It had been eight years since Liang Jin came to the Hong Kong District for her exchange program.
Rain like that—the downpour she remembered from the day she met Shen Keye—was a rarity in the Hong Kong District.
The nighttime storm battered the city. Jagged lightning ripped across the sky, while sheets of relentless rain seeped coldly into every corner, choking the air from your lungs.
Water poured from the eaves in a solid curtain. The girl stood beneath the academic building, tall and lithe with long, straight black hair. She wore a white blouse paired with a turquoise pleated miniskirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows to reveal slender, pale forearms. When she lowered her eyes, she gave off an air of aloof detachment, like a natural-born model destined for the cover of a high-fashion magazine.
Classmates in the corner were whispering. “Isn’t that Liang Jin?”
“That girl from the mainland?”
“So many rich boys chasing her. What’s the big deal? Social media says she’s sleeping around, hopping into guys’ luxury cars in the middle of the night…”
“And her nose… heard it’s fake. Hyaluronic fillers or something—why else would it be so perfect? And those boobs… gotta be implants. Shameless.”
“…”
A gaggle of girls nearby, shoving and giggling, caught the girl glancing their way. Liang Jin’s face passed in a flash—flawless bone structure, the kind of striking beauty that burned itself into your memory. She seemed to have overheard, but she didn’t react, just offered a faint smile.
The girls fell silent without realizing it.
Liang Jin pulled out her phone and checked the time, acting as if nothing had happened.
October 10, 2014. 6:21 p.m. Friday.
The handover had been seventeen years ago, and she was seventeen that year.
“You still heading to Ulta?”
Wu Lin called as Liang Jin headed toward the CBD, her voice laced with disbelief.
Wu Lin vented. “Song Youhuai strikes out with you, so he starts rumors on social media. Now everyone’s trashing you, and you’re still going to work on their turf?”
Wu Lin had been Liang Jin’s best friend in high school. After graduation, Wu Lin got into Hong Kong School while Liang Jin made Peking University. They figured that was it for their friendship, but family troubles pulled Liang Jin to Hong Kong for an exchange after her freshman year.
To Wu Lin, Liang Jin had a talent for drawing fire. She turned heads wherever she went, inspiring equal measures of obsession and loathing. Two months in the Hong Kong District, and she was public enemy number one.
Wu Lin sighed in exasperation. “The film crew shut down early. You came here to act, scraping for chances that are already a long shot. Tank your rep, and you’re done for.”
Liang Jin had just gotten the update. “Director Zheng lined up some solid investors. The pitch from last week is in talks.”
Wu Lin paused, then lit up with joy for her. “Talk about turning it around.”
Liang Jin replied evenly, “Which is exactly why I need my name clean.”
Her mother’s friend—a director—had spotted her during a family visit and begged her to star in his new movie.
Liang Jin had turned him down flat. But then, half a year earlier, everything at home fell apart.
She fished a digital recorder from her dark red plaid canvas bag. Her slim fingers twirled it like a pen before clenching tight.
The bus pulled to a stop in the Hong Kong District. Liang Jin popped open her Hello Kitty umbrella and stepped into the rainy night before hitting play.
A man’s voice spilled out, smug and menacing.
“Liang Jin, you don’t hook up with me, you’re done in the Hong Kong District.”
Wu Lin nearly gagged.
Liang Jin said, “Big crowd tonight. Pretty much everyone from our program. I have to show.”
Wu Lin knew exactly what she had in mind. Stubborn as ever—Wu Lin wanted to crack her skull open and check for brains. “Why poke the bear? Guy was throwing money at you. Now look at the mess…”
Liang Jin let out a soft laugh. “I didn’t say anything wrong.”
She’d only spoken the truth: Money can’t buy me—and you don’t have much anyway, Young Master Song.
…
Ulta Bar was booked private tonight.
Dim lights pulsed over clusters of boys and girls chattering away. Thumping bass built the energy, infecting a few couples into sloppy makeouts amid cheers that swallowed everything else.
Coworkers buzzed about the rich kids who booked the place.
“Word is some ultra-rich heir’s showing up. That’s new.”
“Bigger deal than Song Youhuai?”
Liang Jin had half an hour before her shift, so she read in the corner. Suddenly, a weird outburst cut through the crowd—”Ain’t got shit to say about it”—followed by an over-the-top jab: “If you’re ranking ’em, Young Master Song’s just the waiter slinging tea in the back.”
“But the papers say Song Youhuai’s like his bro or something?”
“No shot—totally different last names!”
