Chapter 8: Working Off the Debt

Just as I was about to get up and go home, a black Porsche pulled into view.
Ji Feiyang got out, grabbed my suitcase and unceremoniously tossed it into the car.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
I caught his arm. He turned toward me.
Thank goodness I hadn’t been drinking anything. It would have gone straight into his face.
“A panda eye!”
Laughter escaped me.
“Courtesy of you,” he snapped. “Get in.”
What?
My bewilderment only made him scowl harder.
“You still owe me money. Did you think I’d just let you walk away?”
“You really are a debt collector.”
That black eye set me laughing again. Somehow, it made him look almost cute.
Into the car I went. Who knew what he had in store for me? Strangely enough, I was rather looking forward to finding out.
“This is your room.”
The tiny space held an iron bed frame topped with hard wooden boards. Who would have thought a luxurious hotel had a place like this?
Nothing about it pleased me. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and one look at his stony face told me objections would get nowhere.
It would have to do.
My fingers brushed the boards.
“Ugh! They’re covered in dust. How am I supposed to sleep on this?”
“Mrs. Huang, show her how to clean the room.”
Mrs. Huang was the housekeeper who’d called the doctor for me.
Of course. Of all the people to run into.
“Starting tomorrow, teach her to make beds and clean the rooms.”
Then he turned back to me.
“Tomorrow is training, so you won’t be paid. Meals are included, though. You’ll start earning wages once you pass the assessment.”
With that, he left.
So this was his plan: make me work off the debt.
Mrs. Huang gave me a triumphant look.
“Starting tomorrow, you answer to me.”
She began pushing her cleaning cart away.
“Wait. You haven’t cleaned the room.”
The cart came rolling back toward me.
“Clean it yourself.”
With a sideways glare, she marched off.
Embarrassing as it was to admit, I’d never cleaned my own room. The cart baffled me. Where was I supposed to start?
Fine. I’d clean it myself. After all, I was the one who had to sleep here.
For the first time in my life, I discovered what a nuisance cleaning could be.
Ji Feiyang did have a little conscience left. Someone brought me bedding and a steaming bowl of noodles.
“Unbelievable. All vegetables, not even a scrap of meat. How stingy can you get?”
Before it was even light, a deafening voice jolted me awake. Cold air hit my body as the quilt was pulled away.
“Get up!”
Honestly. Enough to drive anyone mad.
“What time is it? You can’t just come in and wake people up!”
“It’s seven already. Hardly early.”
“Only seven! Please, let me sleep a little longer.”
My hand reached for the quilt.
“You call seven early? I was up at six.”
“What’s that got to do with me? I’m trying to sleep!”
The shout didn’t faze her.
“Sleep? You’re coming with me to mop the floor.”
“Mop the floor?”
I sat back down on the bed and folded my arms.
“I’m not going.”
“Then you won’t get lunch.”
She planted her hands on her hips.
“And if you don’t do a proper job, you’ll get a smaller portion. The general manager’s orders.”
A pause.
“Well? Are you coming or not?”
The battle raged inside my head.
Big Brother or mopping.
Mopping or Big Brother.
“Fine. I’ll mop.”
The words came through gritted teeth.
She tossed me a uniform: a silver-gray shirt and loose black cotton trousers.
“You expect me to wear this?”
“What else?”
“How can I wear clothes meant for middle-aged women?”
“Why can’t you? All the young women working here wear them.”
Big Brother or ugly clothes.
Reluctantly, I changed.
Mrs. Huang clicked her tongue.
“Looks quite nice on you, doesn’t it?”
That brought a small smile to my face. Without further argument, I put on the black flat shoes.
A red corridor stretched ahead. Never before had it seemed quite so long.
“We need this mopped in five minutes.”
“What?”
“You start here. I’ll start at the other end. Work quickly.”
Oh, please.
What would happen if I took my time? It wasn’t as though I had an enormous appetite. A little less lunch wouldn’t kill me.
The mop became something of a toy in my hands, swishing this way and that. Before long, a good stretch of floor was done.
Mrs. Huang came rushing over, furious.
