FY - 1

Zhou Yan had been a hostess at the Candy Nightclub in the southeastern part of Qizhou for four years.

The first year, she was a bit naive, blushing even at dirty jokes. The second year, she learned some tricks and became more accepting of herself. By the third year, she was a popular hostess, earning six thousand yuan for a night’s booking.

Of course, she still couldn’t compare to the top hostesses.

A top hostess had to be beautiful, have a good figure, and be skilled in various arts like playing instruments, singing, and dancing. Most importantly, they had to be flexible with different ways of playing, able to pick up on cues, throw out their own jokes, and endure the special preferences of some unique guests.

Their rates started at twelve thousand yuan for a night’s booking and forty thousand yuan for an outside engagement. If they served their guests well and made them feel it was worth every penny, they could also receive what the guests called “vagina upkeep fees,” or more fashionably, “downstairs maintenance fees”... though that didn’t sound very fashionable either.

In the private rooms, they were “good sisters,” but outside, they were strangers. No one was more skilled at changing their facade than them.

On March 21st, a colleague who was about to become famous overnight committed suicide by jumping off a building. The Criminal Investigation Team One of the Qizhou West City Police Station had been investigating for over a week, dealing with these hostesses daily, almost seeing all their hundred faces.

Today was another day for questioning.

The manager once again gathered everyone who had been in contact with the deceased on the day of the incident. They stood in a row, postures askew, faces full of impatience. Some even brazenly brought nail clippers, trimming their nails while listening to the police speak.

Most of them were uneducated, lacked good upbringing, and naturally, had no manners. However, Candy had packaged them, presenting them to the public as “service staff” of the nightclub. Without evidence, people couldn’t point at them and say they were prostitutes, not even the police.

So, even if they clearly showed contempt, the criminal police officers could only reprimand them verbally, not penalize them.

Zhou Yan stood at the very end, the first to be questioned.

The criminal police officer questioning her was Wei Li’an, the captain of Criminal Investigation Team One. He had been transferred a few years ago, supposedly from the anti-drug squad.

It was just a rumor, impossible to verify.

He held his notepad and asked Zhou Yan, “When was the last time you saw Jiang Xiaozhao?”

Zhou Yan propped her elbow on the TV cabinet. Her nicotine craving was kicking in, and she retorted, “Can I smoke first?”

Wei Li’an’s voice deepened by three points, “No!”

Zhou Yan yawned, sniffed twice, and said, “The 21st, morning, I guess. She asked me if I had a channel to sell cars; she had a Passat she wanted to get rid of. I said no, and I haven’t seen her since. That night, I heard she jumped from the dormitory.”

Wei Li’an noted the time and then questioned the second person.

After questioning everyone in order, the results were exactly the same as last time.

After the people left, the “plastic sisters” in the private room started chatting.

“If Xiaozhao hadn’t gotten involved with that person, she probably wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

“Stop talking. Have you forgotten what Sister Hong told us? We don’t know anything about Xiaozhao’s affairs, including that person.”

“Speaking of which, Xiaozhao was the first person to serialize her hostess experiences on Weibo, right?”

“For these past few years, I’ve just wanted to forget the experiences of that day, but she wrote about that day in detail.”

“Do you really remember your first night in this business? I’ve forgotten.”

Dozens of seconds of silence followed before people gradually started saying, “I’ve forgotten too.”

Zhou Yan’s nicotine craving intensified, and she stopped listening to them lie to themselves, going out for a smoke.

She turned a corner and ran into the manager. She didn’t stop but was blocked by him. He took a drag from his cigarette and blew smoke into her eyes. His unshaven stubble pricked her face: “Seeing me, you hide? Have you forgotten why you are where you are today?”

Zhou Yan gave a professional fake smile: “I could never forget. It’s just that I have something urgent to deal with.”

The manager reached for her backside: “What’s the matter? Can you handle it alone?”

Zhou Yan pushed his hand away: “Of course not alone.”

Her expression was too calm, her tone too peaceful, as if she was talking about something commonplace. Yet, as the manager looked into her eyes, his face gradually changed, finally backing away and letting her pass.

Everyone in Qizhou who was out in society knew that Zhou Yan belonged to Si Wen.