Although Gong Yue’s metabolic rate had dropped to its lowest level, Ye Shanshan felt certain that, given Gong Yue’s fastidiousness, he would never tolerate even the slightest uncleanliness. So he fetched some water and carefully wiped Gong Yue’s body with a warm, damp towel.
He meticulously cleaned each of Gong Yue’s fingers and then kissed the slightly pale fingernails. “Ge, I’m going to take a shower now. I’ll be back in ten minutes—wait for me, and we’ll sleep together,” he said softly.
Without waiting for a response, Ye Shanshan kept a smile on his lips as he walked into the bathroom. As he unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt, his gaze inadvertently caught his reflection in the mirror, and he stopped.
Staring at himself in the mirror, his hands slowed. He stepped forward, leaned closer to the mirror, and touched the stiff curve of his smile with his fingers. Muttering to himself, “It doesn’t look good at all,” he sounded annoyed. His fingertips moved outward, tracing the dimples revealed by the smile, poking at them disdainfully. “Fake smile,” he criticized.
Smoothing out his smile with his fingertips, Ye Shanshan spoke softly to his reflection, his voice low and slow. “He’s just outside, so there’s no need to pretend anymore. I don’t have to smile now—he’s still here.”
This sentence seemed to crack the high walls he had built to seal away his emotions. In an instant, grief, anxiety, and fear overflowed like a torrent, impossible to hold back.
All Ye Shanshan could feel was an overwhelming ache throughout his body, so much so that he could no longer stand. Slowly, he crouched to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself. His nails dug into his arms, but he felt no pain. His jaw clenched tightly until it ached, leaving him unable to make a sound.
—
Twenty minutes later, Ye Shanshan emerged with slightly damp hair. He lifted the corner of the blanket and lay down next to Gong Yue, resting his ear against the place where his heart beat. After a long while, he began speaking to Gong Yue, just like he used to.
“Ge, I did really well today. I think I scared those old geezers who are always trying to trip you up—they all looked so shocked! They must be wondering what your plan is—collapsing in the meeting room, retreating behind the scenes, and pushing me to the forefront. They’re probably imagining all sorts of conspiracies…”
He paused, holding Gong Yue’s hand tightly. “I kind of wish that were true,” he added, his tone lightening. “Oh, and I kicked Carter out. But I bet he’s going to try something again. Don’t worry, I’ve already got people watching him. There won’t be any slip-ups. Those reporters are so annoying, always claiming your condition is critical and that you won’t live much longer. Hearing that makes me so upset, but I have to hold it in. I just want to blacklist them all…”
Without much focus or logic, Ye Shanshan recounted the day’s events. Finally, he leaned over and kissed the corner of Gong Yue’s lips. “Goodnight.”
He said nothing more, and the room fell into a deep silence. The slow rhythm of Gong Yue’s heartbeat was the only sound, more soothing than any melody, lulling Ye Shanshan to sleep.
—
By seven in the morning, Ye Shanshan, still restless in his sleep, yawned several times. Half-awake, he instinctively called out, “Ge, I’ll sleep a little longer—” He stopped mid-sentence as clarity returned to his mind.
Carefully taking hold of Gong Yue’s hand, Ye Shanshan took a few minutes to collect himself. Then, with sincerity, he wished him a good morning and kissed his eyelids.
“I wonder how long it will be before I hear you say ‘good morning’ back,” he murmured, sighing. “Ah, I’m really starting to feel emotional.”
Remaining in that position for a while, Ye Shanshan eventually grabbed Gong Yue’s usual tablet, opened the email app, and leaned back against the bed, intending to handle some emails before getting up.
—
Meanwhile, back in China.
The latest episode of *Star Call*, which Ye Shanshan had previously recorded, aired on time on both television and online platforms. With the recent surge in popularity of *The Observer* and the revelation that Ye Shanshan was the producer of Director Zhang’s new film, *The Mountains and Rivers Remain*, public interest had yet to wane. As a result, this episode’s ratings were significantly higher than the previous ones.
After the program aired on the streaming platform, the initial barrage of comments (or “bullet screens”) was relatively predictable, consisting mostly of Yan Ke’s fans gushing about how their beloved actor was both stunning and talented. Occasionally, when the camera panned to Ye Shanshan, a few comments like “Our Lord of Unparalleled Beauty” would appear.
However, when Yan Ke shifted the topic to Ye Shanshan and close-ups of him began to appear, the comment section erupted instantly.
– “Ahhhhh! My Shanshan! I can’t believe I get to see you on a variety show again in my lifetime!”
– “‘They’re doing great’—That line is so unfair!! Ugh, you’re amazing too! I’m literally screaming alone at home!”
– “Those ridiculously long eyelashes, haha, no lies here. I totally believe it now!”
– “Nothing more to say—believe in your mischief!! Rolling drum emoji 🥁 cheering for you!”
– “#CrowdfundToOpenABakeryForShanshan#—Let’s get this trending! Now life has a purpose again!”
At this point, the phrase “believe in your mischief” started dominating the screen, filling the atmosphere with joy. Fans who originally tuned in for their idols and casual viewers alike joined the frenzy of repetitive comments.
Before the episode even ended, Ye Shanshan, along with the phrase “believe in your mischief,” had skyrocketed onto the trending topics list. Within no time, the hashtag climbed to third place with rapidly increasing momentum.
