Chapter 21: The Date
Shen Shuyi looked exceptionally good today. He wore a floor-length angora red trench coat, designed with cutouts at the front that gave a tailcoat-like impression. The hem formed a neat semicircle that fell gracefully behind him, and underneath was a subtle ink-patterned inner layer.
A lace-pointed collar shirt, loose comfortable trousers, paired with black ankle boots completed the look.
His overall aura was elegant, making him appear even more noble and refined, his figure tall and slender.
Yet, the visual center remained Shen Shuyi’s striking face—a face that could turn heads even if he walked down the street in a sack. The attention he drew was absolute.
In the sunlight, the gemstone on the double-layered necklace at his chest reflected a faint blue glow.
After Shen Shuyi finished speaking, the place fell completely silent.
Even someone as slow to notice as him felt something was off—especially because Zhao Yuheng and Xiao Liu didn’t know each other, yet now they were looking at him with affectionate eyes. Shen Shuyi rubbed his arms, feeling goosebumps rise.
He opened his mouth: “You…”
“Why are you in the driver’s seat?”
Zhao Yuheng interrupted, his voice carrying a certain quiet weight. His fingers twitched unconsciously.
For the usually expressionless Zhao Yuheng, an awkward look crossed his face.
“Once you’re outgoing, you spend a lifetime battling internal conflict,” Shen Shuyi thought.
“Because I’m driving, where else would I be?” Shen Shuyi replied, equally baffled.
“Oh, right.” Remembering, Shen Shuyi reached toward Xiao Liu: “Hurry up. Today I drove to the destination myself, so you need to transfer me 300 yuan for my labor.”
Xiao Liu finally snapped out of his earlier shock of “Oh my God, this handsome guy is gay, but he’s so attractive, and I’m supposed to be this way according to plan…”
He quickly got out, took out his phone, and sent Shen Shuyi a 300-yuan red envelope: “Alright, Third Young Master.”
After all, Uncle Lin had said any small payments made to Third Young Master could be reimbursed at double.
Xiao Liu transferred the money willingly and efficiently.
Shen Shuyi accepted it with satisfaction, then immediately transferred the money to Zhao Yuheng.
“Buzz,” Zhao Yuheng’s WeChat alerted him. He saw the 300 yuan from Shen Shuyi.
“What’s this?”
“Paying back your money in installments.”
“….”
Zhao Yuheng glanced at Shen Shuyi, then at Xiao Liu.
Finally, he understood where Shen Shuyi’s usual small-time part-time earnings—just a few yuan at a time—came from.
“Is the money you usually transfer to me all earned from such part-time jobs?”
After Xiao Liu drove off in the Bentley, only Zhao Yuheng and Shen Shuyi remained.
The French restaurant they dined at was located in the Hong Kong city center’s commercial skyscraper, on the 56th floor, a quiet oasis amid the bustle.
The external sightseeing elevator required a transfer at the 32nd floor. As it slowly ascended to the top, Victoria Harbor spread out in full view. Floors above 32 only admitted VIP guests.
Zhao Yuheng had reserved for himself and Shen Shuyi. The manager was startled to see Shen Shuyi’s name and hurriedly confirmed with Uncle Lin from Shuiwan One. Once they verified that the distinguished guest was the Third Young Master of the Shen family, the restaurant had cleared all other patrons two hours in advance.
Thus, inside the bright, refined sightseeing elevator, it was just the two of them.
Shen Shuyi had initially been checking the restaurant’s reviews and visually appealing signature dishes online.
Hearing Zhao Yuheng’s voice unexpectedly, he didn’t lift his head: “What else?”
Zhao Yuheng stayed silent for a few seconds before asking, “Besides driving your chauffeur, what else do you do?”
Shen Shuyi’s mind wandered to watering flowers for Uncle Lin or washing dishes—ordinary chores.
But such jobs weren’t “respectable” part-time work, especially for Shen Shuyi, the Third Young Master of the massive Yinghua Group. Earning money by washing dishes? That would be shameful.
He initially intended to play dead. But then he realized no one else was around.
Besides, Shen Shuyi was the type who, after doing something good, would write about it in a diary so others could discover it. He wanted Zhao Yuheng to understand just how hard-earned his money was—making the determination to end their engagement more meaningful.
“Just helping Uncle Lin water the flowers or wash the dishes,” Shen Shuyi said casually.
Zhao Yuheng’s expression immediately changed, and his heart tightened.
To think this wealthy young master would even do dishwashing to support him! He hadn’t expected Shen Shuyi’s seriousness.
Zhao Yuheng’s expression darkened further. “If you don’t have money on you, you don’t need to rush to pay me.”
“No way!” Shen Shuyi responded urgently. He needed to save money quickly to annul their engagement; otherwise, the thought of sharing a tiny rental room with Zhao Yuheng in the future was unbearable.
“I want to resolve this as soon as possible,” Shen Shuyi said firmly.
