“Keep me? Who—me?”—the words snapped like a twig under winter boot.

Shuyao Qin let a cold smile bloom like frost on steel, eyes flat as still water. “I’m short of money no patron can patch like a torn sail—are you toying with me?”

“Don’t sound so heartless, President Qin,” Nana Toki purred, her voice smooth as warm tea in a clay cup. “Aren’t you curious how much I’d pay to keep you?”

Nana Toki watched the strong woman the way a street cat watches a dangling ribbon, her crescent eyes bright as moonlight. “Sure, my coffee’s a cheap cup, ten-something a serving, but my savings stack like bricks under a pagoda.”

It wasn’t a lie; the owner of this body wasn’t some pauper, her assets resting like gold koi in a pond. Not as rich as the heroine’s troupe of male peacocks, but enough to keep a little Nesting Phoenix, this scatterbrained sparrow, without strain.

“Oh? Is that so? Then how much?” Shuyao Qin felt madness stir like summer heat in a cramped room, speaking with a stranger about becoming a kept woman as if counting reeds by a river.

Her mood had curdled like sour milk, and her tone hit harder than sleet on tin.

“Don’t value yourself so low, President Qin,” Nana said, words light as petals and sharp as pins. “You’re a decent beauty; why wear a stone face day and night?”

“Smile once, and I’ll wire you one million,” she added, her grin a hidden hook in clear water. “Then the market price—five hundred thousand a day—for a month.”

In the quiet café, her voice carried like a bell through mist, her brows bending like willow leaves. She measured Shuyao Qin like a favorite toy, lips curved with a fox’s secret.

“I smile and you hand me one million? Are you crazy, or do you think I’m a fool?”—the protest rose like a dust devil across a dry road.

Never mind that ‘market rate’ nonsense at five hundred thousand a day; even the first offer felt absurd, like buying a sunset by the minute. Who pays a million for a smile—especially when the one paying is another woman?

The thought itself felt farcical, a paper kite thrown into a storm.

“I can do pay-first-take-later,” Nana said, sliding her phone across the table like a card in a street game. “Here, President Qin, punch in your bank account, and I’ll send it like rain straight to your field.”

“Are you serious?”—the question creaked like a door in an empty house.

Staring at the phone, Shuyao Qin’s face tightened like a drawn bowstring. “If some enemy sent you to humiliate me, then fine—your arrow found its mark.”

“What’s with ‘success’ and ‘failure’? Are you a dunce?” Nana huffed, then let the sigh float like steam. “Forget it, I’ll do it myself—you’re forever a headache of mine.”

She took back the phone with a small, aggrieved look, fingers tapping like dragonflies over a pond as she worked in silence.

Shuyao Qin didn’t know where her patience came from, holding herself still like a stone lantern and not walking out.

Several minutes slid by like clouds over the sun.

Ding—

A sudden chime burst from Shuyao Qin’s bag like a sparrow startled from reeds, and she stiffened, dread rising like dark tide in her chest.

“Why are you frozen? Check,” Nana said, sipping coffee like it was plain rainwater. “I sent the money. If you confirm and don’t object, I’ll take it as you agreeing to be kept.”

Wasn’t it supposed to be just one smile like a plum blossom opening, and that’s that? How did it turn into consent carved in jade?

Shuyao Qin hesitated, fingers trembling like leaves in a light wind, and drew her phone out. She saw the deposit message flash like a silver fish, and her pupils pinched tight as a shutter—this felt like a fever.

She checked again, each word tasted like bitter herb and counted like prayer beads. The result stayed exact as a ledger line: her account had received sixteen million in cash.

This woman… was she serious, like thunder bare in a blue sky?

…

“So?” Nana finished the last sip like closing a fan. “Still think I’m joking?”

“I told you, I’ve got savings stacked like grain in a granary, and keeping you as a little lover is easy as feeding a songbird.”

Facing that odd, faint smile, Shuyao Qin felt a strange current drift through her, soft as spring rain yet sure as a north star. “What’s your purpose?”—the question rose first like smoke, action lagging like embers.

She forced herself calm, biting down like a hunter on a reed whistle. She knew she had some beauty, but not the kind to make people throw fortunes like rice at a wedding—yet this woman tossed tens of millions as if they were pebbles.

