The depths of winter in Chongcheng brought darkness early, the sun collapsing at five o'clock. Once night fell, the temperature plummeted, an unforgiving cold that seemed to freeze the very air.
Xia Chan stumbled out of her private room and toward the flowerbed near the door. The next step was a misstep—her ankle twisted, and she fell heavily.
A biting wind whipped around her, sending white garbage bags and scraps of paper skittering past her feet with a sharp whizz.
She sat on the cold ground for a moment until her stomach violently churned. She immediately rolled onto her hands and knees, leaning into the flowerbed, and began to retch. The wine from the banquet had turned to ice inside her, contracting her internal organs until her stomach felt as if it were trying to turn itself inside out.
Finished, she slid away from the mess, sinking back onto the ground, gasping for breath.
It was pitch black, with only a solitary streetlamp overhead. Its light was weak, a sickly yellow that seemed about to be swallowed by the thick darkness.
After a long minute, Xia Chan spotted a figure standing motionless in the deep shadow of the chestnut tree across the street.
She waved a shaky hand. "Help me, come and give me a hand!"
The figure did not move.
Xia Chan raised her voice, frustration and drunkenness blurring her words. "Hey there! Give me a hand! Do you hear me? Are you deaf?"
The man remained still.
Xia Chan’s head felt like cotton wool. Without another thought, she snatched a stone from the ground and flung it.
With a sharp pop near his feet, the man finally shifted, his gaze turning toward her.
Xia Chan waved again. "Do me a favor."
He hesitated, then began to walk across the street toward her.
Xia Chan held out her hand. "Give me a hand."
The man stared at her outstretched hand for a moment before finally taking it. His skin was so cold it sent a shiver through her.
Using his leverage, Xia Chan pulled herself up, barely managed to stand steady, and immediately pulled her hand back. "Thank you," she mumbled, then wrapped her thin down jacket tightly around her and stumbled away on unsteady legs.
A few steps later, her legs gave out again. Her body tilted sideways, and she slammed into the back of a car parked at the curb.
The car’s alarm shrieked, its lights flashing in response to the impact. Xia Chan flinched, but then saw the man who had just helped her out take a key fob from his pocket and press it, silencing the alarm.
She instinctively noted the brand of the car she was leaning against: a Lexus.
Waving at the man, she tried to apologize. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."
After vomiting, her stomach felt slightly better, but her feet felt like she was wading through water, utterly devoid of strength.
Xia Chan exhaled a ragged breath, trying to steady herself.
In past years, Chongcheng would have been blanketed in snow by now, but this year it was just this cold, wet, biting north wind, cutting like a knife.
Alcohol, after all, can't warm a person's heart.
After a short while, a middle-aged man walked out of the hotel and stopped next to the quiet man. He immediately spotted Xia Chan leaning against the car and was about to speak when the quiet man raised a hand to stop him.
Xia Chan saw the gesture, offered a faint smile, pulled her already inadequate coat even tighter, straightened up, and called out to the man. "Thank you! You're a good person!"
Without waiting for a response, she turned and stumbled away.
The Morning After and the VIP
Back at her apartment, Zhou Lan was still watching TV. As soon as the door opened, she sprang from the sofa. "Xingzhou's gone?"
Xia Chan closed the door and leaned against the wall, rummaging in her pocket. She pulled out a pack of Aixi cigarettes and lit one.
Zhou Lan’s face darkened. "You said you'd quit smoking, why did you start again?" She pressed her previous question. "Xingzhou's gone?"
"He left after the New Year."
Cigarette in hand, Xia Chan slipped off her shoes and headed for the bathroom. She sat on the toilet lid, finished the smoke, and flushed the butt. She pulled the showerhead out and ran the water—it was still only a trickle of cold. A surge of frustration and cold anger boiled over. She threw the showerhead into the basin with a loud clang. "Why haven't they called someone to fix the water heater yet?!" she yelled.
The only reply was the muted sound of the television outside.
