Liang Jin smoked a cigarette by the window, gazing at the bustling cityscape. Farther out, splendid colored lights and a grand bridge stretched across the river.
The wind tousled her dark hair, leaving Liang Jin faintly irritated.
Shen Keye had already returned to the private room.
Moments earlier, she had impulsively confronted him, resenting his presumptuous behavior. Yet at the same time, that outrageous proposal had crazily seized her mind.
—Should she sell her soul to the devil?
“Excuse me, are you Miss Liang from Box 1?” A waitress approached to remind her.
Liang Jin glanced sideways, cigarette pinched between her fingers. “Something wrong?”
“Mr. Shen, who came with you, is leaving. If I may ask—”
“What?” Liang Jin froze, stubbed out her cigarette, hastily secured her hat, and hurried downstairs.
This meal, costing thousands, hadn’t even begun, and Shen Keye was already leaving?
“Shen Keye.”
On the dimly lit Chinese-style red staircase, Shen Keye frowned almost imperceptibly. “Something?”
Liang Jin suspected her performance hadn’t satisfied him. She descended a few steps and asked, “Not eating?”
The young man’s tone was flat. “I already did you a favor by letting you treat.”
A meal averaging four thousand per person, and he hadn’t even bothered to touch his chopsticks.
Liang Jin had just searched for news on Producer Meng. Every Saturday, she headed to the suburban racecourse—a VIP-only spot that required an introduction to enter.
“You can’t leave.” Liang Jin hurried forward and grabbed Shen Keye’s arm. “I’m treating. How can you not eat?”
Shen Keye glanced sideways, his gaze sweeping over the hand gripping him. The cool, soft touch made his eyes darken slightly. “What?” He let out a mocking chuckle. “Want something more?”
His words pierced straight to her heart, icy cold. Liang Jin’s face burned.
She looked away, and the young man lowered his gaze. “Want to chase me?”
Liang Jin started to say “no,” but hesitated. He leaned in closer, their faces mere inches apart.
Shen Keye sneered softly. “Or do you want me to take you to see Meng Huimin?”
Her heart skipped a beat. The scene around her seemed to slow. After a moment of silence, Liang Jin looked up. “Can’t I?”
His pitch-black eyes were right there in front of her. Liang Jin blinked lightly.
She laid out her request. “Before we came, you told me how to get a chance. Be a good guy to the end—tell me what kind of person Producer Meng is.”
At the words “good guy,” Shen Keye laughed with mocking undertones. When he raised his eyes, that dark gaze still carried the arrogant edge from beside the sink. “Nah.”
“I’m not cheap,” he said, prying her hand loose. His low, magnetic voice carried through, the small mole on his straight nose bridge radiating aggression. Shen Keye told her, “Liang Jin, one meal won’t cut it.”
~~~
Outside, the sky had gone fully dark.
October evenings brought a biting chill to the breeze.
She had already returned to the dormitory.
“Director Zheng called your aunt?”
Wu Lin’s voice seethed with fury on the other end of the line.
Liang Jin finished her shower and stared at her empty room before stepping out to lean against the railing for the call.
The girl’s lonely silhouette faded into the darkness. On the way back to the dorm, she had video-called Zeng Zhi. Recalling her mother’s gentle whispers from the hospital bed in Jiangnan Affiliated Hospital, Liang Jin told Wu Lin, “Director Zheng’s stance is set in stone.”
Wu Lin sounded troubled. “I heard from Li Yibo… some girl is coming to your major for an exchange.”
Liang Jin never paid attention to department gossip. “Who?”
“Rumor has it… it’s the female lead from 《Hong Kong Ballet》.”
《Hong Kong Ballet》 was the film Director Zheng had invited her to. Liang Jin froze. Midnight had fallen, silence blanketing everything as her classmates slept.
Her confirmed female lead role had been recast.
Liang Jin said, “Her name’s Jiang Manyu.”
Wu Lin hummed in acknowledgment, worry lacing her voice. “Any hope left?”
Liang Jin paused, the evening’s dinner with Shen Keye flashing through her mind. She replied dimly, “…I don’t know.”
Liang Jin had just returned Zeng Zhi’s video call.
The grainy footage couldn’t mask the woman’s frailty.
Three months since leaving the mainland, and with her schedule packed lately, Liang Jin had rarely called her mom. Seeing her now stirred longing that hit twice as hard.
Mom had gotten thinner.
Liang Jin leaned against the railing, her lonely silhouette swallowed by the dark. Recalling her mother’s gentle whispers from the hospital bed in Jiangnan Affiliated Hospital, she said, “I told Mom to give me eleven days. I’ll handle it.”
