The rent was fully paid for the month. She managed to get the advance payment, and and agreeing to attend certain social events as his date.
The cheongsam clung like second skin—crimson silk embroidered with stylized floral stitches. It was sleeveless, and the long slit up her thigh felt scandalous. The sheer black stockings weren't enough to cover how exposed, how utterly unlike herself, she felt.
Yinlin sat stiffly in the backseat of the black luxury sedan, staring out the window as the opulent city lights slipped past.
Beside her, Xu Tao looked as if he didn't just own the world, but had personally commissioned it. His hair was slicked back, one rogue strand artfully falling over his forehead. He wore a brand new, meticulously tailored black suit over a deep crimson shirt, with gold cufflinks that caught the light—a subtle echo of the silk she wore.
His smile was sharper than the crease in his trousers.
"You're quiet tonight," he said without looking at her.
She kept her voice neutral. "I'm doing what you paid for."
That earned a rich, dismissive smirk. "Try not to sound so noble, Yinlin. You agreed to be on my arm, not on trial. A little enthusiasm wouldn't hurt the optics."
"I agreed to pretend," she muttered.
He chuckled, low and amused. "Then pretend well, darling. Like you belong."
The venue was another gilded cage—a private club whose chandeliers looked like diamonds on fire, a round table of men with power heavy in their laughs, high-profile women who smiled like masks. She was introduced like a rare gem, a "companion," and received like one: admired, evaluated, passed around through eyes and polite compliments.
She was a stark, stunning beauty, tall and slim, and no one would have guessed she was a struggling mother and former maid.
Tao was visibly proud of his trophy. He knew how breathtaking she was in that cheongsam, the crimson catching every reflection. Anyone in that room would agree, were it not for the subtle, strained discomfort radiating from her.
As he leaned in to engage with a banker, his lips brushed her ear. "Smile, Yinlin. Like you would at your daughter."
The casual mention of her daughter—a boundary he hadn't formally crossed before—sent a cold spike of panic through her. She was bothered that he knew how she looked then, and realized he'd been watching her far longer than she cared to admit. But she didn't question him in that moment; she simply forced an obedient smile.
She stood perfectly still while Tao rested a hand on the small of her back—possessive, casual, a rehearsed claim of territory.
She poured wine. She laughed when expected. For nearly an hour at the table, Yinlin had stood silent while Tao conversed with two prominent investors, their voices low and intense.
Tao leaned back, one arm draped casually over the back of her chair. "The real play is not just the commercial zoning, gentlemen. We control the infrastructure contracts. Whoever manages the high-speed transit hub essentially dictates the flow of commerce for the next thirty years. It's about securing those early land rights near the eventual terminus."
One investor, a silver-haired man named Mr. Zhang, chuckled. "And you think the current mayoralty will rubber-stamp a project of that scale before the election?"
"It won't be rubber-stamped, Zhang. It will be made inevitable," Tao corrected, his voice sharp with confidence. "We establish the financing, we align the necessary municipal approvals, and we ensure the stakeholders—the ones who matter—are compensated long before the first shovel hits the ground. It's a vision, yes, but one backed by ironclad financial momentum."
Yinlin tried to understand; she strained to grasp the magnitude of the contracts and the stakes they discussed, recognizing words like rezoning and asset liquidity, but understanding only half of the conversation. Her feet throbbed from standing in the tiny heels, and the unforgiving silk dress felt suffocatingly tight in this world where people spoke in millions and decades.
He was still drinking when they left hours later, his hand never once leaving her body.
In the car, silence stretched long and brittle.
"You looked stunning tonight," he said, watching her profile. "And you did well."
She looked out the window, her voice drained. "Are we done?"
His answer was a low, slow drawl that set every nerve ending alight. "I haven't had dessert yet."
The tone set her on edge.
When they reached the hotel suite — she stared at him in suspicion. Tao held the door open like a gentleman.
"What's the meaning of this?"
"Your job ends when I said so." Answered him sternly.
She walked inside like a prisoner.
The suite was vast, cold, and silent. Crystal glasses. Expensive whiskey. He poured two fingers into a tumbler, pressed one into her hand. She didn't drink it, holding it like a shield.
