Chapter 32: Such a Beautiful lody, Such a Beautiful Love
"You want money, don't you? Na your price—I'll give it to you. Stop massaging and co with to the hotel."
"Damn it. Pretending to be all innocent? Isn't this how you make your living?"
"You dirty whore, do you really think you're that special? Get out of my sight."
In a residential area of Qingzhou City, at five in the morning, 24-year-old Zhang Yan returned ho from work, her bag slung over her shoulder.
The red mark from a client's slap still lingered on her face.
This was the quietest ti of day in the city.
The streets of the neighborhood were eerily silent. Looking up, most windows in the towering buildings were dark, save for one or two lit rooms where perhaps so child was still playing video gas late into the night.
People who worked until this hour were often labeled as "social outcasts," those existing on the fringes of society.
Zhang Yan pushed open the door to her apartnt. Barely stepping inside and taking off her shoes, she heard a familiar tirade coming from the living room:
"Oh, back already? Little slut, how was business tonight?"
"Just keep doing what you're doing while you can still turn heads. Hustle while you've got the looks because once you're older, no decent man will want you."
"When that happens, you'll end up marrying so abusive divorced loser. Even if he beats you to death, I won't lift a finger to help."
The voice belonged to Zhang Yan's father—a 50-year-old man who had accomplished nothing in life and was neck-deep in gambling debts amounting to hundreds of thousands.
She was long used to his verbal abuse.
"I'm not planning to get married," she replied flatly before retreating to her room.
But once the door closed behind her, Zhang Yan collapsed onto the floor.
Tears stread uncontrollably down her cheeks.
How could she not understand those words?
Her father drowning in gambling debts, her mother hospitalized with illness, and a younger brother still in school—this family rested entirely on her shoulders. Who else would carry its weight?
All she could do was hold firm to her principles when facing n willing to pay for her company. But even that line didn't earn her any respect.
From the mont she entered this profession, she knew love would forever elude her. Marriage? That had beco an unattainable luxury.
Through her window, she gazed out at the glittering cityscape below. Yet, in this vast tropolis, there was no place for her.
After composing herself, Zhang Yan climbed into bed but couldn't sleep. She picked up her phone and began scrolling mindlessly through social dia.
Dance videos, borderline suggestive content, marketing accounts—endless streams of shallow entertainnt interspersed with 20-minute movie summaries. Zhang Yan wasn't sure why she bothered watching them, but scrolling through Tiktok offered her a brief escape from reality.
One video after another.
Her thumb swiped endlessly downward.
Then, suddenly, her finger stopped.
A particular video caught her eye: a girl in a school uniform holding a cello, seemingly preparing to perform. Perhaps it was the uniform that drew her attention; Zhang Yan didn't scroll past.
After all, her own job involved cosplaying as a high school student to give foot massages.
Masseuse #7—that was how others referred to her. People like her weren't worthy of nas.
Seeing the high school girl in the video reminded Zhang Yan of the young couple she'd encountered days ago. The girl had been stunningly beautiful, leaving a deep impression on her. From that encounter, Zhang Yan realized what true youthful beauty looked like.
Since then, she'd studied tirelessly, refining her act until she mastered three-tenths of the essence. Those small improvents had led to a surge in clients seeking her services. Just today, a wealthy businessman had offered a hefty sum to whisk her away.
Yet instead of feeling joy, Zhang Yan felt increasingly hollow.
She began questioning whether the path she'd chosen was the right one.
Looking at the girl in the video, envy welled up within her. If only she were truly a high school student, maybe her fate would have been different. But alas, vocational school didn't count as "high."
As the girl in the video began to play the cello, a hauntingly beautiful lody filled Zhang Yan's room.
She froze.
What kind of lody was this?
Gentle, passionate—it felt like a hand softly brushing away the tears on her face.
Like love itself.
Before she knew it, she was lost in the music.
In the dimly lit room, under cold blankets, Zhang Yan lay there, mories flooding back. Once upon a ti, she too had been a girl full of dreams about romance, yearning for the sweet love depicted in novels. In fact, she'd experienced it briefly—a three-year relationship from vocational school through graduation.
But when she chose to work in massage parlors, the man who had stood by her side for three years finally gave up, ending their relationship. She cried bitterly afterward.
But now… why had she grown so numb?
Her heart bled silently as the music reached its crescendo, then softened into whispers.
Zhang Yan was profoundly moved.
There were still so many beautiful loves waiting to be discovered in this world…
So why was she resigned to being society's leftover scraps?
Was there truly no other way?
Finally, unable to contain herself, Zhang Yan sat up abruptly, kicked open her bedroom door, and confronted her father smoking in the living room.
Biting her lip, her voice trembling, she said,
"After this month, I'm quitting."
"I won't ever help you repay your gambling debts again."
With every ounce of strength, she forced the words out.
Once back in her room, she reopened the video and noticed the description beneath it for the first ti.
The piece was called Greeting of Love?
Such a beautiful song.
And the perforr's na was "Cat"?
Though the girl hadn't shown her face, Zhang Yan sensed sothing remarkable about her.
Surely, she must be soone brimming with youthful vitality, much like the girl she'd seen days ago.
Her cello skills were impeccable.
Surely, such a girl must also have a love as exquisite as this lody.
---
When Lin Tian woke up the next day, he was stunned to find his Tiktok notifications flooded with "99 ."
He quickly opened the creator dashboard.
23,000 likes, 110,000 views, and over 6,000 comnts.
Lin Tian was shocked.
The ratio of likes to comnts was extraordinary. Typically, comnt counts were around one-twentieth of the view count, sotis reaching one-tenth for standout videos. But exceeding these ratios—and hitting nearly one-third—ant only two possibilities:
Either the comnt section was embroiled in heated debate, or the video quality was exceptional.
Lin Tian admitted he'd taken a gamble posting the video.
"Wow, I actually stumbled across such high-quality music on Tiktok."
"Even soone as uncultured as feels elevated just listening to this."
"Goosebumps! Is this real life? It's THAT good."
"I saw the most beautiful form of love in this single piece of music."
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