Laughter erupted. One coworker spritzed on musky perfume. Another hushed her. “Liang Jin’s right there.”
The rumors made Liang Jin toxic anywhere she went. The first woman scoffed. “Why give a damn about trash like her?”
The way she spat “trash like her,” it was like Liang Jin was some filthy roach she’d brushed off her clothes.
The woman’s hand shook as she deliberately sprayed a heavy cloud of perfume.
Liang Jin had always been sensitive to aquatic floral scents—one whiff and her stomach churned. Now the cramped changing room felt like it was steeped in ocean botanicals. She couldn’t stand it another second. She grabbed her bag and hurried out. The moment the door swung shut behind her, raucous laughter erupted from inside like a tidal wave.
Those women couldn’t stand her either.
Liang Jin suddenly recalled Wu Lin’s joking remark from a while back: “With this exchange year, forget about dating. Unless you snag a boyfriend even more impressive than Song Youhuai, you won’t be able to keep up.”
A crowd had already gathered outside, including a few familiar faces.
Liang Jin spotted Song Youhuai standing there, still wearing that gentle, upright gentleman look.
Unlike his usual self, though, he seemed stiff and on edge—because of the guy lounging at his side.
She didn’t recognize the stranger. He wore a white jacket over a matching short-sleeved shirt and sprawled lazily across a black leather sofa. In the dim lighting, Liang Jin couldn’t make out his features clearly. She could only see his neat black hair half-veiling his narrow, deep-set eyes. Under a straight nose, his thin lips met in what looked like a smirk—a worldly, arrogant grin that was decadent, roguish, and utterly wicked.
His long fingers curved slightly, index and middle pinching a long object from which dangled a few strands of black-and-white tail feathers.
Liang Jin watched as the guy rose languidly. He stood nearly six feet tall, lifting his hand to aim that needle-like thing right at Song Youhuai’s eyes.
It came perilously close to stabbing into them.
Song Youhuai’s frame shuddered.
But in the end, the guy just bent his wrist with an ambiguous half-smile and flung the object away.
Thud.
The sudden crash plunged the surroundings into silence.
The two-hundred-thousand-dollar bottle of champagne on the table beside Liang Jin’s hand shattered violently, liquor gushing out.
A few tiny glass shards splashed onto the back of her hand. She frowned, finally realizing the guy had thrown an exquisite metal dart.
“Ah-Ye!”
Someone rushed forward to intervene.
The guy ignored them. As if sensing her stare, his gaze shifted, landing on Liang Jin for a moment before sweeping indifferently past.
~~~
【Jinjin, how’s it going?】
【SNS says that guy showed up too… Oh my god!】
【My boyfriend says he and Song Youhuai are actually half-brothers, same dad different moms. Holy shit, how can they even be related??? Must be those Shen family genes, though that guy took his mom’s surname—you know, the Shen family empire dwarfs the Song family’s.】
In the bathroom, Liang Jin threw up and splashed water on her face.
She stared at Wu Lin’s messages, unsure what to believe. But she didn’t need it spelled out to know who “that guy” meant.
Everyone at Hong Kong University had heard of Shen Keye.
A campus legend—reckless and flamboyant, a local prodigy air rifle and pistol shooter who’d even competed for the country.
A math and physics whiz, he’d claimed the full-score gold medal at that year’s CMO Competition. Straight out of high school, he’d gotten into Oxbridge but stayed in Hong Kong at his family’s behest.
Liang Jin had glimpsed him once from afar, at the freshman assembly hall.
Born to prestige, heaven’s own favored son.
That colleague’s teasing jibe hadn’t been wrong. Hell, Song Youhuai wouldn’t even qualify to pour him tea.
Liang Jin looked up.
Her phone rang.
It was the director.
“Jinjin?” Zheng Yunzhi’s voice came through, laced with urgency.
“Director Zheng.”
It had been days since his last call.
A few girls emerged from the stalls. They clearly knew who Liang Jin was. Spotting her, they didn’t bother washing their hands, just tugged at their friend’s sleeve and scurried out.
Liang Jin’s voice came out faint. “Director, is this about the recent mess…”
Had the slander against her scared off investors?
Before she could finish, Zheng Yunzhi burst out, delighted: “Jinjin, we did it! Barring surprises, filming restarts next month.”
Liang Jin’s breath caught. Her expression softened into a genuine smile.
Zheng Yunzhi spilled the details on the investor. “My old classmate hooked us up… A Hongkonger, surname Shen. You probably know his nephew from school.”
“Jinjin, if you cross paths with him on campus, make nice. This guy’s a real benefactor!”
