Liang Jin sat in the corner of the private room, an empty wine glass sitting in front of her.
One cup wasn’t enough. Zheng Yunzhi wanted her to keep drinking.
“Director Zheng, the filming delay had nothing to do with Jiang Manyu at all. It’s simply because you have a bias against me.”
Jiang Manyu sat beside the host’s seat. At those words, she lifted her gaze slightly. Liang Jin showed no sign of giving in. Instead, she turned the empty glass upside down.
The girl smiled faintly. “No more for me. I’ve had one—that’s my toast to you for spotting my talent back in Jiangnan.”
She rose to leave, but Zheng Yunzhi let out a heavy breath. “Liang Jin, do you really think I don’t know where your shot at the female lead came from?”
“I’m calling your mother,” he said in a drunken tone thick with frustration, as if she were a hopeless case. “You’ve dragged her spotless reputation through the mud, and you still don’t even realize you’re wrong.”
Emotion swelled in the gaunt man’s voice, laced with regret and loathing. “Liang Jin, Zeng Zhi could have gone to her grave with her name untarnished.”
Liang Jin’s one true wish was for her mother not to die. She whipped her head around. “Who are you saying is dying?”
Murmurs rippled through the room.
“What betrayal?”
“You haven’t heard? The big investor picked Jiang Manyu for female lead, but she’s sharing top billing because Liang Jin’s got something going with Mr. Shen.”
A few people huddled in the corner, hands over their mouths as they whispered. “Oh my god, which Mr. Shen?”
“…”
Liang Jin tuned out the nonsense, but amid the clamor, a woman’s faint voice caught her ear.
“Yunzhi… what’s wrong?”
Zeng Zhi sounded like she’d just woken up on the other end of the line. She’d barely survived emergency surgery the night before, and her voice was feeble. A nurse urged her not to take the call, but Zeng Zhi pressed on with polite concern. “Did something happen with Jinjin? Has she caused you trouble?”
Liang Jin had spent this whole time in the Hong Kong District, and Zheng Yunzhi was the one handling her film. Out of habit, Zeng Zhi added, “Thank you for looking after our Jinjin.”
“Zheng Yunzhi!” Liang Jin lunged forward to snatch the phone, but the crowd made it impossible.
“Zeng Zhi, you have no idea what your daughter’s been up to, do you? She’s been cozying up to investors just to get famous…”
The words sliced into Liang Jin’s heart like a barrage of knives.
In the instant the phone was yanked away, Zheng Yunzhi felt his chair jolt as if kicked. Beneath the gray hood, Liang Jin’s face was devoid of emotion. Her icy eyes bored into him, sending a chill straight to his soul.
Liang Jin grabbed a glass from the nearest table and upended it over the man’s head.
Pungent liquor cascaded from his hair down his clothes in a sharp splash.
Her eyes red-rimmed, Liang Jin pulled back and spoke into the phone. “Mom, I’ll explain later.”
Zeng Zhi sounded bewildered. “Jinjin?”
“Hanging up,” Liang Jin said flatly.
Zheng Yunzhi had sobered up considerably. “Liang Jin, what the hell do you think you’re—”
Liang Jin powered off the phone, set it on the table, and turned to go. Zheng Yunzhi seized her arm.
His voice dripped with disgust. “You’re just like your father—no manners at all.”
The film crew mostly deferred to the director. After a stunt like that, they might question his methods, but they all agreed Liang Jin had gone too far.
They demanded she apologize.
Zheng Yunzhi let out a cold laugh and dialed again.
The jostling crowd held Liang Jin in place under the guise of calming her down. She had no shot at grabbing the phone. Isolated and outnumbered, she snapped, “Uncle Zheng, I only call you ‘uncle’ to be polite. Mom just came back from death’s door. If there’s any humanity left in you, stop calling her.”
Suddenly, someone plucked the phone from Zheng Yunzhi’s ear.
“What’s all this racket?”
The chaos had been so thick that no one noticed Shen Keye slip in. His voice cut through, and the room fell quiet bit by bit.
