Xu Feng nodded, though his face showed clear confusion. He hurried into the walk-in closet, opening drawers full of neatly folded clothes—clothes Nei Rougang had bought, chosen, and stored for Song Yue.
Throw them?
Give them?
What would help the situation… and what would make it worse?
Outside, the winter wind cut through Song Yue like knives. She hugged herself tightly and cursed under her breath. She really should've grabbed her luggage. But even if she froze into an ice cube, she refused to go back to beg Nei Rougang for clothes. She had her pride.
"Miss Song!"
She turned and saw Xu Feng running toward her, suitcase in hand. Her heart leaped. She immediately puffed up, chin raised. "He asked you to pick me up? See? He should've come himself!"
Xu Feng hesitated, guilt written all over his face. "Miss Song … the president didn't ask me to pick you up. He asked me to pack your clothes and… throw them out."
Song Yue's face blanked.
Then turned red.
Then went completely stiff.
Xu Feng quickly added, "Miss Song, let me drive you anywhere you want."
To him, none of this made sense. In his memory, Nei Rougang had never been harsh to her—not once.
He still remembered the little girl who was bullied in primary school. How the president had personally marched to the school with several men, cornered the bully, and scared her so badly she nearly fainted. He remembered the junior high incident too—the day Song Yue was punished to stand outside the school gate. Nei Rougang had driven over, slammed a cheque onto the principal's desk, bought the entire school, fired the principal, and taken Song Yue home for hot soup.
So why… why was he suddenly pushing her away now?
Song Yue gritted her teeth. "Give me the clothes. I'm not getting into his car."
She grabbed her suitcase with stubborn pride, glaring at the world as if it had personally wronged her. She knew exactly how Nei Rougang worked. If she wanted to get under his skin… she had to make him uncomfortable. Make him regret everything.
With her luggage in hand, she turned and stormed off.
Xu Feng followed at a distance, worried. Only when she stepped into the home of Lan Xia—her closest friend—did he finally allow himself to stop watching.
*
The next night, neon lights lit up the street like a carnival in full swing. Music thumped through the ground as Song Yue and Lan Xia stepped into a nightclub. Laughter, bright colors, and the thick smell of alcohol swirled around them.
Lan Xia grabbed Song Yue's arm nervously. "Song Yue, let's go back! I'm scared. Really scared!"
"Scared of what?" Song Yue snapped, though her voice trembled a bit, too. "Our work-study job is legitimate!"
"Legitimate? Sister, you call THIS legitimate?!" Lan Xia cried, nearly in tears.
This was the only job they had found in an entire day of searching. And they had even paid a 500-yuan deposit. If they didn't sell 500 yuan worth of product tonight… they'd lose everything. That was Lan Xia's precious, shockingly small pocket money for the entire month.
"F*ck," Lan Xia whispered desperately. "Sister, the country might encourage safe s*x, but is this really what they meant?"
Song Yue lifted the product box, face full of fake confidence. "Birth control is absolutely above-board! The government promotes safe s*x every day. We're helping society!"
"And if I don't earn money, what am I supposed to eat? Air?"
Lan Xia covered her face.
This night was going to be hell.
*
"Didn't your uncle give you a black diamond card? Doesn't that thing have no spending limit?" Lan Xia hissed, tugging at the ridiculous work outfit they'd been forced to wear.
The "uniform" was nothing more than scraps of fabric pretending to be clothing—too short on top, too short on bottom, and showing far more skin than either girl would ever willingly reveal. If they sneezed, a wardrobe malfunction would take place.
"I ran away from home," Song Yue said firmly. "Even if you beat me to death, I won't use his money."
She lifted her chin stubbornly, even as she carefully tugged the edge of her skirt down another centimeter. Her eyes swept around the nightclub, the flashing lights bouncing off the glossy floors. It was her first time here, and although she pretended to be confident, her heart thudded a little faster than usual. The booming music, the dazzling crowd, the smoky air—it was overwhelming.
Her gaze drifted to the corridor lined with private single rooms. She nudged Lan Xia with her elbow. "Let's go into one of those. The people inside spend more. You know how it is—princesses, rich kids, couples… someone might need birth control."
Lan Xia nearly choked on her own saliva. "G-going into those rooms? Isn't that dangerous?"
"Damn it, how would I know?" Song Yue whispered back. "We'll find out once we're inside."
With all the confidence she could muster—and dragging a trembling Lan Xia behind her—Song Yue chose a random door and knocked.
"Excuse me, we're—"
The words died on her tongue.
Because sitting inside, under violet-tinted lights, was a boy who looked like he had stepped out of a forbidden painting. Mixed-race features sharp enough to cut glass, brown-red hair curling slightly at the ends, eyes a stunning unnatural purple that glimmered under the neon lights. He looked delicate yet masculine at the same time, one long leg crossed over the other as he lounged on the sofa like a fallen angel with bad intentions.
Before either girl could react, a man rushed forward, grabbed them both by the wrists, and practically shoved them onto the purple-eyed man's sofa.
"What took you so long? The duke has been waiting! Hurry, drink with him!"
Song Yue blinked hard. "No, no, wait—wait! You misunderstand—we're not the princesses here!"
On the other side of the purple-eyed man sat a thin boy with delicate features—eyes like a mischievous fox, lips curled in amusement. He wore a platinum skull ring whose emerald eyes shimmered ominously. Something about him screamed trouble.
He swirled his wine lazily, then grabbed Lan Xia by the collar, pulling her closer. "If you're not the princesses, then what are you doing here?"
Lan Xia, wide-eyed and starstruck, squeaked, "W-we're here to sell…"
Her gaze flicked between the two boys.
Hot guys.
Pretty hot guys.
Dangerously hot guys.
Her mind short-circuited.
Suddenly, she was mentally acting out entire romance dramas—heroine dives into hero's arms, heroine kisses hero senseless, heroine drags hero to bed—
Song Yue elbowed her so hard she snapped back to reality.
"We're selling products," Song Yue said quickly. "Condoms."
She pulled one box from her bag like a magic trick and held it up. "Clearly, you don't need them, so we'll just leave—"
"We never said we don't need them." The thin boy—Sikong Jue—grabbed her wrist, grinning like a devil.
Song Yue froze. She glanced at the four men in the room. All attractive. All wealthy. All staring at her.
Oh.
Oh.
So… they did need condoms?
Her eyes lit up instantly. This was it—her chance to make money. To keep running away. To make Nei Rougang's life miserable.
But Sikong Jue's gaze was too… hungry. Too amused. She shifted slightly, cautious.
Still, she plastered a bright smile on her face. "You should've said so earlier!"
She dumped her entire bag onto the table in one dramatic motion. The men stared as vibrator sticks, massage bullets, flavored lubricants, and an array of colorful condoms clattered onto the surface. It looked like someone had opened a portable adult store.
Song Yue grabbed one box and shook it confidently. "This one is perfect for you all. Designed for male couples. I also have Durex—big size, small size, American and European brands. Total 150 yuan. Thank you!"
Her sales pitch came out smooth—clearly memorized from her crash-course training.
Finally, the purple-eyed boy—silent until now—shifted. His long eyelashes lowered slightly, and the corner of his mouth curved, not in amusement, but in warning.
He opened his mouth, voice low and dangerously calm.
"Get. Lost."
The single room fell silent.
And Song Yue realized…
She might have just poked a hornet's nest.