Shao Xingyu came back from buying cigarettes next door and spotted Shen Keye standing by the car, waiting for him.
“Didn’t your suitor send you home?”
Shen Keye lifted his gaze at the sound of his voice, his tone flat. “Like you said, she’s the suitor. She should be the one sending me.”
The brief drizzle from earlier had dissipated, leaving a cool, crisp edge to the air.
Shao Xingyu let out a “tsk,” thinking back to the drama he’d just witnessed in the private room. Shen Keye was performing right on brand, as always.
He slid into the car and caught a whiff of something, pausing. “When did you pick up smoking again? And something sweet, at that.”
Shen Keye’s usual scent was bitter and sharp.
Shen Keye settled into the passenger seat, leaning back against the headrest. He ignored his friend’s puzzled question and drawled lazily instead. “A-Yu, do me a favor.”
“Hm?”
The Shao family dominated the entertainment industry, with holdings in tangible assets like the racecourse, amusement parks, and casinos, plus stakes in news media and television stations.
But the Shao family was massive, with seventeen cousins and siblings in his generation alone, and Shao Xingyu was the baby of the bunch.
A few years back, when Shao Xingyu’s reach had been too short, it was Shen Keye’s help that had finally given him some real power.
“I’ve got a movie in the works,” the young man said from the passenger seat of his flashy blue Koenigsegg. He clasped his hands together atop the dark blue leather cushion and turned his head, his pitch-black eyes pinning Shao Xingyu with a substantive stare. In a commanding tone, he added, “Set something up for me.”
The next day brought classes, and to Liang Jin’s surprise, Shen Keye actually showed up.
In the corner of the lecture hall, the young man—dressed in a black hoodie and propping his chin on his hand—had clearly spotted her ages ago. He stared without blinking.
Whispers rippled through the crowd. It seemed the drama between Liang Jin and Jiang Manyu at Ulta Bar the night before had already made the rounds.
Liang Jin overheard someone dismissing her as “delusional.”
She glanced down at her phone. A new message had come in.
A bank transfer notification for sixty thousand yuan.
Liang Jin looked toward the back row.
She walked over to Shen Keye’s side, flipped down the adjacent seat, and settled in with effortless poise.
The murmurs quieted somewhat.
“Isn’t Shen Keye dating Jiang Manyu? The Shen family even invested in her movie.”
“Why are those two hanging out?”
“With the Crown Prince’s temper, it’s a miracle he hasn’t thrown her out yet. This oughta be good.”
The hushed comments stood out sharply in the quiet room, and this time they got under Liang Jin’s skin. Her dark hair tumbled loosely over her shoulders as she let out a soft scoff. With a cold smile playing in her eyes, she turned to Shen Keye. “Hey,” she said. “Handsome, should I get lost and give the seat to your ‘girlfriend’?”
Shen Keye’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly. “Did you get the money?”
She gave a faint “Mm.” Then came Shen Keye’s icy voice, casual as ever. “Want more?”
Liang Jin met his pitch-black gaze, her heart skipping a beat. She refused flatly. “I don’t need your money. I just want the acting gig.”
She fished her textbook out of her bag.
Her eyes flicked to the watch encasing his prominent wrist bone—a Richard Mille that cost tens of millions.
Damn fine watch.
Shen Keye had money to burn.
He twirled his pen idly, as if making small talk. “That movie of yours? I’m taking it to the whole Hong Kong District. Open casting call.”
Liang Jin blinked in surprise.
He didn’t glance her way again. The professor had arrived at the podium and was firing up the slides.
Shen Keye laid it out for her. “Anyone can enter. Anyone can vote. Highest votes gets to be my female lead.”
Liang Jin shot back, “That confident in me?”
His gaze drifted slowly over her.
Her first instinct was that Shen Keye had lost his mind.
Sure, he was helping her sidestep Shen Junbang’s iron grip. But the bigger the splash, the more public opinion could drown out whatever he and Shen Junbang wanted. The female lead might not even end up being her or Jiang Manyu.
Shen Keye gave a cold laugh. “Liang Jin, the girl I pick? She doesn’t lack spine.”
~~~
Liang Jin got an invite to meet Jiang Manyu, but she turned it down.
Director Zheng had caught wind of the rumors already, his tone laced with exasperation. “Liang Jin, what the hell are you doing?”
Class had let out, and Liang Jin stood in the corridor, watching the stream of students pass by. “Director Zheng, this isn’t my call. The investors decided it. What can I do?”
She’d been blunt last time, but Liang Jin never held grudges against people—just situations. Her voice softened into gentle reassurance. “Besides, isn’t this a win? Free publicity for your film.”
Zheng Yunzhi had weathered every storm life could throw at him. He sighed heavily. “You have no idea. If they don’t pick Jiang Manyu in the end, Mr. Shen yanks the funding on a whim!”
Liang Jin just smiled.
Zheng Yunzhi was usually refined and elegant, but at this moment, he couldn’t conceal his anxiety. Hearing that laugh, he practically screamed in hysteria: “I just want to make your mother’s story into a movie for the public to see! That way, when the film is released, everyone will donate to your mother! I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart, but what about you, Liang Jin? What’s the difference between you and your father? Do you want this movie to die before it’s even born?”
