There’s no need to spell out every detail.

Bai Haonan really did become a gigolo.

That evening, after dropping Qiao Yingna off at the karaoke bar, he hurried to the nightclub he had inadvertently wandered into before, ready to apply for the job. To him, it didn’t seem like a difficult task.

Qiao Yingna actually had three gigs to run through each night, starting at nine-thirty and warming up the crowds until two in the morning. At each venue, she sang four or five songs, only staying for two hours at the last spot. The earlier shows were all about an hour long, with three to five songs each—not too stressful. She could even sit down for a drink, chat with regulars. Having sung for over two years, she’d become a veteran, earning a decent income. The most important thing was knowing her boundaries, and she certainly had the intelligence for that.

But tonight, watching Bai Haonan’s expectant figure fade into the neon-lit bustle, Qiao Yingna was clearly distracted. Her singing lacked its usual spirit; many customers and musicians noticed, and she received plenty of bouquets as consolation. It was almost ironic—such tender moments in this nightlife scene. So Qiao Yingna tried to sing familiar songs to regain her composure, but during breaks, she couldn’t help but ask the musicians or bar managers about the gigolo club—a place she’d never inquired about before. She only sang, transferred her earnings via online payment after each gig, and left. She never carried a phone or belongings, walking empty-handed through the treacherous bar street, relying solely on her familiar face, never getting too involved, and thus managed to stay safe for over two years.

The nightclub manager was surprised, asking if she was thinking of visiting the gigolo club herself. “What’s the use? Even if you escape STDs or AIDS, you’ll have to rely on meds. They’re all drug addicts. Just look at the clientele—mostly women in their forties and fifties. They’re nothing but juice extractors!”

Qiao Yingna grew worried, even considering calling Chen Sufen to report what had happened.

So after two in the morning, when she saw that familiar figure outside the bar, she couldn’t help but rush out. A wild thought flickered through her mind: maybe she should quit singing, find a quiet place with this man, and live a peaceful life together! Of course, it was just a fleeting impulse—how could that ever happen?

Even if you were willing to grow old together, a scoundrel’s love rarely lasts more than a day or two.

As a medical student, she was rational. In the hundreds of nights spent on this street, she’d seen countless dramas where love blinded people, only to burn them to ashes.

Still, it didn’t stop her from focusing all her attention on Bai Haonan, searching for signs that he’d been drained, checking if his eyes looked lifeless... and then she saw him smiling happily, though his tone was a bit sour: “Did you hook a rich lady?”

The scoundrel looked just like someone excited on the first day of a new job. “Damn, there are so many tricks I never expected!”

Qiao Yingna, with the cool detachment of a medical student, asked, “You really became a gigolo?”

Bai Haonan proudly thumped his chest. “Look at me—perfect gigolo material! Height, build, looks, all just right. Today was just sitting in to get a feel for things; after some business training, I’ll start working outside gigs.”

Even if nightclub singers had spent years drilling into themselves that they were chasing musical dreams, working to support themselves, strictly selling their talents and not their bodies, deep down they still shied away from mentioning their nightlife identity. They always reminded themselves of their bright future as medical students. Bai Haonan’s cheerful attitude towards being a gigolo made her roll her eyes like never before. “Can’t you be a bit more reserved?”

Bai Haonan rattled off his logic. “Nowadays, there’s no shame in being a prostitute. Make enough money, find a decent guy to marry, that’s all. It’s the same for us footballers. While I’m young and healthy, I should make money. I heard there’s big money in this!”

Qiao Yingna nearly stumbled, but she couldn’t deny that every word he said was true. “But… at least you should… oh forget it, I can’t win an argument with you.”

Bai Haonan looked puzzled. “What did I say? I’m just telling the truth. Honestly, I never realized being a gigolo was so simple. Damn, just pretend you’re a chicken, and everything becomes absurdly easy!”

Qiao Yingna could only beg, “Keep your voice down. You might not care about your reputation, but I still do. Lend me your glasses—I wish I could dig a hole and disappear.”

