Chapter 5: Dead End (5)

Chapter 5: Dead End (Part 5)

"Guard what?" Zhao Zhao asked, puzzled.

Mama Yu gestured downward with her pipe, pointing directly at Zhao Zhao’s waist: "Your body!"

Zhao Zhao was even more confused: "Guard it?"

Ever since she could remember, she knew she was a prostitute and would be sold sooner or later. The only thing to consider was whether she would be sold cheaply or if the price would be carefully calculated.

A whore has no purity, and she was no paragon of virtue. Where was this coming from?

Mama Yu paced back and forth in the room, acting as if facing a formidable enemy: "Master Zhao sent me a note. He wants you to go to his manor tomorrow night to play music."

Zhao Zhao didn't understand. Mama Yu cursed under her breath and whispered, "That son of a bitch wants to get a big result for a small price!"

Zhao Zhao understood instantly.

Times were hard now. The common folk had no money to spare, and the wealthy masters were not as well-off as before.

Once people are poor, they become stingy. Even when buying pleasure, they calculate carefully, saving where they can and haggling whenever possible.

This man surnamed Zhao had taken a fancy to Zhao Zhao, but he thought the virginity of a young prostitute was too expensive and didn't want to pay the high price. So, he sent a note asking her to come and play music in the dead of night.

It sounded like playing music, but once she entered the Zhao manor, would she have any say in the matter? If the man surnamed Zhao wanted to force himself on her, she would be empty-handed and completely unable to resist.

"It’s not like this hasn't happened before. A perfectly fine girl is sent out, and when she returns, she is no longer a girl."

Mama Yu was filled with bitter hatred. "When you ask them, they just say they were helpless, forced by the guest to lose their virtue. They all wail and cry, claiming they were wronged. What can I do? Take people to their door to argue? Seek justice for a whore? I can only swallow my pride and count it as bad luck."

Needless to say, these girls were ruined for nothing, and they didn't get the money either. Zhao Zhao had heard of these unlucky events, but she never thought it would happen to her.

Trapped in a dilemma, she pointed to herself and asked: "Then I..."

"You must guard it!"

"I..."

"No matter what, you must guard it!"

"I..."

"But while you guard it, you mustn't get angry and offend the customer!"

"..."

"And you can't get physical or act fierce with him! You must overcome hardness with softness, and appeal to his reason and emotions!"

"..."

"And you absolutely cannot drag me into this, saying it was my rule that you aren't allowed to spend the night with him! The man surnamed Zhao is a man of the county magistrate. If we offend him, no one in our brothel will have a good time!"

"..."

Zhao Zhao felt her vision go black. Suddenly, her waistband felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, and ten thousand hands couldn't hold it up.

Mama Yu didn't care about her, continuing to ramble on, teaching her methods of evasion like practicing Tai Chi.

"Mama," Zhao Zhao interrupted, raising her head. "The things you're saying—are you teaching me how to defend against Master Zhao? I can't do this, I can't do that; he’s practically my living ancestor."

Mama Yu heard this and felt it made sense, but if Zhao Zhao were ruined for nothing, the brothel would lose a sum of income.

She waved her hand, resolute and decisive: "Anyway, no matter what method you use, you must guard yourself for me. If there is even the slightest mistake, I will throw your mother out."

With her weak spot held hostage, Zhao Zhao sneered: "Mama really knows how to handle me." With that, she grabbed the money bag on the table and left the room without looking back.

Outside was the thick night, the cool wind like water, surging over Zhao Zhao in wave after wave. She was cold and tired, and suddenly understood why her mother had been so foolish—this life was not meant for humans; it was a living hell, and anyone who came here was a fool.

Swinging her arms, she entered the corner of the west courtyard. She saw firelight flickering at the doorway. Walking closer, she saw it was Xiao Duo, who had set up a stove and was fanning the flames to boil medicinal soup.

He was sweating profusely, the sweat mixing with wood ash to create a cute, smudged face. Zhao Zhao laughed: "How long have you been here?"

Xiao Duo held a cattail-leaf fan in each hand, working both sides, making the firewood crackle and the medicine pot bubble. He took a moment to answer: "I've been here a while! I finished the work; you go inside, I brought buns and they're on the table!"

