Chapter 13: Roaming the World

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Sheng Jiayi danced with several acquaintances for a while longer, then was pulled into a conversation by the late-arriving Li Lixia before finally excusing herself. Wearing eight-centimeter high heels, her ankles were nearly numb.

The He family’s estate was excessively grand. To have such a mansion resembling a manor on the half-mountain in the extremely expensive Hong Kong was a testament to how substantial the settlement was when He Ruolin divorced Zhong Jianming, the son of the shipping magnate.

After searching for some time, Sheng Jiayi finally found a quiet courtyard behind the fence near the swimming pool. Through the dancing shadows and dense foliage, the splashing water and the mingled sounds of laughter were as if right beside her. Elongated shadows intertwined with the reflections on the red and white brick floor, and someone was dancing to a lively tune.

Behind her stretched an empty Spanish-style corridor, deserted and silent. The courtyard was surrounded by glass walls.

Standing there, she could just catch a glimpse of Central’s nightscape. Neon lights adorned the skyscrapers’ facades, their glow scattered like shards of gold across both sides of the harbor, the thick, golden light flowing slowly, hovering between the mountains and the sea.

Leaning against the railing, Sheng Jiayi watched for a while, growing somewhat bored. She reached into the pocket of her beige suit and pulled out a pale red paper box, extracting a slender lady’s cigarette.

When she went to light it, she realized she had forgotten her lighter.

She could only twirl the cigarette between her fingers, gently rubbing it.

Last year, she had shot a period film set in the Republican era. The plot required her to fake smoking on screen, so she had learned how to hold a cigarette.

She rarely touched such things, but when she left the house today, she happened to find the leftover pack from filming in a drawer and, on a whim, slipped it into her pocket.

The wind blew through the valley, the trees rolling like ocean waves.

Her fingers were cold; she took out the cigarette box again, intending to put the cigarette back.

“Need a light?” someone asked from behind.

Sheng Jiayi’s heart skipped a beat in fright. She hurriedly turned around and saw a figure standing beneath one of the corridor’s columns.

She hadn’t heard any footsteps, which meant only one thing: the man had been standing somewhere in the corridor watching her approach, remaining silent all along.

He must have seen all her movements.

She no longer had time to hide the cigarette in her hand, but by nature, she never displayed overt emotional shifts. Even caught in the act, no panic could be read on her face. She asked softly, “Who are you?”

He stepped forward, standing in the dim light of the corridor.

He was an exceptionally handsome man.

Sheng Jiayi had worked with Hong Kong’s top stars; if she described him as “exceptional,” it spoke volumes.

His face was unfamiliar—not a celebrity, nor one of the wealthy heirs frequently seen in the media. He simply stood there quietly, at the intersection of shadow and light.

After a moment, seeing Sheng Jiayi remain silent, he slowly approached until he was directly in front of her. She realized he was half a head taller than her in heels; she had to tilt her head slightly upward to meet his eyes.

His dark pupils were nearly pure black.

“Miss Sheng? Sheng Jiayi?” he asked in a low voice.

She didn’t answer but regarded him intently. Her face was faintly illuminated by passing light, as if shrouded in a delicate veil of shadows.

After a long pause, she spoke, “Do you know me?”

“Miss Sheng is very famous. It’s hard not to know you.”

She noticed his Cantonese was poor, with awkward pauses; he spoke slowly and earnestly.

She smiled. “And you?”

He thought for a moment. “My surname is Xu—Xu Mingyan.”

Sheng Jiayi was stunned.

She recalled that rainy night not long ago when the meteorological station issued a typhoon signal number eight; the plane struggled through the storm to land. Amid the downpour, the radio crackled with static.

“Do you really know me?”

“No, I don’t,” Sheng Jiayi said, her nerves relaxing as she leaned back against the railing.

“Have you been here long, Mr. Xu?”

“Just arrived. I saw Miss Sheng come over,” Xu Mingyan said, joining her at the railing. He glanced at the cigarette in her hand with a subtle implication. “I thought you might need some…”

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Sheng Jiayi followed his gaze to her hand and smiled slightly. “If you’re willing.”

“It’s my honor.” Xu Mingyan took a Dupont lighter from his pocket, bent slightly, and with a soft click, the flame flickered to life.

Sheng Jiayi remained still, allowing him to cup his hand around hers to light the cigarette.

“What do you do, Mr. Xu? I haven’t seen you in the media.”

“I do some investment business. It’s small-scale—not newsworthy yet.”

Sheng Jiayi cast him a faint glance.

She didn’t actually smoke the cigarette; it was just held between her fingers. Her hands, long and slender from years of piano practice, wore transparent diamond-studded fake nails. The flickering flame cast a gentle glow; blue smoke curled between her knuckles.

That innate coldness and world-weariness could no longer be hidden.

“Where are you from, Mr. Xu?”

“Hong Kong.”

“Hong Kong?” Her eyes shone with disbelief.

His Cantonese was so poor—what kind of Hong Kong person was he?

Xu Mingyan chuckled. “Born in Hong Kong, raised in the United States.”

“And now?”

“Currently working in Singapore.”

“Sounds like an interesting life.”

“Drifting around. Hardly exciting.”

They both fell silent.

The myriad lights below grew even more dazzling in the deepening night. Though far from the sea, the sound of waves seemed ever-present. The day’s heat had faded, leaving behind restless energy that danced in the air.

“Truly beautiful,” Sheng Jiayi murmured.

