Chapter 62

Xiang Feiran was completely unprepared for another member of Shang Mingbao’s family.

While the second sister had been calm and collected last time, Shang Shao was different. He was not only Shang Mingbao’s elder brother and the eldest son of the Shang family but also the future heir, making his presence significantly weightier in the context of meeting the family. Furthermore, three years ago, when they first met, he and Shang Mingbao had only nodded at each other and politely discussed the million-dollar life-saving debt, parting on an unremarkable note. Just a moment ago, he had been choosing hotels for himself and his sister for their first trip together… It all made him feel oddly self-conscious.

Xiang Feiran coughed and placed a hand over his mouth to refocus his thoughts.

When facing the camera again, he had resumed his usual composed demeanor. After a subtle sigh, he smiled faintly and raised a hand in a calming gesture: “Long time no see, Mr. Shang.”

He was unsure of the current situation—whether this Shang family heir was here for casual conversation or probing, whether he already knew the details of their relationship or if he was just unexpectedly on screen.

Given the uncertainty, he chose to remain steady and responded in the least error-prone manner.

Shang Shao nodded, sitting with his legs crossed on a sofa chair. His fingers were interlocked, exuding the aura of someone who was accustomed to luxury and high position, making the setting feel like an interview.

“Long time no see,” he said with a smooth tone, saying nothing more.

People like him were most intimidating when they didn’t elaborate, leaving one anxious and waiting for a verdict. His steady, calm gaze through the camera added a palpable sense of pressure.

He had effectively turned the meeting into a stress test, assessing how Xiang Feiran would handle it.

Naturally, no matter how Xiang Feiran responded, Shang Shao wouldn’t lower his opinion of him. He was merely curious about his approach—whether he would be impatient, awkward, naïve and cheerful like Mingbao, or reserved and unskilled in social interactions as the stereotype of an academic might suggest.

Xiang Feiran managed a composed smile and turned his gaze to Shang Mingbao: “Babe, why don’t you introduce us properly?”

Shang Mingbao, oblivious to the previous undercurrents, cheerfully held her hands up, palms facing: “Feiran gege, my boyfriend; Shang Shao, my big brother; and I’m Shang Mingbao, the cutest princess in the world.”

As soon as she finished, both men on either side of the camera laughed, instantly changing the atmosphere.

Shang Shao softened his previously aloof demeanor: “I hear from babe that you’ve been dating for a while. Is it too late to say congratulations?”

Shang Mingbao waved her hands quickly: “Not late at all.”

Xiang Feiran, more at ease than she was, simply said, “Thank you.”

Shang Shao got straight to the point: “I heard from babe that your lab needs several million?”

Xiang Feiran: “…”

Shang Mingbao desperately blinked, hinting: “Feiran gege, it’s nine million, right?”

Don’t mention just one million!

Xiang Feiran paused, his smile slightly fading, and responded in a controlled manner: “I don’t have my own lab yet. If you’re interested in sponsorship, I can refer you to my advisor’s secretary.”

Although it was tactful and polite, the refusal was clear.

Shang Mingbao looked puzzled and was about to say more when Shang Shao smoothly said, “Thank you.”

He wasn’t surprised by Xiang Feiran’s refusal but appreciated his approach and words. After saying that, he got up from the sofa chair and gave Shang Mingbao’s shoulder a meaningful pat: “I have some matters to attend to. You two can talk.”

Like three years ago, some things were more hurtful when children were naïve.

After giving Shang Mingbao a final look, Shang Shao left the lounge and instructed the waiting servant in the corridor not to enter and disturb them.

After he closed the door, Shang Mingbao couldn’t wait to ask, “Why didn’t you agree?”

She was quite distressed!

“I agreed,” Xiang Feiran said with an unchanged expression, adding a touch of warmth to his formal tone. “I sent the email to your WeChat. You just need to pass it on to him.”

“That’s not the same,” Shang Mingbao was stunned, looking quite displeased.

She wasn’t sure if Xiang Feiran genuinely didn’t understand or was pretending not to.

“How is it different?” Xiang Feiran smiled slightly. “You want to name a new species, right? You can make that request when the lab releases new species. But Professor Tryon has his own principles; it requires some tact to negotiate.”

Shang Mingbao pouted, a surge of anger rising within her. Her words came out a bit forcefully: “What? After spending millions, I still have to coax him nicely to name a plant?”

“No,” Xiang Feiran paused, choosing to ignore her tone, and spoke in a steady voice, “What I mean is that sponsoring research is indeed a noble and meaningful thing. But if you start by demanding to name a new species, it may not be comfortable for Professor Tryon. However, I think your elder brother and his assistant will have a more appropriate way to achieve this.”

He maintained his official and principled demeanor, sticking to business matters only.

“You know very well that’s not what I mean,” Shang Mingbao pressed her lips together, her usually radiant face clouded with frost.

Xiang Feiran looked at her with calm, distant eyes. “I don’t have any KPIs for raising funds. If you want to sponsor research and name a new species, just contact Tryon. I’ve given you his contact information. What are you upset about?”

