“Writing poems means no need to spend money?”
Guan Xiaorou’s eyes lit up, “Dear, your poetry is so good, you can definitely do it.”
“That’s why I said if he’s willing, he might not only avoid spending but even earn money at the brothel,” Qing Mulang winked at Jin Feng, “Sir, what do you think? Consider it.”
This wasn’t new, historically, some scholars lived by writing poems and lyrics for brothel girls, the most famous being Liu Yong.
When Liu Yong was down and out, he relied on brothel girls for support.
Not a freeloader, Liu Yong had real talent, any girl he worked with saw her value soar.
In the brothel circles then, Liu Yong was a true idol, adored by countless girls, who even made a slogan, “Rather than a thousand gold, I’d win Liu Lang’s heart. Rather than meet immortals, I’d know Liu Lang’s face.”
This showed Liu Yong’s status among them.
Though Jin Feng was an engineering student, nine years of compulsory education and three years of high school Chinese equipped him with countless poems.
Those in textbooks, memorised fully, were treasures of Earth’s millennia-long culture.
If Jin Feng chose, surpassing Liu Yong wouldn’t be hard.
He didn’t mind, as this world lacked those poets, reciting their works kept these gems alive.
“Dear, Mulang’s idea is good,” Guan Xiaorou said, “Forget earning money, building ties with Chunfeng Tower could help get Dongdong’s sister out, right?”
“Her idea’s good? Good for nothing!” Jin Feng snapped, “Even if I could write great poems, I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Dongdong’s sister isn’t the flower queen yet, it’s already tricky. If she becomes one, it’ll be even harder.”
“That…”
Guan Xiaorou and Qing Mulang paused, realising he was right.
“Then write poems for other top girls to make them flower queen?” Guan Xiaorou suggested.
“Dongdong’s sister is Chunfeng Tower’s key prospect, if she doesn’t win this year, there’s next year, they won’t let her go easily.”
“What do we do?” Guan Xiaorou glanced at Tang Dongdong, whose head hung lower, her face flushing with anxiety.
Looking at her, Jin Feng had a sudden idea.
“I’ve thought of a way.”
After hearing Jin Feng’s plan, Tang Dongdong’s mood visibly improved. They discussed it all morning, finalising the plan.
“Dear, here’s 2,500 taels in notes, take them,” Guan Xiaorou took a stack from her pouch, kept a few, and handed the rest to Jin Feng.
“Why take so much?” Jin Feng smiled, picking a 100-tael note, “This won’t even be used up.”
“Bring it back if you don’t use it. What if you need money and don’t have it? People will laugh,” Guan Xiaorou insisted, stuffing the notes into his hand.
“Fine,” Jin Feng, unable to argue, pocketed them.
After lunch, Jin Feng and Tie Chui strolled into the Fengyue Quarter where Chunfeng Tower was.
Entering the quarter, Jin Feng caught a faint scent of rouge. The streets bustled with scholars holding fans and merchants in gold and silver.
At every brothel entrance, young women waved handkerchiefs or swayed, calling to passersby.
Though Jin Feng dressed neatly in well-fitted clothes, they were plain cloth, paling beside the dazzlingly dressed noble sons.
Tie Chui, in coarse hemp, clearly wasn’t from wealth.
Brothel workers often judged by appearance, fawning over the richly dressed from afar, but none greeted Jin Feng and Tie Chui.
Only at Chunfeng Tower’s entrance did a pimp impatiently nudge a newly bought worker, “More bumpkins here to gawk at Chunfeng Tower, Doggy, go deal with them.”
“Yes!” The young worker, bowing, scurried over.
Perhaps new, he hadn’t mastered disdain, warmly bowing to Jin Feng, “Gentlemen, please come in, here to listen to music or meet a familiar girl?”
“That little brat has no eye for people, needs proper training. Bowing to such folk, they’ll keep coming to gawk,” the pimp grumbled, turning to leave, but saw Tie Chui toss a two-tael silver ingot to the worker.
Xichuan’s mountainous region meant less wealth than the Central Plains, Chunfeng Tower couldn’t compare to capital brothels, with few lavish spenders.
Spending 20-30 taels a night was big business, tipping a worker a few coins was generous.
A guest like Jin Feng, casually tipping two taels, was rare, seen only a few times a month.
Jin Feng wasn’t showing off, he’d never been to a brothel. Before coming, he consulted the inn’s waiter about brothel customs, knowing low-status workers couldn’t arrange meetings with top girls like Tang Xiao Bei.
Tipping generously was the only way to get noticed.
The waiter’s advice proved effective, the pimp, previously scornful, now wore a fawning smile, hurrying over.
From afar, he bowed, “Oh, sir, please come in! Doggy, step back, I’ll personally serve these gentlemen.”
“No need, he’s fine,” Jin Feng glanced at the pimp.
“Sir, Doggy’s new, clumsy, don’t let him neglect our honoured guests,” the pimp, unfazed by the rebuff, smiled obsequiously, “I’ve been at Chunfeng Tower for over a decade, I know every girl. Tell me what you want, I’ll arrange it.”
“Oh?” Jin Feng asked, “I heard Tang Xiao Bei is quite talented, can you arrange it?”
“Of course, of course,” the pimp patted his chest, “But Miss Xiao Bei is our top girl, soon to represent Chunfeng Tower in the flower queen contest. Meeting her costs 100 taels, tea with her 500 taels.”
“Do I look like a fool?” Jin Feng said coldly, “She’s not even the flower queen yet, even if she were, tea wouldn’t cost 500 taels!”
“Sorry, sir, that’s Miss Xiao Bei’s price. Perhaps choose another girl?” the pimp said, inwardly regretful.
Meeting Tang Xiao Bei didn’t cost that much, but seeing Jin Feng’s generosity and apparent inexperience, he tried to fleece him, only to fail.