The twenty-eight-year-old ex-professional footballer had no concept of shame. That much was clear from his playing style; for victory, he’d use any means necessary against his opponents. He’d always believed in this philosophy. Now, somewhat deflated, he fell silent.

After walking a few steps, Qiao Yingna felt apologetic. “Alright, alright, so how was it so simple?” She was still curious.

Bai Haonan didn’t hold grudges, his enthusiasm returning immediately. “Ever called for a hostess? Oh wait, have you ever been a hostess?” Qiao Yingna threw a flurry of punches at him, earning applause and cheers from the bar’s closing staff.

Understanding the situation, the soon-to-be gigolo grabbed the singer in his arms, and Qiao Yingna settled down, humming with a nasal tone, “I have a sense of shame—I sell art, not my body!”

Bai Haonan didn’t care what shame was. “You’ve seen it in the bars, right? Hostesses all line up for customers to pick. Same for gigolos. I’ve been to so many venues and picked so many girls—I’m an expert at being chosen. How to stand, how to look, I know it all! As long as I’m in the lineup, I get picked, five hundred yuan in tips. The bar takes a hundred, the manager takes another hundred. It’s just drinking and playing games. Today, I did four rounds in a row. If I hadn’t come to pick you up, I could’ve earned even more. Then I handed a thousand yuan to the manager as a thank you. How’s that for knowing how to get along?”

He didn’t feel the slightest humiliation at being lined up for customers to choose, like livestock.

So Qiao Yingna leaned against his muscular chest, listening not to sweet nothings, but being shocked by his unbelievable positivity. “So you earned twelve hundred today, then immediately handed over a thousand to curry favor?”

Bai Haonan took it for granted. “How do hostesses do it? Drinking and earning tips isn’t the main thing, right? The real money is in overnight gigs. Tips inside the bar are nothing—the real money’s outside. The managers have loads of connections; they know which clients have money, which ones are trouble. Build good relations, and the resources come your way. That makes earning much easier, right?”

The singing medical student could only marvel. “I… never thought of it like that. I just figured singing well was enough.”

Bai Haonan was delighted. “Sure enough, they treated me great today, said they’d make me the top VIP. Two old, ugly women wanted to take me out for the night, but the manager rejected them for me. Not only did I get several quick gigs, but they introduced me to the more flirtatious clients for practice…”

By now, the two had reached the downstairs entrance, recalling the steps where they’d lit a fire two days ago. Qiao Yingna couldn’t help but make a teasing remark: “You need to practice?” It wasn’t the biting sarcasm of Chen Sufen, but rather a bit of flirtation.

Bai Haonan laughed, holding her tight enough to almost lift her. “Then let me show you…”

Qiao Yingna stopped resisting, actually feeling a bit excited!

Once inside, Bai Haonan tossed her onto the sofa, telling her not to move. Qiao Yingna felt a shiver of anticipation, stretching her neck to watch him open the fridge in the living room. He hardly ever cooked here—inside were mostly cosmetics and stockings. Her voice trembled with excitement, “What… are you doing…”

Bai Haonan gave his wicked little laugh, making Qiao Yingna feel like a rabbit about to be slaughtered.

But instead, he brought out a box of ice cubes, poured them into a glass of water, and shook it with one hand, making the ice clink. He had the air of a mad scientist preparing an experiment, with matching mysterious glances. Qiao Yingna curled up, but grew more excited, watching his every move.

A man’s knees are golden, but Bai Haonan’s knees were certainly made of tofu. When the mixture was cold enough, he knelt down with a deliberately wicked grin—though in the bright living room, he looked more like a fool. Suddenly, he grabbed Qiao Yingna’s leg, straightened it, took off her high heels, then tipped his head back, took a mouthful of ice, and began licking up her leg clad in sheer stockings, all the way up under her skirt, gazing into her eyes with deep affection.

Qiao Yingna could only scream, nearly shredding the sofa cushion.

This was the famed “Ice and Fire” technique, well known among men, but equally effective with a change of gender. The first move alone was enough to subdue anyone.