Chapter Fifty-Five: Jade Sandalwood of the Breeze and Moon Pavilion

The young women in the brothel often took care of Chen Gouzi, who had rosy lips, white teeth, and a pleasing appearance. They would ask him to perform somersaults for the clients’ amusement; when the patrons were entertained, they would reward him with a few coins.

In this manner, several years passed. Relying on his acrobatic skills, Chen Gouzi managed to save up a modest sum, and as he grew more handsome with each passing year, he became even more favored by the women in the house.

Chen Gouzi once believed that his life would continue this way—always lingering in the brothel, performing for clients as a mere entertainer. If the patrons were pleased, they’d toss him a handful of copper coins; if they were stingy, he would perform for nothing, his efforts unappreciated.

He thought that, perhaps, when he had finally saved enough money, he would leave the brothel where he had grown up behind, find a place where no one knew him, marry a wife, raise children, and live out his days in peace.

He had often imagined such a life: a virtuous wife, adorable children, free from filthy words and lewdness, where no one would look down on him, beat him, or insult him, trampling his dignity beneath their feet. He envisioned working from dawn till dusk, earning a living by honest means.

So, over the years, in order to leave the brothel as soon as possible, Chen Gouzi lived frugally, despite earning enough in tips to cover his daily needs. He ate nothing but steamed buns or plain porridge, all to save a little more for himself.

Fortunately, the madam was not unkind, nor was she envious of the tips he received from clients; as long as he did his duty each day, she asked for nothing more.

The brothel’s caretaker who had adopted Chen Gouzi had died seven years ago. Since Chen Gouzi had never sold himself to the brothel, he was free to leave whenever he wished.

Yet, for ordinary folk, a house and some land were essential. Without them, it would be hard to settle down after leaving the brothel, and no respectable family would be willing to give their daughter to him.

Soon, he told himself—just a little longer.

He would endure until he had saved enough silver to build a small wooden house and purchase a few acres of poor land, then he would leave the brothel and live his own life—the life a young man from a humble family ought to have.

As for his foster father, whose face was now but a vague memory, Chen Gouzi felt little attachment. After all, the old caretaker had adopted him only to have someone to bury him when the time came. Unfortunately, he died before Chen Gouzi was old enough to repay his kindness.

Chen Gouzi was sick of the scent of powder and rouge, sick of the brothel’s filthy, obscene stench! He told himself that he would leave on his sixteenth birthday, but fate, as ever, was fond of toying with people.

He closed his eyes, recalling everything that had happened the previous night.

Dingjia Market, House of Wind and Moon.

From the main hall came the sounds of dice games, curses, teasing laughter, and the clinking of wine cups—the grunts of men, the soft moans of women.

There was no need to look to know where one was; just by listening, it was clear this was a place of pleasure for men.

The House of Wind and Moon was the largest brothel in Dingjia Market. At any given time, there were thirty or forty prostitutes of all shapes and ages awaiting customers.

There were no “virtuous” courtesans here who sold their performances but not their bodies; everything had its price, clearly marked. Clients paid according to a woman's worth, and any extra was a tip for her alone—not even the madam could take it by force.

Having just finished his “Monkey King’s Somersault” act, Chen Gouzi returned to his small room.

He had barely sat down—just enough time to wipe his sweat and drink a cup of tea—when Yutan entered with a cheerful smile.

“Gouzi, you’d better get ready. It’s nearly the Mid-Autumn Festival, and more and more patrons are coming to the house. That means more requests for performances. You’re about to earn another little windfall.”

Yutan’s looks were among the best in the House of Wind and Moon. She had drifted here at thirteen and had been entertaining clients for two or three years now.

Chen Gouzi returned her smile and said, “That’s all thanks to you and the other sisters looking after me. Otherwise, I’d have been thrown out long ago—no chance of earning a tip.”

Yutan spat playfully and laughed, “You always call us ‘sister,’ Gouzi, as if we’re all old women! I’m actually a few months younger than you. Besides, with your handsome face, the madam would never throw you out. She’s more than happy to keep you here!”

She meant no harm, but to Chen Gouzi, her words carried another meaning, and his fists clenched involuntarily.

Suppressing his frustration, he forced a smile. “You’re joking, sister. A woman's looks are valuable, but it’s different for us men. No matter how handsome we are, looks can’t feed us. We have to rely on hard work, or we’ll starve sooner or later.”

Yutan didn’t notice anything amiss and went on smiling.

“But even the most beautiful face will grow old someday. Enough of that—get ready, Gouzi. When Boss Wang arrives, come to my room and perform for him.”

“I understand,” Chen Gouzi replied coolly.

After Yutan left, Chen Gouzi let out a mocking laugh—at himself. If only he could resign himself to his fate like the others in the brothel, he might be better off. But he refused to submit, yet lacked the means to change his destiny. All he could do was complain.

Well, he thought, it’s time to perform again, time to put aside his dignity. What else could he do?

No family, no friends, no money—he was utterly alone. Aside from his passable looks and his skill at somersaults, he had nothing else.

Regaining his composure, Chen Gouzi made himself up as the Monkey King once more and strolled unhurriedly toward Yutan’s room.

As he passed by, muffled moans and low growls seeped through the tightly closed doors.

These were sounds meant to be enticing, but in Chen Gouzi’s ears, they were disgusting and nauseating. He thought that if he stayed in this brothel much longer, one day he would lose all interest in women, and his family line would end with him.

Even in his most desperate moments, it had never occurred to Chen Gouzi to seek out his birth parents. After his foster father took him in, he hadn’t been made to take the man’s surname; when it came time to register his residency, he kept the surname Chen.

To Chen Gouzi, the moment he’d been abandoned, he had ceased to be part of the Chen family. The only reason he kept the name was because changing it would have been too troublesome.