The rain came down in sheets, blurring the neon lights of the city into bleeding colors across the cracked windshield.
Liang Ruoxi huddled in the back seat, the cheap fabric of her borrowed dress clinging to her soaked skin, her delicate hands clenched tightly around a small bundle — all she had left in the world.
Her stepmother's voice still rang in her ears, sharp and mocking:
"You were born for this, Ruoxi. With that face, at least you're good for something. Don't worry, your sister will thank you when she's a star."
She had cried, she had begged.
But they hadn't listened.
They had driven her like livestock, the car rattling with every bump, heading to a place she had never heard of until tonight: The Red Lotus.
A place whispered about in drunken parties and backroom deals — an exclusive underground bar where beauty was currency and freedom was auctioned to the highest bidder.
Ruoxi pressed her forehead against the cold window, the city lights passing like dying stars.
A storm raged outside, but inside her chest, it was a worse hurricane.
Her family had abandoned her, sold her like a commodity.
No one would come for her.
No one would save her.
Tonight, she would become something less than human.
---
The car screeched to a halt in front of a dilapidated building that seemed forgotten by time.
A towering figure in a black coat waited by the entrance, barely glancing at her as the driver shoved open the door.
"Out."
Ruoxi staggered onto the slippery pavement, her heels catching in a crack.
The cold wind tore through the thin fabric of her dress.
She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, heart hammering in terror.
Before she could protest, a heavy hand clamped down on her arm and dragged her toward a side door, far from the main entrance.
They bypassed the empty hotel lobby, heading straight for a hidden elevator guarded by another man in black.
A metallic ding echoed, and the elevator doors swallowed her whole.
Down, down, down they descended — into the underworld.
---
The Red Lotus was nothing like she imagined.
It was worse.
The air was thick with expensive perfume, whiskey, and the bitter edge of desperation.
A sea of velvet, silk, and gold stretched before her eyes — the richest of the rich lounging on leather chairs, sipping rare liquors as they watched performers dance and sing on a circular stage bathed in low red light.
Soft music played in the background — haunting and slow — as masked women moved between the tables like living dreams.
Ruoxi clutched the thin shawl around her shoulders, shrinking under the weight of hundreds of predatory gazes.
"Fresh meat," she heard a woman whisper behind her.
"The boss will make a fortune tonight."
Her heart thudded painfully.
Her stomach twisted into knots.
A woman approached — severe, dressed in black, clipboard in hand.
"You must be the new girl."
Her tone was brisk, emotionless, as if Ruoxi were no different than the glasses lined up at the bar.
Without waiting for a response, the woman shoved a mask into Ruoxi's hands — a delicate thing made of crystal, shimmering faintly in the dim light.
"Put this on. You go on after the next performer. Number 17."
She pinned a small silver badge onto the side of Ruoxi's dress. The numbers gleamed like a death sentence.
"You don't talk. You don't run. You sing. And after that..."
The woman smirked coldly.
"...you belong to whoever pays the most."
Ruoxi's fingers trembled as she fastened the mask over her face, her reflection catching briefly in a gilded mirror nearby.
She barely recognized herself.
---
In the shadows of the highest balcony, hidden from the common crowd, Mo Zhen leaned back into his seat, a crystal glass of dark liquor balanced between his fingers.
The reunion had been tedious — business partners, old friends, future enemies all pretending to toast their golden youth.
He was bored.
There were three things Mo Zhen despised: wasting time, weakness, and women who thought they could cling to him.
Tonight had been meant for distraction.
Instead, he found himself irritated, restless.
His dark eyes scanned the room lazily, unimpressed by the simpering smiles and painted faces below.
"Same old, same old."
Nothing stirred even a flicker of interest.
Until he saw her.
---
Ruoxi stepped onto the stage, trembling under the weight of a hundred unseen gazes.
Her heart pounded so hard it felt as if it would burst through her ribs.
The white silk of her dress floated around her ankles like mist.
Her crystal mask glittered under the soft red lights.
For a moment, silence fell over the bar — a rare, breathless silence.
Ruoxi closed her eyes.
She had no choice but to sing.
If she refused, if she fled...
She had no illusions about what would happen to her.
So she took a deep breath and let the music take her.
---
Her voice was like nothing the room had ever heard.
It was pure — achingly pure — a sharp, heartbreaking contrast to the filth that surrounded her.
Soft yet powerful, filled with the kind of raw innocence that could rip a man's soul apart.
It wasn't just beauty.
It was tragedy.
Hope clinging to life in a place where it had long since died.
Men leaned forward.
Women stilled their chatter.
Even the seasoned auctioneers behind their glowing tablets faltered, unsure how to price a treasure they had never encountered before.
Up in his private balcony, Mo Zhen's fingers tightened around his glass.
The boredom that had plagued him all night evaporated.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from her.
Who was she?
How had something so clean, so heartbreakingly untouched, ended up in a place like this?
She finished her song — a long, aching final note that trembled into silence.
And the room exploded.
Offers came pouring in through the encrypted tablets — obscene amounts of money flashing on the side screens behind the stage.
10 million.
20 million.
35 million.
For a one-night contract.
The numbers kept rising.
Mo Zhen's jaw tightened.
Something primitive and possessive flared inside him, a dark heat he hadn't felt in years.
She was not for them.
He set his drink down.
Cold, calculating, he typed a single number into his encrypted device.
And when it flashed onto the screen behind the stage, the entire room went silent.
200 million yuan.
One number.
One command.
Everyone else backed off instantly, recognizing the warning for what it was.
At the bar, the manager — a sweaty man with gold rings — paled, almost dropping his tablet.
The auctioneer stammered into the microphone, "S-Sold... to VIP Room One."
Ruoxi stood frozen on the stage, her mind a blank canvas.
She barely registered the heavy hands that came to lead her offstage.
She didn't notice the furious, jealous glances thrown her way.
All she knew was that she had been bought.
At a price higher than her life had ever been worth.
---
In the private balcony, Mo Zhen watched as she was led toward him, his expression unreadable.
He hadn't meant to involve himself tonight.
But when fate dropped a fallen angel into a nest of vipers...
How could the devil resist?
He sipped his drink, watching her every trembling step.
Tonight, she was his.
But she didn't know yet...
That he wasn't the kind of man to ever let go of what he claimed.
No matter what.