036 Reviving Old Trade (Part 3)

The teahouse's private room was adorned in a quaint and elegant style.

As Shen Tang awaited the arrival of the gentleman, she idly toyed with the teacups on the table. Being mildly hyperactive, she found it challenging to adapt to overly quiet environments. Seeing the shopkeeper lost in thought, she couldn't resist posing a question that had been on her mind for a while.

"Shopkeeper, I have a question, if you don't mind answering."

Upon hearing her inquiry, the shopkeeper, whose thoughts had momentarily drifted away, was brought back to reality. He joked, "What question couldn't I answer? Just refrain from inquiring about old tales between the elderly and Clumsy Jing."

Shen Tang replied with an awkward silence.

She had no desire to understand that!

Who would want to hear about the shopkeeper's escapades with his wife!

Seeing Shen Tang's puzzled yet complex expression, the shopkeeper suddenly realized that she was merely an eleven or twelve-year-old girl. Despite her remarkable painting skills, even if she were skilled in creating secret portraits, he shouldn't have made such suggestive jokes. He quickly steered the conversation away from that topic and asked, "What did the young lady just say? You had a question, didn't you? Feel free to ask, and I'll provide all the answers I can."

Shen Tang inquired, "How could the county government encourage such businesses? Official government officials shouldn't indulge in such activities, theoretically."

Encouraging the development of such an industry was unheard of.

The shopkeeper initially thought it was a serious matter.

But upon realizing it was merely a matter of common knowledge, he was somewhat surprised by Shen Tang's apparent "innocence." After a moment's thought, he observed that this young lady was beautiful, possessed a remarkable demeanor, showed no signs of manual labor, and had excellent painting skills. Presumably, she came from a well-to-do family. It was normal for her family to shield her from such sordid affairs.

With this in mind, he regarded Shen Tang with a hint of pity—this young lady must have endured significant hardships to venture out seeking work in creating secret portraits. If this business collaboration went smoothly, the bookstore might have other illustration commissions for her in the future.

Taking a sip of tea, he sighed, "Well, it's a long story. In recent years, there have been numerous natural disasters and wars. The common folk are struggling to survive. Those who own land are afraid to cultivate it, fearing robbery by bandits, while those without land face starvation. When adults can't feed themselves, how can they afford to raise children?"

Shen Tang shook her head, "Indeed, they cannot."

The shopkeeper continued, "So, they either abandon them or sell them. When the county government saw this, they realized it wasn't sustainable. They advocated for the construction of more establishments like these, where people could sell their talents in singing, dancing, and entertainment. This would attract more outside merchants, generate revenue, and provide a home for these children. With heavy taxes to pay, if the county government couldn't meet its quota, how could they justify it? Thus, this move was seen as... killing two birds with one stone."

Shen Tang's complexion changed upon hearing this.

Despite her efforts to restrain herself, she felt disgusted.

She asked, "Is this truly the intention of the county government?"

The shopkeeper gestured towards the center of Xiaocheng.

Lowering his voice, he leaned in and said, "Of course it is. The notices are posted everywhere. As for what these nobles are thinking, what can we, the common people, say? To tell the truth—without wars, they have no business! Now, with all this going on, selling sons and daughters into establishments like these is considered a favor bestowed by these nobles."

Due to the special circumstances and the county government's enthusiastic encouragement, other businesses in Xiaocheng were struggling to survive, but establishments like these were thriving, bustling with activity every day.

The destitute people who couldn't make ends meet were forced to sell their children. The money they received wasn't even enough to cover a month's expenses for their family, yet it enriched the human traffickers and the establishments. With more children available for sale, these groups could be more selective and bargain collectively, leaving the parents with no choice but to sell their children at a pittance.

A well-featured child could be taken away for a mere one or two hundred wen, and their fate would depend entirely on fate.

Finishing his impassioned speech, the shopkeeper noticed Shen Tang's distant expression and realized he had said too much to a child. He quickly tried to amend his words, "Ah, but all that's in the past now. In today's world, just being able to survive is already quite difficult."

As for enduring hunger, hardship, or staying in brothels, shuttling back and forth, the impoverished have no say in the matter. Life is cheaper than grass, with no room for choice.

Staying in a brothel at least ensures one's survival—if the heavens bestow a fair appearance, becoming a headliner allows for a life of luxury and indulgence. Even if one dies young, it's considered a "life of enjoyment." The fear lies in being murdered by thugs, drafted as cannon fodder on the battlefield, or forced to toil on barren farmland, working tirelessly year-round only to end up starving to death.

