A black bra, lace-up underwear—Jiang Chen stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at this unfamiliar self.
The girl’s skin glowed softly under the incandescent light, needing no makeup; youth was her greatest asset.
Jiang Chen shook out the lace dress, slipping it on from bottom to top, then grabbed a pair of black high heels and headed to the door.
Just as she was about to leave, she remembered something and rushed back to the room, digging through the bottom of the box to find a makeup bag filled with eyeliner, highlighter, and loose powder…
Jiang Chen didn’t know much about these things. She gripped a lipstick, lightly applying a thin layer in front of a small mirror, only to wipe it off with a tissue moments later.
She put on the wristband, took a detour downstairs, and waited for a ride at another entrance.
As night deepened, the girl’s slender figure stood out under the streetlights, drawing glances from passersby.
A few young guys with dyed yellow hair zoomed by on electric scooters, whistling as they passed.
Jiang Chen ignored them.
She quietly put on a mask.
“Lihua Hotel,” the girl’s voice was clear and crisp.
The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror before looking away.
Jiang Chen was hyper-aware of others’ gazes but kept her eyes fixed outside, where rows of neon lights seemed to paint a bizarre, surreal world.
After tonight… I probably won’t have any dignity left.
Jiang Chen realized she wanted to laugh—a raw, unrestrained laugh.
At the towering luxury hotel, business vans and luxury cars pulled up to the entrance. Portly bosses were escorted into vehicles, some accompanied by women dressed like her.
But those women carried an air of ease and confidence.
Perhaps because Jiang Chen looked too young, the front desk stopped her to ask a few questions.
She flashed the presidential suite card she’d found tucked into her doorframe before leaving.
Under curious stares, she took the elevator to the top floor.
There was only one suite up here.
As she prepared to swipe the card, she noticed the door was already ajar.
She tiptoed to the entrance, her heart pounding faster.
Should she knock? If the door was open, did that mean she could just walk in?
“Is anyone there?”
She called out softly.
No one answered, but soon the clack of high heels echoed.
High heels?
Jiang Chen’s mind conjured unsettling possibilities.
Then, a woman with long golden hair appeared before her, holding a document, one button of her blouse undone.
Seeing the girl at the door, she frowned.
“Who are you?”
A flurry of thoughts raced through Jiang Chen’s mind. Her eyes widened slightly as the creepy old man she’d imagined shattered and reformed into the sophisticated woman before her.
She had striking almond eyes, slightly furrowed brows, lips painted with a muted red, and long, golden curls cascading over her shoulders. Her tailored women’s suit was crisp and flawless.
This was a woman refined from head to toe.
Jiang Chen instinctively hugged her arms, unnerved by the woman’s undisguised disdain.
“President Wang… please let me serve you.”
She didn’t know what to say, but the moment the words left her mouth, the blonde woman looked even angrier.
“Go back. I don’t need company.”
Wang Ziyue had already made it clear she didn’t want any “entertainment,” but she hadn’t expected her business partner to be bold enough to send a young girl.
She almost laughed from sheer exasperation.
Faced with this commanding aura, Jiang Chen felt suffocated. Her toes curled inside the pointed heels, and she took two steps back, wincing as a sharp pain shot through her ankle, though she couldn’t focus on it now.
Jiang Chen was desperate, throwing everything into one last plea.
“President Wang, if I can’t stay… I won’t be able to complete the task.”
Task? Wang Ziyue studied her closely, noting the youthful innocence that couldn’t be hidden beneath the mature outfit.
“…You can sleep in that bedroom.” Wang Ziyue pointed to a room inside.
Jiang Chen wasn’t sure if this counted as “serving” for the task, but she didn’t dare say more.
This President Wang didn’t seem like someone to mess with.
Jiang Chen quietly entered the room Wang Ziyue indicated. The decor was lavish, with a private bathroom stocked with English-labeled toiletries in a small basket.
In the corner was a mini fridge. Jiang Chen grabbed a bottle of water.
Glug glug—the cold mineral water slid down her throat, easing her tense nerves slightly.
She realized her back was soaked with sweat.
After some searching, she found a disposable bathrobe in a hidden wardrobe. As she walked, she shed her clothes.
Half an hour later, wrapped in the bathrobe, she was about to dry her hair.
But the door wasn’t closed. Jiang Chen hurried to shut it, lost her balance, and fell hard on the floor, her forehead thunking against the doorframe.
Despite the carpet’s cushion, the pain made her grimace.
Click. A faint sound came from outside.
Jiang Chen looked toward it and saw Wang Ziyue stepping out of the adjacent bedroom.
Jiang Chen tried to stand, but a piercing pain shot through her. She glanced at her bare foot in slippers—her ankle was swollen and red.
Wang Ziyue followed her gaze, stood silently for a moment, then turned back to her room.
Jiang Chen grabbed a nearby cabinet to pull herself up, but Wang Ziyue returned, holding a tube of ointment.
“Don’t move if you’ve sprained your ankle.” Wang Ziyue’s voice was soft. She wore a black bathrobe identical to Jiang Chen’s.
As she bent down, a glimpse of pale skin was visible. Jiang Chen quickly looked away.
“Put your arm over my shoulder.” Wang Ziyue crouched in front of her, one arm around her waist, the other under her knees.
In a daze, Jiang Chen was princess-carried by Wang Ziyue. A strand of golden hair brushed her nose, carrying a faintly bitter scent.
Wang Ziyue gently placed her on the bed, then lifted the hem of her bathrobe. Jiang Chen instinctively moved to stop her.
But she met Wang Ziyue’s teasing, half-smiling gaze.
“You looked at me, so wouldn’t it be unfair if I didn’t look back?”
Jiang Chen froze, then flushed red. She hadn’t realized her accidental glance had been noticed.
The playful words felt charged in the dimly lit bedroom, illuminated only by a bedside lamp.
Jiang Chen hadn’t forgotten her task. She hesitated, glancing at the other woman.
Wang Ziyue’s smile faltered, and she spoke with a hint of irritation.
“How old are you, anyway? What’s going on in that head of yours? No wonder…” She trailed off, silently unscrewing the ointment.
Jiang Chen felt a slight itch where the ointment was applied to her ankle.
Her heart sank. Though Wang Ziyue hadn’t done anything, the subtle scorn in her words stung.
Of course. Clinging to someone’s room like this doesn’t exactly scream self-respect.
“Whatever you’ve been through, you’re still young. You should think about other paths forward.”
Wang Ziyue didn’t leave immediately after applying the ointment. Instead, she sat by the bed and said this.
She paused, surprised at herself.
Am I trying to save a lost soul? she thought with a self-deprecating smirk.
Jiang Chen didn’t know how to respond and just listened quietly.
The room’s door was gently closed, the bedside lamp turned off, and Jiang Chen lay awake, unable to sleep.
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