Chapter 15: The Eighth Day (Part Two)

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The blanket was pulled back over him. Sitting sideways on the edge of the bed, Shang Yin took the hand where Su Shengxin had just received his IV and laid it across his own thigh, shifting a little closer. Holding the back of Su Shengxin’s hand, he gently brushed over the puncture wound, looking almost pained by it. Then he glanced at him and asked, “Feeling any better now?”

The corners of Su Shengxin’s eyes were still faintly red. After their gazes tangled for a moment, Su Shengxin smiled and, with deliberate cheek, pinched the firm muscle of Shang Yin’s thigh with the fingers of his right hand.

“It’s much better after being wiped down. Mr. Shang, you really are useful.”

Hearing the joke, Shang Yin’s jaw relaxed slightly. His voice was deep and resonant. “Then use me more. Use me until the end of time.”

Their gazes wound around each other. Su Shengxin did not answer. After a while, he gently lowered his eyelids, intending to rest, but once they were closed, he could not help the corners of his mouth from curling upward.

“Teacher Su,” Shang Yin asked again, “would you like to eat something before you sleep?”

“I’m not eating.” Su Shengxin said, “I have no appetite.”

“How about a little something, then? Pastries, or fruit?”

Su Shengxin thought about it. “Then how about some ice cream?”

Shang Yin laughed despite himself. “Ice cream?”

“Mm.” Su Shengxin said, “It’s about the only thing I can manage. Whenever I was sick as a child, I would ask Auntie for ice cream.” He had not been allowed to eat such things back then. His parents said they were unhealthy and would make him gain weight, ruining his looks. But whenever he fell ill, Auntie would secretly give him some.

“All right.” Shang Yin rose unhurriedly. “Wait here. Don’t go to sleep yet.”

There was ice cream in the refrigerator of the little cabin, so Shang Yin opened a tub for him.

Su Shengxin ate seven or eight spoonfuls. He had not been allowed to eat it as a child, and even after becoming an actor he still could not eat it, so he was not accustomed to anything too sweet. After a few bites, he already found it cloying.

“That’s enough.” Su Shengxin handed the ice cream back. “I think I’ve had enough.”

Shang Yin looked at him and teased, “You were the one asking for it just now, and a few bites later you’re done.”

“Mm.” Su Shengxin grinned at him. “You eat it. Don’t waste it.”

Shang Yin looked at him once more, then picked up the tub and ate it in great mouthfuls.

Afterward, Su Shengxin slept while Shang Yin held a meeting. When Su Shengxin awoke again, he discovered that his fever had broken.

When Shang Yin came back in, Su Shengxin was standing on the bedroom balcony with a coat draped over his shoulders.

Shang Yin walked over to him. “Isn’t it cold?”

“What would be cold?” Without the cameras, Su Shengxin was naturally much more at ease. “It isn’t cold at all. In fact, the sun is almost too strong.”

“All right.” Shang Yin asked again, “You have something to say, don’t you?”

“Smart.” Su Shengxin leaned forward against the balcony railing, a cigarette held between his fingertips but left unlit—perhaps because he remembered that he was still ill. “Shang Yin, I’ll be honest. I may be a very annoying person.”

Shang Yin glanced at him.

Su Shengxin gazed into the distance. “If I really get together with someone, I may keep confirming how special I am to them. I’ll say I want to eat something, then get tired of it after two bites—or want something else instead. I’ll say I want something, then lose interest after playing with it for a while. Things like that, perhaps. You never know. Mr. Shang, think it over carefully.”

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Shang Yin gazed at his profile. In the sunlight, his tousled hair, lashes, and the tip of his nose were all gilded with a layer of gold. Shang Yin’s eyes locked onto his face, and he longed to kiss him until his breathing faltered and his body went limp.

Su Shengxin sensed Shang Yin’s undisguised gaze. His eyes lowered as he watched the smoke from the cigarette between his fingers drift upward into the air, and suddenly he remembered how the two of them had begun two years earlier.

At the time, for no apparent reason, rumors had begun circulating that “Su Shengxin had interfered in a tycoon’s marriage.”