Shang Mingbao, fuming with anger, said, “What’s so special about naming a plant? Do you really think I care about that?”

After this outburst, Xiang Feiran’s face was expressionless, with a hint of coldness in his calm demeanor. “Then what do you care about?”

Shang Mingbao never expected to argue with him. Her heart raced, and fueled by a desire to destroy everything, she blurted out, “How can you be so ungrateful?”

With a beep, she ended the call. The screen froze momentarily before flashing and returning to their chat interface.

Xiang Feiran took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, and wiped his face with his hand.

He let his phone hand hang over his knee, lifting his wrist repeatedly, seemingly waiting for new information or considering typing something in the chat box, but eventually let it fall.

After sitting in silence for a while, he got up and went to the bathroom.

He shouldn’t take the harsh words from the argument too seriously.

In the mirror, his pale face was covered in cold droplets, then wiped away with a tissue—Xiang Feiran dried his face and hair to avoid being seen on video. After completing this, he returned to his seat and dialed a video request to Shang Mingbao.

But Shang Mingbao didn’t answer, hanging up decisively without any hesitation.

Her eyes were red, her arms draped over the peacock-green velvet sofa, tears falling silently, one after another.

Although she had prepared herself mentally, she was still taken aback when he didn’t answer. The rare feeling of helplessness swept over her, and after the storm passed, a dull ache surfaced in her heart.

The chat box remained idle for a long time until Xiang Feiran typed:

“If you want to sponsor, wait until I return to the country and become a PI. It’s not a compromise; I’m serious. I’d welcome it.”

Shang Mingbao never replied, and Xiang Feiran didn’t send any more messages.

Disrupted from his thoughts, he typed and deleted a simple summary several times before closing his laptop with a snap.

An hour later, he joined the queue at the boarding gate and sent a brief message to Shang Mingbao, “Boarding now,” before getting on the plane.

When he came out of the lounge and walked through the corridor, he ran into Shang Shao, who was smoking in the garden.

Of all the places to smoke in the six-thousand-square-meter building complex, why here?

Shang Mingbao, with her red eyes and silent demeanor, tried to slip by unnoticed but was called by Shang Shao. “How did the argument go?”

He looked as if he knew everything.

Shang Mingbao walked under the light, her clearly tear-streaked face, but stubbornly pouted her lips and said, “Not much of an argument.”

Shang Shao pretended not to see her wet lashes and asked casually, “What did he say?”

“He said his mentor is rather high-minded. Although it’s feasible to make a request to name a new species with sponsorship, it needs to be done with some finesse.”

Shang Shao, holding a cigarette, replied, “Wasn’t that quite candid? Such matters can be praised if handled well, but if not, it’s just a transaction. Why are you crying?”

“Who cares about that? That’s not what I meant.” Shang Mingbao began to tear up again. “I don’t care about naming. I could just name it myself. I’d even worry if the plant doesn’t turn out well.”

Shang Shao chuckled and shook his head. “So what do you mean?”

“What I mean is…” Shang Mingbao hesitated, turning her face away to watch the moths attracted to the light.

It frustrated her that instead of thinking about the moth being drawn to the flame, she thought about it pollinating flowers!

Her reluctance to speak was clarified by Shang Shao. “You mean I should just transfer a few million to his personal account. I’m not short of money, and he needs it, so naming or sponsoring is just an excuse.”

Shang Mingbao leaned against the corridor pillar, picking at the relief carvings with her fingertips, and said despondently, “He didn’t need the money initially; it’s because of me that he’s in this situation.”

She pushed her long hair back behind her ear, showing Shang Shao her white ear clips. “Even Mom thinks they’re of good quality, which must be expensive. And then there’s transportation, food, dates, and various things—”

She counted them off on her fingers.

Shang Shao patiently listened to her for a while, then suddenly said something shocking: “Then let’s break up.”

“Huh?!” She forgot to cry, with tears hanging on her lashes, looking completely stunned.

“As long as he’s not dating you, it sounds like he could maintain a more carefree lifestyle.”

“……”

Amidst the swirling smoke, Shang Shao appeared utterly serious: “What do you think? If you want him not to suffer so much, letting go is a good way.”

“I think…” Shang Mingbao hesitated, her pale face reddening from the effort.

“You think you can’t bear to part with him.”

Shang Mingbao looked up and said seriously, “It’s not that I can’t bear it.”

“Can’t bear it is not enough to describe it.”

Seeing how deeply her elder brother saw through her, Shang Mingbao suddenly snapped awake in the cool night breeze. She turned her face away and wiped everything clean from her face.

Shang Shao curled his lips, and in the quiet night, his words were so clear: “Babe, you really like him.”

Shang Mingbao froze—this was her elder brother, whom she had always admired and feared. His acknowledgment of her love felt like a closing argument.

Strange currents flowed through her limbs, like spring buds on willow branches, like rain forest vines sprouting, sudden and overwhelming.

“He loves you too. His way of loving you is by not considering the consequences,” Shang Shao said, casually flicking his cigarette, “All you have to do is let him go.”

