"Don’t waste ti," she muttered, shoving Yueyao’s limp arms down before pulling the cheap red lace lingerie over her battered body.
The lace scratched against her open cuts and welts, burning her raw skin with every movent.
Her hands trembled so violently that she couldn’t even hold the flimsy strap as they forced it onto her shoulders. One of the girls bent down and shoved a pair of towering clear heels towards her.
"Stand up," she ordered, her voice flat as her lifeless eyes stared at the floor. "Wear these, they are your size, they like it when you look like a doll."
Yueyao tried to stand, but her knees buckled again, pain exploding through her joints like knives slicing bone.
Tears stread down her face as the girls grabbed her roughly, dragging her to her feet and saring thick foundation over her cuts and bruises.
The heavy makeup suffocated her skin, burning her raw wounds. They painted her lips a dark, seductive red to match the lingerie, ignoring how her split lips bled through the sticky gloss.
When they stepped back to examine their work, Yueyao blinked through the blur of tears at her reflection in the cracked mirror propped against the stained wall.
A woman with hollow eyes, bloodshot and swollen, stared back at her. Her lips were painted like a whore’s, her hair matted with blood at the roots, her neck lined with dark bruises where rough fingers had choked her silent. Her ribs jutted out under the cheap lace, each breath rattling in her chest like a broken doll.
Not Lin Yueyao, the beloved daughter of Lin Zhenhai.
Not Mrs. Shen Xiao, the once-pampered wife she had foolishly believed herself to be.
Just another naless product on display, waiting to be bought and used.
"She looks decent enough," one girl muttered flatly, wiping her hands on the thin rag now stained with Yueyao’s blood and foundation. "Room 5 is waiting."
The door swung open again, slamming into the peeling wall with a thud, and a tall bouncer entered.
His thick arms bulged with dragon tattoos inked from wrist to shoulder, their black lines twisting like coiled snakes.
Without a word, he grabbed Yueyao’s frail arm in a bruising grip, his fingers digging so deep she felt her bone shift beneath his strength.
He yanked her to her feet with no gentleness, pain exploding in her dislocated shoulder as she let out a hoarse, muffled scream.
He dragged her down a narrow, smoky hallway lined with red paper lanterns flickering in the stale air.
Curtains hung heavy and moth-eaten over each doorway, muffling the sounds within, the muffled sobs, the rhythmic thuds of bodies against mattresses, the drunken laughter and slurred curses of n who slled of cheap whiskey and stale cigarettes.
Each step was agony, the rough carpet burning her bare feet, each rasp against her torn skin searing like fire. Every breath tasted of stale sweat, alcohol, and incense so thick it coated her tongue with bitterness.
Finally, they stopped before a black lacquered door with a golden "5" painted on it in curling brush strokes now chipped at the edges. The bouncer knocked once with the force of a hamr before pushing it open.
Inside, the room reeked of cheap perfu, cigarette smoke, and spilled whiskey.
Dim red lights flickered overhead, casting grotesque shadows across the peeling velvet wallpaper.
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