"You know," he said, his voice soft with a dangerous edge of threat, "most women would kill for this kind of access. For the sheer privilege of my attention."
"I'm not most women," she said, her chest tightening.
"I know," Tao murmured, stepping in close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his suit. "That's precisely why I want you."
She didn't think; she reacted. She shoved him.
Hard.
"Don't," she hissed, backing away. The word was sharp, filled with adrenaline.
His smile vanished instantly, replaced by a gaze of cold, absolute fury. "You're mine tonight, Yinlin. The contract starts now."
Her heart pounded against her ribs, but the fear was now mixing with a desperate, self-preserving rage. "I'm not yours ever. The rent is paid. That is the only transaction."
He moved faster than she anticipated, grabbing her wrist with crushing force.
She didn't scream. Her gaze darted, and she grabbed the nearest object—the whiskey tumbler he'd forced into her hand—and smashed it, not against him, but against the polished marble counter.
Tao flinched back instantly as the glass shattered, the sound slicing the silence, crystal shards skittering across the floor. Her breathing was ragged, her arm still throbbing in his grip.
"You said escort," she said, shaking, tears stinging her eyes but not falling. "Not sex. You don't get to change the terms after I sign. This is coercion."
They stared at each other. His eyes burned with fury — but under it, something else: fascination.
She stepped backward, dragging her wrist from his loosening grip. A small cut on her palm bled, a red bead trickling down her wrist, unnoticed.
"I'm leaving," she stated.
She didn't wait for his answer. She turned and walked out, the clicks of her tiny heels sounding like gunshots echoing down the long, silent corridor.
She returned to her apartment trembling, the familiar streets too quiet, the hallway too long. Ah Jia was asleep on the couch, Mei curled in bed.
Yinlin locked the door, slid down against it, and pressed her hand—the one with the sticky, drying blood—to her chest.
Not crying.
Not this time.
But knowing.
This man doesn't want company or a companion. He wants ownership.
And he wasn't finished yet.
**************
The shards of crystal still glittered on the marble floor, catching the overhead light like silent accusations.
Xu Tao stood in the silence she left behind — the suite suddenly too cold, too empty. He hadn't moved since the door slammed.
She broke a glass on him.
She ran.
His shirt was still unbuttoned. His drink, untouched, pooled beside the scattered glass like something bled.
For a long time, Tao said nothing. Just stared at the door. At the place she had stood, trembling and defiant, eyes wide with fury — not fear. She didn't fear him. That was what scraped at him like bone on metal.
He finally moved, walking to the bar with a casualness that cost effort. Poured himself another drink.
It trembled slightly in his hand.
"She thinks this is still her game," he muttered aloud.
He took a sip, eyes narrowed, jaw clenching.
The refusal stung, yes — but more than that, it humiliated him. No woman had ever looked at him like that and walked away. Especially not her. The one who'd once kissed him like forever and left without a goodbye.
Now she was crawling back for help — and still thought she had power?
When Zhenqiang answered the call, it was near midnight.
"Yes, Boss?"
"She shattered a glass," Tao said, calmly. "Left blood on my table and walked out."
Zhenqiang was silent for a beat too long. "…Do you want me to—"
"No," Tao cut in. "Keep watching her like usual."
"Understood."
"Oh, and Zhenqiang…" Tao downed the rest of the liquor and leaned against the counter. "Push the apartment rent again next month. Quietly."
"…It's already way above the block's average—"
"Then double Ah Jia's babysitting rate behind Yinlin's back. Raise her tuition's fees. Make her dependent. I don't care how."
A pause.
"You're trying to isolate her."
Tao smiled, cold and thin. "She wants to pretend she has boundaries? Let's see how long they last when every door around her is mine."
He walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside. The city sparkled below — lights, people, lives he could buy and sell.
But she was different.
Yinlin wasn't afraid of him yet.
That would change.
"She wants to play hard," he murmured. "Fine. Let's see how far she bends before she breaks."
He poured another drink, eyes glittering.
This time, he wouldn't wait to be remembered.
He'd be unforgettable.