Rong Yan felt every pore on her body stand on end.
She put down the towel and bolted for the door.
Just as she was about to step out, the man behind her reached the door first, slamming it shut. He grabbed her arm and pinned her against the door.
The overwhelming scent of alcohol hit her, nearly suffocating her.
Rong Yan's hand ached from his grip, but she remained calm as she resisted. "Mr. Chi, you're drunk."
The man only tightened his hold, his breath hot and restless against her cheek.
"Have you done this before?"
Rong Yan realized what he meant, and fury flashed in her eyes. "Mr. Chi, I'm a clean, decent worker. Every penny I earn is through my own hard work. Don't insult me."
The man scoffed. "In a place like this, you talk about being clean and decent?"
Rong Yan knew her explanation sounded weak. The Celestial Club was a chaotic place, filled with all sorts of people, and encounters of that nature weren't uncommon.
Some seized the opportunity to catch the eye of the wealthy, some secured lifelong financial security, while others lost everything in vain.
Though she was desperate for money—extremely desperate—the job she had applied for as a private room attendant didn't involve fulfilling clients' physical needs, and the pay was above market rate. That was why she had taken the job.
"Mr. Chi, let go..." Rong Yan struggled, her wrist reddening from the force.
"One night. Name your price." Watching her fair face and the rise and fall of her chest, the man's patience was wearing thin. His cheeks flushed deeper, his eyes darkening.
Rong Yan froze.
Name her price?
Did that mean she could demand a fortune?
With that money, she wouldn't have to toil away anymore. She could easily buy that burial plot and fulfill her mother's dying wish.
Could she trust Chi Jingyuan's words?
Noticing her hesitation, the man smirked and leaned in closer.
......
When she woke up the next morning,
Rong Yan stood there, staring at Chi Jingyuan.
Last night, she vaguely remembered him calling out the name "Xi Xi." Who was Xi Xi? A friend of his?
Rong Yan shook off the thought.
His earlier words had unsettled her, but she steadied herself. "Mr. Chi, if I recall correctly, you were the one who initiated last night. Besides, you were the one who said I could name my price."
"So, what do you think you're worth?" Chi Jingyuan lifted his gaze slightly.
He admitted it—he admitted it!
So he remembered everything from last night and knew she hadn't been the one to initiate it. His humiliation was simply because he looked down on her status.
He looked down on her for working in a place like this.
He looked down on poor people like her.
A mix of emotions churned inside Rong Yan. After a moment of hesitation, she steeled herself and named a figure: "Two hundred thousand."
"Two hundred thousand?" Chi Jingyuan's smile deepened. "What makes you think you're worth that much?"
Did she think that after what happened, she could climb the social ladder and live a life of luxury?
So young, yet already scheming for shortcuts.
Still, he wasn't entirely blameless. He hadn't planned for things to go this way, but somehow, he'd lost control. A pang of guilt flickered in his chest.
Softening his tone, he asked, "How old are you?"
Rong Yan's face paled as she lowered her head. "Twenty-three."
She knew she wasn't worth two hundred thousand. Rumor had it that sum could even secure some lesser-known rising stars. How could she, a broke and struggling graduate, compare to them?
So she had no answer for him.
His words felt like needles, yet she had no defense against the humiliation.
Poverty was the original sin.
"WeChat," the man said, picking up his phone.
Rong Yan hesitated before opening her payment QR code.
Chi Jingyuan raised an eyebrow. "Your personal QR code."
Still numb from the emotional turmoil, she didn't realize anything amiss. Mechanically, she switched to her personal WeChat QR code and held it out to him.
Scan the QR code to add a friend.
Seeing the WeChat nickname "Yan," he casually asked, "What's your name?"
Rong Yan replied, "Yan."
Service staff at clubs usually used stage names and never revealed their real ones to customers.
Chi Jingyuan was slightly surprised—she clearly didn't want to share her real name. After a few taps, he transferred 300,000 yuan to Rong Yan's WeChat.
"Don't do this kind of thing again. Quit and find a decent job."
At twenty-three, fresh out of college, she still had a whole life ahead of her to earn money slowly. Why stay in such a predatory place?
With her looks, if she ever fell into the wrong hands, she'd probably be devoured without a trace.
Rong Yan clenched her teeth as she stared at the 300,000 yuan in her account. The extra 100,000—was it charity?
She didn't want charity.
Nor pity.
Silently, she accepted the payment and returned the extra 100,000.
"I'll only take what's mine—not a single cent more. If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."
She strode toward the door.
Just before stepping out of the bedroom, she paused, turned back, and looked at the man with a hint of defiance in her eyes.
"And one more thing—I believe that working here to earn money makes me nobler than men like you who spend it. So, spare me the unsolicited advice. Thank you."
The sound of the door closing echoed behind her.
Chi Jingyuan: "..."
This little girl had quite the sharp tongue—fiery and fierce, like an angry kitten.
A smirk tugged at his lips as he refunded the 100,000 yuan.
Did she really think she could out-stubborn him? Didn't she know Chi Jingyuan was the champion of holding his ground?
......
Rong Yan returned to the staff room, changed her clothes, and took the bus back to her rented apartment.
The one-bedroom apartment was shabby—the living room sparsely furnished, the window perpetually starved of sunlight, and the bedroom barely large enough for a bed and a wardrobe.
But at least the rent was cheap.
She took a shower.
The mirror reflected her slender frame, covered in marks. She scrubbed her skin hard until it turned red and sore, but the traces remained.
Her eyes were lost, her mood somber.
She had sold herself for money—200,000 yuan, the going rate for a D-list celebrity. She didn't know whether to feel happy or devastated.
If her mother knew she'd followed in her footsteps, she'd probably haunt her dreams, screaming about smashing her skull.
And if she accidentally got pregnant—now that would be truly amusing.
Rong Yan laughed, the sound laced with self-mockery.
Right—pregnancy.
Last night, no precautions had been taken. What if…?
Shaking off the thought, she hastily threw on her clothes and rushed to the pharmacy downstairs.
The pharmacy was run-down and grimy, fitting right into the slum's aesthetic.
The clerk, a woman in her thirties, lounged while binge-watching dramas. Rong Yan had to repeat herself several times before the woman lazily scratched her head, pulled out a pill from the cabinet, and tossed it at her.
"30 yuan. Scan the code yourself."