Why on earth had Shen Keye shown up? How did he know she wasn’t of age yet?
Liang Jin frowned.
Song Youhuai hadn’t expected Shen Keye to appear at all. He gathered his thoughts and started to explain, “Wu Lin’s upset with me… I was only—”
Liang Jin cut him off. Turning to Shen Keye, she said, “Shen Keye, this has nothing to do with you, right?” Her tone was sharp, her gaze distant.
Liang Jin knew all too well that if she let this chance slip away, she wouldn’t be able to scrape together the money anytime soon. Shen Keye had just snatched away the hope that belonged to her—to her mother.
A contract set in black and white, a hard-won opportunity, and yet it could vanish because of money and power. Liang Jin stared at Shen Keye. Compared to earlier that day, she now sported a white fuzzy hat, deep smoky eye makeup that made her gaze hazy and alluring. Her pale skin was flushed with color, giving her an eye-catching poise amid the surrounding glamour.
A complicated thought crossed Liang Jin’s mind: What difference was there between Shen Keye and Song Youhuai?
Shen Keye lowered his eyes and asked her, “What do you mean by that?”
Liang Jin replied, “I know all about the movie investment. I don’t have a shot anymore.”
Ignoring everything and everyone else that had happened, she fixed him with a cold stare. “You and your uncle stole the opportunity that was rightfully mine.”
Her words dripped with resentment, hitting him like a slap to the face. Li Yibo couldn’t stand it. “Liang Jin, watch your tone. Show some respect—Ah-Ye just saved you.”
That only made Liang Jin laugh. The girl’s thin lips curved slightly as she turned her face away and shot back, “Li Yibo, I drank that booze for you. You’re the last person who gets to say that to me.”
She was too stubborn for her own good.
The whole room fell silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Earlier, when Song Youhuai had forced her to drink at the table, Liang Jin hadn’t shown a hint of grievance. But now, her eyes were turning red. She was on the verge of giving up.
Director Zheng’s film wasn’t just her mother’s past life—it was her own future. Liang Jin had plunged into the treacherous world of Hong Kong District like a moth to the flame. She took a deep breath, accepting reality as she confirmed, “Shen Keye, you hate me.”
Liang Jin gripped her glass tightly, just as she had futilely resisted Song Youhuai moments before. She rejected Shen Keye too. The girl spoke up: “My mom’s sick. We have no money. That’s why I came to Hong Kong District to act in movies.” She asked, “Now, I’ve got no chance at all, right?”
The boy stood there, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, his expression cool and detached. Shen Keye asked, “You want this drink that badly?”
Liang Jin shot back coldly, “None of your business.”
Shen Keye picked up a lighter from beside the candelabra—a rare Depont collector’s edition. He didn’t look like someone who wouldn’t know how to use it. Casually, he lowered his eyelids, rubbed the flint wheel, and lit the glass.
Even at 40 proof, the liquor caught fire easily. Blue flames enveloped the glass Liang Jin clutched so tightly, radiating scorching heat.
Liang Jin jumped in shock.
His breath was hot against her face from inches away. She parted her lips, suddenly locking eyes with Shen Keye’s pitch-black gaze. Her heart clenched. There was a cool, aloof edge to the boy, brewing a storm-like intensity.
Shen Keye curled his lips in a smile. He watched her flustered expression with cold detachment, then leaned down to catch her eyes. “You look down on me so much. So what are you doing here now?”
Liang Jin froze. Embarrassment burned through her like wildfire.
She was a mess, but she held her ground and said nothing.
Shen Keye stated calmly, “Liang Jin, I told you I don’t hate you. Still want to drink it?”
~~~
The celebratory banquet ended on a sour note.
A cool evening breeze swept down the retro, bustling street, clearing Liang Jin’s head. Most of the school team had already left.
