Chapter 3

The event wrapped up quickly.

As Yun Chun stepped down from the stage and headed toward the dressing room, her gaze drifted toward Qin Xing in the distance, who was chatting with someone. Once that person left, Yun Chun seized the moment and hurried over to Qin Xing’s side. “Sister Xing, let me treat you to dinner.”

Qin Xing was applying dark red lipstick, her expression somewhat gloomy. She cut straight to the point regarding Yun Chun’s intentions. “Skip the treat—it’ll save you some money. Don’t worry; there’ll be a next time, and I’ll call you.”

Yun Chun smiled. “Come on, Sister Xing, what are you saying? I just genuinely want to take you out for a meal~” Without any hesitation, she added, “You’re being so generous, so I have to treat you. Otherwise, it’ll weigh on my conscience.”

Qin Xing raised an eyebrow. “Do you have enough from your event fee to cover me?”

Yun Chun replied, “I didn’t take on this gig for the money.”

All her side hustles were for earning cash, but modeling was the exception. Even if it didn’t pay, as long as it let her hit the stage, she was willing.

Her words made Qin Xing pause mid-step. She stopped and looked at Yun Chun.

When Qin Xing had first met Yun Chun, the latter was just starting to get suppressed by industry bigwigs. In the two years since, Yun Chun had only worked as a model a handful of times. Qin Xing wasn’t sure how long Yun Chun could hold onto that mindset, but she truly admired the spirit of perseverance for her dreams.

With a slight arch of her brow, Qin Xing’s voice took on a cooler tone. “I’m not using you so you can buy me dinner.”

The emotion in Yun Chun’s eyes went blank for a couple of seconds before quickly returning to normal. Towering half a head taller than Qin Xing, the lanky woman leaned in and draped herself over Qin Xing’s shoulder. “Woo… that’s so touching… I could almost repay you with my body.”

Qin Xing: “…”

Qin Xing: “Get lost.”

She rarely swore these days.

Yet Yun Chun always managed to get under her skin.

Yun Chun promptly slid off Qin Xing’s shoulder and nodded with a grin. “You got it.”

Qin Xing: “…”

As she turned to leave, Qin Xing called out to her. After a moment’s pause, she asked, “How much longer can you keep this up?”

Yun Chun’s narrow eyes curved upward at the corners. After a beat, she shrugged indifferently. “Who knows what the future holds? For now, I’m still holding onto my original passion.”

Qin Xing’s lips quirked faintly at the corners. Without a word, she waved Yun Chun off, signaling that she could go.

Yun Chun didn’t linger. She returned to the dressing room, changed out of her outfit, shoved her hands in her pockets, and strolled back to where she’d parked her bike.

Lucky for her, the bike hadn’t been stolen.

That was about the extent of her luck—small mercies here and there. On the big stuff… Yun Chun pulled out her phone, scanned the bike to unlock it, and pedaled toward home.

Her KTV gig didn’t start until five that afternoon, so she didn’t need to rush like she had on the way there.

Yun Chun’s slender frame wove through the tree-shadowed asphalt streets on her bicycle.

The breeze kicked up by her ride brushed against her face, warm and soothing. A playful gust swirled around, slipping past her defenses and stirring up Qin Xing’s earlier question in her heart.

How much longer could she keep going?

Yun Chun’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes narrowing.

She truly didn’t know.

She didn’t dare make predictions about the future.

At fifteen, she never imagined her mother would be diagnosed with cancer the following year. At sixteen, she had to drop out of school and start working odd jobs, scraping together every penny for medical bills. But after three months of labor, all she’d earned could barely cover her mother’s hospital infusions. She refused to give up. Just as she planned to pick up extra shifts and scrounge more for treatment, her mother’s condition took a dire turn. An hour after being wheeled into the ICU, the woman who’d endured a lifetime of hardship summoned her last strength and yanked out her own oxygen tube.

That woman, who’d suffered her whole life, departed in suffering too.

In the second before picking up the hospital’s call, Yun Chun had no idea what awaited her.

In the end, she used her earnings to give her mother a decent funeral back home.

Once it was over, she left her hometown for good.

With her mother alive, it had been a home. Without her, with only her grave remaining, it was just a hometown.