The crowd bustled and chattered noisily around them, and Liang Jin’s upturned lips slowly sank as she fell silent.
After a long while, Liang Jin asked, “Director Zheng, can my mom wait until the movie is finished and released?”
Zheng Yunzhi’s anger stalled right there; he was speechless.
Liang Jin pressed on. “Zheng Yunzhi, do you want me to star in it, or Jiang Manyu?”
Zheng Yunzhi said euphemistically, “Liang Jin, you have to understand…”
Liang Jin replied, “I understand.”
She turned her head and spotted Shen Keye at the end of the corridor. The girl’s brows were cool and distant, her tone flat as she said, “Let Miss Jiang prepare that audition clip for uploading online properly.”
She lowered her gaze and let out a soft scoff. “Hanging up.”
It was Shen Keye’s setup—a joint vote by SNS and TVB, requiring an audition clip of a freely chosen segment and a no-makeup photo. In truth, the odds were stacked against Liang Jin. All those rumors Song Youhuai had spread before still lingered, for better or worse.
Liang Jin pocketed her phone and hurried over to Shen Keye, who was chatting with someone. She tilted her head and said, “Shen Keye, let me buy you dinner.”
Seeing Liang Jin approach, the boy talking to Shen Keye softened his tone. “Ah, Brother Ye, you two chat.”
Shen Keye was due for training soon and, by rights, should have been eating with the coach and the others.
He glanced at Liang Jin, then lowered his eyes with dead seriousness. “Sorry, I have plans.”
Liang Jin had racked up plenty of rejections from Shen Keye by now, and she’d spotted the pattern.
Shen Keye liked it when she took the initiative.
The girl’s lips curved faintly as she reached out and grabbed his finger.
The male classmate, just about to leave, glanced over casually and froze.
Shen Keye’s hand wasn’t especially fair, but veins crisscrossed it, his fingertips rough with calluses. When they touched, his bones pressed slightly against her skin, the sensation cool.
The boy paused, stunned, and met Liang Jin’s gaze.
Liang Jin shot back, “Didn’t you tell me to chase you? If you won’t even give me a chance, how am I supposed to do that?”
She thought about what Director Zheng’s call really meant. She still needed Shen Keye.
Liang Jin was confident she could win a fair competition—and at the same time, she hoped the movie could actually get made.
The girl stood there smiling, cool yet stubborn, her direct stare carrying a fearless boldness.
She gripped his finger tighter. “What about now?”
Shen Keye’s heart stuttered. His thin lips quirked as his gaze drifted downward, his pitch-black eyes landing on the two fingers she clutched so fiercely.
A soft touch. Her hand was warm and firm.
Liang Jin had no intention of letting go.
Ignoring the murmurs around them, Shen Keye suddenly gripped her hand in return. He met Liang Jin’s eyes, his Cantonese tone cold like shards of ice as he called her name: “Liang Jin.”
His voice carried a teasing lilt.
“You should’ve said so earlier. This is how you invite me.”
…
The dinner spot was Liang Jin’s choice. He’d just wired her sixty thousand that morning, and she wasn’t about to splurge.
But she wasn’t foolish enough to kill the young master’s mood.
In a private restaurant near the school, Liang Jin placed the order and headed to the restroom to wash her hands.
The girl’s profile sank into shadow, the sound of running water constant.
Liang Jin stood silently at the sink in the farthest corner, as if fleeing the crowd, rinsing the fingers Shen Keye had touched. Her fingertips had picked up that vile, nauseating aquatic fragrance note, and she endured the disgust churning inside her, patiently scrubbing it away with hand soap.
Back in the main hall, Liang Jin was about to head upstairs to the private room when someone called out.
“Liang Jin!”
Jiang Manyu had just gotten Director Zheng’s message. She’d asked a classmate, learned Liang Jin was here, and rushed over.
The modest restaurant hall was filled with Hong Kong University students out for meals.
The girl in the white dress scanned the room, fury plain on her face. Jiang Manyu knew about Shen Keye’s public casting call and was dead certain Liang Jin was behind it.
—Most likely, Liang Jin had seduced Shen Keye.
Jiang Manyu had painstakingly built the path her father left her—a bridge across class lines. Now, it was being torn apart before her eyes. She couldn’t hold back the rage she’d bottled up for so long. She lunged forward to slap her, swinging her wrist—but her hand wouldn’t budge.
Liang Jin had caught the slap, gripping her wrist hard.
Liang Jin’s expression soured slightly. “Miss Jiang, what do you mean, attacking someone without so much as a hello?”
Jiang Manyu shot back, “Liang Jin, have you no shame?”
The girl’s gaze was icy and aloof, her aura screaming “strangers keep out.” With a cold laugh, she asked, “Isn’t Miss Jiang supposed to have such a sweet temper?”
Only after the reminder did Jiang Manyu snap out of her daze, suddenly noticing the people around them staring.
