Chapter 343: The Military-Designated Teahouse
Such a conversation naturally had no result. However, Lin Ming felt that he had at least made contact with his sister-in-law, and her attitude towards the proposal of leaving Lingao was not a firm rejection, which meant that there was still a chance. As long as he maintained a certain level of contact, he might be able to persuade her to change her mind.
Seeing that he couldn’t persuade his sister-in-law for the time being, Lin Ming made a long-term plan. He promised Li Yongxun to live “peacefully” in Lingao and not participate in any anti-short-hair activities.
“Recently, a group of people have been active in Lingao, and it is very likely that they were sent by the government,” Li Yongxun quietly told him. “Although they have been cracked down on, the main figures have not been captured. This person should still be active in Lingao. You must be careful.”
For Lin Ming, his “own people” were now more dangerous than the “short-hairs.”
“I know. You must be careful too,” Lin Ming instructed.
“Yes, don’t you worry.”
The two agreed on a new secret sign for when they needed to meet. Besides the cinema, Li Yongxun also told him two other locations to avoid anyone noticing that she was frequenting the cinema too often.
The day after Li Yongxun and Lin Ming’s meeting, Xin Nachun walked into a “teahouse” outside the third ring of Dongmen Market South.
This was already the “suburbs” of Dongmen Market. Although the roads were neatly paved and the streetlights and roadside trees were all in place, there were few houses along the street, and not many houses under construction with scaffolding. Many places were still farmland, vegetable gardens, and wasteland, with a few un-moved desolate graves here and there. On the wasteland waiting to be sold, some simple huts or sheds were scattered about, with people running small businesses underneath.
Although it was outside the third ring, the economic boom that pervaded Lingao had also driven development here. The large influx of industrial and agricultural population around Dongmen Market had also boosted the market here. Although the market was not large and there were few shops, it was bustling with people, showing a scene of prosperity.
The “teahouse” Xin Nachun walked into was a newly built two-story building. The first floor had square tables and benches, and the wooden counter was lined with wine pots and large porcelain bowls filled with cold dishes to go with wine. A water sign with the names of dishes and snacks written on it hung high on the wall. Next to it was another wooden sign: “Military-Designated Teahouse.”
The so-called “military-designated” meant that it was certified by the Fubo Army’s Joint Logistics Headquarters and could provide various life services to soldiers. It was a supplement to the military cooperative. To obtain certification, the quality of products and services had to meet a considerable standard, and soldiers had to be given a certain discount on consumption. But the benefits were also obvious: Fubo Army soldiers were well-paid and had high consumption power, making them a customer group that could provide stable consumption. Obtaining this certification was equivalent to the Senate’s recognition of the quality of one’s shop, and its appeal in the market would also increase.
Although it was called a teahouse, its main business was not “tea,” but catering and lodging. It wasn’t mealtime, so the first floor was empty with only a few people. A few clerks were gathered around a table, cleaning newly delivered shellfish, peeling shrimp and crab meat, and preparing ingredients for the evening.
“Miss Xin, you’ve come! You’ve been a rare guest recently. Many people have been talking about you, saying that without you, the spring scenery here has diminished by a few points.” As soon as she entered the door, a clerk had already greeted her with a beaming face. Xin Nachun was a “regular” here—besides providing catering services for soldiers, the military-designated teahouse’s other main business was “gun rooms.” The dozen or so small rooms upstairs were all used for this purpose.
According to the public security law, prostitutes could only “do business” in the customs industry business district and designated call stations. For yellow-ticket prostitutes, they did not have houses provided by brothels, and operating from home was prohibited by law—not to mention that many of them had no home at all, mostly living in the large rooms of inns. Teahouses that provided catering and “workplaces” thus emerged.
Here, they could “do business” legally. The teahouse not only provided rooms but also “shower rooms.” The teahouse did not take a cut—this was prohibited by the public security law—it profited from the services it provided. In a society like Lingao with a severely imbalanced gender ratio and a majority of young and strong men, the profits from providing services for sex trade were very considerable.
The profits this teahouse made were particularly large. Fubo Army soldiers on leave from the barracks would choose the “military-designated” teahouses with discounts when they needed to satisfy their physiological needs.
Soldiers were young and strong. Sufficient nutrition, year-round duty training, and labor made their bodies strong and healthy, so it was not surprising that their needs were strong. They were different from ordinary naturalized citizens. They had to spend many years in the barracks. Except for officers, the possibility of soldiers and sergeants getting married was close to zero. Buying sex became the main way to solve their physiological needs.
The business of yellow-ticket prostitutes also boomed. Xin Nachun usually “did business” at the call stations in this area, and the soldiers from the nearby garrison battalion were her main “clients.”
