Ever since I was young, I knew the wealth gap could categorize people into different classes. People start with different starting lines when they're born. However, smart ones always overtake, such as my sister.
While I was still accompanying our father, taking care of the rundown house in the countryside, she was enjoying the city life with our mom who had remarried.
And what difference does it make?
In the end, the man she loves the most is still in my bed. The man has a pair of pianist hands, strong and slender fingers. He can alter situations just on a whim. No wonder my arrogant sister is so infatuated with him and always trying to win him over.
In the silence of the night, everything reaches its climax with a low manly groan, then fades into nothingness.
Afterwards, he gets up from my body without the slightest hint of hesitation and takes a shower in the bathroom.
And I lit a cigarette, leaning back on the pillow, sitting stiffly.
I start to count down for his departure.
This place isn't a hotel, but just one of the many properties Ye Han Yu owns, and it serves to accommodate me, his canary.
He is my sugar daddy. No matter how reluctant I am to admit it, it's crystal clear in my heart that I've fallen in love with my own sugar daddy.
The most pitiful women in the world are not prostitutes, but those who pour out their heart, only to still be treated as a prostitute by the man they love.
Over these past four years, every time he seeks me out, our encounters are strictly physical, with no other interaction. Despite how well we get along, he always remains cool and detached. The only one lost in the throes of passion is me. Even if there are moments of abandon that make him neglect to take precautions, he always pulls back at the critical moment.
He won't let a woman like me bear his child.
Indeed, before I even finish my cigarette, he's already changed into fresh clothes, ready to leave.
I'm naked, with no shade of shyness, and I call out his name.
The greatest patience he had for me was to pause his steps, never looking back at me.
Looking at his tall figure, I finally asked the question that I'd been withholding the entire evening, "I heard you're getting engaged? Who's the lucky lady?"
He took a while to answer.
Long enough for me to question whether I had spoken at all. Was my daring question just a figment of my imagination?
Then, he started moving, his footsteps gradually receding from me.
When I looked up, he was closing the door.
His answer, probably prompted by the intense curiosity on my face, was, "Know your place. It's not your place to ask."
I smiled despite the lump forming in my throat, "I just wanted to give a gift of money for the engagement!"
He looked deeply at me, seemed like he didn't understand me, just like I didn't understand him.
But soon, he lost interest in me and walked away.
His steps, his figure, so neat and quick.
The roar of the car engine echoed for a while before the night regained its tranquility.
I stayed by the window wrapped in a comforter, staring into the endless night.
Suddenly I remembered the night we first met, also on an autumn night of neither cold nor dry.
That year, my dad had been robbed and beaten to a coma. The robbers were never caught. To pay the medical bills, I left my hometown to borrow money from my mother who lived in a coastal city.
It happened to be the day my sister was celebrating her university graduation. The Zhou family had many guests.
The security guarded me outside their garden mansion like a thief. Zhou Lin was taking photos. She wore a black gown and was smiling brightly. She glanced at me and turned away, making no sign for me to be let in.
Lucky for me, quick-wittedly, I grabbed a man passing by, asking him to take me in as his companion.
At that time I thought I was grasping a lifeline. But later, I realized it was a thorn that pulled me into hell.