The young man’s face was impassive. He spotted the active call, reached out, and ended it.
Zheng Yunzhi froze. “Little Mr. Shen.”
Shen Keye’s dark eyes drifted lazily to the hands gripping Liang Jin, irritation flickering in their depths. His low, magnetic voice hummed with menace and command. “Anyone want to try laying a hand on her?”
“…”
~~~
That evening, rain fell softly over the Hong Kong District, pattering against the old streets. Crab roe dumplings sizzled at the corner stall, selling like hotcakes. Liang Jin stepped out into the downpour, her emotions still churning. She hadn’t brought an umbrella, nor did she care to use one. Hood up, she let the rain drench her to the skin.
Her new lighter was made of plastic and wasn’t windproof. Liang Jin cupped her hand against the rain, struggling to flick it several times, but it refused to light.
“Move your hand.”
The sudden male voice made Liang Jin look up in surprise. There stood Shen Keye, his face cold as he used her lighter.
A warm flame ignited the half-damp slim cigarette. Liang Jin awkwardly plucked it from her lips and said, “Shen Keye… thank you. You just helped me sort it out.”
Her words were flat, but water streaked across her pale, delicate features. Her eyes were slightly red as she gazed at him, looking like a lost kitten—pitiful in her vulnerability.
Shen Keye asked, “Sort out what?” He looked down at her, his posture looming. Recalling the message from Song Youqing, he met her gaze with a cold sneer. Far from gentle or considerate, his tone was utterly flat, his eyes dangerous and predatory. “Sort out me?”
Liang Jin froze, bewildered. “What?”
Shen Keye snatched the cigarette from between her lips. “Song Youqing said you messaged her. What the hell are you trying to pull, Liang Jin? You got a death wish?”
His curt words pinned her under his icy stare. Liang Jin’s heart seemed to stop; a chill raced down her spine. She had no idea how Song Youqing had spilled the beans to Shen Keye. Slowly, she clenched her fists.
Shen Keye fixed her with his gaze. “I never told you, did I, Liang Jin? I’m not fighting Song Youqing over the family fortune. It’s not the kind of rivalry you think it is.”
The young man’s voice was frigid. “If she wants the heir position, it’s hers.”
Liang Jin’s lips parted as she tried to step back, but Shen Keye seized her wrist in a vise-like grip.
The spot where Zheng Yunzhi had left it bruised throbbed with pain, and Liang Jin hissed.
She gritted her teeth and stared him down.
Shen Keye said coldly, “I warned you—betray me, and you’ll regret it.”
The downpour seemed intent on smothering the city in its gray-blue melancholy.
Liang Jin was drenched to the bone. Her eyes flickered as she explained, “I just didn’t trust you. I didn’t actually do anything.”
His desires were a bottomless abyss, impossible to fill. Liang Jin feared she couldn’t satisfy him—and just as much, that he might suddenly lose interest.
She shot back coldly, “Shen Keye, if you’ve got the guts, make me believe you.”
His pitch-black eyes bored into her—a lurking, far-from-tame intensity, as if he could see right through her. Shen Keye stood there, then let out a sudden, mocking laugh. He released her and pulled a black card from his wallet, holding it out.
“PIN is 20071123.”
The card’s hard, sleek surface sent a jolt through Liang Jin. It was an American Express Centurion—good for buying virtually anything of value, with no spending limit.
She gripped it tightly. She hadn’t expected such generosity from Shen Keye, nor did she know what she could offer in return to match it. His intentions were a complete mystery.
Then he said abruptly, “Shen Junbang got into a car crash at The Bund. He’s planning to name a new heir on my birthday—of course, he’s wanted to ditch me for ages.”
“Liang Jin, when that happens, I’ll leave Hong Kong District. It means I won’t touch a dime of the inheritance. Without me around, you’ll be worthless.”
His laugh dripped with sarcasm. “If you want to climb over my back, your window of opportunity won’t last forever.”
~~~
They went home together.
Liang Jin had someone deliver her luggage to Shen Keye’s place.