Pushing open the creaking door, Zhao Zhao saw the buns on the wobbly table. She didn't rush to eat, but looked toward the bed in the shadows and called out, "Mother."

There was no response from the bed. Zhao Zhao walked over in the dark and heard Yao Niang’s faint breathing. She was sleeping. Whether it was the sleepiness of a pregnant woman or the desire of a disheartened person to hide in dreams, she was sleeping very soundly.

Zhao Zhao sighed. Before, she had been a bystander and didn't know how hard it was to be a prostitute. Now, experiencing it firsthand, she realized how difficult it had been for her mother to raise her.

Covering Yao Niang’s belly with the quilt, she placed the buns and the silver by the bedside, then got up and left the room, closing the door.

Xiao Duo had stoked the fire well, making the lid of the medicine pot clatter. He seized the moment, covered the steam vent with a cloth, and locked the herbs and soup inside the pot so not a single drop could escape.

He wiped his face triumphantly, wanting to call Zhao Zhao to look, but when he looked up, he saw her standing by the well, having just drawn a bucket of water. He asked strangely: "Why didn't you call me to draw the water?"

Zhao Zhao was too tired to speak. Carrying the wooden bucket with one hand, she sat on the steps, swaying. She soaked her left hand in the well water, then took Xiao Duo’s hand and squeezed his wrist bone, neither too hard nor too soft.

Her fingertips were cold and soft, landing on Xiao Duo’s hot wrist with a chilling, tingling sensation. Xiao Duo was so embarrassed he turned bright red. He quickly pulled his hand away and moved to the side of the stove, using the firelight to hide his shyness: "Why are you pinching me..."

Zhao Zhao didn't answer. She took her hand out of the water; her wrist was still red and swollen. The bruised bone and the swollen flesh seemed to be fighting, creating an incessant pain.

She wrapped her wrist tightly with a strip of cloth, pressing the bone and flesh firmly together, which slightly eased the pain.

Xiao Duo watched, dumbfounded, and asked with concern: "Who bullied you?"

Zhao Zhao told him everything. Xiao Duo cursed and greeted Master Zhao’s ancestors for eighteen generations in every way he could think of.

When they talked about the note for tomorrow night and Mama Yu’s endless instructions, Xiao Duo slapped his thigh in anger: "She’s afraid to offend the customer, so she lets you take the hit. That Master Zhao has a dozen concubines; he’s a rutting donkey turned demon, his whole heart set on women! He’s a starving ghost of lust; how could it be easy to push him away?"

It was a task as difficult as ascending to heaven, but Zhao Zhao couldn't refuse—not when she still had a mother to support.

The night wind blew past her ears, mixed with the scent of grass and the decadent smell of withered flowers. She stared into the bottomless night, lost in thought. As she watched, she suddenly pointed to a corner of the courtyard and asked: "Xiao Duo, what is that?"

Xiao Duo looked where she pointed. It was pitch black, the corner of the courtyard a pool of ink. He didn't see anything, so he got up to take a look.

In the darkness, he saw a tiny bit of red, facing the wind, bearing the moonlight, flickering like a flame. Walking closer to look, he realized it was a wild flower. It had no name, but it had grace—wet, bright red, like eyes that shed tears before speaking.

Xiao Duo turned his head: "It's a flower!"

Zhao Zhao waved her hand, telling him to bring a few over. He picked a whole handful and brought them back like he was offering a treasure.

Zhao Zhao grabbed one, squeezed it in her palm, and looked at her hand—it looked just like she had touched the blood of a dead person. She nodded with satisfaction, an idea forming in her mind: "When you used to send girls to their customers, was there ever a time you were halfway home and got called back?"

"That did happen. The girl suddenly started her period after getting into bed, and the guest wouldn't touch her..." Xiao Duo suddenly understood Zhao Zhao’s intention and slapped his forehead: "You do the same thing tomorrow night. Let's see if that bastard dares to touch you!"

That was exactly what Zhao Zhao meant. Without wasting words, she went back into the room to get her undergarments.

The two of them—one pinching flowers, the other holding up the clothes—stained them in a convincing way. It didn't look like a period, but rather like blood gushing out, as if she were about to die. It looked quite intimidating. Thinking of Master Zhao trying to get physical only to be scared off by the "evil-warding" red, the two of them burst into laughter under the cold moonlight.

(End of chapter)