Resolve this marriage thing, yes. Zhao Yuheng was genuinely surprised. He had assumed Shen Shuyi was a capitalist who cared nothing for ordinary people’s lives or money. Perhaps he had misjudged him.
Zhao Yuheng looked at Shen Shuyi’s round head. Today, he hadn’t styled his hair, leaving it fluffy. From a male perspective, his cheeks still carried some flesh, giving him a harmless, obedient appearance.
He couldn’t imagine someone like this committing cruel acts like forcibly demolishing homes.
“Ding dong,” the elevator doors opened.
The waiter had been waiting at the entrance. Shen Shuyi had always wanted to visit this restaurant but never had the opportunity in America. He had only scrolled through TikTok food reviews, leaving a desperate comment: I need food.
The restaurant was elegant, and a violinist had been waiting. Shen Shuyi felt right at home, like he was back in days before his brother had frozen his cards, smoothly taking a window-side seat.
His main goal wasn’t eating but taking photos. Placing his bag down, he handed his phone to Zhao Yuheng: “Take pictures for me.”
Having spent several days with Shen Shuyi, Zhao Yuheng had roughly figured out the young master’s personality. He liked leaving good-looking photos in beautiful places.
Sighing, Zhao Yuheng decided not to refuse. Otherwise, if Shen Shuyi got upset, he’d have to pacify him—a hassle.
After a few shots, Shen Shuyi’s expression immediately fell: “Why do I only look 1.7 meters tall?!”
Zhao Yuheng patiently explained: “Because that’s your height.”
Shen Shuyi: “…How is that possible? I even wore height insoles today. At least 1.8 meters!”
Clearly, Zhao Yuheng’s photography skills were the problem, yet he dared blame his height.
Shen Shuyi: “And this one? Why do my eyes look like a mosquito staring at the camera?”
Zhao Yuheng calmly replied: “This is just the angle. Can’t you be objective?”
“Can’t you take better photos? You didn’t even try.”
“Isn’t it good? I think it looks fine.”
Zhao Yuheng spoke truthfully. Shen Shuyi found the supposedly “bad” shots quite cute. But to Shen Shuyi, this sounded sarcastic.
“Give me the phone!” Shen Shuyi scowled, snatching it away: “If I don’t want to take pictures, I’ll do it myself.”
He walked across the restaurant, phone in hand, typing coldly. Shen Shuyi was upset but indifferent—this young master spent twenty out of twenty-four hours angry daily. He couldn’t always coddle him.
His phone buzzed. Zhao Yuheng realized it was a WeChat message from Shen Shuyi:
“I hate you!”
Zhao Yuheng pinched the bridge of his nose. Shen Shuyi continued typing a scolding essay in WeChat, but the phone was suddenly taken. Zhao Yuheng quietly approached.
Though he had been insulted, Shen Shuyi didn’t feel guilty—Zhao deserved it.
Zhao Yuheng said: “Shen Shuyi.”
“What?” Shen Shuyi replied grumpily.
“Sorry,” Zhao Yuheng lowered himself, patiently coaxing: “It was my fault just now.”
Shen Shuyi: …
He didn’t look like someone easily coaxed.
“Yes, it was your fault.”
“Mm.” Zhao Yuheng nodded, then asked, “Can I continue taking pictures for you?”
Shen Shuyi hesitated: “But your shots aren’t good at all.”
“I just learned some photography skills on Instagram. This time will be fine,” Zhao Yuheng assured.
Shen Shuyi: “Really?”
“Yes. I’ve said before—you’re so good-looking, any shot will be fine.”
…Learning flattery on Instagram, probably.
But Shen Shuyi appreciated it. Zhao Yuheng’s effort proved that a man’s results could be obvious when he tried.
The next photos were satisfactory, and Shen Shuyi happily began editing them at the table. Zhao Yuheng watched, confused.
Shen Shuyi’s editing style was to make already good photos look exactly the same, even less attractive than reality.
When the appetizers arrived, Shen Shuyi showed Zhao Yuheng: “Did I edit them crooked?”
“No.” Zhao Yuheng couldn’t see a difference: “You look better than the photos.”
“Of course,” Shen Shuyi said smugly: “Phones always slightly distort people.”
Zhao Yuheng had never known this. He rarely took photos; the only ones on his phone were Shen Shuyi’s cherry blossom selfies.
“Really? Want to buy a camera?”
“For what?” Shen Shuyi asked, puzzled.
Zhao Yuheng almost blurted out: To take pictures of you. But that thought was too terrifying, so he stayed silent.
The waiter brought a meticulously plated lobster. Shen Shuyi, busy posting on social media, paid no attention. Zhao Yuheng swapped some lobster pieces into Shen Shuyi’s plate and thought: Better get a camera. I’ll need it after graduation anyway.
He also needed a car for commuting, not necessarily for taking Shen Shuyi out.
