Chapter 2

After ten months of pregnancy, my mother gave birth to me. When she saw that I was not a boy, disappointment crossed her face.

It was not because she valued sons over daughters. If I had been a boy, that man would surely have taken me away and delivered me from this pit of misery.

But I was a girl. That meant I could only become another of Madam Huang’s future money trees, destined to lie beneath a thousand men.

My mother had been sold to Springview House, so the daughter she bore belonged to Springview House as well.

I lived there until I was five. My mother forbade me from going to the front rooms and allowed me to play only in the rear courtyard.

I was too young to understand. Whenever she went to receive clients, I would sneak to the front and spy on the beautiful women there.

All they had to do was laugh and flirt, and men would go mad, stuffing banknotes down their bodices.

I envied them terribly. At home, I dressed myself up and imitated the way they spoke and moved.

One day, my mother caught me. She nearly broke down.

It was the first time she ever struck me. She beat me until I wailed.

Then she began striking herself, slapping her own face again and again. Blood ran from the corner of her mouth, but she paid it no mind. She only muttered, “Your mother is useless. Your mother is filthy. I have failed you…”

I was too little to understand. All I could do was wrap my clumsy arms around her. “Yuan’er was wrong. Yuan’er was wrong. I promise I’ll change. Mother, please don’t hit yourself…”

Mother and daughter clung to each other and wept.

After that, I never dared imitate those women again.

My mother later rented a small courtyard beside Springview House and moved me there.

Madam Huang did not interfere. As long as my mother paid enough silver, she pretended not to see.

My mother had once drawn certain lines with her clients. From that day onward, however, she began accepting men she would previously have refused—regardless of age, birth, or appearance.

If they paid enough, she accepted them.

The more silver she earned, the thinner she grew.

Once, I happened to see her changing. Her back was covered in dark bruises shaped like a man’s footprints, marks that could only have come from vicious, full-force kicks.

Scattered among the bruises were burns left by the bowl of a smoking pipe.

The sight was horrifying.

I held her and sobbed until my face was drenched. I was not a fool. I knew what those wounds meant.

My mother hugged me close and soothed me softly. “It doesn’t hurt. Mother is fine. Yuan’er, you just grow up well. When I have saved enough silver, I will buy your freedom. Then you can marry an ordinary farmer, and the two of you can live an ordinary life together…”