Across the Four Seas

Song Yuan finally realized that, in a certain sense, he had underestimated Sheng Jiayi.

He had investigated her, but found nothing. He Xiyue, a woman who excelled at public relations and had served as a PR director for years, had long since broadcasted Sheng Jiayi’s illustrious resume everywhere: the top scorer of her examination district at fifteen, a rare highly-educated film star, a top student in Financial Mathematics and Information Engineering at the University of Hong Kong, someone who would have studied at Princeton had she not become an actress—and so on.

Sheng Jiayi had been successfully crafted by her into a standard national icon: a well-behaved, obedient, excellent, and beautiful "high-end vase."

She was called a vase because she was indeed unworthy of the title; the Best Actress trophy in her hand lacked substance. After 1990, the veteran film stars of Hong Kong were all over thirty. Not only was there a gap in the younger generation at Chenghe, but the entire film industry was searching for the next queen, and Sheng Jiayi happened to become famous in the year when Hong Kong cinema reached its zenith.

In 1992, over two hundred films were produced in Hong Kong, and countless classics were born that year. The Hong Kong Film Awards were filled with stars, and eighteen-year-old Sheng Jiayi surpassed three other Best Actress nominees to take the trophy. It was not because she had performed exceptionally well in her debut, but because the selection committee was willing to bestow that stardom upon her.

The entire Hong Kong film industry placed high hopes on her.

However, after that year, Hollywood blockbuster special effects films entered Hong Kong, followed by several high-budget martial arts films that suffered box-office failures. Sheng Jiayi shifted to collaborating with He Jihan on commercial films; although the box office results were decent, she never returned to the peak state of her early career.

Sheng Jiayi only needed a pretty face to climb the ranks with ease.

According to his observations over the past two years, Sheng Jiayi was more like a puppet in He Xiyue’s hands. She was obedient, complying with every arrangement made by Chenghe, and gentle. In front of the camera, she was always docile and lovely, never showing a cold face or losing her temper.

Many prominent Hong Kong directors liked her, believing she was not a diva, could be called professional, and lacked aggression—a sharp contrast to her manager. They lavished praise upon her, handing her one lead role after another, creating a false sense of prosperity.

Private investigators reported that she never entered nightclubs, did not attend the decadent parties of the social elite, and did not meet men in private. Apart from filming, she spent her remaining time "studying." Sheng Jiayi did not drop out; He Xiyue insisted she obtain her degree. She graduated with straight A’s, though Song Yuan did not know how she achieved such grades when she rarely attended class. Presumably, the university was happy to advertise that they had a popular film star as a student.

Beyond being a bit extravagant with her spending, Sheng Jiayi appeared nearly perfect in the eyes of the public. Every talent agency loved such an employee. She was their template for a good girl, a simple maiden with a clever brain but insufficient social experience, a glass girl sealed in a vacuum, untouched by the seedy underbelly of society.

Song Yuan had never considered what kind of person Sheng Jiayi truly was, whether she was as simple and harmless as she appeared, or if she was being manipulated... If not, then what was her true objective?

But...

Song Yuan smiled derisively. "So what?"

"I don't have the hobby of prying into other people's lives at will, Miss Sheng. I am not a pervert. If I managed to track you down, I have that trust fund to thank."

"Your personal file is kept in the police headquarters; I couldn't extract a shred of information even by throwing money at it. But that doesn't matter. Fortunately, you became a movie star, making your family inevitably exposed to the lens, which allowed me to start from the clues. Miss Sheng, I am curious about one thing: you claim to be of mixed Chinese and British descent, that your mother was a British-Chinese raised in Hong Kong, and your biological father was a professor at a British university. Do you even believe this nonsense yourself?"

"Your stepfather married your mother when you were twelve, coinciding with the 1983 Sino-British Joint Declaration. That year, the British Hong Kong government issued a large number of British National (Overseas) passports, involving nearly a million people. How is it such a coincidence that you and your mother became half-British? What is her name? Su Jingwan, right? ...Truly a flawless arrangement. If you hadn't touched that trust fund, I really wouldn't have been able to find you and your mother in the vast sea of people."

He watched Sheng Jiayi’s tightened expression, the embarrassment of having his thoughts guessed earlier dissipating, replaced by a sense of satisfaction lingering in his heart. "I also want to ask you, where did Su Jingwan go? Is she really dead?"

In an instant, thunder roared and a torrential rain poured down.

Sheng Jiayi could not help but think of that night. Under the cold light, a bloated corpse with limbs twisted into strange shapes, the stench of decay mixed with the heavy smell of disinfectant, the sticky humidity—that smell seemed to cling to her, never to be washed away.

Outside the window, the wind howled, but in her ears, there was absolute silence.

"We can't find your mother; we don't know if she is dead or alive. Do you know where she went?" someone had asked her back then.

Seventeen-year-old Sheng Jiayi was silent for half a quarter of an hour.

After a long time, she looked up and said softly, "I don't know."

"I don't know," she said. "She is already dead."

Song Yuan did not find any trace of anomaly on her face, or rather, the most excellent criminal investigators in all of Hong Kong had not detected anything unusual.

The clouds thinned, and the sun was finally fully exposed in the sky. Golden light spread instantly, and Sheng Jiayi squinted slightly at the glare.

In the courtyard grew a rare chaste tree, its long purple inflorescences visible amidst the leaves.

"Huigang Bank is very experienced in setting up private trusts for clients. That overseas trust was opened on an independent island in the English Channel. A local trust company—a wholly-owned subsidiary of Huigang Bank—held shares in a BVI shell company, which in turn controlled a shell company registered in the Cayman Islands, and finally linked to a shell company in Hong Kong that supposedly sold antiques, tea, and paintings. The company dividends would flow into the trust along this chain, and the beneficiary of this trust is you, Miss Sheng."