Frustrated, with nowhere to vent, Xia Chan cursed and kicked out, smashing her big toe against the toilet bowl. She hissed, shuddering from the pain.
She crouched down, clutching her toe, and shed two self-pitying, sentimental tears.
The next day, Xia Chan had to go to work, needing extra effort to conceal the deep dark circles under her eyes.
Before the morning meeting, she briefed the night shift supervisor, Fu Ruyu, on the previous night's events.
"A VC VIP checked in at 11 p.m., staying in room 1208. The guest's circumstances are somewhat unusual," Fu Ruyu said, nodding toward her ear with a look of regret. "I can't hear."
The Kaiser Hotel's VIPs are tiered: VA, VB, VC, and VD. VCs are typically corporate CEOs or prominent public figures.
These were the guests who spent lavishly. The staff whispered that if one could just seize the opportunity to get close, even without becoming a mistress, they could still leapfrog ten years of hard work with a car and a house.
A few months prior, a new housekeeping employee, before even finishing her internship, had managed to "hook up" with the CEO of Chenguang Technology. She went from a lowly waiter to a hotel VIP, severely humiliating the previously strict supervisor, Chen Aijia.
Furious, Chen Aijia had later sneered to Xia Chan, "Put a dyed chicken feather on your tail and pretend you're a phoenix."
The Kaiser Hotel, a chain, required even its cleaners to be fluent in foreign languages. Xia Chan had endured three rounds of exhausting interviews just to start. After three years of hard work, she had risen from a regular waiter to a housekeeping supervisor. Unlike the floor attendants who chased glamorous dreams, Xia Chan, Fu Ruyu, and Chen Aijia—her peers—were pragmatic. They understood their jobs and harbored no grand illusions.
Xia Chan was the most pragmatic of all. She knew she couldn't fly if her feet were stuck in the mud, even if she was covered in dyed chicken feathers.
At the morning meeting, Liu Hongyi, the housekeeping manager, specifically instructed everyone to take excellent care of the VC VIPs who had stayed overnight. Mistakes would be reported directly for disciplinary action. After the meeting, Xia Chan began to pack up to check rooms and assign tasks. Liu Hongyi tapped his knuckles on the conference table. "Xia Chan, you stay."
Xia Chan frowned internally but remained seated.
Liu Hongyi watched the last person leave and the door close. He took a slow sip of the strong tea on the table. "Do you know why I kept you here?" he asked, smiling.
Xia Chan offered the only safe reply. "Don't worry, Manager. I'll treat the VIP guest in Room 1208 well."
Liu Hongyi sipped his tea slowly. He didn't care for good tea; he preferred the bitter stuff. Even from a distance, Xia Chan could smell the harshness in his cup. Liu Hongyi once said it was good to endure a little hardship, so as not to get carried away by success.
When he remained silent for too long, Xia Chan prompted him. "Manager Liu, if there's nothing else, I'll get back to work."
Liu Hongyi finally looked up, his expression a half-smile. "You should be less sensitive." He didn't elaborate, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
Xia Chan knew Liu Hongyi wasn't being mysterious for nothing, so she decided to keep a closer eye on him. She’d been distracted and depressed these past few days because of Xie Xingzhou’s departure, and had inevitably neglected the goings-on at the hotel.
After completing her duties with the day shift attendant, Xia Chan was about to take a quick break when she received a call: the VIP guest in room 1208 needed fever-reducing medication. The hotel categorized VIP requests, and anything outside a certain range required confirmation from the housekeeping supervisor.
Undeterred, Xia Chan hung up and rushed to room 1208 in the staff elevator.
She knocked on the door, stepped back, and raised her voice. "Mr. He, excuse me for disturbing you. I'm Xia Chan, the housekeeping supervisor."
She waited, receiving no response. He must really be deaf, she thought.
Confused, she stood for a moment, contemplating whether she should call Liu Baona, who knew sign language, before making any further plans.
Just as she was about to leave, the door suddenly opened.
Caught completely off guard, Xia Chan’s breath hitched.
