By the sink, the buzz from the basketball court had faded away, leaving only the occasional chirp of birds in the treetops.
Cold water gushed from the upward-facing faucet. Shen Keye bent his head to splash his face. His body still carried the heat of the game. When he lifted his gaze, droplets slid from the bridge of his nose along the sharp line of his jaw, one after another.
He was clearly losing patience. “Something you need?”
Liang Jin had been standing there for a while.
In the shadowed corner, it was just the two of them. She called his name gravely, cautiously: “Shen Keye.”
Her eyes fell on his hand as he rinsed it under the stream. “Song Youhuai and I have bad blood between us. You stood up for your friend—and vented a bit on my behalf too. Thanks for that.”
Shen Keye kept his eyes downcast.
Veins bulged across the back of the young man’s hand. His distinct knuckles glistened wet under the water—strong, sensual. Liang Jin frowned. “I saw you get hurt.”
It had happened on the second-to-last play. Song Youhuai had lunged for the ball and slashed open Shen Keye’s palm.
No one in the crowd had noticed.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
Shen Keye glanced at her. “Why do you care?”
“I’ll take care of it for you.”
She’d gotten a first-aid kit from the school team’s assistant and volunteered. “When I was little, I used to patch up my mom’s ballet injuries. I’m good with scrapes and cuts like this. I won’t make it hurt.”
Shen Keye twisted the faucet shut. The gash across his palm was a thin, fine line. It had seeped a little blood earlier, but nothing serious. He clenched his fist and tilted his head. “You worried about me?”
“Yeah.”
He seemed baffled, letting out a soft scoff. “Worried about me? Or about that movie role?”
She’d been caught out. Her heart stuttered, and she looked away as she lied. “Both.”
Shen Keye had training that evening. He gathered his things to leave.
Liang Jin hurried after him, changing the subject with praise. “That was a hell of a shot.”
His skills aside, Shen Keye had a razor-sharp, meticulous mind. That game had been flawless, every move calculated.
Liang Jin knew the boy in front of her was the golden child of high society—a true heir, favored by fortune and fame.
Impressing someone like that? Near impossible.
She stared at his hand, wondering how bad the injury was. If it wasn’t treated right, it could mess with his daily life.
He towered over her by a head. He stopped abruptly, and she nearly crashed into him.
Her thoughts were a jumble. She wanted to dig through the first-aid kit. “I can leave you the iodine and some bandages.”
Her voice was soft, overlapping with his cool tone.
“Buttering me up won’t work. Investments are business decisions. I don’t call those shots.”
Liang Jin clutched the brown bottle, her face paling.
Shen Keye glanced sideways at her, frowning, though his tone softened a touch. “As for the cut…”
Her mind fixated on that word—”won’t work.” She gripped the iodine so hard her knuckles went white.
Shen Keye watched her. The girl’s lashes lowered slightly, her pale lips pressed together in quiet dejection.
He looked away, his voice turning flat and merciless. “You’re too late. It’s already healing.”
~~~
Liang Jin came away empty-handed.
On Hennessy Road, retro French chandeliers flickered with the glow of ancient candles, their dim light dancing across towering six-meter wine racks.
“Brother Ye was way too cold about it! Is he nuts? Zero loyalty—A-Huai just accidentally bumped the captain a couple times. A scrape, that’s all. But he went in so hard. One wrong inch, a little more force, and A-Huai’s nose would’ve been shattered!”
“You think the Crown Prince has a saint’s temper? Guy’s a total psycho.”
Even in the refined hush of this elegant French restaurant—the celebration banquet—Song Youhuai’s voice bordered on hysterical. “Enough. All of you, shut the hell up.”
Shen Keye usually cut him some slack, but today’s showdown had shattered Song Youhuai’s defenses. He couldn’t keep up the mild-mannered facade anymore.
Liang Jin pulled her gaze away and asked, “Shen Keye isn’t coming?”
Wu Lin took it for granted. “He never shows for stuff like this.”
Liang Jin pictured him in his element—black fringe flying as he nailed jumpers and hook shots, eyes cold and resolute. He had a maturity and ambition far beyond his years.
She’d only agreed to the invite thinking he’d be there.
Meeting him again would be tough now.
A new message from Director Zheng: Investment locked in. Female lead confirmed—not her. No dance double either. Brace yourself.
In the sprawling Hong Kong District, Liang Jin had never felt so insignificant—a speck of dust, scattered by the slightest breeze.
Li Yibo had gone to order. Wu Lin noticed her friend’s pallor and asked softly what was wrong. “Nothing,” Liang Jin said.
Zheng Yunzhi wanted to confirm the penalty clause with her. She had no reason to stay in Hong Kong anymore. Time to go home.
Liang Jin tuned out the murmurs around her.
The fragmented whispers started up again.
“Why’d Liang Jin even show? That’s just pouring gasoline on the fire.”
“Who the hell invited someone like her?” The question came sharp and sudden.
It was Song Youhuai.
Wu Lin was momentarily stunned.
Liang Jin looked up and caught sight of Song Youhuai seated in the center position. He casually topped off his glass with liquor, seemingly aware of her gaze, and slowly turned his head, his face twisting into a displeased scowl.
After two rounds of humiliation today, Song Youhuai had dropped all pretense.
Liang Jin was already in a foul mood, and Wu Lin couldn’t stomach such vile insults hurled at her friend. She shot to her feet and demanded, “What did you just say?”
Song Youhuai sneered. “What’s it to you?”
“Song Youhuai! Are you even a man?”
