Chapter 1532 - Military-Designated Teahouse
Naturally, such a conversation produced no resolution. But Lin Ming felt that at least he had made contact with his sister-in-law, and her attitude toward leaving Lingao was not an outright refusal—there was still room to work with. As long as he maintained contact, he might yet persuade her to change her mind.
Seeing he could not convince her for now, Lin Ming made long-term plans. He promised Li Yongxun to stay "safe and quiet" in Lingao and not participate in any anti-Cropped-Hair activities.
"There's a group operating in Lingao recently—very likely sent by the court," Li Yongxun whispered. "Though they've been broken up, the ringleader hasn't been captured. That person should still be active in Lingao. Be careful."
For Lin Ming, "his own people" were now far more dangerous than the Cropped-Hairs.
"I understand. You be careful too," Lin Ming cautioned.
"Mm, don't worry."
The two agreed on new codes for future meetings. Besides the cinema, Li Yongxun gave him two other locations, lest someone notice her frequenting the cinema too often.
The day after Li Yongxun and Lin Ming's meeting, Xin Nachun walked into a teahouse located outside the Third Ring Road of East Gate Market South.
This was already the suburbs of East Gate Market. Though the roads were neatly laid out with streetlights and trees already in place, buildings along the streets were sparse. Construction sites with scaffolding were also scarce. Much of the land remained farmland, vegetable gardens, and wasteland—with a few neglected graves here and there awaiting relocation. On parcels of wasteland waiting to be sold, simple shacks and lean-tos had been built where people operated small businesses.
Though already beyond the Third Ring, the economic boom sweeping Lingao had reached here too. The massive influx of industrial and agricultural workers around East Gate Market had stimulated local commerce. The market was small and shops were few, but pedestrians came and went—a reasonably prosperous scene.
The teahouse Xin Nachun entered was a newly built two-story building. The first floor had square tables and benches, with the wooden counter lined with wine jugs and large porcelain plates heaped with cold appetizers. A menu board listing dishes and snacks hung high on the wall. Beside it was a wooden sign: "Military-Designated Teahouse."
"Military-Designated" essentially meant certified by the Beiping Army's Joint Logistics Department—authorized to provide various living services to soldiers, whether state-owned or privately operated. It supplemented the military cooperative. To earn certification, products and services had to meet high standards, and discounts for military personnel were required. But the benefits were obvious: Beiping soldiers were well-paid with high spending power, providing stable business. Earning this certification was tantamount to the Yuan Elder Court's endorsement of quality, boosting market appeal.
Though called a teahouse, its main business wasn't tea but food, drink, and lodging. It wasn't mealtime now, and the first floor was nearly empty. A few workers sat around a table cleaning freshly delivered shellfish, peeling shrimp and crab meat, preparing ingredients for the evening.
"Miss Xin! You've been scarce lately—so many people have been saying: without you, the spring colors here have faded." A worker greeted her warmly the moment she entered.
Xin Nachun was a regular here. Besides providing dining services for soldiers, the teahouse's other main business was "quickie rooms." The dozen-plus small rooms upstairs served this purpose.
According to the Public Order Law, prostitutes could only solicit business in designated pleasure-trade zones and call stations. For yellow-ticket prostitutes, who had no brothel-provided rooms, home-based self-employment was prohibited—and many had no homes anyway, living in hostel dormitories. Thus teahouses offering food and "workspaces" had emerged to fill the gap.
Business could be conducted legally here. The teahouse provided not only rooms but also shower facilities. The teahouse didn't take a cut—that was prohibited by the Public Order Law—but profited from the services it provided. In Lingao's severely imbalanced gender ratio, with young adult males forming the majority, profits from servicing the sex trade were considerable.
This particular teahouse made especially good profits. When Beiping soldiers on leave sought to meet physiological needs, they chose "Military-Designated" establishments for the discounts.
Soldiers were all young and fit. Ample nutrition and years of duty, training, and labor made them robust and healthy, with strong needs. Unlike ordinary naturalized citizens, they spent long years in barracks; apart from officers, the chances of enlisted men and NCOs marrying were virtually zero. Patronizing prostitutes became the main outlet for their needs.
