductions, he moved to Ying Yin’s side, slipped his arm openly around her waist, and leaned in to remind her in a low voice. “If you keep this up, she’s going to start worrying about our children’s IQ.”
Snapping back to her senses like waking from a dream, Ying Yin flushed crimson and took the hand Wen Youyi extended to her. “Aunt…”
Wen Youyi cut her off, decisive. “Call me Tanya.”
Ying Yin swallowed. “Tanya.”
“I picked out a few outfits for you earlier. Later, my assistant will ask for your measurements, or I can just arrange for someone from Greta to come to your place and take them in person.”
Ying Yin was taken aback, having no idea when she had done the selecting, and instinctively declined. “You’re too generous…” At the same time, she said quite candidly, “If I need anything, they’ll loan them to me.”
Wen Youyi couldn’t help but smile, her lips curving upward. This smile of hers was different from the one she’d worn at the fashion show – it carried an added warmth and familiarity.
“To be honest, Greta’s style and direction have changed a lot since they got a new design director. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have told Xiao Lai to go all in.”
“Because of me?”
“Mhm.” Wen Youyi acknowledged with a slight nod, her smile still in place. “Actually, I recognized you from the very beginning. But Ah-Shao always wanted to introduce you to me on the most formal occasion, so I didn’t dare to reveal myself prematurely. I hope you won’t hold it against me.”
Her words were beautifully delivered, like a gentle spring breeze that left no one feeling overlooked.
Ying Yin lifted her gaze to look at Shang Shao beside her, as if blaming him for not telling her in advance.
Shang Shao looked utterly innocent and asked, “Dad told you?”
Wen Youyi’s gaze fell to the ladies’ clutch in his hand. “That letter – your handwriting.”
Talk about hitting a sore spot.
Shang Shao’s heart sank, and sure enough, Ying Yin perked up like a small animal alerted to the slightest disturbance, instantly on guard and sharp-eyed. “So it really was you who wrote it? You lied to me.” She glared at him.
Shang Shao braced himself for the fallout of his scheme collapsing at the final hurdle, but kept his composure and said calmly, “I didn’t write it.”
At the same time, he cast a light glance toward Wen Youyi, reminding her, “You misidentified it.”
How could Wen Youyi not catch his warning? She pressed her lips together, suppressing a faint smile, and said with a hint of regret. “So I was mistaken? Well, that’s still a coincidence worthy of a story – it seems today’s fate was written in the stars.”
Shang Shao instinctively felt something off about her words, and then heard Wen Youyi continue, “Such a wonderful encounter calls for more conversation. Ah-Shao, why don’t we go over to your place.”
Shang Shao: “…”
When they reached the underground garage, the driver who had been waiting hurriedly stubbed out his cigarette, stepped forward, and said properly, “Good afternoon, Madam.”
He didn’t dare let his gaze wander.
When Wen Youyi saw this Maybach, a flicker of surprise passed through her eyes, but she didn’t say anything about it – she simply smiled and said, “That license plate of yours can be traced, you know. Aren’t you afraid of people writing nonsense? You’re having a perfectly nice relationship – it’d be a shame if it turned into a scandal first.”
Indeed, a new wave of gossip had quietly begun circulating online, though Shang Shao’s name wasn’t among those mentioned.
It all started with a post from an entertainment blogger: [A few months have passed, and I still get a little flutter looking at these photos. I know I’m guilty – there’s something so morally dubious about shipping a married man’s CP, you know?]
The accompanying images were still from the previous Starlight Film Awards, featuring Ying Yin and Shang Shao in the same frame.
In the pictures, she was in a striking red gown – elegant and dignified, yet unable to dim her radiant star power – while Shang Shao, dressed in a suit, held the award envelope in his hand, his thin lips pressed together beneath silver-rimmed glasses, carrying the moment with effortless composure.
There had only been so many shots of them to begin with, and they’d already made the rounds on the night of the ceremony. The photos she posted were nothing new – what was different was that they’d been layered with filters upon filters, giving them an enhanced cinematic atmosphere.
The post didn’t include any hashtags, didn’t enter any fan communities, and didn’t even mention the names of the two individuals or the Starlight Awards. Yet it still gained traction through retweets and likes, repeatedly pushed by algorithms to the homepages of countless like-minded fans.
The comment section had grown to over a hundred replies, like a workplace gathering:
[Family! My long-lost family! I’ve finally found my home!]
[Who gets it?! It’s literally so good it kills me! A top actress, a young scion of wealth… ‘Married too young’ – do you have any ambition?!]
[What’s this? XX and XXX? Taking a bite – absolute heaven. What’s this? XX and XXX? Taking a bite – absolute heaven.]
[I’m like a bat that only comes out at night, sneaking around here in the shadows.]
[The morality of the man being married condemns me, the chemistry pulls me in – screw it, I’m not being human today!!!]
Noticing that the data was perhaps getting a little out of hand, the blogger had to pin a comment at the top: [Fam, please don’t mention any names, I beg you. There’s no intention of disrupting anyone’s lives – we’re just keeping to ourselves. Kindly refrain from coming after me (bless).]
