“Do you know Shi Jin?” Jiang Jiusheng asked.

Shaking his head, he explained, “He is very good looking. I couldn’t help but take a longer look.” Pulling the door shut, Cheng Hui moved further into the room. Looking at the arm in the cast, he asked Jiang Jiusheng, “How’s the injury?”

Jiang Jiusheng moved her elbow and said, “It’s dislocated. No big deal. I should be discharged in two days.” Sitting on her bed, she told Cheng Hui, “Don’t tell the parents, lest they worry.”

Cheng Hui nodded in agreement, laughing. Pulling out a chair to sit on, he said, “You’re way out of their reach. They wouldn’t find out.”

Jiang Jiusheng’s parents were both accountants who worked in a nondescript little province in Jiang Bei. They lived simply and frugally, without paying much attention to the glitzy entertainment world. Jiang Jiusheng could make headline news, and they remained oblivious to it all. And that was exactly how Jiang Jiusheng preferred it. She didn’t want her family to become embroiled in the shenanigans of the entertainment industry.

Besides, Cheng Hui’s profession was indirectly linked to the world of performing arts and entertainment. He was a teacher at the Film Academy.

Suddenly remembering the news report, Jang Jjiuheng asked, “Is the news from last week true?”

“What news?” Cheng Hui asked as he pared and apple.

Clearing her throat, Jiang Jiusheng repeated the headline of the news report: “The eighth daughter of the Qin family has a secret lover.”

She had recognized him instantly from the shot of his back. Incidentally, the eighth Miss Qin was also Cheng Hui’s student.

“These days, news can be created from nothing,” Cheng Hui remarked matter-of-factly.

That meant that the “secret lover” news was not true.

One couldn’t blame the journalist for making something out of nothing. The eighth daughter of the Qins had always been in the limelight. Stating a fact, Jiang Jiusheng said, “None of the Qin’s could be described as shy or withdrawn.”

If Jiang Bei was controlled by the Yuwen family and Yun Cheng was the playground of the Wen family, then the three provinces of Zhong Nan would have been deemed the domain of the Qin family. With controlling interests in every industry, including the entertainment industry, the Qins’ immense wealth had been described as comparable to the national treasury.

While Tianyu Entertainment focused on creating stars, the entertainment companies in the Qin Group focused on making movies and doing post-production work, which, of course, meant that they had first-line artistes in their fold as well. Meanwhile, Lin Anzhi’s current employer, Warner Bros Entertainment Inc., propped up financially by the Wen’s Bank, was popular with the mega international fashion brands. Collectively, this formidable trio, constantly in competition, owned 70 percent of the entire entertainment industry.

Qin Xiao’xiao was the eighth daughter of the Qin family. Rumor had it that she was not borne of the two official wives of old Mr. Qin and therefore was not cherished at home. She had landed a few supporting roles while still studying at the Film Academy but hadn’t managed to impress with her performances. That said, her pedigree as a Qin was newsworthy, so the entertainment media still clamored to report about her.

Jiang Jiusheng had seen this Miss Qin once at an awards ceremony. Although they’d had no direct interaction, she had been able to tell that the wealthy young miss did not hold back on her airs and graces in public as a member of the esteemed Qin family, even if she was marginalized at home.

Rounding up her thoughts, Jiang Jiusheng sked Cheng Hui, “Are you interested in that eighth daughter?”

“She’s just another of my students,” Cheng Hui said nonchalantly, handing Jiang Jiusheng the pared apple.

Cheng Hui taught modern dance at the Central Film Academy. When he danced, he exuded an untamed vitality that was very different from his regular persona of the bespectacled and mild-mannered academic.

This extreme passion is what we have in common as siblings, Jiang Jiusheng thought.

“Then I’d suggest that you stay away from her. The word on the grapevine is…” Taking a bite of her apple, Jiang Jiusheng took her time to share the popular line making the rounds in the gossip circle. “All the Qins are, in fact, wolves and not humans.”

