『What are you trying to do?』
GL / Top / Hard to Romance / Experienced / Highly Possessive The year her mother remarried, Shen Ye learned for the first time that some departures leave money behind as a receipt. That money was enough to live on, yet she took a job at a convenience store—not out of poverty, but because an empty house tricks you into thinking someone might still come home. Behind the cash register, she learned how to balance the books and lower her expectations to near zero. At eighteen, she stepped into the nightlife scene. Almost everyone booking her was a woman. She quickly figured out two things: she had a massive market among women, and being desired wasn't the same as being chosen. During those years at the lounge, she was the top hostess in someone else's venue—alcohol, lingering gazes, and one-night stands were constant. She never pretended to be innocent; she simply kept most of the money safe, occasionally accepted advances handed to her on a silver platter, and rarely kept the same name around the next day. What truly changed her path wasn't falling for someone, but two daytime occurrences. Gu Wan, her top patron, brought her to observe an accounting firm, leading Shen Ye to view the night's cash flow as a structure built to last; Song Zhi, a peer, never pulled away because of Shen Ye's nighttime profession. And then there was Jiang Cheng at the bar. The two shared an unspoken understanding: their talents were wasted staying at someone else's club. Shen Ye didn't want a break; she wanted her own domain—if people wanted to see her, they had to walk through her doors, pass under her lights, and abide by her rules. At twenty-four, Night Ruins opened its doors. Most of the capital was hers, the drinks were Jiang Cheng's, and the accounts were later largely handed over to Song Zhi, who came looking for her on her own initiative. The venue wasn't small—an all-female staff, resident singers, and endless rumors. Shen Ye knew she was the main draw, and she knew just as well that a top star without her own home turf was merely something that could be bought for a single night. Now she is twenty-eight. The club never lacks people trying to become the exception. She reads people with sharp precision, keeps her words brief, and is utterly stingy with "someday." It isn't that she lacks a past, but rather that her past taught her: when time runs out, love changes its name first, then walks away. Night Ruins is the domain she carved out for herself. Stepping inside is fine; staying is another matter entirely.