After she reached the hotel, Tang Ke walked to the entrance, crossing a threshold of light.
The driveway held a pride of luxury cars crouching like panthers.
She lifted her gaze; the building rose like a gilded cliff.
The sign read Imperial Grand Hotel, a name burnished like a ceremonial plaque.
To Tang Ke, it wasn’t shocking; calm as winter water, she’d seen grand stages before.
The organization had drilled its fighters for any terrain, like steel tempered in a hundred furnaces.
Yet she’d never lived inside this sheen, like a traveler forever halted at the gate.
She shook her head, a ripple under still water, and headed for the door.
She had barely touched the threshold when two guards stepped in, like stone lions blocking a path.
“Stop. What are you here for? You can’t just walk in,” one guard said, his voice snapping like a gate latch.
The other skimmed her clothes and sneered, eyes cold as nails.
“Where’d this pauper crawl from? Here to steal, huh?” His words clanged like rusty tin.
She felt nothing but dust; this kind of petty power buzzed like flies around meat.
She rasped on purpose, voice dry as reeds.
“Big brothers, I’m... I’m here to apply as a cleaner, not to steal.”
Her words tumbled like pebbles.
Hearing her rasp, the guard pegged her at once, like a stamp on cheap paper.
A poor hick from the countryside, here for a poor job. Labels stuck like burrs.
“Oh, I heard a big client’s hosting a banquet soon. We’re short on cleaners. So you’re an applicant.”
His tone rolled like lukewarm soup.
“Applicants go to the back door. Someone handles it there. Move along; don’t be an eyesore.”
He shooed her like dust off a sleeve.
They waved her off, disgust drifting like smoke.
Tang Ke didn’t bother sparring; she headed straight for the back door, like a hawk cutting wind.
At the rear entrance, a woman in her forties stood guard, a form in hand like a shield.
Seeing her, the woman trotted over, footsteps quick as sparrows.
“Are you here to apply as a cleaner?”
Her breath puffed like steam.
She nodded, her answer light as a leaf: “Yes.”
“Great, finally the team’s full. Come, I’ll register you.”
Her cheer fluttered like a small flag.
She ushered Tang Ke inside, guiding her like a riverbank guides water.
“What’s your name? I’ll put it on the form.”
Her pen poised like a needle.
Tang Ke didn’t think twice at first; the answer slid out, like a blade from a sheath.
“I’m Tang Ke... ke.”
The syllable snagged like a fishhook.
Cold caution rose first, a shadow crossing her chest.
That name could draw old eyes, like incense drawing moths.
And for a girl, the edge sounded wrong, like iron in silk.
She stuttered without meaning to, tongue catching like a wheel in sand.
“What? I didn’t catch that. Don’t be nervous. I need your name for payroll.”
Her voice smoothed like warm oil.
She figured Tang Ke was a country girl, tense like a deer under lantern light.
A beat of thought rippled, then she answered.
“I’m Tang Coco. It’s my first job, so I’m a little nervous.”
Her smile was thin as paper.
“Tang Coco, got it. But why dress so wrapped up? Aren’t you hot?”
Her curiosity poked like a twig.
“N-no. I’ve got a skin condition; I shouldn’t stay exposed too long.”
The lie sat like a stone.
“Oh, I see.”
She nodded, a leaf settling.
Once she had the reason, the woman dropped it, letting the topic fade like smoke.
Cleaners wear masks anyway; Tang Ke’s outfit didn’t clash, like a cloud shading the sun.
“All right, you’re registered. Tools are in the first floor’s east room.”
Her words lined up like tiles.
“You’ll handle the eleventh floor, ladies’ VIP section. Be thorough; management’s strict as frost.”
“Okay, I’ll do a good job,” Tang Ke replied, voice steady as slate.
“Your pay’s daily, after shift. Come to me for it. Start tomorrow morning.”
Her hand waved like a fan.
The middle-aged woman stepped into the elevator and rose, doors closing like eyelids.
Tang Ke swept the area with a glance, eyes cool as moonlight.
There was no point lingering; she turned and left the hotel, footsteps thin as threads.
Near eleven at night, Tang Coco saw a park across the street, dark green like a pond.
She crossed over and wandered a wide loop, drifting like a leaf on slow water.
She had to admit, the place felt good, air clean as washed linen.
At night, couples dotted the paths, sitting together or strolling, hands linked like bridges.
Tang Coco kept walking inward; after ten-odd minutes, she reached the park’s deep shade, like a quiet grove.
“I told you: unless it’s urgent, don’t meet me. Call. We’ll be spotted like this.”
A woman’s voice drifted from the trees ahead, thin as a blade through leaves.
Tang Coco was on the path beside the grove, heartbeat pausing like a bird mid-flight.
She glanced in and saw a man and woman facing off among trunks like gray pillars.
The man wore black sportswear, hair cropped short, a shadow cut like charcoal.
He hadn’t expected her anger; caution pricked him, eyes skimming the dark like wary fish.
His gaze met Tang Coco’s, their looks crossing like flint striking.
“What are you staring at? Dead hick! Beat it!”
He exploded like a firecracker.
The woman realized she’d been too loud; her chin lifted like a mask’s edge.
She didn’t turn; she slid deeper into the trees, fear folding like wet paper.
Her identity felt fragile, a lantern she shielded from wind.
His malice cut like cold rain; Tang Coco turned away and quickened her steps.
Her own troubles weighed first, pressing like stones; she had no time for strangers.
Whatever scheme they whispered, it was mist beyond her fence. Not her business.
Seeing that ragged figure leave fast, the man turned back toward the woman, like a shadow returning to its source.
He looked ready to explain, words stacked like bricks.
To him, it was just a hick passing through, a straw scarecrow spooked by noise.
Tang Coco kept walking deeper, shadows pooling like ink.
She’d left fast for another reason; old instincts flared like foxfire.
That man wasn’t ordinary; his stance held weight, like coiled wire.
Before, ten of him couldn’t touch her, a storm against straw.
Now... the thought sank, heavy as wet clay.
She sighed, the sound thin as rain.
Tang Coco lowered her head to the threadbare clothes around a new body, eyes dim as dusk.
Ahead, a bench waited like a quiet boat.
She chose it for the night, a harbor under leaves.
