novellhall Chapter 11 One More Time
Chapter 11 One More Time
By the time we returned to the hillside town of Ligendal, it was already dark.
As soon as the door closed, Lin Dong reached out and gently lifted her chin with two fingers.
"Ten million." He looked at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You handed it over without asking a single question?"
Li Jiaxin didn't flinch; instead, she tilted her head back, allowing his hand to support her more firmly. Her eyelashes cast a small shadow under the wall lamp, and her eyes shone brightly, as if they held two pools of water.
"No need to ask."
Her voice was soft, and she hooked her fingers around his sleeve, gently swaying it. She smiled, a smile that slowly spread from the corners of her mouth, carrying a hint of coquetry and a touch of seriousness.
"As long as I have it, I'm willing to let you use it. Ah Dong, do you understand?"
Lin Dong looked into her eyes.
There was no evasion, no scheming, only unwavering certainty. It wasn't the blindness of being in love, but the clear-headedness that came after doing the math—she had witnessed seventy million turn into seventy-five million overnight; numbers don't lie.
This woman has been using her beauty to make a living since she was eighteen, exchanging it for two luxury homes and a drawer full of jewelry. Now she has discovered that she can get even more by following Lin Dong, so she simply staked ten million on it.
No IOU needed, no return date asked.
He had prepared a whole host of arguments. None of them were needed.
A smart woman never needs a man to spell things out for her.
"Okay." Lin Dong withdrew his hand and chuckled.
Li Jiaxin took a step back.
He pinched the first button of his shirt collar and twisted it gently. The shirt slipped off his shoulder and landed on the sofa armrest. Then came the second shirt. The third.
She walked towards the bathroom, her clothes scattered throughout the living room. Reaching the bathroom door, she turned back, crossed her arms over her chest, turned her face to him, and raised an eyebrow.
"I'm going to take a shower first. Do you want to—"
I paused deliberately.
"--Together?"
Lin Dong didn't answer. He unbuttoned his shirt and walked towards her in a few quick movements.
The bathroom door was not closed.
The sound of water came from inside. First, there was a pattering sound, then the whooshing sound of the valve being fully opened, and then other sounds mixed in with the water.
A layer of white mist covered the glass partition. Two palms were pressed against it one after the other, the fingertips curled up, leaving several clear marks in the mist.
Water sprayed from the showerhead, splashing onto the tiles, splashing onto the glass, splashing everywhere.
The entire bathroom was filled with hot steam, the mirror was completely white, and nothing could be seen, only a symphony-like sound could be heard, crashing back and forth between the tiles on the walls.
…………
That very night, news about Lin Dong was spreading throughout Hong Kong.
News of Huang Baiming securing a 100 million investment spread by the afternoon. Then, the story of Lin Dong meeting with Wang Yalin and deciding in five minutes to invest 5 million in "Mongkok Street" was also embellished and spread.
By 8 or 9 p.m., in Hong Kong Island, Kowloon, and the New Territories, anyone connected to the film industry had their phone ringing.
"Have you heard? Lin Dong has made his move again."
"One hundred and five million. Within a single day."
"This person doesn't pay attention to the book; they pay attention to the person."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then a knowing smile.
In a hotel room in the port area, a screenwriter tore up the script he had already written halfway through and spread out a new manuscript. After thinking for a long time, he wrote in the character description section: Female lead, mixed race, rich girl, with a cold and aloof temperament.
In the conference room of Silver City Production Company, the production manager called a meeting with two people overnight. Three notebooks were spread out on the table, and he pointed to one of them: "This one, change the female lead to someone like Li Jiaxin. I need to see the new outline by tomorrow."
In a small room in a tenement building in Causeway Bay, an independent director pulled out a script that had been shelved for half a year, circled the description of the female lead, and wrote a note next to it: "Refer to Li Jiaxin."
They're all doing the same thing—squeezing a suitable role for Li Jiaxin into the script. Because Lin Dong will pay for this woman. Last time it was 30 million, this time it's 100 million.
What about next time?
Nobody knows. But nobody wants to be "next time."
Meanwhile, in the editorial departments of major newspapers, the editors-in-chief personally took action, removing and replacing the headlines of the entertainment section repeatedly.
In the editorial office of the Oriental Daily News, the editor-in-chief stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and said to the reporter sitting opposite him, "The headlines have to be scathing. Lin Dong, Li Jiaxin, 100 million—these three keywords are essential, and not one can be omitted."
The entertainment editor of Apple Daily was still there at 11 p.m., personally overseeing the layout. "Lin Sheng earns 100 million a day, how much is Li Jiaxin worth?"—He wrote the headline himself, read it once, and nodded in satisfaction.
The editors of Ming Pao's financial and entertainment sections sat together, a rare occurrence. One was calculating Lin Dong's return on investment, while the other was writing about Li Jiaxin's love life. They exchanged a glance and simultaneously said, "This issue is sold out."
Only Cao Renchao, a financial commentator for the Hong Kong Economic Journal, wrote the following in his column:
"A young man returning from Wall Street is throwing hundreds of millions into a cruise ship romance film. Can the miracle of *Titanic* really be replicated in Hong Kong films? I have my doubts. The problem with Hong Kong cinema isn't a lack of money, it's a lack of audience. No matter how much money is poured in, if the audience doesn't come back, it's all just a fleeting moment."
This text was placed in the bottom right corner of the finance section, and was not particularly eye-catching.
...............
Two o'clock in the morning. Ligend Pavilion, halfway up the mountain.
The bedside lamp was on, casting a warm yellow light on the crumpled sheets.
Li Jiaxin was wearing Lin Dong's white shirt, the hem barely covering her upper thighs, with only the middle two buttons fastened, the collar open, and a light red mark on her collarbone.
Her hair was disheveled and hanging loosely over her shoulders, and her lips were a little swollen.
But she didn't care about any of that.
She sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, holding the stock trading machine in her hands, the green light of the screen illuminating her face. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, typing the code—she was so skilled that she didn't even need to look at the keypad anymore.
The screen flickered. The number lit up.
74.1.
She blinked and leaned closer. She wasn't mistaken. She blinked again.
Then she started to tremble all over. It started in her shoulders, went down her spine to her arms, and even the stock trading machine she was holding was shaking slightly in her palms.
"74.1! 74.1! Ah Dong—74.1!"
The voice was so shrill it cracked.
Lin Dong lay on his side on the bed, propping his head up with one hand, lazily watching her. The hem of his shirt slipped up a bit with her movement, revealing a section of his fair, gleaming thigh.
Completely unaware, her eyes were glued to the screen, her lips moving as she silently calculated how much she had earned that day.
Of course he knows how much it has increased.
From 69.5 to 74.1, each share rose by 4.6 yuan. 70 million Hong Kong dollars, double leverage—the profit is nearly 1.2 million US dollars.
Nearly ten million Hong Kong dollars in just two days. And the market hasn't closed yet; judging by the current momentum, it will likely continue to rise tonight.
Li Jiaxin placed the stock trading machine on the bedside table and turned around. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, as if a small flame was burning in her pupils, and her breathing was short and rapid.
"Ah Dong."
He let out a shout, and then lunged forward.
The hem of her shirt flipped up completely the moment she lunged at her. The warm light from the bedside lamp drew an arc across her bare back, from her shoulders to her waist, before being hidden below by the wrinkled fabric of her shirt.
"One more time."
Her lips brushed against his ear, her voice hoarse as if she had a mouthful of sand. Her fingers had already slid down his chest.