In a very short time the Shens had fallen into chaos.
Longstanding partners quietly cut ties. Companies that had considered working with them backed away. An enormous hole in the Shen family’s finances had been exposed — the coffers drained, the company teetering on the brink of bankruptcy. Behind the scenes, some shadowy force was steadily buying up the shares the Shens had scattered among outsiders. Shen Senior had already sold every asset in the house that could be converted to cash, but it wasn't nearly enough to plug that gaping wound.
Gritting his teeth, he found himself thinking of the only person he'd recently crossed — Wen Yin.
But the Wens were of comparable scale; they wouldn't have such reckless, sweeping means. If anyone had struck at the Shens, it would have to be Shao Yinan acting on his own.
When Shen Ziying went to ask Wen Yin about it, Wen Yin swore she had nothing to do with it.
Now the Shens’ collapse was inevitable. Wen Yin hardly spared it a thought — she had other matters.
As soon as she and Shao Yinan arrived at the company, Wen Yin’s phone vibrated with a string of messages. Wen Zeru's texts came rapid-fire.
Yin, is the Shao family involved in the company situation?
I didn't want you to worry, but since yesterday the Wens have taken a serious hit.
Zhizhi has received her due. Maybe Shao Yinan can... call it off.
My brother doesn't blame you.
Fine. I'll talk to Shao Yinan.
The last line arrived as if to soothe her, anxious about what she might be thinking.
She glanced at Shao Yinan to ask, and he paused, fingers stilling as he unfastened her seatbelt. His gaze shot up; his dark, crescent-shaped eyes were suddenly serious.
"Yin, when have I ever lied to you?"
The question was a quiet claim. He shifted his hand, deliberately changing position. Before she could move, she found herself pinned in the small sanctuary of the car seat, his hand anchoring her. Their noses were almost touching; breath mingled. Heat flared across her cheeks.
His eyes lifted at the corners, playful and sharp at once — like a still surface hiding fathoms deep. "After all," he murmured, "you should listen to your girlfriend."
Her fingertips pressed against his chest, holding him back. His voice was low; she could feel the vibration in his throat as he spoke. Under his pale skin his Adam's apple bobbed; the motion was absurdly, distractingly sensual.
"I... I know," she stammered, already flushed from one more of his provocations. Where had that aloof, untouchable superstar gone? The half-mythic, cool Zhao—? There was nothing of that now; he was all grin and mischievous warmth. A living temptation.
She quickly replied to Wen Zeru, explaining that the Shaos had nothing to do with the Shen disaster, then, still hand-in-hand with him, stepped into Shaohua.
From the moment she crossed the threshold she felt a current of eyes. The receptionist’s curious stare lingered on them both. In the elevator Wen Yin suddenly set her face into something serious and prim, distancing herself from him. The change in expression — from her usual cool, reserved façade to this oddly earnest composure — was surprisingly endearing.
"A-Yin?" Shao Yinan feigned ignorance and inched forward, only to be neatly dodged by her. She kept him at arm’s length.
"Shao, act like we're not dating when we're at the company," she said, cheeks small and firm.
His lips twitched. "Then teach me how. Show me how to avoid it, Miss Avoidance."
His words were a tease, but his feet kept closing the distance. The giant elevator held only the two of them, yet she found herself pressed into a corner as he advanced. He bent slightly, eyes narrowed into something both dangerous and sultry — the look of a hunter stalking prey, every inch of indulgence.
The floor numbers ticked up behind them. The tiny thread of her anxiety snapped tight — what if someone saw them like this?
She squeezed her eyes shut for a heartbeat. If anyone witnessed this, it would be impossible to explain; gossip would devour them.
Shao Yinan watched the little flurry of expressions flit across her face and felt a soft, possessive warmth. He loved seeing these moments — the private reactions that were his alone. Before she could recover, he brushed a featherlight kiss at the corner of her mouth.
The elevator chimed.
The doors slid open to reveal a group of employees. Both of them stepped out with neutral faces, the cool and distant pair they always presented. The air of stolen intimacy evaporated like mist.
"Weren't they supposed to be together?" someone whispered. "They look totally normal."
"Is that how celebrities date now?"
No one noticed as Wen Yin stopped for a beat behind a potted plant and tugged at her slightly reddened earlobe, replaying that kiss and the perfectly timed retreat in her mind.
Reporting to the design department felt unlike returning to Qili. Shaohua's atmosphere was unexpectedly relaxed compared to the tense, glamorous air she’d been used to. No one resented her presence. After all, she wasn't the same girl who'd once been a washed-up star; she was now a rising name among designers — a fact everyone accepted.
They were launching a bridal line this quarter, a rare move for Shaohua, and Wen Yin's name sat plainly on the roster of lead designers. The company putting such a high-profile project in her hands said more about Shao Yinan's trust in her than any proclamation ever could.
She spent the whole morning paging through Shaohua’s past sketches and archives until someone finally interrupted her concentration.
"Wen Yin, the design director wants to see you."
She walked into the director’s office and looked up at the man in front of her. He was leaning casually against the desk, expression unreadable. For a second she considered his composure, the way he regarded her as if his patience had limits.
"How old are you, Shao Yinan?" she asked, incredulous.