Aside from Qingming and the anniversary of her death, Yun Chun never returned.

She never went back to school either. Her grades had always been average—middle of the pack. She knew she wasn’t cut out for academics. A few more years of study wouldn’t beat jumping into the workforce early and earning real money. After that ordeal, Yun Chun understood that money was the most important thing in the world. Without it, you were nothing. Even if she wanted to return to school, she couldn’t—no one would pay her tuition. Her father… he’d remarried not long after her mother’s death, so Yun Chun had cut ties with him.

Being underage, only a few restaurants would hire her, so she waited tables.

The next unforeseeable twist came a year into waitressing, when a man happened to dine at the restaurant. Throughout his meal, his eyes stayed fixed on Yun Chun.

She was used to such stares—plenty of customers gave her those looks, and some drunks even groped her.

But this time was different. After finishing his food, the man handed her a business card and said in a straightforward tone, “You’ve got great proportions. Interested in modeling? Give me a call if you are.”

That card was crucial to Yun Chun becoming a model.

At first, she had no interest in the industry and nearly tossed the card. But then the man said something that changed her mind in an instant. “Modeling pays dozens of times what waiting tables does.”

Yun Chun went back to the staff dorm that night. After one night of thought, she called him the next morning.

She needed money.

Even without her mother, she needed to earn a ton of it.

She knew no amount could bring her back, but she just wanted to make money—piles of it.

Perhaps… to make up for the regret of not earning enough for surgery, forcing her mother to end it all on her own.

So after her mother’s death, Yun Chun hustled relentlessly for cash.

She knew it was an obsession, a sickness in her heart, but she couldn’t shake it.

Becoming a model introduced her to the thrill of real earnings.

The man hadn’t lied—modeling brought in dozens of times what she’d made slinging plates.

She worked nonstop: shoots, magazines, runway shows. In just three months, she earned back what would’ve been the astronomical surgery cost for her mother.

That night, staring at her balance, her mind replayed images of her mother in the hospital bed.

She’d made the money, but joy eluded her.

There was an emptiness no cash could fill.

Modeling had become her white moonlight—her shining ideal.

Even under suppression, even if it no longer paid and she had to shell out to walk a stage, Yun Chun never considered quitting.

She was grateful to the profession.

The job was great; the industry was a toxic stew riddled with filth and rot.

Whether you swallowed the bad bits depended on your luck.

The third unpredictable future came when the man who’d signed her got married and moved abroad, resigning.

His replacement was well-known in the business, having groomed a few promising models.

The old boss had been Yun Chun’s little stroke of luck, training her for a year and propelling her to stardom. He was a decent guy too, treating her like a little sister, so she’d been somewhat shielded from the industry’s underbelly that year.

But two months after the new boss arrived, Yun Chun got a firsthand look at how dirty it all was.

A few models who’d previously lagged behind her spent just an hour in his office. When they emerged, gigs that had been lined up for Yun Chun were divvied up among them.

It kept happening over the next few days.

Yun Chun was burned out by then anyway and needed a break, so she didn’t react.

She didn’t care, but others grew impatient.

The new boss summoned her to his office. “Yun Chun, I really admire you. If you put in the effort, you’d go even further than you are now. But you don’t seem all that invested in your career.”

He’d reassigned all her resources, waiting for her to come begging. Yun Chun hadn’t budged.

It frustrated the man, who’d had his eye on her from day one.

Hearing this, Yun Chun masked her disgust and smiled. “Boss, didn’t you hand my jobs over to them?”

“Those were small fries—let them have ’em.” He lit a cigarette, his gaze roving shamelessly over her body. “I’ve lined up a big one for you!”

Yun Chun: “Oh?”

The man exhaled a plume of smoke. “An international fashion show. What do you say?”

Yun Chun lowered her eyes. It was high-fashion territory she’d never touched—irresistible to someone who appeared as driven as she did.

Like a poisoned apple from a witch, dripping with temptation.

The man fell silent after, waiting for her answer.

About ten minutes passed. Then Yun Chun looked up, flashing him a charming smile. “Thanks in advance, then, Boss.”

A smug look crossed his face.