The so-called tycoon was named Wu Yingfu. He had served as a leader at two television networks, cultivated his own faction, and maintained close ties with both. More than a decade earlier, he had founded a film and television company, becoming the producer and supervisor of several blockbuster productions. Two years ago, he was already fifty.

A period costume drama of Su Shengxin’s—the one that had propelled him into the ranks of leading actors—as well as a science-fiction film and an art-house film he made afterward had all been financed by Wu Yingfu.

The rumors spread far and wide. Several people “in the industry,” along with a number of reporters, spoke of the matter with such certainty that one would have thought they had witnessed it firsthand.

At the time, as the other supposed victim, the tycoon personally apologized to Su Shengxin several times. He was sincere and gracious, using his connections to have posts removed and filing lawsuits against the reporters. Under the guise of “compensation,” he even offered to help Su Shengxin secure further work. He also claimed that he and his partner were together in name only and would be divorcing soon.

Su Shengxin immediately sensed that something was wrong. After making inquiries through his connections, he finally confirmed his suspicion.

Sure enough, the rumor that he had interfered in the marriage had been spread by Wu Yingfu himself.

Wu Yingfu wanted to ruin Su Shengxin, leaving him with no roles to play and nowhere to turn. That way, Su Shengxin would have no choice but to accept his so-called favors, then become dependent on him, fall in love with him, and finally interfere in the marriage willingly—turning a false affair into a real one.

Su Shengxin was sickened.

Yet he had to admit that the matter was genuinely difficult to handle.

One of the only two people directly involved had said it himself. Who in the industry would not believe him? Which entertainment reporter would not? Naturally, every other production company would assume that Su Shengxin was a liability, merely waiting for the day definitive evidence emerged. They would not dare hire him or become involved with him. The only person who knew for certain that there would be no scandal was Wu Yingfu himself.

Besides, by then the news was already online.

When Su Shengxin made it clear that he would not become involved with Wu Yingfu, the tycoon revealed his true colors. Temptation instantly turned into a threat.

He gave Su Shengxin a hotel room key card and issued his final ultimatum: Su Shengxin was to wait for him on the night of the Qixi Festival. Otherwise, his career would suffer a comprehensive collapse. Wu Yingfu had connections at both television networks, was a former senior executive, and was also the producer or investor behind countless famous film and television projects. There were only a handful of major entertainment companies. To spread costs and share risks, they often co-produced projects. Everyone wanted a hand in promising productions and a share of the profits, so no one wished to offend him. Losing his favor over casting Su Shengxin in a single production would not be worth it.

After careful consideration, Su Shengxin believed he had several options.

The first was to break with Wu Yingfu completely—to deny the rumors himself, perhaps even reveal everything publicly. But retaliation would be inevitable. Su Shengxin’s first choice was not to engage in a war of words. Besides, when fighting a public-opinion battle against capital, it was impossible to say with certainty who would win.

The second was to make the audience and the industry disbelieve the rumor on their own.

Su Shengxin was daring enough to consider a sham marriage with Shang Yin.

Shang Yin was twenty-two years younger than the tycoon. He was the heir to the Shang Zhou Group, standing at the very top of the food chain in the entertainment industry—and even in the business world as a whole. With his exceptional build and imposing presence, he drew every eye wherever he went. Not even his face offered a single flaw to criticize.

If Shang Yin claimed that they had already been “dating” for several years, surely no one would continue believing the rumor that Su Shengxin had wanted to interfere in Wu Yingfu’s marriage. They would even find the rumor absurd beyond measure. With Shang Yin as his boyfriend, who would possibly set his sights on Wu Yingfu? One would have to be blind—and stupid. Plenty of celebrities willingly threw themselves at Wu Yingfu, but Wu Yingfu and Shang Yin were not even in the same league.

At the same time, Shang Yin could become Su Shengxin’s greatest source of protection.

If Su Shengxin married Shang Yin, Wu Yingfu would not dare touch him. Wu Yingfu knew exactly how much weight he carried.

It would solve two problems at once.

