Free The Painter of Shanghai by Jennifer Cody Epstein Page B

their debts and begin racking up new ones.
    The girls, for their part, are well rested for the first time in the year. They’ve passed the past week – spent by most clients with family and friends – gambling, gossiping, and eating. All, that is, but Xiaochen, who has finally been sent away. It’s said she’s been sold (for little more than a single smoke) to the ‘nail shed,’ the meanest of Wuhu’s brothels. It sits behind the railroad depot, a dirty shack with no entrance fee and no amenities. Customers – rickshaw runners, dockhands, even the occasional beggar – pay a pittance for its offerings. In some rooms there’s not even a bed.
    The disappearance of the Hall’s oldest whore is a relief in some ways. In the weeks past, Xiaochen’s appearance was disheveled, her face and neck layered with makeup which, however thickly mixed, couldn’t hide her deep wrinkles and scarred skin. Her dresses were out of fashion, their colors and cuts dating back to the long-gone days when she still had credit. Everyone knew she hadn’t had a ‘wet’ guest, one who stayed and stripped and spent the night, since the dragon-boat races. Sometimes men lether sit with them, and warble a token song or two. Most buzzed off like swatted flies at the sight of her.
    ‘They were afraid,’ Suyin speculates one day, as she and Yuliang are shelling peanuts. ‘They thought she was like that girl who told her husband never to look at her at night. But he did once, soon after she had his son.’
    ‘What did he see?’ Yuliang asks. But warily: Suyin enjoys shocking people. She embellishes stories with far-off relatives and friends to lend them a patina of credibility.
    ‘He discovered that she was only flesh-and-blood up above,’ her roommate says, sure enough. ‘From the waist down she was a rotting skeleton.’
    ‘How could they have done it to begin with, if she didn’t have any skin?’ Yuliang objects. ‘And how could she carry the baby without its falling out? He would have known. He would have had to.’
    ‘Some men are so self-centered they wouldn’t know if they were thrusting into a teapot,’ offers Dai helpfully. The plump flower has been put on a vinegar diet to lose weight, but she often noses in for a snack during Godmother’s naptime.
    ‘It happened,’ Suyin retorts firmly, handing her a handful of nuts to crunch. ‘My uncle’s wife’s sister knew the man.’
    ‘Well, then,’ says Dai, chewing. ‘Show us. Go to the nail shed and get Xiaochen to lower her trousers. I dare you.’
    Yuliang eyes her fellow ‘leaf ’ in amusement, half expecting her to take the challenge, just for show. Before she can, though, Godmother materializes in the doorway.Dai squeals and swallows simultaneously. But it’s not her the madam is seeking.
    ‘Yuliang,’ she says. ‘Suyin will finish your kitchen duties this afternoon. You are to go pull together your things.’ As the girls stare at her in surprise, she adds, ‘You’re a lucky girl. You’re getting your own room.’
    Yuliang looks at Suyin, whose face registers the same shock she feels. But Godmother isn’t finished yet. ‘Also,’ she continues, ‘your hair-combing takes place in a week. Have Jinling mark it in her book.’
    She turns to go. Then, remembering something, she turns back. Stepping lightly across the room, she slaps Dai on the face, hard enough to leave a red mark. ‘No dinner for you tonight, my piglet,’ she says. ‘Now go upstairs and change.’
    ‘It’s going to be Yi Gan.’
    Yuliang stares at her friend and mentor. ‘No.’
    ‘Oh, Yuliang. Don’t act so surprised.’ Jinling shakes her head. But she steps back from the doorway and waves Yuliang in. Then, carefully, she shuts the door behind her. ‘Yes,’ she says, turning to face her. ‘He bid the highest.’
    ‘How long have you known?’
    ‘Godmother told me last week.’ The top girl walks slowly to the window, her white hands twisting and clasping at her waist. ‘I was