Xin Nachun was both young and “wild,” so her business was excellent. Therefore, she frequented this teahouse the most. For such a “popular person,” the clerks were also unsparing in their flattery. As for the fact that she was a “non-national,” few people here cared.
“Spring scenery my ass,” Xin Nachun said irritably. “This lady’s ass has been blossomed. Do you want to admire the spring scenery?”
The clerk was well-informed and naturally knew about Xin Nachun’s punishment. Seeing her bring it up herself, the clerk said with a grin, “Miss Xin, after a great disaster, there must be good fortune to follow. Look, this is a small token from our shop to comfort you!” As he spoke, someone took out a small porcelain bottle from the counter.
“This is the new…”
Before he could finish, Xin Nachun spat and laughed, “I’m sure it’s nothing proper. Is it some kind of aphrodisiac to seduce men again?”
“Not at all, not at all,” the clerk said with a beaming face. “Miss, why would you need such a thing? This is the new Three White Pill from Runshitang. It’s the best for whitening and lightening the skin. Everyone who has used it says it’s good. Our shop has always been grateful for your patronage. This time you have suffered. This small token is a consolation from all of us.”
Xin Nachun often wandered the streets, so her skin was originally a bit dark. Since ancient times, fairness has been considered beautiful. If her skin was fairer, her “business” would naturally be better.
Although she knew this was just the teahouse’s way of flattering her for business, she was still a little touched that someone could still think of her after she had been punished.
After receiving fifty lashes, Xin Nachun was locked in the stocks at the entrance of the Heyuan Street police station for three days. She had injuries on her buttocks—although the punishment bureau would provide wound medicine as a rule, it was not an instant-healing elixir—and she had to endure the ridicule and teasing of passersby. She endured the pain for three days like this. After returning to her lodgings, she recuperated for more than ten days before she was mostly healed, though the scars would still itch from time to time. But she was already out “doing business.” She was in such a hurry to do business partly to quickly contact her superior and report the situation, and partly because this month’s customs tax was due—the consequences of tax evasion in Lingao were very serious.
Self-employed prostitutes were charged a fixed tax and social security tax. For someone like Xin Nachun, who was “without family burden,” the tax was about half of her total monthly income, sometimes even reaching two-thirds. This was obviously a considerable burden for her.
The reason was that the flesh trade here was very prosperous. Good social order and a large consumer base made the prostitutes’ income very high. But for the Senate, the customs industry was just a pressure relief valve for the current society and a supplement to finances. It could exist, but it was not the direction of development.
For a regime founded on industrial technology, if a young woman could earn a much higher income by lying down and spreading her legs than a hardworking female worker in a factory, it would inevitably cause a shift in social ethos, inducing a considerable number of young women to take this path. The original industrial labor force would then shift to the tertiary industry—Dongguan in another time and space was a typical example.
For the Senate, which was severely lacking in manpower, manpower was the most precious asset. Although the Senate did not adopt the means of suppressing the tertiary industry, compressing consumption, and forcing accumulation in this time and space, the sex industry was obviously not an industry worth stimulating and encouraging.
Therefore, using taxation to regulate it and keep its income level roughly on par with that of ordinary female workers became the main purpose of taxation. As for levying social security tax, it was also out of similar considerations. Fang Jinghan had once conducted a sociological survey on the income and consumption of prostitutes here, and the conclusion was that prostitutes had a very low savings rate. When they grew old and could no longer sustain their prostitution business, they could easily fall into poverty. The government would inevitably have to step in to provide for their old age. Moreover, the current mandatory free physical examinations and treatment of sexually transmitted diseases also consumed social resources, so it was natural to levy an additional security tax on them.
Xin Nachun exchanged a few pleasantries with the clerk and then went upstairs on her own. She had been summoned by the clerk with a note from the call station. For her and the teahouse, this was a very common occurrence.
Up the stairs was a corridor. On one side were windows, and on the other was a row of rooms partitioned by wooden boards. At the end of the corridor were the shower room and toilet, which were kept very clean. It was afternoon, so there was no one on the second floor, and it was quiet. Xin Nachun walked along the corridor to the last room, raised her hand, and knocked lightly three times. She listened and then knocked three more times.
A low voice came from inside the room: “The door is unlocked, come in.”
Xin Nachun pushed the door, and it opened. She slipped into the room and bolted the door behind her.
The room had bamboo curtains drawn, and it was dark. But for a regular customer like Xin Nachun, she knew what the room looked like without seeing it: a simple “Australian bed” that was almost style-less—not even painted; a table and chair of the same style, with a teapot and teacups on the table.