The Qins had come from a line of gangsters who would do anything to make a buck, always staying within a hair’s breadth of running afoul of the law. Even after gradually going clean after decades of laundering activities, there was still an undeniable trait of bloodthirsty violence evident across the family. Considering that they had maintained a stronghold in the Southeast Asian commercial world for so many years, it was no wonder their descendants also had this trait in them and could never have been considered ordinary civilians.

At a corner of the fifth floor where the cardiovascular surgery department was located, a man had been waiting for a long time. Dressed in a black suit, he was a tall and well-built man in his 40s with an intimidating demeanor. Hearing the approaching footsteps, he looked up and, recognizing the person walking toward him, rushed forward and said respectfully, “Young Sixth Master.”

Expressionless, Shi Jin asked, “What is it?”

The bespectacled man raised his head, presenting a common and easily forgettable face and assumed a submissive stance as he said, “Old Master Qin has asked that you make a trip to the family home.”

Without hesitation, Shi Jin responded curtly. “I’m busy.”

Having said that, he immediately turned around and left.

Staring at Shi Jin’s quickly disappearing back, the man called a number on his mobile.

“Master Qin,” he said. Stepping into the elevator, he continued, “Young Sixth Master is still adamant about not coming back…”

The elevator doors came to a close, and the conversation became muffled as the elevator descended.

******

On her third day in the hospital, Jiang Jiusheng got a visit from Mo Bing.

Except for the limp from the injured leg, the minor injuries that Mo Bing had sustained had just about healed. So, being the ace manager that she was, Mo Bing had finalized the arrangements for the upcoming concert. What remained was for Jiang Jiusheng to be discharged and to get ready for rehearsal.

“I’ve uploaded details of the concert and the change in band members on the official site of TheNine. Don’t forget to relay the message,” Mo Bing instructed.

The message was the official termination of Liu Su.

“Okay,” Jiang Jiusheng agreed.

She had been magnanimous. Liu Su had to bear the consequences of her conniving ways.

Done with the official business at hand, Mo Bing asked with curiosity, “Sheng, I did not get the chance to ask you on the day you were admitted, but please tell me honestly, what’s the status of this thing between you and Doctor Shi? I could see that he was especially concerned about you.”

If there was a hint of something blossoming, she needed to start PR planning and pre-empt the media frenzy if the press got wind of it first.

Jiang Jiusheng thought about the question for a long time before finally replying, “He is my fan.”

Mo Bing absolutely detested secret fans, so it was best not to let her know about them. Otherwise, she might force her artiste to move.

Not convinced, Mo Bing asked, “Is that all he is?”

Even though she had only met him briefly, she could tell that Doctor Shi had class and was by no means an ordinary person. She had certainly not expected him to be a fan of rock music.

Rousing from her deep thought, Jiang Jiusheng added, “I’ve touched his hands.”

Ah, the hand fetish. Not surprising.

Mo Bing took her time before asking, “Are you tempted?”

After all, this person, despite her hand fetish, hadn’t touched anybody else’s hands. Jiang Jiusheng had even restrained herself from touching Xie Dang’s beautiful hands, so this Doctor Shi must have been somewhat special.

“I’m very attracted to his hands,” Jiang Jiusheng answered honestly.

“And what about the man?” Mo Bing asked in turn.

Silence.

When she’d called the day before, Mo Bing had asked the same question about her relationship with Shi Jin. Jiang Jiusheng couldn’t quite define what “tempted” meant, and she was a novice when it came to affairs of the heart. However, she did know that Shi Jin made her feel comfortable and safe, always giving her space by keeping the appropriate distance. He was well-educated, had a good upbringing, and—like his hands—stirred up feelings within her of increasing intensity. She had never had those feelings before, and yet, they felt natural, as though they were meant to be.

A man like Shi Jin was indeed addictive—an addiction that would only be realized after the fact.

“Like sleeping pills.”

Mo Bing was stunned.

“Addictive with excess consumption,” Jiang Jiusheng added.