Song Youhuai had taken a hit from Shen Keye. In the end, he’d called his sister for backup. It was Liang Jin’s first time seeing the legendary Miss Song. She stepped out of the car and stood beside Shen Keye—a vague, elegant silhouette with what seemed like short hair, radiating gentle dignity.
Liang Jin lingered by the restaurant chairs. Wu Lin’s eyes had been red the whole time; she was still shaken and anxious. Liang Jin squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“Ah-Ye, I’ll handle Little Huai. He’s grounded for two weeks.”
Song Youqing’s light-colored eyes flicked toward Song Youhuai as he climbed obediently into the car—meeker and more compliant than ever before.
Shen Keye showed no expression, but Li Yibo tried to smooth things over. “Sister Qing, it’s not a big deal.”
He’d already heard the full story from Wu Lin.
In his view, Song Youhuai had gotten mad for his sake, and Shen Keye had stepped in for him too.
Li Yibo explained the background: “It was just some school drama. Guys get into scraps like that all the time.”
Song Youqing had her own standards for what counted as a “big deal.” Her gaze slowly swept over the scattering group of students nearby before she said abruptly, “Ah-Ye, I’ll make it up to you and your friends. No one will leave unhappy.”
Shen Keye finally paid attention. With his usual nonchalant look, he replied, “Fine.”
Song Youqing’s smile warmed a touch. Gently, she said, “But Ah-Ye, it’s rare to see you this pissed.” The woman assessed, “That doesn’t seem like you.”
Song Youqing and Shen Keye were full siblings, a sister and brother born to the same parents. Back when Father Song divorced Miss Shen, one child stayed with the Shen Family while the other remained with the Song Family.
Song Youqing wasn’t close to Shen Keye at all. Instead, she was far more affectionate with her half-brother, Song Youhuai.
Shen Keye’s gaze lingered on Song Youqing. After a long moment, he narrowed his eyes and said, “Sis knows me well.”
Song Youqing replied, “After all, I watched you grow up from childhood. Ever since you came back to Hong Kong…”
She began reminiscing about the old days, but Shen Keye abruptly shifted the conversation, cutting her off. “But whether it looks like me or not? That’s debatable.”
Song Youqing’s smile faltered awkwardly.
Shen Keye shot a sidelong glance at Song Youhuai in the car and snorted coldly. “Within two months, make sure I don’t see your brother again.”
The black Bentley vanished into the chaotic flow of traffic.
“Shen Keye.”
Beneath the blue road sign at the intersection, the young man looked up. Across the long street, he spotted the girl standing by the streetlamp. Liang Jin’s clear, cool eyes brimmed with complex emotions and barely restrained helplessness.
After wrestling with her inner turmoil, Liang Jin slowly threaded her way through the traffic and approached. She suggested, “Let me buy you dinner.”
Li Yibo shot down the idea. “Ah-Ye’s car broke down today. We were supposed to pick it up by now…”
Liang Jin interrupted his explanation. “I was a little out of control just now…” Her mind was a tangled mess. She took a deep breath and said solemnly, “I’m sorry.”
He had helped shield her from drinks, and yet she’d given him the cold shoulder.
Liang Jin pressed her lips together. She knew there was no way Shen Keye would agree to eat with someone like her, whom he’d only met by chance. In a soft voice, she said, “I’m leaving the Hong Kong District. You’ve helped me out several times—thank you.”
Shen Keye’s eyes darkened. He repeated, “Leaving?”
“Yeah.” Liang Jin nodded firmly. “The way things are now, I’m out of the running, right?” Thinking of the opportunity she’d lost, her nose stung. Finally, she said, “Shen Keye, you never intended to give me a shot, did you?”
Her aggrieved words carried a stubborn edge. Shen Keye stared at the girl’s defiantly lifted chin. She was still proud, even in defeat.
In the night breeze, amid the clamor of traffic and blaring horns, Baroque-style streetlamps spilled dim yellow light across the scene. Shen Keye watched the subtle shifts in Liang Jin’s expressions. Suddenly, he curled his lips in a smile, his narrowed eyes glinting with hidden depths as he called to her. “Liang Jin.”
