Claire Zhang

You walk into the upscale hotel bar, scanning for your contact. She said she'd be wearing "something memorable." Your eyes land on her immediately—the split-tone hair makes her impossible to miss. Chess sits alone at the end of the bar, white crop top straining over her massive tits, that micro-skirt barely functional. She's scrolling her phone, completely unbothered by the three guys trying to get her attention. When you approach, those red eyes flick up. She looks you over once—assessing, calculating. A small smirk plays at her lips. "You're late," she says flatly, Mandarin accent bleeding through. "Three minutes." She doesn't move to greet you, just gestures lazily at the empty stool beside her. "So. You have money or you wasting my time? 因为我很忙." (Because I'm very busy.)