Liang Jin’s suspicions stirred. She hesitated. “Surname Shen?”
“His nephew’s Shen Keye.”
In the mirror, the girl’s face was ashen, but her dark eyes burned with resolve. She drew a deep breath, thoughts tangled. For an instant, she wondered: What a coincidence. It’s him.
~~~
Inside Ulta’s main hall, the party was raging. Tipsy guys and girls belted out songs in a drunken frenzy, like a horde of demons let loose.
Song Youhuai, though, slumped against the bar in the spotlight, teeth gritted. He couldn’t shake the memory of Shen Keye cocking his head in a cold sneer, that sharp metal point trained on his eyes—the raw peril of it.
He’d just promised to track down Shen Keye’s master’s relic ASAP. But the guy hadn’t let up; he’d simply stepped outside to take a call.
Song Youhuai drew in a deep breath and lifted a glass of wine from the tray of a nearby server. He chugged it down in one go, and only then did his restless heart begin to settle. As he set the empty glass back on the tray, he realized that the server delivering the drinks was someone he knew.
Slightly tipsy, Song Youhuai froze for an instant upon spotting Liang Jin. Then a wave of shame and irritation washed over him. He demanded in a low voice, “Liang Jin? How dare you show up here?”
The girl had changed into a black uniform. Her raven hair framed skin as white as snow, and her striking features fixed on him with a faint smile.
As if she were watching a comedy.
Liang Jin didn’t rise to his bait. Instead, she greeted him mildly. “Young Master Song, it’s been a while.” Pursing her lips, she added, “Isn’t today’s banquet supposed to invite every student from the School of Economics and Management? Why act so distant and leave me out?”
Song Youhuai swallowed the lingering burn of alcohol in his throat and shot her a sidelong glance. He suddenly sneered. “Why would I invite a nobody like you?” He was already on edge from Shen Keye’s earlier intimidation, and it left him deeply uncomfortable. Staring at Liang Jin, Song Youhuai sneered again. “What even are you, Liang Jin?”
Liang Jin paused for a long moment, as if only just piecing it together. “Oh, you mean that SNS business?”
The rumors circulating lately had caused her no end of trouble, but Liang Jin knew better than to fall into the trap of trying to prove her innocence. The moment she started defending herself against those accusations, she’d be entangled in the mess for good.
Her gaze sharpened, though her tone remained even. “I only just found out that a classmate slept with me, and I don’t remember a thing about it. Looks like he must’ve used some low-down tricks. That SNS post came from you, didn’t it, Young Master Song? You’re such a good guy—why don’t you tell everyone who the culprit is?”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a calm certainty.
The classmates who had been eavesdropping went quiet one by one. The once-rowdy bar fell into a hush, as if subdued by an invisible force. The bustling crowd seemed to lose all its energy, and everyone slowly stilled.
Most of them turned to stare at Song Youhuai. He didn’t look overly flustered. Instead, he shot back, “What kind of nonsense is that, Liang Jin?” Dismissing her outright, Song Youhuai added, “You did something shady yourself—blaming others makes you look ridiculous.”
Liang Jin countered softly, “Then tell me, who was it that slept with me? All the guys from our class are right here!” She pointed around the room. “Was it him? Him? Or him?”
A chorus of firm denials followed.
Song Youhuai eyed the girl in front of him. Liang Jin appeared so clean and aloof— he never would have guessed she had this wild side.
Irritation flared within him, but then her slender finger paused, hovering in a particular direction. His building rage stalled in his chest.
Not far away, Shen Keye’s gaze darkened.
The girl stood within arm’s reach, her black hair cascading down, her features clear and bright.
A stranger of a girl had just boldly singled him out as the so-called “adulterer.”
Someone who had overheard the dramatic exchange doubled over by the door, clutching it as laughter erupted from them.
The single peal of laughter pierced the silence, starting soft before building into belly laughs that nearly left them gasping for air.
Liang Jin frowned toward the door. When she turned back, her eyes collided unexpectedly with someone else’s.
Her heart jolted. She hadn’t expected Shen Keye to return so soon—and even less had she expected the person she’d pointed at to be him.
This time, his gaze held none of the indifference from their first encounter. Instead, he was studying her intently.
A tiny black mole sat on the left side of the boy’s straight nose bridge. When he sneered, that inborn aggression and austerity seemed to center on the mole, lending his expression an intensely predatory edge.
Shen Keye neither confirmed nor denied it. He merely tilted his head, utterly at ease, a hint of playful amusement curling his lips. Coldly and arrogantly, he watched her in silence.