Shen Tang felt overwhelmed by the weight of it all.

Seeing her distressed expression, the shopkeeper sought to change the subject and asked her, "Care to guess how many of the brothels on these five long streets are for men and how many are for women?"

Shen Tang had no idea.

She casually replied, "Half and half?"

The shopkeeper shook his head, "The brothels for men outnumber those for women by this much!"

He gestured with a "seven."

Meaning seventy percent.

Shen Tang said nothing.

The shopkeeper then proceeded to answer his own question.

"I'm sure you're curious why it's like this, right? The answer isn't difficult. Do you know the person who reigns over us now used to be the 'favored consort' of the Lord of Xingguo? He had a nickname, 'Nujiao,' and as soon as he entered the scene, he attracted countless admirers. As a result, the number of brothels for men increased, and business flourished. Look at him now, ruling over an entire nation." Slapping his thigh, he exclaimed, "Remarkable!"

They might as well have awarded Zheng Qiao the title of "Most Inspirational Consort in History."

When a male consort reaches such heights, who wouldn't be impressed?

Zheng Qiao had become an idol and deity among brothel patrons.

Shen Tang remained silent.

Before long, rhythmic knocking could be heard from outside the private room.

The shopkeeper got up to answer it, finding three unfamiliar figures outside—two tall, one short. The one in the middle wore a veil, with two burly guards flanking them.

No need to say more—the one in the middle was the master.

Upon entering the private room, he removed his veil, revealing a pale, delicate face with a hint of cruelty. Rather than a man, he appeared more like a slightly immature youth. His gaze swept over Shen Tang, noting the absence of a third person, and asked the shopkeeper, "Where is the artist?"

Shen Tang raised her hand, "I'm here!"

Without even glancing at Shen Tang, he vented his anger at the shopkeeper, "Is it because I wasn't given enough money? That you sent me such a young and inexperienced girl? Do you know how important this portrait is?"

The shopkeeper hadn't expected the young man to be so temperamental, but for the sake of business, he could only bend over backwards and vouch for Shen Tang, "Don't be fooled by her age. Her painting skills are no worse than those of the previous artists."

Shen Tang nodded in agreement beside him.

After all, she had once made a living with this skill.

The man scrutinized Shen Tang upon hearing this.

Shen Tang, who had stood up by now, had the translucent seal hanging from her waist drop down with her movements, shimmering with a hint of iridescence in the light. The youth was taken aback, and his tone softened, "Very well, let this person give it a try. If she doesn't meet my expectations, we'll find someone else! However, I have a condition."

Shen Tang confidently replied, "Please, go ahead."

The youth said, "You must use the materials I provide for the painting—brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone."

Upon hearing this, Shen Tang was delighted, readily agreeing.

The night sky was dark, and the stars boiled like bubbles.

Throughout the day, Qi Yuan always felt like something was missing.

Hearing the rhythmic footsteps from the adjacent room, he knew that Little Shen Lang had returned. Glancing at the new books collected on the desk, he thought for a moment, then took them and knocked on Shen Tang's door.

Shen Tang had just finished a rough sketch and was about to start splashing ink.

"Just a moment, I'll be right there."

Shen Tang got up to open the door.

"Yuan Liang, what's the matter?"

Stepping aside, she let Qi Yuan in.

"I borrowed a few copied books from a friend, see if you need..." Before he could finish his sentence or put down the books, he saw Shen Tang's works spread out on the table and exclaimed, "Little Shen Lang, this 'painting' in the arts of qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting, who taught you?"

On the paper were drawings of people with large, round black heads, twisted bodies resembling twisted dough, lying on what might be a "chaise lounge." There was a lump on top of the head, either a bun or a flower pinned to the temple. The "right hand" was holding a round fan, and the left hand hung down... It should be a person lying on a noblewoman's chair, trying hard to strike a pose. What should be prominent was prominent, what should be concave was concave.

Sloppy and bizarre, it inexplicably exuded a sense of charm.

The key was that there was not just one "person" on the white paper. Linked together, the characters went from undressing to climbing onto the bed to strike a pose. The unfinished scene should have featured a second strange "person"... He realized there was an inexplicable sense of "anxiety."

Qi Yuan...

He really couldn't in good conscience call this "art."