Chapter 3
Chapter 3
The low room’s earthen door opened and closed.
No daylight could be seen, blurring all sense of time. The only thing that changed was the different man who came in each time.
It had to end eventually.
The sun would set. People had to eat. Social creatures couldn’t possibly have such intense, unflagging urges to reproduce.
The body I had finally managed to regain control over went numb again.
I didn’t know who turned me over. A callused palm pressed down on my bare back.
My waist was trampled into the dust. The reek of filth and mildew pressed against my cheek and forced its way into my nose.
Hunger and thirst replaced shame and humiliation, battering every sense this body had.
The man on top of me seemed to curse.
The weight on my back suddenly lifted.
After that, the madam, who had never once stepped through the door, finally entered this cramped space.
“What are you playing dead for?”
“You still think you’re some untouched maiden from a decent family?”
She clearly had no intention of giving me any chance to speak. She simply vented all her fury and resentment.
“Buying you was the worst loss I’ve ever taken. Some noble girl who fled the Capital? I spent three qian of silver on you, and you expect me to keep feeding you for nothing?”
“A used-up thing like you, and now you’re putting on airs like some young lady? You think this is still your home? Clothes don’t cost money? This room is free for you to live in? You’ve taken a few customers in one day and now you’re giving me that face?”
“Other families raise daughters who do everything they can to bring in silver. And you? I have to lose money, smile, and beg people to come take care of your business, and you still think you can climb over my head and act like a fine lady.”
The woman’s short, thick fingers jabbed hard into my forehead, then pinched me several times in places hidden from sight.
“If anyone comes out tomorrow and tells me you’re no good again, you won’t even get food.”
The warm texture of wood rubbed against my fingertips.
The flickering candlelight dispersed a thread of the night’s chill.
The madam was still beside me, rambling on and on, cursing about how she had spent so much money rescuing me from those thugs, and how kindhearted she had been to bring me home and give me a roof over my head so I wouldn’t end up on the streets.
The man who had been following her around before had gone somewhere unknown.
Her fat body took up most of the already narrow earthen bed.
In this cramped little space, there were only the two of us.
A voice screamed inside me: Kill her. Escape.
Perhaps this was the chance at life I had waited so desperately for.
Heat steamed through my clothes, like a spark ignited in winter.
Something flared up with a whoosh.
Flames swept through my entire body, dragging up a long-dormant roar from my blood. My fingers tightened around the wooden hairpin, and my vision, blurred for so long, suddenly became clear.
Then I failed again.
A whole day without food or water had already drained every bit of strength from this body.
The sharp wooden point only had time to leave a harmless bloody scratch across the old madam’s face.
She caught my wrist with ease.
“Little bitch. I knew you wouldn’t behave.”
The expected torrent of abuse arrived, followed right on time by fists and kicks.
This time, I didn’t even get to wait until I stopped breathing before she rolled me up in a straw mat and threw me into the mass grave.
The feeling of wild dogs tearing at flesh really did hurt.
Pale moonlight shone over the lifeless body.
Tch. What an ugly way to die.