The turning point came when an account commented below:
[Congratulations, you’ve shipped something real.]
The account’s profile picture was a blue sky with white clouds, and its username was Iron Fist Holding Dreams. It had zero followers, but plenty of posts – all of them pictures of boxed meals and the sky – so clearly it wasn’t a bot account.
The replies beneath it were all amused spectators:
[Another one’s gone mad.]
[Someone, carry them out.]
[Yes, yes, I don’t care, it’s real, it’s real to me!]
[Congrats, sister – (checked the profile, maybe it’s a brother…?)]
The account replied: [It really is real (crying laughing). You can keep an eye on a certain film that just wrapped – the guy spent nearly two months on set, the whole crew knew.]
A cascade of question marks followed. Someone asked outright: [Wait, isn’t the guy married? With kids too? Did he actually get a divorce?]
The user replied: [I wouldn’t know about that. Anyway, I’ll delete this – no ulterior motives, I just happened to see this post and it seems like I might’ve said something I shouldn’t.]
And delete it they did, with a strong instinct for self-preservation. A while later, they seemed to have gritted their teeth and bought a membership, changing both profile picture and username to Iron Fist, Cautious in Word and Deed, while also enabling account protection and setting posts to “visible only for the past six months.”
The glaringly obvious attempt to cover their tracks only energized the CP fans. But there was simply too little useful information on the account to glean anything concrete. Plenty of people eat boxed meals every day, and the captions – “wrapped early today,” “idle today,” “boxed meal was good today,” “weather’s bad, no work today” – could apply to anyone. Who’s to say it was a film set? Could just as easily be a construction site.
Because the buzz hadn’t broken out of its bubble, and real-person shipping was a sensitive topic, gossip accounts were wary of legal trouble and wouldn’t repost casually. So these rumors remained contained within their own information silo, circulating only in specific circles.
But now that someone had lit the spark, people were indeed starting to dig into the background and identity of the person known as “Jin Yuanmin.”
Wen Youyi’s reminder was reasonable. Shang Shao nodded. “You’re right. I’ll be careful.”
He had Wen Youyi and Ying Yin sit in the back while he took the front passenger seat, and without hesitation, lowered the privacy partition.
Ying Yin called out to him, “Mr. Shang, my bag…”
But she wasn’t fast enough – the partition had already come down. Shang Shao pretended not to hear, quickly opening the glittering clutch and pulling out the letter inside.
The driver didn’t make a sound, tense as could be, feeling as if even the air was running thin.
After a moment, the partition rose again, and the young master said with complete nonchalance, “Ah-Jie pressed the wrong button.”
Ah-Jie, hands gripping the steering wheel, felt as though winter thunder were crashing and June snow was falling.
The Maybach pulled out of the underground garage and sped smoothly toward the seaside estate.
This was Wen Youyi’s second time visiting. Lin Cunkang had received advance notice and made thorough preparations.
Wen Youyi was a woman of refinement.
Refinement, not extravagance.
Every meal, every residence, every daily routine in the Shang household – everything one saw, everything one breathed – was perfectly proper. And this was precisely the hardest and most luxurious thing of all. It wasn’t something money or power alone could achieve. Even with wealth and influence, plus a touch of elegant taste and the wisdom to suppress one’s occasional vulgar impulses, it still wasn’t enough. To attain Wen Youyi’s level of refinement required extra patience, extra insight, and extra self-discipline.
She had a whole system of managing a household and curating daily life. Housekeepers and estate managers who had worked under her were highly sought after throughout high society in Hong Kong. Other wealthy ladies were eager to poach one or two, hoping to learn how she lived and conducted herself, so they could emulate her with surpassing skill. But it was difficult – no one wanted to leave the Shang household, unless they were dismissed for a serious breach of conduct.
Every time Wen Youyi visited – whether to check on Mingxian’s hotel, stay briefly at Mingzhuo’s villa in America, or drop in on Shang Lu and Ke Yu – it would throw the butlers and housekeepers of each young master or miss into a state of high alert.
Lin Cunkang was no exception. Originally, since this visit had come suddenly and with little notice, there hadn’t been time to tidy up properly from top to bottom – he fully expected to receive some gentle but pointed critiques. But to his surprise, Wen Youyi’s attention this time was entirely elsewhere.
The Maybach came to a smooth stop. Shang Shao accompanied Wen Youyi as she alighted and was about to head inside when Wen Youyi called out to him, “You’ve been out and about during work hours for quite a while now – shouldn’t you be getting back?”
How could Shang Shao feel at ease leaving Ying Yin alone with Wen Youyi?
He replied considerately, “I’m not busy this afternoon. I’ll stay and have some tea with you both.”
“But your father will be upset if he finds out. He’ll scold you.”
“I’m fine. It doesn’t matter.”
Wen Youyi smiled faintly. “No, anger is bad for one’s health. You really shouldn’t keep provoking him.”
