Rose Lock - Chapter 3

Hua Manyi stepped out of the Fenghai (Wind-Sea) Cabaret Hall, turning back to look at the neon-flashing signboard. A strange feeling settled in her heart; it seemed the old madam wasn’t entirely bad, as she hadn’t demanded the 1,000 da yang (silver dollars) from her.

However, even without the debt of 1,000 da yang, her current situation was not much better.

The Hua family was ruined. Her father and mother were detained in Nancheng (South City). Even if she wanted to go to Nancheng, she didn’t have the fare for the boat. For the once-prestigious Hua family to fall to such a state—how absurd.

It started raining again. The rain lashed down on the ground, splashing up and chilling her feet to the bone.

Hua Manyi found a dilapidated temple to shelter in. Rats and cockroaches scurried along the rafters overhead, their squeaking sounds audible everywhere.

She was instinctively repulsed, yet felt she had no right to be.

Approaching dawn, the sky was a dim gray. In her daze, she vaguely heard a sound, and peered through the cracks in the rotten wooden planks.

“Ah… Boss, so tasty, the steamed bun… mmm…” A voice, discernible as a woman’s, echoed from the center of the temple. The girl, whose appearance was obscured, had messy hair. In her hand was a dark, blackened steamed bun, which she chewed on with abandon.

Her eyes were only on the steamed bun.

And astride her was a dirty, dishevelled man, twisting in a disgusting and vile manner.

Perhaps due to the sheer horror of the sight, Hua Manyi’s eyes widened. She clapped a hand over her mouth, a wave of nausea churning in her stomach. But with nothing inside, she dry-retched a few times. Her mind roared, the scene incessantly stimulating her nerves.

“Who’s there?!”

Suddenly, the man heard a sound and shouted towards the hidden spot. This single shout snapped Hua Manyi’s taut nerve. She let out a scream, scrambling out in a panic, and ran towards the back door without a second glance.

She ran and ran, across several streets, until the cold wind hit her throat and she was on the verge of collapsing. Finally, she stopped. Her long hair, covered in fine drizzle that looked like white sugar grains, fell down her back.

Finally unable to move, she crouched in a small alley, rubbing her hands and blowing on them for warmth, her eyes filled with tears, her nose stinging with grief. “Wuu—Daddy… Mummy… Yuan Nai… where are you… I miss you so much…”

The Lantern Festival had just passed. Every household was eating hot, steaming tangyuan (sweet rice dumplings), and the sounds of children playing could even be heard from courtyards. This alley was near her former home. Hua Manyi stopped sobbing, looked around, hugged her chest, and walked out of the alley.

Sure enough, across the main road stood the Hua Residence. But its former grandeur had turned to decay, the white sealing strips a stark mockery of her miserable state.

“Hua Manyi?”

A voice suddenly rang out from the right, startling Hua Manyi greatly. After she got a clear look, she realized the person was somewhat familiar.

“It’s me, Mo Zihao.” A young man in a brown vest, leather shoes, and a slicked-back hairstyle had a spark of surprise in his eyes. However, upon noticing Hua Manyi’s current distressed state, he suppressed the excitement.

Hua Manyi hid her wariness. In middle school, this Mo Zihao used to shamelessly hover around her, often finding excuses to visit her home as a guest.

“Manyi, your family’s matter… I heard about it.” Mo Zihao sighed. It was an explosive piece of news that had rocked the entire Haicheng (Sea City); how could he not have heard?

“You are now…” Mo Zihao trailed off, seemingly struggling to find the right words. “If you don’t mind, I can find you a job.”

Hua Manyi touched her nearly empty stomach. “What kind of job?”

…

In front of a steamed bun stall, Hua Manyi looked at the young man beside her, bit her lip, and awkwardly accepted the meat bun he had bought for her. This was the first time in her life she had experienced such a humiliating situation—it felt even worse than the stories of protagonists in textbooks living under the charity of relatives.

“Mo Zihao, I will pay you back when I have money.” She replied in a muffled voice.

Mo Zihao didn’t seem to mind. They were just a few steamed buns, after all.

“Let’s go. Yuelai Hotel is just ahead. I’m quite familiar with the owner, so helping you get a job there is something I can manage.” Mo Zihao pointed to the hotel not far ahead, a four- or five-story building with a grand, traditional facade and the large, vertically hung signboard reading “Yuelai Hotel” across its upturned eaves.

This was one of the top restaurants in Haicheng. Before the Hua family’s accident, she frequently had someone buy their Chen-style Roast Duck for her.

A black Ford car drove towards them from the opposite road and stopped in front of the Yuelai Hotel. The spectacle wasn’t huge, but the Ford car itself was enough to make many people stop and discuss.

A waiter from the Yuelai Hotel immediately hurried down the steps, greeting them with a deferential smile and flattering words.

A middle-aged man in a long gown and mandarin jacket got out of the driver’s seat. He then walked straight to the back seat and respectfully opened the door. A pair of slender long legs came into view first, wearing English-style high heels. She wore a high-slit qipao with a cashmere shawl draped over it. Her skin was like creamy jade, her figure graceful, and her hairstyle was the latest French perm.

Hua Manyi didn’t recognize this woman, but she instantly recognized the woman beside her.

It was the old madam from the Cabaret Hall.

She wore a black nylon trench coat, was tall and distinguished, and carried a Bulgari handbag. She was more mature than the woman next to her, walking ahead with the middle-aged man following humbly. Her expression was languid and self-assured, her temperament naturally refined, completely overshadowing the younger woman beside her.

“Who are they?” Hua Manyi took a bite of her bun, staring intently at the three people entering the hotel.

“Her? She is the most famous songstress of the Paramount Ball, named Jiang Yin.”

Hua Manyi: “And the other one?”

Mo Zihao hesitated, seeming troubled. “Well… I only heard that she is the mama (madam) of the Fenghai Cabaret Hall, and she has some connections. I don’t know anything else.”

“Isn’t she just a madam? What other connections could she have?”

Mo Zihao scratched his head. “If she were an ordinary madam, those young gentlemen wouldn’t have such a headache.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means… ahem… the girls at Fenghai, if the person in question doesn’t consent to that—well—no one can force them, because this Mother Gong (Gong Ma) protects them. No one dares to mess around.”

It was also because of this that most of the girls in Fenghai were still virgins.

“Are you talking about that kind of thing in bed?”

The abrupt question choked Mo Zihao. Young gentlemen like them had been to all sorts of places and were more or less involved in such things, but they kept up appearances.

But this young lady—she hadn’t even finished middle school, having grown up protected by the Hua family. How could she know about such acts of pleasure-seeking? And to say it so openly.

“Don’t treat me like an ignorant girl. I understand all of it.” Hua Manyi didn’t want to recall the scene she saw this morning; it only made her stomach turn.

Mo Zihao gave a forced smile. “Hua Manyi, let’s go inside. I’ll talk to Boss Chen then, and ask him to arrange a job for you.”

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