It wasn’t until he was about to leave that Shang Mingbao sluggishly reacted—

“You knew he wouldn’t agree. Why didn’t you stop me earlier?” She became alert, looking for a scapegoat: “If you had advised me earlier, I wouldn’t have done this!”

“Alright, it’s my fault,” Shang Shao admitted, then asked, “What about the million from three years ago? Did you listen to that?”

“…”

“One learns from mistakes. If you didn’t learn from the lesson three years ago, then you’ll get another chance.”

“But he’s hurt!”

“Hurt means you comfort him,” Shang Shao said nonchalantly, raising two fingers, “Men are easy to comfort, especially men who love you.”

As he turned to leave, noticing Shang Mingbao’s silence, Shang Shao felt something was off and compassionately added, “What did you say earlier?”

“I said, ‘What’s the point of naming a lousy plant? Do you really think I care about this.'” Shang Mingbao repeated word for word.

“…”

“He also called me on video earlier, but I hung up.”

Shang Shao tapped his chin and started to leave: “I have work, so you’ll have to manage on your own.”

“…”

When she tried to contact Xiang Feiran, she saw the cold, empty “Boarding now” message, which had been sent over an hour ago.

Shang Mingbao, hopeless, dialed the number and, as expected, received a voicemail.

Although she vaguely remembered his flight was at midnight and shouldn’t have boarded so early, she had no time to think about it now.

The thought of Xiang Feiran spending over twenty hours on the plane with such feelings made Shang Mingbao uneasy, as she wandered towards her building and opened the airline app—but she didn’t have a good reason to fly back to New York that night.

At dinner, discussing the details of a research assignment on Tibetan embroidery patches, her excitement was marred by numerous gaps. Her so-called research assignment involved collecting designs from Tibetan regions, which was exactly what Wen Youyi was interested in. She talked about which brand’s design director used certain elements in which year’s collection and asked Shang Mingbao for her thoughts.

What thoughts could Shang Mingbao have? She couldn’t even fully explain Tibetan Eight Treasures, stumbling over her words, with her hands slipping, almost unable to hold the fork and knife.

In her blank state of mind, Wen Youyi spared her and naturally shifted the topic elsewhere.

Unable to find a way to fly to New York, Shang Mingbao had to wash up and go to bed.

She hoped to sleep until Xiang Feiran landed to avoid the agony of counting the minutes.

She did indeed sleep until Xiang Feiran landed.

In the middle of the night, her phone vibrated, showing the time as 12:20, and the caller ID as Xiang Feiran.

Hmm?

Did she sleep through an entire day and night, given that flying to New York takes over twenty hours?

Shang Mingbao groggily answered the call.

On the other end, Xiang Feiran’s voice seemed touched by the late night: “You’re actually answering my call?”

Shang Mingbao pouted, remembering their recent argument, and said awkwardly: “Why didn’t you call again? What if I had answered the second call?”

“Because I also have my temper.”

“…” Dryly, she said, “Oh.”

Xiang Feiran seemed to sigh and asked, “Since you’re no longer angry, why didn’t you leave me a message?”

After landing, amidst the buzzing of the plane and Cantonese chatter, he deliberately waited a few minutes before turning on his phone and connecting to the signal. As he read each message slowly, his heart pounded sluggishly, and he double-checked that she hadn’t left him a message.

Shang Mingbao couldn’t explain her subtle thoughts, “I wanted you to be sad for a while longer.”

“…What?” Xiang Feiran thought he must be hearing things.

“Anyway, it will be soothed eventually,” Shang Mingbao cleared her throat, “I wanted you to be sad for a while longer.”

Xiang Feiran only heard the first part: “So, how do you plan to comfort me?”

“That can’t be said, it’s something that has to be seen in person.”

Xiang Feiran’s lips curved slightly, and he said simply: “Alright.”

“Don’t be angry these days, focus on your paper, and I’ll come to make it right,” Shang Mingbao said earnestly.

The night breeze was warm, carrying the scent of mountains and seas.

On the midnight tarmac, the first shuttle bus was full. Xiang Feiran placed his climbing bag at his feet, took off his windbreaker, revealing a basic black T-shirt.

The second shuttle bus arrived, and passengers lined up in order. He casually stood at the end of the line, his superior figure giving him a distinguished presence.

“No problem,” he said, still sounding very agreeable with his phone pressed to his face.

Shang Mingbao sighed with relief, feeling the weight lift off her chest. Tentatively, she said, “Then… good night?”

“Good night.”

After hanging up, Shang Mingbao found herself no longer sleepy. She clicked on Xiang Feiran’s profile picture.

His profile picture was a side view of him among the mountains, with his forehead partially covered, casting a deep shadow, showing only the sharp lines of his features.

She missed him a lot, so she looked at this often-seen profile picture twice more.

After looking, she realized something didn’t seem right.

Hmm… check the time.

12:30 a.m.

Check the date.

……

…………

She hadn’t slept through an entire day and night; she had only slept for one hour!

With a buzz, WeChat notifications popped up, like a midnight bell.

Xiang Feiran had sent two messages.

The first was the address of the Hong Kong Chunkanjiao Qi Lei Hotel.

The second was: “Come.”