Wu Lin pressed urgently, “And if you can’t?”
Liang Jin steeled herself. “I’ll go back and figure something else out.”
The dormitory building lay hushed at one in the morning.
After she spoke, Liang Jin coughed sharply, the wind stinging her eyes.
Her head throbbed in a nauseating fog. Liang Jin slowly sank into a crouch, curling up in the corner. She touched her forehead and realized she was burning up with fever again.
Eleven days. That was the final deadline.
Wu Lin fretted on the line. “Jinjin, you okay?”
“…I’m fine.”
Wu Lin hesitated for a moment before saying, “You mentioned before that you wanted Shen Keye’s phone number. On my way back tonight, I secretly jotted it down from Yibo’s phone. Not sure if you still need it… I’ll send it to you now.”
The call ended, and Liang Jin pressed a hand to her forehead, her jet-black hair spilling over her shoulders.
A new message from Wu Lin popped up on her phone.
A string of numbers.
Shen Keye, 988xxxx8.
The faint greenish glow of the screen lent a fragile, porcelain quality to the girl’s pale face.
Liang Jin steadied her breathing as she stared at it, pondering for a long while before firing off her first text to the new number.
【Shen Keye, one meal isn’t enough money. How expensive do you have to be to buy you off? Liang Jin】
…
“There’s another exchange student transferring in… Heard she’s a big beauty.”
“Prettier than Liang Jin?”
“What even is Liang Jin? You know that movie she was in? I heard… this beauty replaced her.”
The bright, spotless classroom could easily seat two hundred. Liang Jin sat in the back row, flipping through her textbook all by her lonesome. Even the nearby classmates kept several seats between them, as if she were contagious.
SNS was already hyping the news that the lead in “Hong Kong Ballet” had switched from Liang Jin to Jiang Manyu. With both the old and new stars now doing exchange programs at the same Hong Kong School, it was quite the spectacle. Plenty of people were gossiping about Liang Jin, but she couldn’t care less about their opinions. She just kept her eyes glued to her phone.
The message she’d sent Shen Keye last night had vanished into the void.
“Enough already. Shen Keye’s coming up.”
At the sound of his name, Liang Jin glanced sideways. Her indifferent gaze swept lightly over the gossips, who promptly clammed up in fright, assuming she’d overheard their trash-talk and was pissed. But the girl merely confirmed their presence with a look, gathered her things, and slipped out the door.
“Ah-Ye, I’m doing you a solid by tagging along to class. Next time, you owe me one.” Shao Xingyu added, “I’ve got friends heading to Hokkaido for skiing next week.”
Shen Keye was scrolling through his phone. The boy sported a black duckbill cap, and beneath the brim, his lips quirked faintly. A fresh message from his uncle instructed him to look after Jiang Manyu.
Shen Keye shot Shao Xingyu a disdainful sidelong glance. “No time.”
Just as expected. Shao Xingyu chuckled, muttering good-naturedly, “Such a rotten temper.”
“Shen Keye.”
Amid the throng on the stairs, someone called out to him. The boy looked up and spotted a girl pushing against the crowd.
Heads turned to stare at the pair.
Liang Jin ignored the odd looks and hurried down to Shen Keye’s side. Frowning, she said, “Morning.” Recalling yesterday’s unanswered text, she added, “Wound feeling better?”
Shen Keye brushed off the question, but Shao Xingyu startled. “Wound? What wound?”
When he’d picked him up yesterday, Shen Keye had already ditched the bandage.
Liang Jin’s frown deepened as her eyes fixed on his hand, tucked away in his pocket. “Let me see.”
“What?”
“Your hand.”
Shen Keye refused. “Class is about to start.”
Liang Jin’s fever hadn’t broken yet. The medicine had helped a little, and makeup concealed her exhaustion, but dizziness still clouded her head.
In her foggy state, Shen Keye’s tone grated on her. She flashed him a smile—fueled by lingering irritation—and boldly stepped forward, yanking his hand free for a look.
He started to pull away, but her fever-hot fingers gave Shen Keye pause.
The spot she’d bandaged last night had already formed a neat scab. It hadn’t been bad to start with, and now it looked fine.
After a quick check, Liang Jin relaxed and met his eyes. “Much better.”
Shen Keye gazed down at her. Her nose was pink from the cold—or fever—her clear brows and eyes calm, yet brimming with concern.
Her hand still clasped his, stirring something within him.
Beneath his straight nose, his thin lips curved in a soft chuckle. “What happened to you?”
His tone had softened considerably, the smile casual and boyish—nothing like his usual self.
Watching her intently, he asked, “Worried about me?”
“Or did you finally figure it out and come chasing after me?”