One day, a friend switched shifts with me, and I ended up performing three times in a row. By the time I stepped off the stage, my legs felt like they belonged to someone else. I rushed back to the dressing room, desperate to collapse into bed. Just as I was about to push the door open, my sister Xiaotao grabbed me, her eyes twinkling with mystery. “You have a guest,” she said, barely containing a smile, “It’s a woman!”
“Ah?” I wiped sweat off haphazardly, retracting my hand from the door handle, taking a moment to compose myself. The guests at Heaven were as varied as could be. While some of my friends were particularly popular with female guests, none had shown interest in me. I gave Xiaotao a wry look, recalling some advice on how to serve the same sex, and opened the door with determination.
One of the things life here has taught me is: resist what you can, accept what you can’t, and do so with a smile.
A middle-aged noblewoman sat before the vanity, her presence making our chaotic room of costumes, underwear, and cosmetics seem like a noble venue. Her features weren’t particularly striking, dressed in a simple black suit with just a pearl necklace. She had an imposing aura, and I couldn’t help but lower my gaze after a quick glance, feeling as if I had done something wrong. The room was quiet, and I felt nervous. She seemed to chuckle softly, then slowly stood up and approached me. A well-manicured hand, with two slender fingers painted in bright red nail polish, lifted my chin. My scalp tingled as I was forced to look at her. She smiled, but her eyes were cold, scanning my face disdainfully.
“You’re Tang Xiaofu?” she asked slowly, her voice surprisingly hoarse, even unpleasant. I nodded. Her smile widened, the irony more pronounced. “Sit down,” she gestured, seating herself first, “I have a deal to make with you.” I sat opposite her, my mind racing.
“A deal?” Although everything here was transactional, I would have preferred she told me what position she liked. She scrutinized me for a moment longer, then slowly pulled out a document from her black bag and handed it to me. I flipped through it; the content might as well have been written in hieroglyphics for all I understood. She probably anticipated my reaction, clasping her hands on her knees.
