The Cage He Built for Me

[Clear-eyed art student × older, scheming Beijing power player] The year I met Zhou Tingshen, I was nineteen, making a living entertaining men at “Heaven on Earth.” From his top-floor private room, he could decide a person's fate with a smile. He pulled me out of the mud, cleaned me up, and put me under the brightest lights. He gave me money, a name, everything, but never my dignity. My friends said he was an abyss, and getting close to him would mean utter ruin. But my mother was waiting for life-saving medicine that cost a fortune. I had no choice. Later, I became his proudest “masterpiece,” and also his most troublesome problem. He sought the beauty of degradation in me, while I practiced falling with my eyes wide open in his gaze. Everyone in Beijing's elite circles said Young Master Zhou had a caged songbird that knew how to bite. He only laughed when he heard that, but at night he would grip my chin and warn me: “Lin Xi, I gave you your wings. If you want to fly, you still need my permission.”