Chapter Fifty-Six: The Greasy Middle-Aged Man

For the sake of a secure future, Chen Gouzi pushed open Yutan’s chamber door.

At the center of the room, on the large bed, Yutan had already shed her warm outer garments. She wore nothing but a sheer pink camisole and matching underpants, both so translucent that her alluring figure was only half-concealed, the suggestion of youthful curves visible beneath the fabric.

By contrast, the client, Master Wang, sat utterly composed, dressed from head to toe with a pious air. Yutan clung to his arm, her not-yet-fully-developed but shockingly generous chest pressed tightly against him, distorted under the pressure.

“I’ll perform a somersault for you, Master, just like the Monkey King himself!” Chen Gouzi declared, his gaze passing over Yutan’s supple form with utter detachment. “If it pleases you, perhaps you’ll reward me with a few coins.”

A cold, mocking smile played at the corners of Master Wang’s mouth, but he did not respond.

Seeing this, Yutan pressed herself even closer to him, her voice coy and sugary. “Master, Gouzi’s acrobatics are the best in town…”

Master Wang’s expression grew colder still. With a sneer that failed to reach his eyes, he said, “Is that so? Then let’s see it—show me how it’s done!”

Master Wang was just past forty. Barely a year ago, he had been a dirt-poor farmer, his family owning perhaps twenty acres of good land—hardly enough to deserve the title of “Master.” But fate had smiled on him. When both his sons reached marrying age, he bought up the land beside his house to build more rooms. During construction, he stumbled upon a famed ancient weapon buried in the earth, which he sold for a fortune—two thousand five hundred taels of silver, a windfall from the heavens.

He quit farming and leased the fields to tenants, moving the whole family to town and acquiring a shop that sold spices and grains. Thus, he became a “Master” in name and deed.

Men, flush with wealth, are prone to vice. With his newfound prosperity, Master Wang soon acquired three pretty concubines. Unlike the Deyulong continent, where only officials and royalty kept concubines, here on Yaohua, any man who could afford it could take as many as he pleased.

Even with several young beauties in his home, his appetites were insatiable, and he became a regular at the House of Pleasures, never missing his eight or nine monthly visits.

Chen Gouzi had seen Master Wang before. After another brief glance at the pair on the bed, he began his act.

Despite the small size of the room, Gouzi turned somersault after somersault, never once hindered by the cramped space. One, two… ten—faster and faster, until he was a blur, indeed resembling the legendary Monkey King.

He was still young, innocent of carnal experience, but having grown up in a brothel, he knew all there was to know about the business between men and women. He had never harbored any fantasies about the women of the house; neither desire nor affection touched him. He was grateful for their care, but nothing more.

To him, the tales of scholars and heroes falling for courtesans were nothing but fanciful inventions. Had those men truly known the life of a prostitute, they would never have spun such tragic romances. What man of virtue, Gouzi wondered, would abandon a pure and gentle daughter of good family for a woman who had shared the bed of a hundred men?

Yes, Chen Gouzi looked down on women who sold their bodies for a living—and looked down even more on himself for needing their support.

After twenty consecutive somersaults, he was about to pause when Master Wang barked, “Don’t stop! I’m not done watching—go on, keep going!”

Startled, Gouzi continued. He knew that stopping now would mean all his efforts had been for nothing—not only would he get no reward, but he might even anger the client.

So he did another twenty somersaults. Sweat began to bead on his brow; fatigue set in. He had performed this trick for years, and fifty or sixty somersaults in a row were nothing to him under normal circumstances. But tonight, after four or five performances and only two buns for supper, forty more somersaults left him struggling.

Yutan, seeing that Master Wang still showed no sign of calling a halt, grew anxious. With dainty, lacquered fingers, she caressed his chest, her hand wandering restlessly.

“Master, that’s enough, don’t you think? There’s important business yet to do tonight—a night of spring is worth a thousand gold! Give him his coins and send him away…”

“What’s this? You feel sorry for the boy?” Master Wang snorted.

He reached out with a plump, greasy hand and grabbed Yutan’s chest, kneading it hard.

Yutan could not help but moan. She felt nothing for Master Wang; her reaction was nothing but a woman’s involuntary response. A young girl’s body is delicate, unable to withstand even the lightest touch—especially one who already knew a thing or two about such matters.

“Mmm—no, Master, of course not. You make me feel so good. Let’s share a night of passion together... Ah—please let Gouzi go…” she gasped, her voice trembling as pain replaced pleasure. “You’re hurting me!”

Master Wang squeezed harder, drawing a sharp gasp from Yutan. Tears welled in her eyes, inviting pity and the urge to cherish her.

“You little whore, do you take me for a fool? I come to the House of Pleasures for enjoyment, not to hand out coins so you can keep some pretty boy!”

There was a heavy thud—a body hitting the ground. Yutan looked down in alarm and saw Chen Gouzi collapsed on the floor, a deep gash on his forehead bleeding freely.

Her heart ached at the sight. She pleaded with Master Wang, “Please, Master, be merciful—let Gouzi go...”

“Tch! I could let the brat off, if you want,” Master Wang leered, his hand wandering over Yutan’s body. “If tonight you let me take the dry road—I might just forgive him.”

At his words, every trace of color drained from Yutan’s beautiful face. Forcing a smile, she replied, “Master, you must be joking. Don’t tease me so...”

She knew all too well what “taking the dry road” meant in her trade. Most clients preferred the usual—only a few had such perverse desires.

She was a prostitute, yes, but she still had a shred of dignity left. She would not allow the last pure part of herself to be defiled.