His deep, magnetic voice carried a Cantonese lilt, like the clink of crushed ice.
“You giving up when it’s only just begun?”
Confusion. Bewilderment. A flutter in her chest.
Liang Jin looked over. The young man in the white jacket—she only now noticed the black cross pendant around his neck, a symbol of religious faith, hanging broken. As he turned his gaze on her, his aloof arrogance loomed from on high, his tone brimming with certainty. “Didn’t you say you’d treat me to dinner?”
Shen Keye added, “Come with me. I’ll tell you where you still have a chance.”
~~~
The restaurant was Shen Keye’s pick, on the adjacent street—a high-end private Chinese cuisine spot.
After Liang Jin finished paying, a text alert pinged with the deduction notice. Several thousand for one meal. Her heart ached at the cost. As she stepped out, she glanced at her phone wallpaper: a photo from ten years ago, snapped after a performance in Shanghai with her mom.
The elegant White Swan dancer and the little Black Swan attendant—that had been her first time performing alongside her mother.
Liang Jin gazed at the young man not far away. Shen Keye was looking down, scrolling through his phone with one hand. Nearby, two or three girls hovered, shy yet bold as they struck up a conversation.
“Can we join you for dinner, handsome?”
Shen Keye acted like he hadn’t heard a word, his gaze cutting straight through the crowd to land on her.
Liang Jin frowned almost imperceptibly.
Shen Keye was just so unapproachable. The girls—some fiery, some sweet—were so earnest and enthusiastic, yet he didn’t spare them half a glance.
He was like a towering, unreachable island amid the throng.
But he had agreed to have dinner with her.
Liang Jin hurried over. “Sorry, he already has plans.”
The girls deflated instantly and wandered off, muttering, “Ugh, he has a girlfriend after all.”
Liang Jin wanted to correct them that she wasn’t his girlfriend. She glanced awkwardly at Shen Keye beside her. He tilted his head, eyeing her with keen interest. Remembering those prior awkward moments—and how she’d offended him because of them—Liang Jin said earnestly, “I won’t take advantage of you anymore.”
Shen Keye let out a faint, cold chuckle but said nothing more. “Let’s go. Upstairs.”
Liang Jin was well aware of the dynamics on the film crew from before. Shen Keye explained that a film producer would soon join to collaborate with Director Zheng.
“Miss Meng carries a lot of weight in Hong Kong Entertainment. She’s also my uncle’s old flame.”
Liang Jin got it now.
In other words, if she could secure an audition with Producer Meng and catch her eye, things might turn around.
Liang Jin listened with downcast eyes as Shen Keye laid it out. Truth be told, it wasn’t a surefire plan, but it was worth a shot. She asked, “So why help me?”
The dishes had all arrived, but neither of them had touched their chopsticks.
Across the long square table, Shen Keye drummed his knuckles on the surface, saying nothing.
Liang Jin noticed the brown scuff marks on his palm—dot after dot, bruised purple, like a radiating cluster of stars.
A patch of skin that seemed to have just been touched had its newly formed thin scab cracked open.
Liang Jin wondered if there had been even a sliver of that punch at Song Youhuai because of her.
She felt like she was being overly self-indulgent.
The thought struck her as absurd, but it was still the most reasonable guess.
Liang Jin figured she must be drunk. In a muffled voice, she said, “Let me take care of it for you.”
Shen Keye propped his chin on his hand, his gaze cold. “What?”
“The scrape,” Liang Jin said.
She hated pain—couldn’t stand it at all, especially an injury like that.
Shen Keye lowered his eyes. Liang Jin added, “You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Let me handle it.”
Liang Jin asked the server for a first-aid kit.
By the sink, she watched Shen Keye rinse his hand before casually pouring alcohol over it to disinfect. The bits of dead flesh turned red from the sting.