“How are you holding that mop? How can you clean anything like that? Look at this! Dry patches, wet patches—you’ve missed half the floor.”
Under her orders, I started again.
Holding back her temper, she closed her hands over mine and showed me how to work the mop. It felt like being a child taught to write.
“Press harder. You need to press down if you want it clean.”
“Harder!”
As if I wasn’t already trying.
“Putting no strength into it won’t get you anywhere. Push!”
“I am pushing!”
“What good is that if the floor’s still dirty?”
The mop hit the ground.
“Then do it yourself!”
“Don’t you want lunch?”
“I’ll eat less.”
“No mopping, no food. Not one grain of rice.”
Horrible old woman.
Back to mopping, with silent curses accompanying every stroke.
Then the mop ran into a pair of black leather shoes.
A large man had appeared beside me.
“What are you doing?” he barked.
“Oh… Sorry.”
“Honestly. Are you blind?”
He stepped on the mop as he passed, then spat onto the floor I’d just cleaned.
That did it.
“Hey! Stop!”
He paused and turned, giving me a look.
“Are you talking to me?”
My finger pointed at the spit.
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to spit on the floor?”
“You little brat. You mop my shoes, then raise your voice at me?”
“I said I was sorry! Why did you have to call me blind? And why are you spitting everywhere?”
“You are blind. What are you going to do about it?”
“Some people really are asking for a beating.”
Up came the mop. Mrs. Huang hurried over in alarm and grabbed me.
His eyes widened.
“You want to hit me?”
I shook her off and stepped in front of him.
“Yes, you!”
He towered over me, but I wasn’t about to let that intimidate me.
He rolled up his sleeves.
“You need a good slap.”
One light shove sent me stumbling back five or six steps.
How dare he lay a hand on me?
The mop bucket stood right in front of me. I snatched it up and flung its contents at him.
Water drenched him from head to toe.
Suddenly, a raging bull was charging toward me.
I ran.
Not far enough. My short strides were no match for his long ones, and he caught me within a few steps.
A huge, rock-hard fist came hurtling toward my face.
My eyes squeezed shut. I held my breath.
Nothing.
After what felt like forever, there was still no pain.
One eye cautiously opened.
Someone had caught his wrist.
Ji Feiyang.
“Sir, what has she done to upset you? Please, there’s no need to get into a fight with a young girl.”
A young girl?
I, Tang Yijun, was twenty-two!
“She threw water over me. What are you going to do about it?”
Ji Feiyang was suddenly the picture of courtesy. A rare sight, as far as I was concerned.
“I’m her supervisor. Please accept my apologies.”
“What good is an apology? I’m about to go out. How am I supposed to leave like this?”
His hair was wet, too. Dirty water trickled down his face, and he wiped it away with his sleeve.
“Please bear with us. We provide a laundry service. If you’re not in a hurry—”
“I am in a hurry!”
Ji Feiyang shot me a glare, then turned back with a pleasant expression. After a brief look at the man’s suit, he said, “Then we’ll replace it with an identical one. There’s a shop selling this brand just outside the hotel.”
His sincerity gradually soothed the man’s anger. After considering it, he seemed to decide that would have to do.
“Send it to my room. And be quick.”
Ji Feiyang’s black eye was still gloriously visible. One look nearly set me laughing again.
Once the guest had gone, he turned to me with a scowl.
“Come with me.”
He really thought I was one of his employees. Why should I follow his orders?
Despite the grumbling in my head, my feet obediently followed.
What else could he possibly do to me?
Inside his office, he stopped so suddenly that I nearly walked into him.
“Tang Yijun, do you think throwing water over a guest is acceptable behavior for a hotel employee?”
“He pushed me first.”
“That doesn’t mean you can throw water over him.”
“So I’m supposed to let him bully me?”
“Bully you? Who would dare?”
His mocking tone was infuriating.
After a moment, he looked me up and down.
“That uniform suits you quite well.”
What was that supposed to mean? That I looked like a maid?
He considered something for a while.
“You can go to the kitchen and wash vegetables.”
“More work?”
“Of course. And the replacement clothes for that guest are going on your bill.”
“You really are a miser.”