Sheng Jiayi said calmly, "Mr. Song, the first thing I will do after leaving here is to sue Huigang Bank for selling client privacy."

"Then Miss Sheng is truly wronging the innocent. I didn't find the clues through them," Song Yuan said. "At first, I believed Miss Sheng was simple enough to know nothing—to know nothing about the complexity of the trust, to know nothing about the other things hidden within it besides the dividends. But now, I don't think so."

He rang the bell on the table and signaled to the waiter who entered: "Change the bottle to a Chateau d'Yquem for Miss Sheng."

The servant moved swiftly.

The pure golden liquid was poured into the glass, and the cloying sweetness, reminiscent of honey water, exploded instantly. Floral and fruity notes intertwined, and the aroma filled the air.

Song Yuan had been trying to find some clue on Sheng Jiayi’s face, but to his disappointment, there was none. Except for a brief moment of loss of composure when Su Jingwan was mentioned, she remained as calm as water the rest of the time. He had thought that throwing a few stones into the lake would be enough to create ripples, but he had not expected it to be an unfathomable ocean; the boulders fell in as if they had dropped into the abyss, leaving no trace.

The most frustrating thing in this world is when one party racks their brains, calculating everything perfectly, believing they have everything under control, while the other party remains as indifferent as a cold jade carving, appearing to treat life and death with detachment and fame and fortune as mere trifles.

Song Yuan felt a bit disinterested.

"You know." He wasn't actually sure. "You knew long ago that the trust contained 2% of the equity of Tianhang Group."

Tianhang Group was a wholly-owned subsidiary of Tianyuan Group. It wasn't actually an important industry; it hadn't gone public, and its scale wasn't large enough. But for many years, a small portion of this company's dividends had flowed into a trust company that was trapped layer after layer.

Sheng Jiayi smiled. "Yes, I knew it long ago."

That 617-page trust contract presented no reading obstacle for Sheng Jiayi. After all, she had graduated from the Business School of the University of Hong Kong, a department that had been open for less than five years and had recruited fewer than thirty students, with all faculty hired from universities like MIT, Caltech, Princeton, and Stanford.

Why she wanted to be a star was a mystery that puzzled everyone.

In any case, it wasn't about making movies. Sheng Jiayi didn't have much pursuit of art, yet everyone believed she had talent in that area. Perhaps that wasn't talent at all.

"You knew, you knew? And you weren't curious?" Song Yuan asked in shock.

"Of course I was curious," Sheng Jiayi said. "Anyone who saw that the money in their hands came from someone else's house wouldn't be indifferent."

"But you never investigated."

Sheng Jiayi let out a long sigh. "Why would I investigate? I have been waiting for you, Mr. Song. I have been waiting for when you would come to find me."

Just like light attracts moths to a flame, or monsoon winds stir the ocean currents, the tide would eventually strike the shore. One day, the sand and gravel would recede, returning the secrets sealed in the past back into her hands.

"I'm so glad to see you this way, Mr. Song." Sheng Jiayi gazed at the man across from her. His unremarkable facial features were tightly twisted together, as if he found it difficult to accept the loss of control before him.

"Actually, I could also call you 'brother,' don't you think?" When she laughed, it was truly like a gentle breeze, and flowers bloomed in an instant.

"What are you?" Song Yuan said coldly. "Just a bastard born to my father's mistress by a foreigner?"

Sheng Jiayi’s gaze was like frost. "A bastard? Just like your son?"

Song Yuan was furious.

Every word of Sheng Jiayi was challenging his bottom line.

The female dealer named Sheng Wan back then had been only one step away from entering the family. His father, Song Quan, had been so infatuated with her that he even gifted her a portion of shares. More than a decade ago, the commercial regulations in Hong Kong and Macau were not yet perfect. The share gift bypassed legal constraints, and this money was mysteriously taken away by that woman, put into a trust, and then bypassed years of subsequent investigations through a special channel in the British Virgin Islands.

Compared to the money, before that woman left, she had also taken something more important—leverage.

Leverage enough to bring down the entire family.

"I won't beat around the bush with you anymore, Miss Sheng." Song Yuan stood up, leaned over to get close to Sheng Jiayi, his breath trailing down her carotid artery. "They all say Sheng Wan is dead. I don't believe it. It's a pity I've been watching you for two years and haven't found any clues. But it doesn't matter; if you are in my hands, I don't believe she can sit still. She left all the money to you; she must love you very much."

He reached out, wanting to touch Sheng Jiayi’s face.

Her mutton-fat-like skin shimmered with a crystalline luster, causing him a momentary lapse of infatuation.

He originally didn't like overly docile women. Sheng Jiayi was always as quiet as a puppet; although beautiful, she was too cold. He liked that Vietnamese woman. She had a vibrant vitality and an untamable wildness, just like the scorching sun over Saigon and the eternally surging water of the Mekong River—passionate and unrestrained, easily stirring a man's blood.

But he had changed his mind a little now.

Sheng Jiayi tilted her head slightly, avoiding his ambiguous gesture, and looked up at him. Her eyes rippled with gorgeous colors like amber. "Mr. Song, do you know what the biggest mistake you’ve made in these two years is?"

"What?" Song Yuan was taken aback.

"You thought that as long as you investigated the truth and confirmed my identity, I would be completely submissive to you," Sheng Jiayi said softly. "But why? Why should I accept your slander against me based solely on your word?"

She raised her eyebrows, her tone arrogant. "Where is your evidence?"