My name is Tang Xiaofu, I’m 23 years old, and I’ve been at Heaven and Earth for five years. But don’t get me wrong, I’m nowhere near the level of the four beauties, the seven fairies, or the twelve beauties. I’m just a performer in the dance division, a Kang Kang dancer, flipping my skirt in blinding lights akin to prison searchlights day and night. I’ve been here for five years, always wanting to leave, but I don’t know where I could go. I’ve had only a handful of years of schooling. I heard that the least of the four beauties, Feifei, graduated from the most prestigious academy in M Country. This, perhaps, is the difference between heaven and earth.
So, when my best friend whispered that I was three parts prettier than Hongyi, one of the Seven Fairies known for her face, I just laughed it off. A woman’s youth is fleeting, and even the most beautiful will age. Besides, beauty is subjective. I truly don’t see myself as particularly beautiful, but keeping a low profile is best. After removing my thick stage makeup, I wear thick-framed glasses, which, along with my messy short hair, are quite effective.
Entering Heaven means you implicitly agree to sell anything. Aside from those with explicit price tags, whether you’re a dancer, singer, server, manager, cleaner, security, male or female, young or old, if a guest wants you, your department manager will negotiate with you. It’s best to agree; if you don’t, they’ll find ways to make you, rarely resorting to force. They’ll dig into your past and use your greatest desires, the people you care about most, or what you most want to do to tempt you into a deal. In my 1800 days here, I’ve yet to see them fail to get what they want or pull someone into their schemes.
I am fortunate that few people take a fancy to me; I can count them on one hand. Each time, I readily agree, showing an eager demeanor, never making the manager worry. My only condition is never to be with the same person twice. Somehow, they’ve always managed this.
