The sky that day was particularly overcast.

In Room 308 of the Shangyue Hotel, the lights were off, and music drifted softly through the air. Guan Ling leaned against the window, bending down to peel off her black silk stockings.

She knew exactly how to undress with maximum allure.

Slowly, little by little, they slid down, revealing smooth, creamy-white skin. Her movements were so unhurried that it made one’s heart race with impatience — an almost irresistible urge to just reach out and tear them away.

Once the stockings were off, her long, slender legs laid bare, Guan Ling carefully raised her eyes and glanced toward the man standing in the dim grey light near the doorway.

She studied his face, his expression, trying to read whether he was pleased.

The man’s expression hadn’t shifted even slightly. The side profile of his face was defined and deep-set, his lips pressed lightly together, carrying an air of cool indifference.

Guan Ling bit her lip and crawled onto the bed, swaying her hips. Her movements were so sensual they could make the blood run hot.

She reached back to unzip her skirt, pulling it halfway down, when the man’s hand covered hers.

His palm was much larger than hers. When it pressed against Guan Ling’s waist, there was a faint warmth that seeped through the fabric and onto her skin like a brand. Her breathing suddenly fell apart.

She turned her hand to touch his face, her eyes hazy with longing, rubbing her back against his body. “Cheng-ge.”

She tried to entice him further, sliding her hand down to his lower abdomen.

But then, swiftly, the zipper was pulled back up. Jiang Cheng tugged the hem of her skirt back into place, covering her, and gave the top of her head two gentle pats — the way one might soothe a small child.

Guan Ling’s face went pale.

Jiang Cheng stepped back, leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his lips, smoking in silence. The thick smell of tobacco drifted through the room. He said nothing, and Guan Ling didn’t dare speak either. She sat on the edge of the bed, struggling to bear the heavy, suffocating silence.

Finally, Jiang Cheng’s voice came out low. He asked, “You called me here just for this?”

“Is that not allowed?” She felt dangerously close to tears.

Jiang Cheng gave a quiet laugh. “No. It’s not.”

Guan Ling refused to give up. She stood and grabbed his hand, pressing it against her chest, as though desperately trying to prove something.

Her eyes reddened as she looked at him. “Why? Why won’t you have me? You said — you said you were my man.”

Two years ago, Jiang Cheng had taken her out to the shopping mall. They hadn’t expected to run into a former client.

The man had once tried to keep her as a mistress. She had refused, turning him down many times, which had wounded his pride badly enough that he struck her hard across the face — and after that, he never came looking for her again.

That day, by chance, the man spotted her walking alongside Jiang Cheng. He deliberately stepped forward to provoke, saying in front of Jiang Cheng that she was filthy, that she had risen to the top of her profession in the world’s oldest trade.

Before he could even finish his tirade, a heavy shopping bag came crashing into his face with a resounding smack. It was Jiang Cheng who had done it. He stepped in front of her, cold eyes steady, his broad shoulders and long legs making him seem as immovable as a mountain, placing himself between her and the other man.

“Get lost,” he warned.

The man pressed a hand to his cut eye corner and snarled, “Who the hell are you?”

Anyone else would have recoiled from a woman like her. But Jiang Cheng had stepped forward.

He tilted his chin up — arrogant and unyielding — and said, “Her man.”

Guan Ling’s eyes were burning red. Every time she thought of it, she couldn’t stop her lips from trembling.

She was like a broken toy dug out from a rubbish heap. Jiang Cheng had turned everything upside down to find her, then reached out his hand and, without even meaning to, curled his fingers gently around her heart — and only then did Guan Ling suddenly understand that she was still alive.

She held him tightly, tears falling without end. “Cheng-ge, you know I care for you. As long as you’re willing to have me, I’ll live whatever kind of life comes with that. I’ll stay with you my whole life…”

“Guan Ling.”

Jiang Cheng’s voice was very quiet. No anger could be heard in it — yet that single utterance was enough to stop her cold.

He took the opening, gripped her shoulders, and gently pushed her back. He wanted to scold her, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he exhaled, and asked, “Are you being foolish?”