Yellow-ticket prostitutes' business flourished accordingly. Xin Nachun usually worked at a call station in this area; soldiers from the nearby Garrison Battalion were her main customers.
Xin Nachun was young and "wild" enough—her business was excellent, so she brought plenty of trade to this teahouse. For such a star, the workers spared no effort in flattering her. As for her being a "non-citizen"—few here cared about that.
"Spring colors my ass," Xin Nachun said irritably. "My backside's already blooming—want to admire the spring colors?"
The worker was well-informed and knew about Xin Nachun's punishment. Since she brought it up herself, he smiled. "Miss Xin, after great hardship comes great fortune! Look, this is a small token from our shop—consider it consolation!" Someone brought out a small porcelain bottle from behind the counter.
"This is Runshetang's new..."
Before he finished, Xin Nachun spat and laughed. "I suppose it's nothing proper—another aphrodisiac to seduce men?"
"Not at all, not at all," the worker said, grinning. "Miss, you have no need for such things. This is Runshetang's new Three-White Pills—the best for fading dark spots and whitening skin. Everyone who's tried it says it's wonderful. Our shop has always been grateful for your patronage. Now that you've suffered, consider this a get-well gift from everyone."
Xin Nachun spent her days wandering the streets, so her complexion had always been somewhat dark. Since ancient times, fair skin had been prized; paler skin meant better business.
Though she knew this was just the teahouse fawning for trade, being remembered after her punishment touched her a little.
After receiving fifty lashes, Xin Nachun had been locked in a cangue at the entrance of the Heyuan Street police station for three days. With wounds on her buttocks—though the Corrections Office provided wound salve, it wasn't an instant cure—and having to endure the mockery and teasing of passersby, she had suffered through the pain for three days. Back at her lodging, she had recuperated for over ten days before roughly recovering, though the scars still itched occasionally. Yet she was already out "doing business." She was eager partly to report to her superior and partly because this month's entertainment tax was due—the consequences of tax evasion in Lingao were serious.
Self-employed prostitutes paid a fixed tax and social security tax. For someone like Xin Nachun with "no dependents," about half of monthly income went to taxes—sometimes as much as two-thirds. This was obviously a significant burden.
The reason was that the flesh trade here was booming. Good social order and a large consumer population meant high earnings for prostitutes. But for the Yuan Elder Court, the pleasure trade was merely a pressure valve and fiscal supplement—tolerable but not a development priority.
For a polity built on industrial technology, if a young woman could earn far more lying down and spreading her legs than a factory girl working hard, social attitudes would inevitably shift. A significant portion of young women would take this path, and labor would flow from industry to the tertiary sector—the other timeline's Dongguan was a classic example.
For the Yuan Elder Court, which was desperately short of labor, manpower was the most precious resource. Though the Yuan Elder Court in this timeline had not adopted measures to suppress the tertiary sector, compress consumption, or force capital accumulation, the sex industry was clearly not one to encourage.
Therefore, taxation was used to regulate it, keeping income roughly on par with ordinary female workers. Collecting social security tax served a similar purpose. Fang Jinghan had once conducted sociological research on local prostitutes' income and spending, concluding that their savings rate was very low. When they aged and could no longer sustain their trade, they easily fell into hardship—inevitably requiring government assistance for old-age support. Moreover, the mandatory free health checks and STD treatments currently consumed social resources, making additional security taxes entirely justified.
Xin Nachun bantered with the worker, then went upstairs on her own. She had been summoned by a slip from her call station—completely routine for both her and the teahouse.
At the top of the stairs was a corridor: windows on one side, a row of rooms partitioned by wooden boards on the other. At the end were shower facilities and toilets, kept very clean. It was afternoon, and the second floor was empty and quiet. Xin Nachun walked all the way to the last room, raised her hand, and knocked lightly three times. She listened, then knocked three more.
A low voice came from inside: "The door's unlocked. Come in."
Xin Nachun pushed the door, and it opened. She slipped in and latched it behind her.
The room was dim, bamboo blinds drawn. But for a regular like Xin Nachun, she didn't need to look to know its layout: a simple "Australian bed"—not even painted—in the simplest possible style; a matching table and chair; a teapot and cups on the table.