“Where’s Liang Jin?”
“She’s asleep.”
Shen Keye lowered his gaze to the girl sleeping on his bed. He’d just carried her back from the car.
Liang Jin had drunk too much. She’d fussed with him for a bit before passing out. She didn’t sleep soundly—her brows remained furrowed even in her dreams—but without her usual sharp aloofness and prickliness, she just looked like any other pretty girl.
Shao Xingyu tsked. “You coming tonight?”
“Yeah.”
Hearing the cold, flat monotone in Shen Keye’s voice, Shao Xingyu lowered his own without thinking. “I just heard from someone that you taught Li Yibo a lesson?”
The boy sitting before the bed had long legs that made the short stool awkward to accommodate. The bedroom lights were off, leaving Shen Keye shrouded in darkness. His eyelids drooped as he said, “I treated him to some drinks.”
Shao Xingyu didn’t buy it. “What did he do to make you force drinks on him?”
Shen Keye explained, “Bad mood.”
“Li Yibo just called me, asking me to help apologize on his behalf. This doesn’t look like a bad mood. It’s a really bad one.”
Shen Keye’s gaze shifted sideways to the wooden box on the bedside table—the same one Song Youhuai had stolen the first time he met Liang Jin at Ulta.
Song Youhuai had figured there must be something important inside, so he’d passed it on to Song Youqing. But clearly, whatever was in there was just junk to her.
Shao Xingyu’s tone was indifferent. “Li Yibo probably knows a bunch of your secrets, right? Especially from middle school. He might even know who you had a crush on back then. You sure about what comes next—”
The square box showed its age. Shen Keye’s distinct knuckles brushed the rusted lock. Nestled on red velvet was a small, exquisite Black Swan hair clip, shimmering faintly.
“He doesn’t know,” Shen Keye cut in.
He snapped the box shut.
~~~
When Liang Jin woke, she realized she was in an unfamiliar room—alone on the bed.
The hangover was brutal. The sharp cedar scent filling her nose left her head spinning. The girl struggled to sit up, only then registering that it was Shen Keye’s smell.
Liang Jin frowned down at her clothes. They were intact, just rumpled.
Shen Keye hadn’t touched her.
She messaged him: 【Why am I in your bed?】
Only after sending it did she notice her phone had blown up.
Wu Lin said she’d broken up with Li Yibo—and he had the gall to message Liang Jin.
Li Yibo: 【Liang Jin, you’re actually with Ah-Ye? Thanks to you, I’ve completely pissed him off.】
Li Yibo: 【But don’t get too smug. Shen Keye only likes you because you resemble the person he’s into.】
Liang Jin’s gaze lingered on Li Yibo’s message from that morning. He wasn’t grieving the breakup with Wu Lin at all. What bothered him was that she’d wrecked his good rapport with Shen Keye.
She found it bitterly ironic and didn’t reply. A moment later, Shen Keye’s message popped up.
Ye: 【Any issues?】
Liang Jin looked up. The mirror clearly reflected the bite marks scattered across her neck—some deep, some shallow. She touched them self-consciously, as if some lingering heat remained.
Last night, Shen Keye had bitten down hard. She remembered the look in his eyes—like he wanted to tear her apart.
Her breath caught involuntarily. She lowered her head and typed calmly: 【Why didn’t you go all the way?】
Based on how he’d acted last night, she’d expected to wake up to a headache of a mess.
But Shen Keye hadn’t touched her.
Not when he’d been so aggressive.
Ye: 【Not feeling it.】
Her heart slammed.
Liang Jin’s face flushed with embarrassment, fresh annoyance bubbling up inside her.
Sometimes she truly couldn’t figure out what Shen Keye wanted.
Li Yibo had mentioned a girl with a personality like hers—the one Shen Keye had given up Oxbridge for, stayed in Hong Kong for, even fallen out with his family over.
Liang Jin didn’t care who Shen Keye liked or had liked. But she was curious. It had only been thirteen days from meeting her to claiming her, yet someone else had been worth all that effort.
Her gaze dropped. A wry chuckle escaped her lips. Exhaustion settled in.
~~~
In the corridor of Yanghe Hospital, Shen Keye hadn’t slept a wink all night. He sat with his legs splayed in the long hallway, eyes on Liang Jin’s latest message.
Shao Xingyu had bought a tuna sandwich and offered him some.
Shen Keye ignored the message and said, “No thanks.”
Shao Xingyu arched a brow and dropped onto the bench beside his friend. “First half of the night scheming how to screw over Shen Junbang, second half in the hospital figuring out how to keep him alive.” He took a bite of the sandwich, his tone light and teasing.
Shen Junbang was sent back to the Hong Kong District half a day ahead of schedule, but he ran into some unexpected trouble during the connecting flight. Worn out from the exhausting journey, his heart stopped beating the moment he landed, and the medical team fought to resuscitate him until the early hours of the morning.
Through the glass window, Shen Keye saw Shen Junbang lying on the hospital bed. The man had slipped into a coma, his usually well-preserved face suddenly aged by more than a decade.
He was getting on in years, after all. No matter how robust a body had been in youth, by the age of sixty, the decline set in—organs failing, vitality fading.
“Where’s Sister Qing?” Shao Xingyu asked.
“She went to pick someone up,” Shen Keye replied.
“Didn’t she always boast that she loved Shen Junbang more than anyone in the world?” Shao Xingyu pressed. “Why isn’t she here by her uncle’s side right now, racking up points to secure her spot as heir?”
Shen Keye shot him a glance. “Eat your food.”
Shao Xingyu shut his mouth.