Standing in the doorway was a tall, thin man in a simple white shirt.
Xia Chan quickly pulled out her phone, typed out her greeting and question—asking if he needed help finding a doctor from the wellness department—and turned the screen toward the man.
She glanced at his face, and a powerful sense of familiarity washed over her. She felt like she had seen him somewhere before.
He was silent for a moment, then took the phone from her and typed his reply: "No, thank you."
Xia Chan took the phone back and typed: "What kind of medicine do you need?"
After the man named the fever-reducing medication, Xia Chan asked him to wait, putting the phone away.
The man simply nodded, shoved a hand into his pocket, and turned to go inside.
The moment the door closed, Xia Chan slapped her forehead with a quiet thud, the realization hitting her:
This was He Huaisheng, the man she had hit with a stone last night, the man she had drunkenly cursed as "Deaf," and then casually given a "Nice Guy Card" to.
But who would have thought he was actually deaf?
Xia Chan groaned inwardly, now even more anxious to move quickly. She prepared the fever-reducing medication and made a point of calling Liu Baona to join her.
Xia Chan handed the medicine to He Huaisheng and instructed him to contact the front desk if he felt any discomfort. Liu Baona was beside her, interpreting the message with sign language.
He Huaisheng watched Liu Baona’s gestures and nodded.
The two women bowed slightly and left.
On the way, Liu Baona couldn't help but sigh. "Mr. He is handsome and has a good family background, but it's a pity that he is deaf."
A hotel is a service industry, receiving hundreds of people a day. The staff often chatted about insider stories and gossip in their spare time to relieve fatigue. Under normal circumstances, Xia Chan would have offered a comment, but after last night, she suddenly felt that the word "deaf" sounded unduly harsh.
Apart from He Huaisheng, nothing else notable happened that morning.
A Smoldering Resentment
During the lunch break, Xia Chan seized the opportunity to smoke a cigarette in the bathroom. She had quit for ten days and had long passed the hardest phase, but one cigarette last night had wasted all her efforts.
Well, she thought, at least I can smoke for a while for the next two months. I have nothing left but this little comfort.
She finished her cigarette and was about to go out when she heard two sets of footsteps outside and paused.
A voice, laughing, said, "I saw your earrings this morning. Who gave them to you?"
Amid the sound of running water, another voice replied, "I saved up and bought them myself." Xia Chan recognized the two: Liu Baona and another waitress, Chi Yue.
Liu Baona said, "Chi Yue, you're willing to give them away."
Chi Yue seemed reluctant to discuss it. "No," she replied vaguely.
After a moment's silence, Liu Baona spoke again. "Have you heard that our deputy manager is leaving?"
"Yes."
"The position will be vacant once the head of housekeeping moves on. And if another supervisor moves on, another position will be vacant."
Chi Yue just hummed. "Hmm."
Liu Baona smiled and said, "Chi Yue, I think you have a good chance of being promoted to supervisor."
Chi Yue quickly demurred. "Everyone is excellent. Manager Liu will make the final decision."
Soon, Chi Yue and Liu Baona left.
Xia Chan emerged from the cubicle, washed her hands, and couldn't help but stare at her own reflection in the mirror.
Xia Chan knew she was attractive—she’d inherited Zhou Lan’s genes. If a woman is beautiful and comes from a wealthy family, her life is usually smooth sailing. But if she is charming but penniless, her ambitions will inevitably be high and her life dangerously fragile. Xia Chan belonged to the latter category.
Liu Hongyi's intentions were now clear: he had cast a net, waiting to see if she would fall into it.
After lunch, not long after the break, Liu Baona rushed into the lounge in a panic, saying that the guest in room 1208 wanted to complain. Xia Chan dared not delay and hurried to the twelfth floor.
The door of room 1208 was slightly ajar. Xia Chan knocked as usual, but from inside, she heard a male voice, deep and powerful: "Come in."
What the hell, Xia Chan thought, her brow furrowing. Can a mute speak?
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