“Wu Lin.” Song Youhuai let out an “oh,” chuckling as if a lightbulb had gone off over his head. He switched up his address and sauntered over. “Sister-in-Law, why so hostile? Got a bone to pick with me? In that case, let me apologize—here’s to you.”
Song Youhuai’s luck had been rotten today; the bridge of his nose was still mottled purple and blue. But regardless, he came from one of the city’s top families—no one in the room could afford to cross him.
The atmosphere turned heavy in an instant.
Wu Lin had no interest in tangling with a guy like Song Youhuai. “Spare me the crocodile tears.”
But he was already planted at their table, shoving the glass firmly into her hand.
58-proof baijiu.
Liang Jin frowned and shot at Song Youhuai, “What the hell is this supposed to mean?”
Song Youhuai shrugged. “Wu Lin’s the school team’s big sister-in-law, after all. She hates my guts, so of course I gotta apologize.”
Bewildered but unyielding, Wu Lin snapped, “I don’t drink. And even if I did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be with you.”
Song Youhuai grinned. “So what do you want from me, Sister-in-Law?”
“Apologize to Jinjin.”
For days now, Liang Jin had taken endless flak and abuse—all courtesy of him.
Song Youhuai flicked a glance at Liang Jin and cracked a mocking smile. “Ah, I get it. You’re paying me back for my beef with Liang Jin? Sister-in-Law thinks I had it coming when that dirty ball was smashed in my face this afternoon and that I don’t belong on the school team.”
Everyone knew Song Youhuai was gunning for the school team captain spot against Li Yibo. The “dirty ball” from earlier had no resolution, and while Song Youhuai’s snide comment hadn’t named names, Wu Lin’s public takedown was plain for all to see. The crowd was buzzing with every kind of speculation.
Ever so politely, Song Youhuai said, “Sister-in-Law, I’ll down mine first.”
He knocked back his glass alone, then fixed Wu Lin with a steady gaze. He’d pegged her for a teetotaler and sighed in mock helplessness. “Not gonna drink, Sister-in-Law? You really think that little of me?”
Wu Lin felt like she’d swung a fist into a pillow—utterly futile, words failing her. “You—”
Liang Jin didn’t want her mess dragging anyone else down, especially since she was likely leaving Hong Kong for good soon. The girl rose, snatched the glass from Wu Lin’s grip, and slammed it onto the table. Her silver earrings swung with the motion as she fixed Song Youhuai with an icy stare. “Song Youhuai, you not scared Li Yibo’s gonna come back and settle the score?”
Song Youhuai arched a brow and let out a cold laugh, his tone dripping with insinuation. “Assuming he makes it back.”
Liang Jin’s brow furrowed as she glanced at the door, suddenly clocking that Li Yibo had been gone ordering food for half an hour.
Song Youhuai leaned in close, locking eyes with Liang Jin. “Liang Jin, you were riding high today—damn good luck. Even Ah-Ye took a swing at me for your sake. But now?”
His words hung light in the air, reeking of booze and malice.
“Liang Jin, why don’t you drink it for her? Wu Lin slapping my face like this? Word spreads, and Li Yibo letting his girl run wild might even hit the tabloids. Those two…” Song Youhuai’s gaze turned venomous as he bit out each word, “are done for sure.”
The warm amber lights played across the girl’s face. Liang Jin felt a wave of nausea. Steeling herself, she turned to meet his eyes. In the retro French restaurant, the clock hands ticked onward, second by second. No one else caught Song Youhuai’s mutter, but Wu Lin had. The girl plummeted into a frozen abyss, her face draining white.
Wu Lin had enrolled at Hong Kong University for Li Yibo—she’d harbored a crush on him for two years, and they’d only been together a short while.
Fresh wounds atop old ones; Liang Jin’s brow creased.
A 500 ml mug of 58-proof baijiu. From the jump, Song Youhuai had never meant for Wu Lin to drink it.
Everyone in that room had standing, but she was the only one truly alone.
Liang Jin dropped her gaze, pain flickering in her eyes. In a level voice, she said, “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Wu Lin whispered urgently, “Jinjin, you don’t have to go this far for me…”
“Song Youhuai.” Liang Jin met his stare, her expression a blend of pitying scorn and defiant loathing. “This good enough for you? Happy now?”
Song Youhuai’s laugh was genuine. “Works for me. Drink up.”
The girl lowered her eyes, drew a deep breath, and threw back a hefty gulp.
Liang Jin had never touched alcohol before. The fiery burn exploded down her throat, choking off her air in a scorching rush. It ravaged her taste buds; she couldn’t force it down and spat it all out, hacking and spluttering, barely keeping hold of the glass.
Song Youhuai watched with cold eyes. “Don’t waste it, Liang Jin—this stuff ain’t cheap—”
He’d schemed this out long in advance. “Spill even a drop, and you owe me for it. Can’t pay? Be my girlfriend instead. How’s that?”
Laughter laced the end of his words, wild and cruel.
With a sharp hiss, the door slid open, shattering the tense standoff.
Li Yibo spotted his girlfriend on the verge of tears, completely flustered and helpless. He strode forward and demanded of the entire room, “What the hell are you doing!”
The murmurs ceased abruptly.
Liang Jin hadn’t drunk much, but she was pleasantly tipsy. Her body burned with heat, yet suddenly someone seized her wrist.
She assumed it was Song Youhuai and tried to shake off the hand, but she couldn’t break free.
The icy grip jolted her, the buzz of alcohol fading in an instant. Liang Jin looked up, her pupils dilating slightly.
Shen Keye stared at her intently. “Liang Jin, do you know that minors aren’t allowed to drink alcohol?”