After her shower, the girl called her mother. Zeng Zhi had answered the earlier call in confusion, but she wasn’t foolish. Putting two and two together, she understood.
“Jinjin, did you fight with Uncle Zheng?”
“Yeah.”
“He… what he said is true.”
Liang Jin was still mulling over Shen Keye, her mind a whirlwind. She bit her lip and tried to explain to Zeng Zhi, “Mom, it’s not entirely…”
“It’s fine.” The sudden interruption caught Liang Jin off guard.
Zeng Zhi’s voice was gentle. She had always carried herself with poise and grace—even with Liang Wenbin, despite the ugly fallout, she’d never shown a hint of bitterness to anyone.
“It’s my fault, Jinjin. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
The rain outside seemed to intensify. Liang Jin’s mouth fell open as tears welled up, loosening in her eyes.
Zeng Zhi continued, “Back in 2007, when I took you to Shanghai for that performance, I remember how scared you were before going onstage. You said you were afraid of ruining everything. That’s when I told you—mistakes happen, and that’s okay. But I wanted you to be brave, to face the consequences head-on. Life is about not fearing the wrong turns.”
Liang Jin leaned against the bathroom’s glass door. Her eyes fell on the no-limit black card she’d left on the bed. She bit her lip and murmured, “Mm.”
Zeng Zhi spoke more slowly than usual, her voice carrying a nearly decayed lightness, yet it remained gentle. “Mom feels a bit tired, Jinjin. Mom might not be able to stay with you until next year… It’s just so sad that our little baby never fell in love with the person she likes.”
Liang Jin lowered her gaze as the young woman slowly sank into a squat.
Whether to comfort Zeng Zhi or for some other reason, she softly corrected her. “Mom, I don’t dislike him.”
For one fleeting instant, Liang Jin even felt that she did like Shen Keye.
She simply hated being manipulated—by others or by fate itself.
~~~
A message came in from Zheng Yunzhi, telling Liang Jin she didn’t need to go in after all. By the time she had changed her clothes, the rain outside had stopped.
She searched the master bedroom high and low for Shen Keye but came up empty. When she pushed open the door to the second bedroom, she froze in surprise.
In the dim light and shadow stood a figure. Shen Keye had just finished showering, and droplets of water still clung to his bare upper body, undried. He noticed her enter but seemed utterly unconcerned.
The master bathroom didn’t have a shower, so Shen Keye had simply rinsed off. He pulled on his clothes and stepped out, asking, “Don’t you know how to knock?”
“Director Zheng said I don’t need to go.”
Shen Keye had no interest in that topic. He lowered his eyes for a glance at Liang Jin before looking away.
Suddenly, she grabbed his arm. Her hand felt warm as she said, “Those injuries on your body… how did you get so many?”
She couldn’t make them out clearly, but his bare torso was covered in a dense web of scars.
Shen Junbang had beaten him. Liang Jin couldn’t wrap her head around it. “Why did he hit you?”
The young man’s cold, sharp features hovered in that ambiguous space between boyhood and manhood. He stood there impassively, and when he turned his head, the tiny mole on his nose bridge gleamed black and haughty.
“Liang Jin, this isn’t any of your business.”
His words were icy, his profile utterly indifferent.
Liang Jin shot back, “Then what is my business?”
Shen Keye replied, “I’ll make Meng Huimin take full responsibility for the movie. Just focus on filming your scenes well, and I’ll make sure you shine.”
“But before, you said…” Liang Jin frowned lightly, unable to pinpoint exactly what felt off.
Before, he had wanted to sleep with her.
The young man before her slowly lowered his gaze. As he pinched her chin, his smile held no warmth. “If you want to climb into my bed, you’d better do it soon.”
His fingers were ice-cold. The girl’s expression shifted at the touch, and in her ear rang Shen Keye’s words, delivered with a wicked grin that sounded half like a joke.
“Liang Jin, before the empire crumbles, I’m giving you a chance to wallow in the mud with me—to be partners in crime.”