Chapter 1: The Woman in the Mirror
A woman in a black, low-cut lace nightgown that subtly reveals her cleavage, with burgundy curls lazily scattered over her shoulders, her face still flushed with the remnants of makeup, her eyes that were once fervent now cooling down. On the solid wood vanity adorned with European gold-embossed patterns, a small peachwood comb looked particularly shabby amidst the glittering array of jewelry. The woman picked up the comb, which had lost two teeth, and gently combed through her hair.
“Would you just calm down for a moment? You keep looking at yourself in the mirror all day long. Be careful, one day the person in the mirror might jump out and scare you to death!” From the large European-style bed behind her, a man with a stern face and a bare torso leaned against the bed frame adorned with golden floral patterns. The bright yellow brocade quilt was messily draped, thinly covering his lower half. His deep black eyes held a faint smile, and a half-smirk at the corner of his mouth made his cold face suddenly charming, a quintessential specimen of masculinity.
The woman paused her combing, turned her head, her eyes rippling with allure. “Scared, are you? What would you do if another one of me popped out? Could you handle two?” After her teasing words, she set down the peachwood comb, climbed back onto the bed, knelt before the man, and her slender fingers brushed across his chest, circling at his abdomen. “Even if you could chew, could you swallow? Dear, don’t be too greedy!”
Provoked, the man tightened his grip, flipped her over, and entered her fiercely from behind, murmuring, “Can’t swallow, huh? Hmm? I’ll make sure you leave no bone fragments!”
In the room that could rival a European palace, the air was filled with the scent of passion from the luxurious bed. Soft moans and the man’s low growls echoed under the high ceiling. Exhausted, the man lay back, and the woman bowed her head.
“Do you love me?” the man asked.
“Of course, I do!” the woman replied.
“What do you love about me?” he inquired further.
“I love your money!” she answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world, a question he always made sure to remind her of after their intimacy.
Satisfied, the man nodded, picked up his shirt from the bed, and put it on. “I should go.”
“Not staying the night?” The woman threw off the covers, her bare feet touching the cold birch wood floor.
“Not tonight.” By then, the man had already dressed and was pulling on his trousers. “I’ll come see you in a couple of days!” After kissing her forehead, he turned the doorknob and his figure disappeared outside. Two minutes later, a beam of yellow light swept past the window, signaling that his Porsche had driven away.
She rushed into the bathroom, the shower’s strong jets hitting her face and body, washing away the makeup in handfuls. An hour later, wrapped in a towel, she stood in front of the fogged-up mirror. Her fingers traced a horizontal line on the mirror, revealing a thin lip, then a vertical line for a pert nose, two dots for cheeks, and another line for eyebrows and eyes, finally adding a stroke for the shoulder. In the mist on the mirror, she wrote a large character “来” (Come), her face like an incomplete puzzle, fragmented here and there.
Her name was Lai Hui, a kept woman. Her patron was Zhou Yuqian, with whom she had been for five years. She was 26, taken in by him at 21; he was 33, having bought her at 28. It was a clichéd story: she was once a pure, beautiful girl living with her mother, diligent and well-behaved, who got into a prestigious university, had a boyfriend, like in an old movie, those were “sunny days”. But one day, the sun veered off course, her mother fell seriously ill, her boyfriend, though talented, was poor. Faced with dropping out of school and losing her mother, she suddenly saw a narrow beam of light in the darkness. Zhou Yuqian appeared like a deity.
“I’ll take care of your mother’s medical expenses!” He sat elegantly in the sunlight, sipping coffee with an air of nobility.
“Thank you!” She sat in the shadow, drinking plain water, her voice trembling with gratitude.
“I’ll pay for your four years of university tuition!” He grandly tore off a check and smoothly wrote a number.
“Thank you!” She took the check with excitement, giving him a salute of gratitude.
“The condition is…” he continued calmly.
“You must stay with me for five years. Besides the tuition and your mother’s medical expenses, I’ll give you an additional three million and a high-end apartment of 200 square meters in the city center! All this will be yours after five years.” He pulled out a contract, essentially a deed of sale for her.
Her hand clenched; she crumpled the check and threw it at his face. “Go to hell!” She grabbed her bag and strutted out of the café like a proud rooster, her dignity intact. Two minutes later, she returned.
“Decided?” he asked, still calm.
“Remember, if you die, make it ugly!” she said, barely restraining from spitting in his face. Her dignity lasted only two days; on the third, her mother’s condition worsened, and she sold herself to the scumbag!
“It’s a good price, but I hope for a better deal!” She sat elegantly in the sunlight, negotiating over a glass of plain water.
“Five million, a million a year! How does that sound?” He sat lazily in the shadow, sipping coffee with confidence.
“The price is good, but I also want to know about the benefits, like health insurance, social security, retirement plans, and holidays. I demand two days off a week! At least half a month’s vacation annually, and overtime pay!” She counted the benefits on her fingers.
“Everything except the vacation time is fine. I can ensure you have two days off each week, though not necessarily on weekends, and the annual leave will be the same!” After careful consideration, he agreed.
She slapped the table to seal the deal and signed her name “Lai Hui” on the contract with a flourish. From then on, she could no longer come and go as she pleased.
The water droplets slid down the mirror, the character “来” sprouted many branches, becoming blurred. She walked back to the bedroom, sat in front of the gold-embossed vanity mirror, her innocent face still visible, though her eyes were now icy. She picked up the old, yellow-blackened peachwood comb, its teeth broken like the signs of aging, the handle engraved with two lines of small characters filled with dark dust: “Come come Hui Hui, happiness and auspiciousness!”
“Little Hui, peachwood wards off evil. This comb was handmade by your mother. Using this comb will bring you a lifetime of happiness and auspiciousness!”
“Thank you, Mom!” The girl sat in front of the old rosewood-framed mirror, cooing sweetly to her mother.
“Today, help me braid three braids. Xiaolu has two braids, and I want one more than her to see if she still thinks she’s pretty.” The mother lovingly stroked her daughter’s hair, her nimble fingers weaving through the jet-black strands. Soon, the daughter’s head was full of small braids. In the mirror adorned with gilded floral patterns, the woman picked up her red curls, intertwining them strand by strand. After a while, with many small braids hanging on both sides and the back of her head still curly, she couldn’t manage to braid her entire head. Carefully examining her reflection, she now looked like someone who had just escaped from a collapsing asylum wall… Ridiculous, she laughed out loud, her mouth open even wider, resembling it even more. She clutched her stomach, laughing uncontrollably until tears came out… Mom, even if you had a peach wood comb, I wouldn’t be happy and auspicious anymore. Desolation and silence galloped in, freely roaming the room. Her tears fell silently, and she leaned over the vanity to sob loudly.
Chapter 2