Guan Ling’s expression crumpled further. She drifted back to the edge of the bed as though her soul had left her body.

“Is it because you think I’m dirty?”

Jiang Cheng gave a quiet laugh and continued smoking. “What kind of good man do you take me for, to be putting on airs like that?”

He seemed to find the whole topic irritating. He ran a hand absently through his dishevelled hair, stubbed out the cigarette, and said to her, “Alright. Don’t do this again.”

He turned to leave. When he was nearly at the door, Guan Ling called out suddenly, “Wait!”

Guan Ling pressed her lips together, and dug through her bag until she produced a house key. Dangling from it was a small, chubby penguin-shaped keychain. She unclipped it and pressed it firmly into Jiang Cheng’s hand.

“This is my good luck charm.”

Jiang Cheng glanced at the penguin’s plump, round belly and offered his verdict: “Your good luck charm doesn’t look like much.”

He was joking, but Guan Ling was completely serious. “Something I give you, you can’t throw away.”

Seeing how much it mattered to her, Jiang Cheng reined in his playful expression, folded his fingers around it, and gave her his solemn word: “Alright.”

After he left, only a faint trace of cigarette smoke lingered in the hotel room. Guan Ling lay on the bed, mind wandering to some unknown place, her tears sliding sideways across her face, soaking the pillow.

Darkness settled in gradually. A phone ringing jolted her out of sleep — the screen showed no caller ID, and only once she answered did she realise it was Huang Song.

Huang Song asked, “Sis, you’re not home?”

Guan Ling: “Mm.”

Huang Song said, “The driver’s already here, but he still needs to pick someone up on the Tonghe side and can’t wait too long. I’ve already loaded your suitcase into the car.”

Guan Ling took a moment to process it, and couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “Lai San really let me go?”

“Really,” said Huang Song. “But Brother Lai says you need to bring along what he’s after. You’ll meet up in Tonghe — only once he has it in hand will he put you in the car.”

He paused, then lowered his voice to continue, “Brother Lai told me to warn you — don’t try anything clever.”

Guan Ling gave a scornful laugh, her face twisted with contempt. “Is there actually something Lai Zhengtian is afraid of?”

Huang Song asked, “Just what kind of leverage do you have on him?”

Guan Ling replied, “The less you know, the better.”

Huang Song let out a quiet “oh.” After a moment, he sighed, long and slow, and said: “Truth be told, I’m going to miss you. Out of all these people, you’re the second person who ever genuinely cared about me.”

Guan Ling gave a soft laugh. “You called me ‘sis’ — looking out for you was only right. I’m leaving soon. Let me nag you one last time before I go…”

“Study hard, stay in school, stop running around with Brother Lai…” He drew the words out in an exaggerated drawl, as though his ears had grown calluses from hearing it. “How many times have you said all that already?”

Guan Ling said, “That’s not what I was going to say.”

Huang Song said, “Then what?”

Guan Ling pulled her knees to her chest on the bed, glanced out at the pitch-black sky beyond the window, and said, “Be good to your mother.”

Huang Song: “……”

Guan Ling said, “I miss my mother. If she were still alive and knew everything I’d been through, it would have broken her heart.”

Huang Song: “Sis?”

Guan Ling sniffled, dabbing at the corner of her eye, then let a light smile return to her lips. “But she must have been watching over me from heaven — otherwise I never would have had the good luck to meet Jiang Cheng…”

“Did you say goodbye to Cheng-ge?”

“No.” Guan Ling said. “He doesn’t say it aloud, but I know too. My body’s been through too much. I’m not worthy of him.”

“…That’s not true at all.” Huang Song offered the dry, clumsy comfort he could manage.

“Jiang Cheng will go on to better things. I won’t stand in his way. Huang Mao — men like Lai San don’t last. Sooner or later, they bring everything crashing down around them. You’d do far better following Cheng-ge than trailing after him.” Guan Ling urged quietly, “Keep what I’ve said close to your heart.”

Huang Song nodded vaguely, brushing it off with easy nonchalance. “Alright, alright — see you in Tonghe.”