“I thought Hong Kong people would be tired of this view,” Xu Mingyan said. “When I studied in the U.S., locals asked me if Victoria Peak’s nightscape could rival Manhattan in New York.”

“Why would they care?” Sheng Jiayi asked with genuine curiosity.

“Because they believed Hong Kong could never surpass Manhattan and needed my confirmation,” Xu Mingyan said, imitating her by taking a cigarette and lighting it.

The two stood side by side at the railing, gazing into the distance.

The evening breeze was gentle to the extreme.

After a while, Xu Mingyan smiled. “It’s hard to imagine I’m standing here with Hong Kong’s most popular actress—”

“Smoking?” Sheng Jiayi waved her fingers to cut him off. “Doesn’t it feel disillusioning, Mr. Xu?”

“Not really,” he said. “In my mind, Miss Sheng should be just like this.”

“Like what?”

He remained silent.

Sheng Jiayi looked at him for a few seconds, then turned away without pressing further.

“How did you get into Ms. He’s birthday party, Mr. Xu?”

“I happened to have a real estate project and wanted to see if anyone was interested. I used connections to get an invitation and sneaked in.”

“Real estate development must be very profitable these days.”

“Not necessarily. It requires large amounts of liquid capital; it’s easy to fall into debt. Business in Hong Kong is already dominated by big families. For people like me trying to make a quick buck, it’s not easy.”

He spoke seriously; Sheng Jiayi listened seriously. She couldn’t help but smile at this point. “Why not just lease land instead?”

Xu Mingyan was momentarily stunned. He looked at her and met her innocent gaze—her tourmaline-like eyes shone with a cool light, revealing little emotion.

“True,” he said helplessly. “Leasing land and collecting rent is much simpler.”

“And what about you, Miss Sheng?” Xu Mingyan asked in turn. “Why are you here at Ms. He’s party?”

“Half of Hong Kong’s entertainment circle is here.”

“But aren’t you the other half?” he said.

Sheng Jiayi raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“Singapore’s entertainment scene is dull. The media there are equally interested in your news. They call you the most beautiful woman in East Asia, say you’re the future star of Hong Kong’s entertainment, and that you’re the only actress signed to an agency yet unrestricted in film choices. I thought you didn’t need to cater to anyone. Your star shines brightly, everyone envies you, even film companies court you.”

“If Mr. Xu followed more gossip in his spare time, he’d know I’ve been troubled lately,” Sheng Jiayi smiled wryly. “The ex-girlfriend of movie superstar He Jihan, Miss Xie, publicly accused me of being contract lovers with him to drum up publicity. After the news broke, I offended many fans, while she gained huge attention, rumored to replace me as the film’s female lead. And Mr. Song from Tianyuan Group and I had a minor clash. He enjoyed seeing me unhappy and didn’t mind throwing fuel on my misfortune. Because of all this, I haven’t worked for three months.”

The cigarette ash burned down; Sheng Jiayi glanced at it, then flicked the butt into a nearby trash can.

“So, Miss Sheng, does this trouble you?”

“I’m not troubled. I have no interest in my career,” Sheng Jiayi said, flipping her long hair.

“Do you say such things to every stranger?” Xu Mingyan asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then why say it to me?”

If her words were exposed, it would cause another uproar.

Sheng Jiayi looked up and met his eyes.

She wanted to say that just by looking at him, she could tell he was from a distinguished background. No matter how much he claimed to be doing “small business” and used the perfect excuse of sneaking into the party to network with high society, he was unconvincing simply by standing there.

Inborn nobility was hard to fake. People born with everything were humble and polite, yet a cold detachment always lingered in their eyes.

“I trust you won’t tell anyone,” Sheng Jiayi said, averting her gaze to the dark valley.

The band began playing a melodious tune, the serene atmosphere filling the air.

“It’s such a beautiful night, yet they’re playing ‘Meditation’,” Sheng Jiayi whispered.

“You’ve heard ‘Thaïs’ too?” Xu Mingyan said.

“In Tokyo,” Sheng Jiayi replied. At that time, she was still involved in a rumor with He Jihan; they had gone to see the opera together.

“Meditation,” the signature piece by French composer Jules Massenet, is an interlude from the opera Thaïs.

On one hand, there is Athanaël, a monk in the Egyptian desert fervently devoted to his faith; on the other, Thaïs, a Roman courtesan indulging in vanity and decadence.

Athanaël dreams of her, believing he can save her, and sets out from Egypt.

His journey is arduous but he eventually arrives in bustling Alexandria, a city vastly different from the desert life he knows—luxury and depravity pervade every corner. Thaïs is immersed in pleasure and applause; her beauty shines like a brilliant gem beneath the sinful city’s night sky. Her singing is gentle and seductive, intoxicating all who hear.

“Was Athanaël enamored of Thaïs’s beauty or the decadent ancient Rome behind it?” Sheng Jiayi asked.

“I think both,” Xu Mingyan replied. “Only gold can nurture such a peerless beauty.”

Sheng Jiayi laughed softly, her clear laughter lingering like wind chimes.

“I vow to save you from flame and flood,
So your soul soars high above the mud.
This love I hold is unique and true,
Offered to you, as to hell I subdue.
May God's light, ever so bright,
Shine upon you, day and night,
Endowing thee with grace so tender,
Your spirit safe, in sanctity's splendor.”

Accompanied by the violin’s melody, Sheng Jiayi sang softly.