Chapter 33: The World of Children

"It’s almost the New Year, where’s the kid?"

Cheng Guanzhi kicked off his leather shoes, loosened his tie, and rubbed his stiff neck.

His wife was busy rehanging the freshly washed curtains. The heavy, water-logged fabric made her waist arch painfully with every move. "She went to a classmate’s house! I don’t have time to take her out anyway; there’s so much to do here. If she wants to play, let her."

"At a classmate’s again? That girl is getting more and more unruly. It’s the New Year and she doesn't even know how to help her mother."

His wife glared at him. "You’re a grown man and I haven't seen you lift a finger either. I’m doing this whole house by myself! Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve; who doesn't want to start the new year with a clean home? The glass needs cleaning, the floors need mopping, the kitchen needs scrubbing, and the bathroom too. The sheets, covers, sofa slipcovers, curtains, and all these down jackets—they all need washing. One of these days you’ll work me to death, and then you can go find yourself a younger one!"

"Just hire a cleaner, then."

"That’s easy for you to say! It’s the end of the year—do you have any idea how high the demand is for domestic help? If you don’t have someone you know, how are you supposed to find anyone reliable now? You pay over a thousand bucks for a cleaning, and they don't even get into the corners. In the end, you still have to do it all over yourself!"

Cheng Guanzhi didn't want to argue. *If you’re such a neat freak, do it yourself. Whoever can’t stand the mess is the one who suffers. I never asked you to do this, so don’t ask me to. I think a regular cleaner would do just fine! I wouldn't mind it at all.*

*Why make yourself miserable?*

Work was exhausting enough as it was. It wasn't like he forbade her from hiring help every month; if his annual salary couldn't afford a cleaner, then nobody else in the world could survive!

"You're the only one who works hard, right? You're the only one with a job, and I don't need one? Have you ever cared about the kid’s school? Do you even know who her homeroom teacher is? Do you care about her friends at school or her grades? Is she my child alone?"

Her hands never stopped working as she hung the curtains, but seeing that Cheng Guanzhi hadn't even looked at her for a long time, her anger flared even more.

"Giving me the cold shoulder again? Not saying a word, but I’m sure you’re full of complaints. Come on, tell me what you’re unhappy about. Don’t just stand there giving me attitude."

Cheng Guanzhi felt incredibly impatient. Every year, the New Year was the peak season for arguments. After slaving away all year, he’d finally made it to the end, only to have three or five days of vacation turn into a constant stream of bickering.

He just didn't want to argue with her! If they really started fighting, he was afraid he might actually give her a heart attack.

"We’re going to your parents' place tomorrow night for the holiday. Did you buy anything? Are you really going empty-handed? Did you prepare the red envelopes? Did you buy New Year gifts for your older brother’s and sister’s kids? I have to worry about everything—can you men show a little emotional intelligence?"

Cheng Guanzhi sighed in silence. He hadn't been home for ten minutes, and she hadn't stopped nagging. He’d hoped for a cup of hot tea to relax, but now he had no appetite for it.

He took flak from his boss at work, and now he had to take flak from his wife at home. He really couldn't stand it anymore.

"I’m going out to buy some things for tomorrow, and I’ll pick up our daughter on the way back."

Leaving that behind, Cheng Guanzhi stepped back into his leather shoes and slammed the door behind him.

"Hey? Still got an attitude, do you? What kind of behavior is that!" She chased him all the way to the entryway, threw the door open, and her shrill voice echoed through the elevator lobby. "Your dad likes to drink, buy some good liquor! My dad likes tea, buy some good tea, did you hear me!"

...

In the same apartment complex, Building 3, at Beibei’s house.

Beibei’s parents were also busy. There was no such thing as a New Year break for people in business, and even though it was already the twenty-ninth day of the lunar month, there was no sign of them coming home early.

Two girls, not yet twenty combined, sat in the bedroom with four phones propped up on stands.

"Anyone else joining the video conference? We start dancing at seven. It’s 45 per person. When you transfer the money, leave a note so I can add you to the temporary group."

In the WeChat group, the user "Juicy Watermelon" refreshed the announcement. The signup list already had seventeen names.

"Isn't it usually 35? Why the price hike today?"

"Watermelon, you’re getting greedier by the day!"

"Oh, it's the New Year, give the kid a red envelope!"

Behind those fake avatars hid hypocritical souls, using the filthiest language and thoughts to target the girl who was intentionally enticing them.

They had all been drawn to Yaoyao through short-video apps, whether through comment sections or private messages; there were all sorts of ways they had added her on WeChat.

Yaoyao didn't care at all, her tone even sharp. "Can you read the announcement before you talk? I said it’s two people today. It’s twenty minutes, five minutes longer than usual, and there are two of us, so if you don’t want to pay 45, go somewhere else."

The girl’s temper didn't make the people in the group angry; instead, they began to tease her with twisted grins.

"Is it with Beibei? Beibei isn't as pretty as you, and she doesn't move as well."

"Oh, let’s just see something new. Two people, two people. Can you dance together?"

"Why not find a boy to dance with? I’ll give you an extra ten!"

"Two girls is fine, too. Maybe kiss and touch a little."

"Seven is too late, I can’t wait. Let’s start now?"

"Talk is cheap, are you going to strip or not?"

"Strip your sister."

Yaoyao only replied to that one. Each one of them looked like a human, yet they were all acting like dogs, haggling over a few dozen dollars for so long.

She swiped out of the group, not wanting to deal with those cheapskates. Instead, she opened a private chat.

"Are we doing a private dance today?"

The user’s name was "Prosperous Director Song," pretending to be a big-shot film director. She’d seen plenty of these scammers; she’d be a fool to believe him.

But this guy was generous. Ever since he added her on WeChat from the Yellow Lantern app, he hadn't haggled much and spent 200 to book her for a private show.

Group signups and conference rooms where everyone watched together were just standard otaku dances—at best, she’d do a few moves they liked.

A private dance, as the name implied, was one-on-one. She would hold a sign with their name on it, perform whatever moves they requested, and do whatever they wanted to see, streaming only for them.

It was a completely risk-free endeavor.

Ever since Yaoyao held up a sign on the short-video platform saying "Taking Private Dance Requests," the algorithm pushed target customers to her in droves. To put it bluntly, her income was far higher than her mother’s.

She no longer had to beg for a few dollars in allowance only to be scolded for her poor grades. She no longer had to carefully save up money to try and get her favorite trading cards; she could afford the entire collection of anything she liked.

Yaoyao had a good attitude toward her "patrons," though she sounded a bit regretful. "I’m afraid it’s too late. I have to get off soon. It’s the New Year tomorrow, and my dad will be home in a little while."

"Director Song" replied instantly: "It’s fine, ten minutes is enough. I’ll still pay the full 200."

She looked at the clock. There were fifteen minutes until seven o'clock. As long as she stripped quickly, there should be enough time.

"What do you want to see?"

"Do you have a marker?"

"Only a ballpoint pen, at most."