Chapter Twenty-Four: Redemption

During her first year of high school, Su Mian received a transoceanic phone call that seemed like a scam. Back then, she was a carefree young lady, having invited a group of friends to one of Shang Jiuxu’s properties for an all-night game of Werewolf.

In high spirits, she glanced at the call from Milan. The number didn't look like a virtual line. She picked up and asked casually, "Who is this?"

The English on the other end was hurried, but Su Mian understood it perfectly.

"Is this a relative of the Shang family? I am the head of the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department at XX Hospital in Milan, Italy... Mr. Shang Biehan once deposited emergency umbilical cord blood in our international gene bank..."

"Yes, what happened to Shang Biehan?" Su Mian’s heart tightened.

A young master she was close with leaned in, slurring his words as he handed her a drink: "Shang Qing, your favorite Sauvignon Blanc..." Before Su Mian could kick his leg in annoyance, someone with better instincts grabbed him and ushered him away.

"A pregnant woman’s genetic puncture test indicates that she is carrying Shang Biehan’s child. Per regulation, our hospital must notify the family."

—

On the quiet, early-morning streets, the Speedtail found its rhythm. Zhao Ruolan gently patted her daughter’s shoulder, feeling that the atmosphere between the three Shang siblings was truly subtle.

When Shang Biehan filled out his emergency contact form back then, he had put Su Mian first. She knew how much Shang Biehan revered his eldest brother, Shang Jiuxu, but given the circumstances, she hadn't known whether it was better to notify Su Mian—who was enjoying a rare moment of indulgence and would be shocked—or Shang Jiuxu, who was always busy flying across the globe.

Perhaps neither was ideal, but regardless, Shang Bao had remained.

If it had been Shang Jiuxu who arrived back then, she felt there would have been no way for her to pull off such a deception in front of that man. She had no choice but to shamelessly act on her own selfishness, leveraging the young girl’s gentle and sympathetic heart.

Shang Jiuxu sat like a stoic Buddha, arms crossed, eyes closed, resting.

To meet Xu Wanjun today, Su Mian wore a silver-chained women's wristwatch. As she waited at the intersection, her wrist rested on the steering wheel.

There were few cars in the early morning, but she was habitually cautious; observing that the road was clear, she pressed the accelerator. She had a steady yet sharp style of driving, but she started without a jolt and rarely braked, ensuring no one would get motion sick.

By the time they reached home, both passengers were asleep. Su Mian looked at her little niece with soft eyes; knowing Zhao Ruolan was tired, she didn't rush to disturb them, instead slowing the car down. She was a skilled driver, and the deceleration of the Speedtail was so smooth that even the passengers wouldn't have noticed the change in speed.

However, Shang Jiuxu seemed to sense it, and their gazes met across the space.

Su Mian realized Shang Jiuxu had caught her looking and immediately pulled her gaze away, acting as if nothing had happened.

Silence.

It was as quiet as if there were no car and no people. The stunningly expensive wheels rolled across the ground, all sounds blocked out by the soundproof car doors. Su Mian couldn't see what Shang Jiuxu was doing, and she dared not look at the rearview mirror for fear of being caught again.

Only the rhythmic breathing of Shang Bao could be heard.

Rise.

Fall.

She wanted to rest her elbow on the window sill out of habit, but remembering the person sitting to her left, she turned her wrist and pulled it back to the steering wheel.

There was still no movement from Shang Jiuxu’s side—no motion, no sound of breathing.

Emboldened, Su Mian shifted her gaze, pretending to check the left rearview mirror.

In an instant.

She collided directly with Shang Jiuxu’s deep, dark eyes.

Once might be an accident, but what about twice?

Su Mian feigned indifference and scanned the rearview mirror. *Well,* she thought, *there isn't another car for two kilometers in either direction on this street; why am I even looking at the mirror?*

She pulled her gaze back.

She considered whether it was worth keeping up the act. *Yes, I wanted to look at him, so what?*

Su Mian looked straight ahead, collected her thoughts, and turned into Shouchen Hill.

In the blind spot she couldn't see, Shang Jiuxu tapped his index finger against his arm, his lips curling into an imperceptible arc.

