Ruoxi's heels clicked against the marble floor as she was led through the maze of velvet curtains and golden corridors.
Each step closer to him made her knees weaker.
The guard beside her said nothing — merely kept a firm grip on her arm, as if she might bolt at any moment. And perhaps she would have… if she weren't so numb.
Two hundred million yuan.
That number had been seared into her mind like a brand. Not for her future. Not for her dreams. For her body. For one night.
A price tag on her soul.
Her throat tightened, and she gripped the thin fabric of her dress tighter, trying to cover the trembling in her hands.
They reached the door to VIP Room One.
The guard knocked once, paused, then opened it.
Ruoxi stepped into a different world.
---
It was not a room — it was a throne.
The balcony lounge was draped in deep crimson and soft gold, with floor-to-ceiling glass that overlooked the entire bar. Plush leather couches, crystal chandeliers, and a fireplace flickering in the corner. But it wasn't the luxury that made her breath catch.
It was him.
Mo Zhen sat like a shadow given form — lean, sharp, terrifying in his stillness. His tailored black suit hugged him like a second skin, the collar of his shirt slightly loosened, a gold watch gleaming on his wrist.
But it was his eyes that truly arrested her — dark, unreadable, like a storm held behind glass.
He didn't speak. Didn't rise.
Just watched her.
Silently.
As if measuring how much of her had broken already.
"Leave us," he said at last.
His voice was smooth, low, with a quiet authority that made the guard bow and retreat instantly.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Ruoxi was alone.
---
For a heartbeat, all she could hear was the rain hitting the balcony windows behind him.
She took a slow, trembling breath.
"Why…" Her voice cracked. "Why did you buy me?"
A silence followed. Then:
"I don't repeat myself," he said coldly. "You'll learn that quickly."
She flinched at the icy edge in his tone.
Mo Zhen leaned back in his seat, one leg crossed lazily over the other.
"You sang," he said simply. "And you bled through every note. That caught my attention."
Ruoxi stared at him, her lips parting.
"You spent 200 million yuan because I sang?"
He chuckled.
It wasn't a kind sound.
"I spent 200 million yuan because I hate sharing," he said. "You were about to be torn apart by wolves. I bought you so no one else could."
He tilted his head.
"You should be thanking me."
Her nails dug into her palm.
"I don't belong to you."
Wrong words.
The temperature in the room dropped instantly.
Mo Zhen stood slowly, each movement measured — a predator descending from the shadows.
He walked toward her, and with each step, she felt her spine straighten, her lungs tighten.
"You were sold, Ruoxi," he said softly. "That means someone already gave you away."
He stopped just inches from her, tilting her chin up with two fingers.
His touch was cold, but his gaze burned.
"I'm simply the one who paid the highest price."
Her breath hitched.
"I didn't ask for this."
"No one ever does," he murmured.
He dropped his hand.
Turned.
And gestured to a glass table in the corner, where a sleek folder lay waiting.
"A contract," he said. "Standard terms. One year. You stay with me. You sing for me. You do as I say. I provide shelter, protection, comfort. In return, you never disobey."
Her blood turned to ice.
"One year?"
He didn't look at her as he poured himself a drink.
"You're lucky I'm generous."
"I'm not signing that—"
"You already did," he said without turning. "The moment your family handed you over, the contract was activated. Legal guardianship. Ownership rights. All transferred."
She staggered back, the room spinning.
This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.
"You're lying."
"Am I?"
He turned finally, sipping his drink with an infuriating calm.
"Your stepmother signed it. Your father agreed. You were traded for a promise — a favor — for your little sister's rise to fame."
Ruoxi's knees gave way.
She collapsed onto the nearest couch, her head spinning, nausea crawling up her throat.
They'd really done it.
They'd sold her. All of her. Without a second thought.
Mo Zhen said nothing — just watched her.
Not with sympathy.
But with curiosity.
Like watching a bird realize its wings had been clipped.
---
He moved to stand beside her, offering the untouched glass of water on the table.
She didn't take it.
"Why me?" she whispered, hollow. "There are hundreds of girls in this city. Why not pick one who wanted to be owned?"
Mo Zhen's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Because none of them look at me the way you do."
She looked up sharply.
"How do I look at you?"
He crouched beside her, voice low and intimate.
"Like I'm the monster under your bed."
She swallowed hard, unable to respond.
Then he leaned closer, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.
"I like that."
His words slid over her skin like silk dipped in venom.
He stood again and nodded toward the door.
"Clean yourself up. You'll be staying at my villa. The car is waiting."
Ruoxi didn't move.
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
Mo Zhen's smile faded.
He walked back toward her, unhurried, then leaned down, his voice quiet but dangerous.
"You can walk, Ruoxi."
His eyes gleamed.
"Or I can carry you."
The room pulsed with tension.
Finally, after a long silence, she stood on trembling legs.
And walked out the door.
Not because she obeyed him.
But because there was nowhere else to go.
---
Outside, the rain had softened to a mist, and the city no longer looked like home.
A sleek black car waited at the curb.
Ruoxi slid into the back seat, silent, drenched in fear and confusion.
Mo Zhen joined her moments later, settling beside her like a shadow that refused to leave.
As the car pulled away from The Red Lotus, she turned her head to the window — the lights fading behind them like a dying memory.
She didn't know what lay ahead.
She only knew she had just traded one hell for another.
And the devil sitting beside her?
Smelled like danger.
And temptation.