“I like you, so I want to keep you,” Nana said, the confession plain as bread and sweet as ripe fruit. “It’s silly, maybe, but I fell for you at first sight.”

“Even if you don’t like me now, time stretches like a long road. Feelings can be cultivated like tea bushes, and you—just stay by me and learn how to love me.”

Nana Toki knew every plane’s Nesting Phoenix would forget her, memories shedding like leaves in autumn, and she’d have to court her again. It didn’t matter—if she made her fall once, she could kindle twice. She believed in herself, and she believed in the Nesting Phoenix like a sailor trusts the pole star.

…

“All right,” Nana said, setting the empty cup down like a stone. “Coffee’s done, talk’s done, let’s go home.”

She rose and took Shuyao Qin’s bag the way a shadow lifts a curtain. “My place lacks daily goods; we’ll buy them like harvesting from market stalls. And for the days ahead, I’ll count on you.”

Nana’s momentum carried like a river current, and Shuyao Qin barely found an edge to refuse. Back at the apartment, sitting on the sofa in Nana’s room, she slowly caught her breath like a net gathering small fish.

She… seemed to have been kept by a woman she’d only just met, and she didn’t even know her name—was this a kind of pyramid scheme wearing silk like a smiling fox?

She drew out her phone, eyes on the transfer record that glowed like a lantern in fog, her heart thumping like a drum in a festival crowd.

The funds weren’t enough to pull her company across this storm, but they eased the wind like a windbreak. She didn’t know whether agreeing like a snap decision was right or wrong, the doubt fluttering like moths around a flame.

She chased reasons in her head, thoughts milling like pigeons, and none settled into a sensible perch.

A woman who could toss tens of millions like handfuls of seed wasn’t short of cash; and her looks were a mirror to Shuyao’s own—money and beauty both like twin blades. Why keep her?

Power, maybe, a hand on the tiller? If that’s so, seducing Chu Jinghe would be more direct, his company spreads like an umbrella over the whole city sky.

“What are you thinking? Pocket money too light?” Nana drifted out of the kitchen like steam, handing over a washed fruit that shone like a little sun. She bit into hers with a crisp snap. “If you want more, say it—open your mouth, and I’ll give as much as a river can carry.”

Nana had drifted through many planes, her stride sure as a hawk’s shadow. Outside special urban-fantasy worlds, any urban lane held no fear.

In cities, aside from strange powers, money is king like a drum at the head of a parade. Her ways to make it were countless as stars; to her, money was digits like beads on a wire. If she wished, she could pile enough in a week to pull Shuyao Qin’s company through the storm.

But she wouldn’t. Love that arrives too easily is cheap like paper lanterns in noon sun, and it becomes a burden like wet clothes. She would move slowly, measure like a tea master; ask, and she’d give. If not asked, she’d keep quiet like a closed fan.

Training goes that way, steady and patient like a gardener trimming bonsai.

“If I ask for one hundred million?” Shuyao Qin lifted her gaze like an archer raising a bow, meeting Nana’s eyes steady as mountains. “Will you give it?”

“Of course,” Nana smiled, warmth rising like dawn mist. “If it’s you, I’ll give anything.”

She loved this about the Nesting Phoenix—the courage to speak desire like a bell rung in daylight. But nothing is free, not even under the banner of love, the truth sharp as a bamboo blade. “If you’re willing to sleep with me, one hundred million is fine—two hundred million is fine.”

…

Shuyao Qin felt the path twist like a river bend she couldn’t see. If it’s just sleep, as a kept woman, her choice should be like a leaf in the current—why ask?

“Ah… forgot to clarify,” Nana said, tapping her cheek with a laugh light as chimes. “By sleep, I don’t mean just lying there—I mean intimate exercise, bodies moving like tides.”

“?” Shuyao Qin’s brows lifted like twin willow leaves, surprise rustling like wind through bamboo.

If Nana hadn’t said it, Shuyao Qin would have forgotten she was a woman who loved women, a moon that favors another moon.

“You mean you want to get in bed with me?” she asked, and didn’t notice how her blush spread like peach petals on spring water.

“That’s not it,” Nana said, beaming like the first star at night. “I only hope we can wake up together, rising with the same light like two birds on one branch.”