When Song Youqing returned, she had brought Jiang Manyu along with her. The doctor emerged from the hospital ward after checking on the patient and said, “His condition has stabilized for the most part, but he still needs plenty of rest.”
“Understood,” Song Youqing replied. Glancing back over her shoulder, she spotted Shen Keye lurking around the corner.
The young man stood in the smoking area, his posture casually slouched as he leaned against the window frame, cupping his hands to shield the flame. His metal lighter gave a sharp click, and he lit his cigarette with lowered eyes, radiating an effortless, untamed air.
Song Youqing’s gaze sharpened, her brows knitting in disapproval. “Ah-Ye, with your uncle’s life on the line, you’re out here smoking?” Her voice turned icy. “He warned you not to pick up any vices.”
Shen Keye turned his head slightly to eye the short-haired woman.
Jiang Manyu had just come from seeing Shen Junbang, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. She tensed at the sight of Shen Keye, her attention drawn to the lighter clenched in his hand behind his back. It was silver, with letters engraved along the lower side. Recognizing it at once, she whispered a reminder: “Sister Qing, that’s Liang Jin’s lighter…”
The name hit like a raw nerve. Song Youqing let out a scornful laugh. “See? I really should make you break up with Liang Jin.”
Shen Keye hadn’t settled the score with Song Youqing over past grievances yet. With biting sarcasm, he said, “Nobody sows discord like you do.” His thin lips, devoid of any smile, twitched faintly as he lowered his gaze to hers and called out coldly, “Sis.”
It had been ages since he’d addressed her that way. Song Youqing’s smile froze on her face. “Ah-Ye, what the hell do you mean by that?”
Shen Keye, cigarette dangling from his lips, pocketed the lighter in his coat. He started to walk away, but Song Youqing called out in a panic: “Your uncle wants you with Manyu. I didn’t approve before, but I do now.”
Her tone hardened with resolve. “When I was in Shanghai, I paid a visit to Liang Jin’s father. He agreed to come to the Hong Kong District and take her back home. Ah-Ye, your little girlfriend has no place here.”
Shen Keye glanced sideways at the short-haired woman. Her gentle eyes, clear as autumn waters, tilted up toward him in what seemed a vulnerable plea for discussion—but there was no give in her stance whatsoever.
As expected of Miss Song, queen of the Hong Kong District. She wanted it all: greedy, ruthless, no tactic too dirty.
Something unpleasant must have crossed his mind, for the young man’s eyelids drooped, and he forced a smirk. “I’m out.”
“Ah-Ye.” Jiang Manyu had been sent by Song Youqing to follow him. In the wide, empty stairwell, her cheeks flushed faintly with nerves. “Sister Qing told me to go with you.”
The stairwell was deserted, the silence amplified by hollow echoes.
“I’m going to find my girlfriend,” Shen Keye said. “You really want to humiliate yourself?”
Jiang Manyu’s expression stiffened. She descended a couple of steps before saying tentatively, “You know I like you… You and Liang Jin just aren’t right for each other. Uncle and Sister Qing will never allow it.”
When Shen Keye sneered, the sharp line of his profile took on a dangerously alluring edge. “And did I ever agree to that?”
“Jiang Manyu,” he added flatly, “we’re not from the same world.”
She hurried down the rest of the stairs to stand beside him. Drawing a deep breath, she challenged him: “Then Liang Jin is? She’s just whoring herself out to seduce you—”
Her warm hand brushed against him, only to be slapped away hard. Pain flared across Jiang Manyu’s knuckles like wildfire, drilling straight to her core.
Her eyes reddened in an instant.
Shen Keye offered her no pity, no gentleness.
His voice remained even. “I’m the one seducing her.”
Shen Keye pursed his lips and tilted his head back to look up at her. The tiny black mole on his nose bridge stood out starkly, lending his sharply chiseled features an aggressively predatory air. “Jiang Manyu, you’re both just using me to climb higher—but damn if Liang Jin doesn’t make it a hell of a lot more tempting than you.”
Jiang Manyu looked utterly humiliated, her face draining of color. “Ah-Ye, I knew you first—long before Liang Jin ever did.”
Shen Junbang was very fond of the daughter of his old friend standing before him. Shen Keye despised Shen Junbang, but he wouldn’t stir up trouble right now—not when it might unsettle this uncle, who appeared flawless on the outside but was rotten within, teetering on the edge between life and death.
Jiang Manyu was utterly fed up with Liang Jin. She’d had enough. Her voice came out sharp and urgent. “Why does it have to be Liang Jin? She’ll leave Hong Kong District sooner or later. Ah-Ye, you want to leave Hong Kong District too, don’t you? I just can’t understand it—Uncle Shen and Sister Qing have been so good to you, so why are you acting like a mantis trying to stop a chariot? Why are you hell-bent on tearing down the Shen Family—”
Shen Keye had been about to walk away, but her words piqued his interest. He was surprised that Song Youqing had shared this with Jiang Manyu. He turned back, his towering frame radiating overwhelming pressure as he closed in. The young man’s long, bony index finger brushed lightly against his lips in a silencing “shh” gesture.
Jiang Manyu jumped at the sudden chill of his approaching face. Her fingers clenched white-knuckled, her eyes wide.
Shen Keye warned her, “Keep your distance from now on.”
Jiang Manyu stammered, “W-what? Why?”
She frowned, her eyes flickering uncertainly. “You want…” Her breath grew shallow, her voice dropping without thinking as she pressed, “What exactly are you trying to do?”
His voice dropped low, resonant and magnetic as he fixed his gaze on her. Then he flashed a sudden smile. “Jiang Manyu, you don’t want to know.”