My name is Fu Yao, 'Fu' as in the character fu beside the character for person, 'Yao' as in the character yao beside the character for king. According to my grandmother, the character "Yao" implies beauty and preciousness. However, my life isn't exactly beautiful or valuable.

My mother was a mistress who couldn't withstand societal scorn, and committed suicide just a few years after giving birth to me, leaving only my grandmother and me to fend for ourselves.

The year my mother died, I was only seven years old, and just in the second grade of primary school.

My mother drowned herself in a river, her body tied with tens of kilograms of rocks. When she was fished out of the water, her bloated body was almost unrecognizable. I stood on the riverside, unable to believe that the swollen, distorted figure was my mother.

My mum, who loved beauty so much, her entire face was inflated, making her beautiful features unrecognizable.

We were so poor then that all the villagers had to chip in for her funeral expenses.

From then on, anyone who met me would say, "Oh, that's the daughter of the sinful mistress!" The phrase "daughter of the sinful mistress" followed me around for over twenty years.

Ever since that year, it was just my grandmother and me.

Despite my grandmother's grueling effort to raise me, I managed to go to college, but my major was a costly one.

In my second year of college, my grandmother was suddenly diagnosed with liver cancer. Even having just one bun every day, and working part-time jobs, I still couldn't afford my grandmother's medical bills.

Zhao Miao was my college roommate. She told me that I could earn a decent amount of money working as a bar-girl-in-training at the Rouge bar, from which I turned up my nose. But my pride wasn't strong enough to stand up to my grandmother's hospital bill, so I ended up working as a bar-girl-in-training at the Rouge after all.

The Rouge was a hodgepodge place. Zhao Miao always said that my character would get me into trouble. I just laughed it off, saying she underestimated me. After working there for over half a year, I wasn't the same bashful Fu Yao anymore who would blush when glances were cast her way.

She dared to tweak my lips, claiming, "You're as stubborn as a mule!"

I really don't know if I'm stubborn as a mule, but Zhao Miao is such a negative Nancy that I had no words to retort.

There are always exceptions, after all.

I had been working at Hongyan for more than half a year, and my temper had indeed improved a lot. To those madcap men who tried to harass me, I now merely dodged them with a laugh, instead of wanting to smash them with a microphone like before.

But when I heard Zhao Miao screaming from a private room that day, I realized I hadn't completely controlled myself yet, or else I wouldn't have rushed in and swung a bottle at the man pulling at Zhao Miao's arm without any hesitation.

When I heard Zhao Miao's outburst, I rushed in immediately. As expected, there were six or seven people sitting and three standing, with five males and two females, and the rest unidentifiable because the lighting was just too dim.

As soon as I walked in, I saw a man gripping Zhao Miao's wrist, her face full of panic. Without a second thought, I grabbed a bottle of XO from the table and smashed it onto the man's forehead, with my free hand tugging Zhao Miao away from his grip.

Zhao Miao gaped at me, looking as though she had swallowed a fly, which I took for her peculiar expression of gratitude.

Before I could say a word, she slapped me across the face, firing a burst of curses, "What the hell? Why'd you rush in here like a madman? Are you insane or what? If I don't teach you a lesson today, you won't understand that I'm Zhao Miao!"

She yanked me out of the room, cursing all the way, then dragging me down the corridor in a frantic run.

Zhao Miao, standing at five foot eight, had the build of a sturdy northeastern Chinese girl. As a 5'5" southern girl, I was no match for her, so I had to quicken my steps to keep up with her.

She later explained to me that I had offended someone big, and if it weren't for her quick thinking, getting slapped across the face would've been the least of my problems that night.

I laughed at her, believing that she was just jealous of my chiseled, pointy chin. She probably wanted my face to swell up for a few days so she wouldn't feel that her face was so large in comparison.

She called me an idiot, asking if I knew who I had smashed.

I shook my head, and countered her by asking, "Your scream was like a call for help, wasn't it supposed to get me to come to your rescue?!"

She glared at me, ignoring my question and continued her part, spitting out two words: Han Mo.

"You have offended Han Mo!"

She pointed at me as if I had done something heinous. I was perplexed, totally clueless about who Han Mo was, and had no interest in finding out.

Zhao Miao told me that Han Mo was one of the Four Young Masters of City A, notoriously sullen and vengeful, urging me to avoid him like the plague.

I had heard of the Four Young Masters of City A. It incited a fear deep within me, and for half a month, I was terrified to encounter anyone, constantly worrying about being clubbed with a wine bottle.

Following Zhao Miao's account, I reckoned Han Mo wouldn't be content until he had walloped me with a bottle.

But I had been anxiously waiting for almost half a month, and nobody came looking for me, not mention Han Mo.

I thought Zhao Miao had lied to me again. However, Han Mo's arrival that night vindicated her.

I looked at the man before me, my heart trembling somewhat, and my fingers, gripping the microphone, turned cold.

He pushed the door open with a gloomy face, took a sweeping glance around, and then asked, "Who's Fu Yao?"

Although Han Mo was asking who I was, his gaze was fixed on me. That stare made my back frosty and my scalp tingle.

I unconsciously looked away. Someone in the room had already pointed at me. "It's her."

He looked at me and suddenly smirked. The smile was loaded with malice, which made my palms sweat.

I recalled Zhao Miao's words and had a gut feeling that something bad was about to happen.

I did not know his intentions, but I knew running away would make me seem guilty. So, I decided to straighten my back and look at him squarely.

As he stepped toward me, I said nothing. My heart was gripped with an inexplicable fear. I bit my lip, recalling Zhao Miao's words: "If Han Mo catches you, it won't be as simple as a slap."

Looking at him, I felt he likely wanted to do more than merely slap me.

Han Mo took several strides before he walked up to me. He was fairly tall, so he looked down at me when he watched me. Just the sight of his tall figure provided me an undeniable oppressive feeling.

"Fu Yao?"

The previously gloomy expression on his face suddenly broke into a smile, leaving me unsure whether he was really amused or not.

I nodded my head, wondering what he wanted: "Yes, may I know who you are, sir?"

I had no choice but to feign ignorance at this moment.

His eyes moved slightly, the hint of amusement becoming more evident, and suddenly he bent his head low, making me retreat a few steps.

"Take a look."

He bent down in front of me, pointing at his head for me to see.

I was bewildered, my heart pounding with unease and even my words were barely a whisper: "Look, look at what?!"

He didn't say anything, just pulled my hand over to touch his head: "Do you feel that?"