He’d thought she was so proud, so tough to crack. Turns out she was just another fame-chaser, easy to handle.

Emboldened, his lustful stare grew overt as he lowered his voice. “How will you thank me?”

Yun Chun approached the desk, leaning in slightly. Her slender fingers hooked his tie and tugged gently, drawing him close. “Wait for my message, Boss~”

He reached for her hand, but she released the tie first.

He figured she was playing hard to get.

Since she’d agreed, he wasn’t in a rush. He just added, “Lili wants in too, so… you’d better thank me soon.”

Lili was the first one to hook up with him after he arrived. That day, emerging from his office, Lili had strutted right up to Yun Chun, flaunting it.

Yun Chun gave a seductive smile. “Tonight it is.”

That night, Yun Chun booked a suite at a certain hotel and sent the room number to the man.

Before that, Yun Chun had also sent the room number to the Lili the man had mentioned—and to the man’s wife.

The process was simple. When the man arrived at the room and opened the door, he saw Lili emerging from the bathroom. His wife rushed over right then and caught the scene. She marched straight up and slapped him twice across the face.

Yun Chun sat in the adjacent room, watching the feed from the pinhole camera she had planted next door on her computer screen.

The next fifteen minutes were quite the spectacle. Yun Chun munched on sunflower seeds as she watched the wife beat the man with her bare hands.

The man didn’t dare fight back. After all, he was just a kept man who had made his fortune riding the woman’s coattails.

Once the three of them had left, Yun Chun clapped her hands to shake off the seed shells. She packed up her computer, slipped on her high heels, and headed next door to retrieve the camera.

Later…

For some reason, the man’s wife never divorced him. Yun Chun ended up on the receiving end of his grudge because of the incident. He had wanted revenge, but she informed him that she had video of him getting thrashed for a full fifteen minutes.

Her contract hadn’t expired yet, so exposing her wouldn’t do him any favors. That was why she had come up with this plan. It didn’t let her escape unscathed, but at least it kept her from being sexually harassed.

At first, the man didn’t believe her. So Yun Chun contacted the media and leaked a photo from when he had been caught in the act. She had blurred out the two women, leaving only the man’s face clearly visible.

A photo like that could be smoothed over with some public relations work, but it convinced the man that Yun Chun had hard evidence. He didn’t dare cause her any more trouble for the time being and simply shelved her instead.

What grated on him the most was what happened the day he tracked her down. He had intended to beat her, but Yun Chun kicked him squarely in the groin. The sharp point of her high heel stabbed like a sword, leaving him unable to stand. As he tried to threaten her, she pulled out her evidence and turned the tables.

And just like that, Yun Chun lost her job.

…

The car pulled up to the spot where street sweepers would pass in the morning. Yun Chun didn’t head home. Instead, she went to the market.

To save money, she cooked all her own meals and rarely ate out unless it was necessary.

A few bucks’ worth of vegetables could last her several meals, and a small bowl of rice would tide her over for the day. All told, her daily food costs never exceeded fifty yuan.

The apartment she rented was in an undeveloped old district, and since it was rundown, the rent was dirt cheap.

She bought her groceries, returned home, cooked, and ate.

After tidying up a bit, Yun Chun lay down on the bed.

A strange sensation crept over her the moment she settled onto the bed.

This eerie feeling of being watched had persisted for days now.

Yet Yun Chun had checked everywhere inside and out countless times. There were no odd holes in the walls, no hidden cameras—and she had even curtained off the balcony that adjoined her neighbors’.

But the sensation didn’t fade. If anything, it grew stronger now that the room was dark.

Yun Chun was fed up.

It was nearly time for work, so she simply got out of bed, freshened up, and prepared to head out.

There was a sofa by the bedroom door that Yun Chun used to pile her clothes on. What she didn’t notice was that as she brushed past it, one of the garments snagged and began to fall—only to halt midway.

It was as if someone were sitting on the sofa, and the clothes had caught between the cushions and a person’s body.

Once the sound of the front door closing echoed from outside and Yun Chun’s footsteps faded away, the garment slipped free onto the sofa.

Then, as if seized by an invisible hand, it floated up into the air and drifted back to its original spot.