—
In the official chat group of Ye Shanshan’s fan club, after half an hour of heated discussion and verification, the group leader made a decisive announcement: “I’m updating the account now—nine-grid post. At this moment, please allow me to say one thing: *WTF.*”
Five minutes later, the official fan account posted an update, which wasn’t directly related to the variety show. The post featured a single sentence alongside nine images:
“Latest updates on Ye Shanshan—if you’re not shocked, I’ll admit defeat. [smile emoji]”
The nine images included:
1. Screenshots of the front pages of *The New York Times*, *The Voice Today*, *Financial Focus*, and *The Wall Street Journal*. Since the content was in English, the post thoughtfully included full translations.
2. The fifth and sixth images were official statements from the Gong Corporation’s press office, written in five languages. The Chinese version was highlighted in bright red.
3. The last three images were official photos released by Gong Corporation’s PR department.
In the photos, Ye Shanshan wore a dark bespoke suit with a deep blue tie, a gemstone tie clip, and emerald cufflinks. Seated behind a desk, he gazed directly at the camera with an aura of sharpness and intensity.
The next photo showed him during a meeting, leaning against the chair in the head seat, staring ahead intently with no visible expression. He exuded a profound and commanding presence.
The final image captured him at a press conference. His fingers, elegantly curled, rested on the table, their joints beautifully defined. His cold and detached gaze toward the camera sent chills down viewers’ spines.
—
Shortly after the post went live, fans who had just finished watching the variety show exploded with reactions:
– “I admit defeat! OMG, my poor eyes! What did I just see? Someone, please tell me this is Shanshan’s new role in a high-budget drama with an insanely rich production team… QAQ”
– “I admit defeat! I’ve watched it seven or eight times. It’s real—it’s real. So, ahhhhhhh!”
– “I admit defeat! So, is my Lord Shanshan an actor-turned-business mogul? Or a high-class elite distracted by farming and cooking? Give me a moment—the world is spinning too fast!”
– “I admit defeat! I was just laughing at the variety show, but then I Googled the Gong Corporation. My life is in ruins! I wanted to save money to open a bakery for Shanshan, only to find out he’s the developer of the entire villa complex next door! Clutching my chest!”
– “I admit defeat! But honestly, all the other 5,000 comments pale in comparison—I’ve already submitted my résumé to Gong Corporation. That’s just how calculated I am!”
– “I admit defeat! Am I the only one disappointed? My Shanshan was clearly supposed to be a vampire prince! But wait, is the ‘Your Majesty’ and ‘Ge’ he always mentions the same person as… Gong Corporation’s big boss?”
– “I admit defeat! Shanshan’s stealing the jobs of domineering CEOs now! You’re so casually legendary—being your fan is high-pressure! Feels like I need to start watching the finance channel along with the agriculture and music channels. What kind of idol did I even sign up for?!”
—
Half an hour later, Internet-savvy youth Xu Luoyang shared the post with a comment in perfect sync with the trend: “I admit defeat. [smile emoji] @Zheng Dong.”
Within five minutes, Zheng Dong replied succinctly with a “[smile emoji],” leaving endless implications.
—
Staring at Gong Corporation’s official announcement, Xu Luoyang finally felt a sense of relief from the news but frowned deeply.
What exactly happened to Gong Yue?
Meanwhile, in New York…
When Chris knocked and entered, Ye Shanshan had already changed into his clothes and was standing in front of the mirror, tying his tie. His posture was upright, and the formal suit amplified his presence, diverting attention away from his appearance.
“How’s things on Carter’s side?”
Chris handed Ye Shanshan some footage. When opened, the screen displayed a room with a very private setting, likely Carter’s own study. The lights were still on, indicating it was still before dawn.
In the footage, Carter was on the phone, and his voice could be clearly heard: “I graduated from Roden Business School. When did it become the right of some random nobody who knows nothing to start making decisions? And now they want to remove my position? I’ve been loyal to Gong Corporation for all these years…”
The person on the other end of the phone seemed to have said something, causing Carter’s voice to lower. “Yes, Gong Yue is probably close to death, otherwise he wouldn’t have transferred all of his shares.”
Upon hearing this, Ye Shanshan’s expression turned cold. Meanwhile, Carter continued his phone conversation in the video.
“…This is an opportunity. With Gong Yue seriously ill and the upper management unstable, the shareholders will definitely want to sell off their stocks, unable to hold onto them. We just need to do a little something to push things along, and there might be unexpected results…”
Ye Shanshan moved his gaze away from Carter’s face, which was flushed with excitement, and asked Chris, “Who is he talking to?”
“An enemy of the Gong family. Last August, when you and Young Master went out for dinner, the gun attack you encountered was orchestrated by them. They’re now taking advantage of this situation to try and acquire Gong Corporation’s stock.”
Nodding, Ye Shanshan stood up. “Let’s go. We’ll take care of them one by one.” His expression was cold, and his presence became somewhat lethal. Chris, seeing this transformation in Ye Shanshan, nodded in agreement.
Before leaving, Ye Shanshan glanced back at Gong Yue, still sleeping.
—No one will ever hurt you.
1You can support me if you like my translations by leaving a comment below, or by sending me a Ko-fi. Thank you and Enjoy reading! ❤️ -TL: Ysiad