Shang Shao: “…”
Fine.
He gave Ying Yin a reassuring look, then cast a brief glance at Lin Cunkang – a silent message that he was entrusting Ying Yin to him and expected him to keep things under control.
Just as he turned to leave, Wen Youyi called him back again.
Wen Youyi gently reminded Ying Yin. “Didn’t you forget something?”
Ying Yin slapped her forehead, remembering. “Mr. Shang, my bag…”
“It’s in the car,” Shang Shao said. “I’ll get it for you.”
It was only a few steps away, and Ying Yin followed him over.
Shang Shao opened the passenger door, leaned in slightly, retrieved the bag, and handed it to her quite naturally – then, in one smooth motion, drew her into his embrace. With one hand cupping the side of her face, shielding her from Wen Youyi’s line of sight, he leaned in and murmured in her ear, “Don’t be nervous. She’s very easy to get along with, and she’s been looking forward to meeting you for a long time. Just be yourself.”
His reminder was low and gentle. Ying Yin hummed in acknowledgment, feeling his lips press against the curve of her ear. He gave her a light kiss. “Don’t leave tonight. Stay here and sleep, alright?”
“I have a business trip tomorrow…”
“I’ll take you to the airport.”
The two of them whispered many things to each other, stretching a brief parting as if they were about to be separated for a long time. Wen Youyi smiled, watching Shang Shao with an air of detached ease.
Sure enough, Shang Shao pressed a kiss to the corner of Ying Yin’s lips, lingered for a moment, pulled back, squinted to observe the color of her eyes, then leaned in again for another kiss. He kept his voice at a murmur, speaking in that same unhurried, even cadence, effortlessly drawing the atmosphere into something intimate and charged.
Ying Yin was captivated, dazed.
Shang Shao gave her earlobe a final rub, holding her gaze with those deep, misty eyes for a moment, and said, “See you tonight.”
Ying Yin turned around in a daze and walked a few steps. Wen Youyi kindly asked, “What about your phone? Don’t leave it in the car.”
At her reminder, Ying Yin’s first instinct was to check her bag. To her credit, she didn’t disappoint Wen Youyi’s expectations – she immediately noticed something else.
“Where’s my letter?” She froze, rifling through it again. When she looked up, Wen Youyi gestured with her eyes toward the car.
The engine had already started behind her.
Ying Yin immediately turned back, clear-eyed and defiant, glaring at Shang Shao, her voice low. “Mr. Shang, where is my letter?”
She had already figured it out plainly – it must have been Shang Shao’s doing. Lowering the partition, kissing her, making her dizzy – all of it was to take the letter.
The man who had already settled into the back seat and was about to close the door froze at her words.
Shang Shao cleared his throat and said gravely, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You lost my letter.” Ying Yin called him out directly.
Shang Shao: “…”
Ying Yin’s eyes reddened, holding back her hurt and urgency. “That was my letter – sent from Hong Kong, delayed by months…” She thought he had actually thrown it away.
There was no helping it; tears began to fall. She kept her face lowered, her hands cradling the bejeweled clutch bag, fingers fidgeting with its edges. Her expression was blank and composed, but her nose had turned red, and with every blink, another tear slipped down. “It took so much… what gave you the right to throw it away…”
Her grievance was beyond words.
That was her letter – late, yet returned to her. She hadn’t even read it yet. Fate had wanted her to read it. Who did he think he was?
Shang Shao’s heart melted into utter softness.
He didn’t hesitate for even a moment before getting out of the car and pulling her into his arms, right there in front of everyone not far away. Kissing her ear, he murmured a flurry of reassurances, “It’s not lost, it’s still here, perfectly fine… don’t cry.”
Ying Yin choked back a sob, holding her breath.
She really was trying very hard not to cry.
Shang Shao had no idea what to do with her, so he changed tack and said very seriously, “Alright, go ahead and cry. If you feel wronged and upset, cry until you’re happy, okay? The letter is here. It’s my fault.”
He pulled the letter from the inner pocket of his suit jacket – smooth, still carrying his body heat and his scent.
“See? It’s right here. It wasn’t thrown away. It’s completely intact.”
He personally placed the letter into Ying Yin’s hands and asked her to take a look.
Ying Yin took it. She didn’t open it right away, clutching it tightly in both hands until it crumpled. She tried to smile, the corners of her mouth lifting, but the tears kept coming, one after another, falling straight from her eyes.
She cried so beautifully that even her cheeks stayed dry – like a scene straight out of a movie.
“I was just acting.” She was covering up, stubborn to the last.
Shang Shao didn’t call her out on it. His broad hand pressed gently against the back of her neck as he kissed the top of her head. “There’s one line in there that I didn’t want you to see.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s something I should say to you myself.”
He brushed his thumb across her soft cheek, wiping away the moisture at the corner of her eye. “But if I said it now, it wouldn’t feel solemn enough. When you read that part, don’t give me an answer yet – wait until I say it to you in person, alright?”