When Zhao Ruolan gave birth to Shang Bao, he was busy preparing a valuation adjustment mechanism agreement and had ordered people to secretly look after the mother and daughter. In the six months since he returned from Myanmar, other than transferring her to the Hong Kong City Concert Hall, he hadn't offered much help. But it wasn't as if her personal safety couldn't be guaranteed.

He had invited Su Mian to the concert and hinted that the director she wanted to meet would be backstage, all to give Su Mian a chance to run into Zhao Ruolan. The Hong Kong music circle had a heavy hierarchy; Zhao Ruolan, who had boycotted performances for two years and then suddenly dropped into a featured position, was bound to be a thorn in some people's sides. He knew Su Mian would never stand by and watch.

That was merely a prelude.

The young leader from the U.S. West Coast often asked him to convey greetings to his father, and Shang Jiuxu knew his nature was unruly. Bringing him back, tonight’s encounter was a situation he had orchestrated. The young man’s identity was special and his status high, so he had even prepared the North Pole Bar for him. The distance between Luo Bingda, Dr. Liang, and Shouchen Hill had all been calculated.

What he truly wanted was to expose Shang Bao to Su Mian’s sight, and through this, achieve his real goal.

After settling Zhao Ruolan and her daughter, the sky outside was already bright.

Su Mian rubbed her sore neck. Finding she couldn't sleep, she made a call to Los Angeles. She stood with her hands on her hips in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the sunrise emerge on the horizon.

Su Mian glanced down at her watch; it wasn't yet 6:30.

The United States was still on daylight saving time, making it about 2:30 in the afternoon there.

"Xiao Qing." Shang Biehan stretched an arm out from under the covers, resting it casually by his ear. He squinted one eye, his voice still loose and hazy. "Why are you up so early today?"

"Ha." Su Mian let out a cold laugh. Wasn't it all thanks to his "divine" luck? "What time is it and you're still sleeping? Don't you need to manage Shang’s International?"

Shang Biehan was stunned by her fierce tone; his sister rarely lost her temper with him. He rubbed his eyes to check the time. "I... I'm taking a nap. Big Brother handles Shang’s, what's wrong?" He wondered why Su Mian was in such a bad mood, then sat up abruptly. "Who bullied you?"

"Check WeChat." Su Mian didn't waste words with him.

He swiped his thumb to open the social app. Su Xiaoqing had sent him a photo of a little girl.

A chill inexplicably crept up the back of Shang Biehan’s neck. His thumb hovered over the girl’s pink princess dress, not daring to press it for a long time. The little girl was smiling shyly and reservedly; even the thumbnail couldn't hide her delicate features.

He could tell at a glance that this child looked exactly like he did when he was a kid!

"This is..."

"The daughter Zhao Ruolan had for you. Now, immediately, at this very moment, book the soonest flight to Hong Kong!"

The line went dead, but Su Mian’s furious voice still echoed in his ears. Shang Biehan swallowed unconsciously, staring at the photo he didn't dare to click on, not even daring to blink.

Zhao Ruolan... such a distant yet familiar name...

He would never forget her, because ever since he had been with her, he had felt that way about no other woman...

He had thought she...

A buzzing sound filled his brain. Shang Biehan picked up his phone and immediately began checking flights.

After hanging up, Su Mian felt a wave of dizziness in her temples from being angered by Shang Biehan. How could there be such an unreliable father? How did he even talk to people back in Milan?

Her phone vibrated; Shang Biehan had already booked his flight and sent her a screenshot.

It vibrated again—a message from her agent.

She clicked into the chat box. It wasn't an invitation, but a notification.

It was notifying her to join a variety show, the kind where the capitalist bosses act as judges and personally select actors on the spot.

Following the introduction document was a voice memo from her agent. She clicked it and heard the urgent tone.

"It films on the 10th of next month. I know you weren't planning on taking any variety shows, but this one is purely a capital-backed drop-in. No one can fathom the background of the investors. Even if you begged the CEO, you couldn't get out of it."

"You're trending on social media. Someone leaked that you met with Director Liang in private backstage at the Concert Hall, and the comments are very nasty. Don't go online for a while, so it doesn't affect your mindset."