He worked quickly, without so much as a flinch. Liang Jin could only lean against the wall and watch.
“Aren’t you afraid of the pain?” she asked.
She didn’t expect an answer, but the boy glanced down and said, “I’m used to it.”
His tone was flat. Strands of black hair fell over his eyes, giving him a lonely, isolated air.
The favored son of heaven, born into a great family—such a response caught Liang Jin off guard.
She frowned. “Do you get hurt a lot?”
His hand, with its prominent knuckles, paused mid-motion. He pressed down on the mouth of the 1200ml alcohol bottle. Shen Keye seemed amused. He looked up at her. “Interested in me?”
His dark eyes fixed on Liang Jin.
Her jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulder. The cross-star earring, accented with rose motifs, caught the light. When she tilted her head, a mix of aloof coolness and youthful allure shone through as she bit her lip.
Liang Jin considered her words. “I know a good thing when I see it.” Her tone was light and joking—she knew the more she learned about Shen Keye, the better her position. “Besides, you helped me out.”
She straightened up and stepped forward eagerly. “Let me put the bandage on for you.”
Shen Keye stood by the black marble sink. The dim lighting obscured his expression.
Liang Jin deftly cut the cotton pad and adhesive tape. As she touched him, she said, “Tell me if it hurts.”
His skin burned hot to the touch. The thin layer of muscle beneath pulsed with his heartbeat, making Liang Jin sharply aware that he was utterly, fundamentally male—nothing like her.
Remembering how he’d said he was “used to it,” Liang Jin murmured, “If you get hurt again, you can come to me.” Her voice was soft. “Let me stay in Hong Kong, and I’ll always be here.”
The dim, hazy light cast a lazy gentleness over her delicate features. Her black hair framed her pale skin, and her pale lips curved in a smile.
Her cool, soft hand rested in his palm.
Suddenly, Shen Keye gripped her hand in return. “What do you mean by that?”
Liang Jin looked up at him and realized how close they were.
“What’s wrong?” she asked blankly.
His face was expressionless as he lowered his gaze. “Liang Jin, do you realize how much that sounds like you’re chasing me?”
His cold breath washed over her face. Stared at like that, she felt a dizzying mix of fear and excitement, her heart pounding. Uneasy, she widened her eyes.
This was only their third encounter.
Shen Keye tugged her closer with his injured hand. “Do you like me?”
It felt like an icy python coiling around her in the dead of night—cold and suffocating. Liang Jin’s instinct kicked in. “I don’t like you.”
The boy in front of her smiled, mockery lacing his words. “Is that so?”
In her panic, Liang Jin gathered herself. The heavy reek of alcohol on him made her head spin with drunken haze. She thought of what had just happened, of Song Youhuai and the nausea he stirred in her. She had no idea where this misunderstanding had come from. Sarcastically, she said, “Are you reading too much into it?” She laid out the facts. “So many people chase after you—does that mean you think everyone does?”
She just wanted to stay in Hong Kong District.
The alcohol and her lingering fever crashed over her. So much had happened today. Liang Jin felt like no day had ever been worse.
Shen Keye dismantled her without mercy. “Liang Jin, your heart’s racing.”
The sharp alcohol scent faded, replaced by the piercing bite of cold cedar. His words whispered right in her ear. Liang Jin’s breath hitched, as if she’d been startled.
Feigning composure, she called out coldly, “Shen Keye.”
He responded with a soft hum.
She tilted her head up, her clear, sharp eyes meeting his.
“Actually, I think there’s another way besides the one you mentioned, right?”
She scoffed inwardly, hating the idea of stooping so low—but she couldn’t deny it. There was a simpler, easier, more effective shortcut.
She could tell, even if it wasn’t much, that he was interested in her.
Liang Jin asked, “If I chased you, would I have a chance?”
Her slender lashes fluttered. Her slim, pale shoulder fell within his downward gaze. Shen Keye narrowed his eyes and chuckled lightly, offering no reply to her absurd question.