Su Shengxin approached Shang Yin through a mutual friend. The two of them agreed immediately.

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Not long after Shang Yin returned to the country, his father suddenly died of a cerebral hemorrhage. Thus, the eldest son, second son, stepmother, and stepmother’s daughter all inherited shares in the family business. Because everything had happened so abruptly, Shang Yin, as the second son, was placed at a tremendous disadvantage in terms of voting power.

Several other shareholders of the Shang Zhou Group supported the eldest son, while several others wanted Shang Yin brought into the group so they could compare the two brothers. That made the voting rights of the stepmother and her daughter crucial.

The stepmother’s daughter was just over three years old, a child born through in vitro fertilization. Shang Yin’s acting was indeed exceptional. He registered his marriage to Su Shengxin and candidly declared that they had been together for several years, portraying them as deeply affectionate and blissfully in love. He actually managed to convince his stepmother that he was attracted only to men and would never have children, and that as two public figures, the two of them could not possibly have children by any other means, either now or in the future.

Shang Yin put on an innocent, harmless expression and hoped his stepmother would help him enter the company—or even take direct control of it. He told her that by the time his little sister came of age, he would be ready to step aside, allowing him to return the Shang Zhou Group to her in a perfectly legitimate manner.

After weighing her options, his stepmother chose to help Shang Yin enter the board of directors and become an executive, using him to threaten his elder brother directly.

Su Shengxin was a top-tier celebrity, so his stepmother never once doubted that the marriage was genuine.

In the two years since Shang Yin entered the Shang Zhou Group, his methods had proved a hundred times more effective than his brother’s. He quickly unified the shareholders behind him and had even reached the point where he no longer needed to care about his stepmother. It seemed only a matter of time before he would drive the current chairman—his elder brother—from office.

Su Shengxin had always known that once Shang Yin secured control, they would divorce. Shang Yin would have a new wife and children of his own. The stepmother and her daughter had merely been tools he used for two years.

But now—

Su Shengxin watched the tiny sparks glowing at the tip of his cigarette.

“Shang Yin,” Su Shengxin said, “thank you for what you did about Wu Yingfu. We both got what we needed back then, but I still wanted to thank you.”

Shang Yin gave a faint, dismissive smile. “It was nothing.”

Su Shengxin thought for a moment, then asked, “That day… on the Qixi Festival, you called Wu Yingfu, didn’t you? Once the appointed time passed, my phone stayed completely silent. He didn’t harass me at all. It was entirely different from before.”

They had already married by then. After the ceremony, when they parted, Su Shengxin had given Shang Yin Wu Yingfu’s room key card.

Shang Yin shot him a glance. “Mm.”

In truth, that was not all.

That night, he had gone straight to the hotel with the key card in hand.

Wu Yingfu opened the door wearing a bathrobe.

As he opened it, he smiled ingratiatingly and said, “Shengxin, finally in the mood for something good?”

Shang Yin kept one hand in his pocket and held the key card in the other. His eyes were impossible to read as he asked coolly, “What good thing did you want?”

The instant he saw Shang Yin standing outside, Wu Yingfu was overcome with panic. He was usually suave and debonair, but at that moment his upper and lower teeth knocked together.

“Mr. Sh—Sh—Shang?”

Shang Yin had only recently entered the Shang Zhou Group, where he oversaw real estate, film and television, and several other major divisions. The group’s interests were closely tied to Wu Yingfu’s company, and Shang Yin even controlled the fate of the projects in Wu Yingfu’s hands.

Shang Yin strolled inside at his leisure while Wu Yingfu stumbled backward. He retreated all the way to the single armchair before the enormous window overlooking the sea. His leg caught on the chair, and he fell heavily into it.

“I’m asking you,” Shang Yin said. With the room key card, he pried apart the corners of Wu Yingfu’s mouth and wedged the card between his upper and lower teeth. Wu Yingfu’s lips were forced open, making him look grotesquely ridiculous. Shang Yin asked, “What good thing did you want?”

Wu Yingfu sat stiffly, unresponsive.

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