She lowered her voice, her tone laced with cold sarcasm. “Liang Jin, cozying up to Ah-Ye through these shady tactics—what good could possibly come of it?” She continued coldly, “I’ve liked Ah-Ye for so many years. I know him inside and out. Men born into families like his never truly love anyone. Even if he takes an interest in you, it won’t amount to even a third of the love he has for himself.”
Liang Jin thought of Shen Keye. She’d washed her hands clean just moments ago and wiped them dry with a paper towel, even sniffing them close to her nose to check—but the sensation he evoked still clung to her like a nightmare that refused to fade.
Her expression remained impassive as she told the plain truth. “We’re not together.”
Jiang Manyu didn’t buy it. “Then what exactly is your relationship with Ah-Ye?”
Liang Jin recalled that scene from earlier that evening, her eyes growing hot. They were the kind of people who’d shared a cigarette, the sort where he’d kissed her out of nowhere, all on his own.
She shot back flatly, “None of your business, Miss Jiang.”
Jiang Manyu’s gaze flicked to the crowd not far off—too many eyes on them. She drew in a sharp breath and yanked her hand free from Liang Jin’s grip, fuming. “Liang Jin, if you have even a shred of decency, tell me: do you like Ah-Ye?”
Liang Jin frowned.
“You think someone like you could get Uncle Shen to invest?” The girl paused abruptly there, as if a lightbulb had gone off, her face twisting in disbelief. “Or are you hoping Ah-Ye will invest in you? Liang Jin, Ah-Ye’s been cut off from his allowance. You really think he’d take a risk like that for you? What a pipe dream.”
Liang Jin had considered the question, but since Shen Keye had orchestrated such a massive poll and already let word slip, she didn’t think he’d fight a battle without preparation.
Jiang Manyu’s words carried a subtle edge. “Miss Liang, do you really like Ah-Ye? Dare me to post the message and let everyone know the real story behind this poll? If the folks in Hong Kong District find out you’re tangled up with the investor, your mom’s movie is as good as dead…”
At the mention of Zeng Zhi, Liang Jin’s voice sharpened in rejection. “Mind your words, Miss Jiang.” She didn’t understand why Jiang Manyu was so fixated on this. She stressed, “I don’t like Shen Keye.”
Jiang Manyu laughed. She laughed triumphantly, her shoulders even shaking with it.
As if she’d finally wrung the answer she wanted.
In the corner, Shen Keye had heard the whole exchange. Liang Jin turned back along the path of Jiang Manyu’s insistent gaze and locked eyes with him in that instant. Her heart seemed to stutter to a halt. She’d thought he’d be angry, but the young man merely tilted his head with a smile—indulgent, satisfied.
Jiang Manyu strode toward the elevators. “Ah-Ye, you heard…”
Shen Keye cut her off. “Liang Jin, let’s go.”
Ignored completely, Jiang Manyu grew frantic and stressed, “Liang Jin’s just using you. She doesn’t like you at all.”
Shen Keye didn’t spare her so much as a glance.
Jiang Manyu’s face soured in an instant.
The elevator doors slid slowly shut.
Free of Jiang Manyu at last, Liang Jin felt unease settle in instead.
She voiced her worry. “How much did you hear?” The girl steeled herself, addressing him awkwardly. “Ah-Ye.”
Shen Keye stood on the opposite side of the elevator. The light refracted off the metallic walls, casting his figure in an aura of aloof chill.
At some point, he’d started favoring black clothing, blending seamlessly with all the stubborn shadows and gloom—dangerous, remote.
He said, “Everything.”
Liang Jin frowned, a touch of irritation flickering across her face.
He’d heard her emphatic declaration of “I don’t like him.”
Though it was the truth.
Shen Keye took a step closer. “Do you know what I want?”
Liang Jin replied, “I do.”
He wanted her to seduce him.
Shen Keye shook his head. “I doubt it.”
He wasn’t the type to shower anyone with affection.
Shen Keye pressed the girl’s slender shoulders against the cold metal wall. The forceful pressure and unfamiliar touch made Liang Jin’s eyes widen.
He seized both her hands in one of his, pinning them to the side. The restraint was suffocating.
Liang Jin couldn’t shake him off. She demanded, “What are you doing?”
Shen Keye said, “Relax. Nothing.”
She didn’t believe him.
Fear, apprehension, and Shen Keye’s pervasive aura seeped everywhere.
Liang Jin’s pupils dilated slightly.
She wasn’t so foolish as to double down on “I’ll never like you in this lifetime.” Instead, she snapped a sharp reminder to jolt him back to reason. “Shen Keye, I’m underage.”
The elevator continued its ascent.
Shen Keye laughed—coldly, wickedly. Liang Jin looked away, but he gripped her chin and forced her face back.
He said, “I know.”
Liang Jin had no choice but to meet his gaze.
His aloof features carried a dissolute arrogance, and that tiny mole was black enough to send a chill through her heart.
Shen Keye’s gaze raked slowly across her face, as if subjecting it to death by a thousand cuts. Liang Jin unconsciously lightened her breathing. He stared at her and spoke in a measured tone, “Liang Jin, that leaves only six days.”