The landlord's notice came in a plastic sleeve, taped carelessly to her apartment door.
INCREASED RENTAL ADJUSTMENT
Due to inflation and maintenance costs, the monthly rent will rise by 30% starting next month. No exceptions.
Yinlin read the words twice, her eyes blurring. The numbers didn't lie. There was no grace period, no negotiation. Just hard ink on white paper — the kind of cruelty that didn't even bother disguising itself.
She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, one hand over her eyes. Mei's soft humming drifted from the living room as she colored on the floor. The scent of instant noodles lingered in the air.
Yinlin's chest felt tight.
She couldn't keep up with this. The rent hike meant she'd be one emergency away from losing everything — again.
*********
The next day at the hotel, the atmosphere was worse.
Another server was dismissed for a "performance issue" no one could explain. The break room emptied quickly whenever managers entered. Even Jenny Lu had grown quiet, her usual gossip replaced with wary glances.
The invisible line between "safe" and "next to go" kept moving — and Yinlin could feel it tightening around her neck.
So when she was summoned upstairs again, her stomach dropped.
The hotel manager didn't greet her, just handed her a note.
Meet Mr. Xu at 7:30. Private lounge. Wear something elegant.
Yinlin stared at it. "I don't understand—"
"He says it's an opportunity," the manager said flatly. "A chance to earn extra. You're not obligated. But... it's rare."
Rare, she thought bitterly. That word again. Like a veiled threat.
********
Tao waited for her in the dim hallway outside the executive floor, leaning against the wall like he had been there long enough to memorize the rhythm of her footsteps. His midnight-black suit looked too precise for the undone tie, too deliberate for someone pretending he'd just loosened up.
He looked her over, not lewdly — clinically.
"You're thinking of saying no," he said without looking away.
Yinlin stopped short. Heat crawled up her neck, anger first, then unease. "I haven't said anything."
"You don't need to." Tao pushed off the wall, closing the slight distance between them. Not close enough to touch her. Close enough that she'd feel cornered. "One of my investors recognized you from last night. He was… intrigued. Requested your presence at the casino table tonight. Just as company."
"That's not my job." Her voice was tight, too tight, like it might crack into something sharp.
"No," he agreed calmly. "But you make an impression. And impressions are valuable."
She glared at him. "Why me?"
Tao's smile was thin, barely there. "Because you walk into a room like you don't realize you're the most interesting thing in it. Men like him find that irresistible."
Her hands curled slightly, knuckles whitening. She wanted to snap — to shove him back, to tell him to keep his investors and their curiosity far away from her.
Tao was still watching her like she was a puzzle he'd already taken apart. Yinlin held his stare this time, chin lifting a fraction.
"I'm not some attraction for bored rich men," she said, voice steady but sharp. "If they're 'intrigued,' that's their problem, not my job description."
Tao's expression didn't change, but something flickered — interest, amusement, approval? It was impossible to tell.
"They weren't bored," he corrected lightly. "They noticed you."
"Women like me get noticed all the time," she snapped. "By men who think a smile is an invitation, or that if I'm polite, it means I'm available. That's not a compliment — it's work. Constant work."
He tilted his head, studying her with that unsettling patience. "You've dealt with far worse than a few curious investors."
"That doesn't make it right," she bit out. "And it doesn't mean I owe anyone my presence just because they want to look at me."
Tao stepped into her space again — not aggressive, just deliberate, like gravity drawn tighter around him.
"You're mistaking this for something personal," he said. "It's not. It's business. Opportunity."
She let out a bitter breath. "Opportunity for who? Them?"
"For you," Tao corrected smoothly. "If you'd lower your pride for one night, you might see it."
Her eyes flashed. "It's not pride to want to be treated like a person."
"It is," he said calmly, "when it gets in the way of your survival."
Yinlin froze. The words hit harder than the proximity. He tapped the truth ruthlessly — because he knew she couldn't deny it.
"You think I don't see it?" Tao's voice softened but lost none of its weight. "The way men talk to you. Look at you. Make assumptions about you. You've been pushing back alone for years. And you're tired."
Her throat tightened. Damn him for noticing.
He continued, relentless but not loud. "So let me leverage that attention instead of letting it drain you. Let it work for you. Just this once."
Yinlin stared at him, breathing shallowly. "And if I say no?"
Tao shrugged one shoulder, hands in his pockets as though her resistance had been factored in from the beginning. "Then you say no. I won't force you."
Yinlin stood still, weighing the options.
Tao watched her restraint with almost clinical fascination.
"It's just drinks," he continued, voice dipping in a way that suggested he already knew she was losing ground. "Conversation. A presence. You'll be home before midnight."
Yinlin's jaw trembled once — anger or fear, she wasn't sure.
Tao stepped closer, lowering his voice. "And I know the timing is… difficult. That rent hike came out of nowhere, didn't it?"
Her stomach dropped. "How do you know that?"
"Your landlord's company is in our portfolio," he said, as if discussing the weather. "I make it a habit to understand the circumstances of people I rely on."
"I'm not someone you can rely on," she snapped — too quickly.
"Not yet," he corrected, eyes narrowing. "But you could be. And I take care of the people who work with me."
The hallway seemed to tilt. Or maybe she did. His words slid under her skin like silk with barbs — gentle, dangerous, impossible to cleanly refuse.
He wasn't threatening her.
He didn't need to.
Every line he spoke was a closed door behind her, guiding her forward whether she liked it or not.
And she hated — hated — that he knew it.
That he'd studied her life closely enough to find the cracks.
That he was already pressing on them.
She felt the floor give slightly under her feet. His words weren't threats — they were lifelines, offered with invisible hooks.
************
She said yes that night, not with confidence, but with a numb kind of resolve.
The dress was already in her locker when she got off her shift. A sleek black number that hugged her body in ways she wasn't used to. Nothing gaudy, but nothing modest either.
She didn't ask how he knew her size.
When she stepped into the car where he waited — a sleek black limo with tinted windows — he said nothing at first. Just offered her a glass of water, and let the silence settle in.
It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't comforting either.
"You clean up well," he said eventually. His gaze didn't linger, but it didn't stray far either.
Yinlin gave him a half-nod, staring out the window as the city lights rushed past. Her fingers dug into the hem of her dress.
She had survived worse. But this felt like a threshold — the kind you couldn't uncross once stepped over.