Liu You was practically being escorted at a sprint toward the Gaojia Commercial District by a squad of enthusiastic men from the Discipline Committee—half of them even helped push his cart.
He'd already been exhausted and half-ready to collapse, but with this crowd shoving from behind, his cart felt as light as air. In a blink, he was swept into the heart of the commercial district.
Neon-bright plastic buildings rose on both sides, their colorful lights flickering like festival lanterns. The entire place buzzed with life—so much that it made the main streets of Heyang County look like a ghost town by comparison.
Liu You couldn't stop exclaiming:
"Wow! Wow! Wow!"
It was the pure, wide-eyed awe of a peasant wandering into a celestial city.
Shops lined the street—every kind of business imaginable. Goods overflowed from shelves; voices overlapped; smells of food and incense tangled midair. Liu You didn't even dare ask prices.
Someone shouted, "Chief Zhang! Any empty shops left?"
Zhang Laowu—the Discipline Committee head—rubbed his chin. "All the prime spots are taken. Finding a good location now's not easy."
A younger committee member piped up: "How about the pleasure house? That building's still empty."
Zhang Laowu's eyes lit up. "The pleasure house! That's right in the center of the district, best location around. Been vacant too long anyway. Let's use that for your dumpling shop!"
Liu You blinked. "Wait—wait, what? What?!"
Zhang Laowu nodded earnestly. "Dao Xuan Tianzun banned that sort of business. Building's just collecting dust. You don't mind opening your Water-Fresh Dumpling Shop in there, right?"
Sweat poured down Liu You's face. "Mind? Oh, I mind a lot!"
Zhang Laowu smiled like a fox. "Rent-free."
Liu You's expression shifted instantly. "Mind? What mind? Not at all! What a fine, morally upright location this is! I'll just—change the signboard."
The crowd went silent for a beat.
"…Right."
And that was that.
They led him to the building—a surprisingly spacious structure. The first floor could seat dozens of customers, and there was a full second floor above, filled with small rooms.
Rent-free use of such a building? Liu You was overjoyed.
The first floor would be for dining, of course. The second—his living quarters and maybe storage for extra supplies.
The only problem was the old signboard still hanging above the door: "House of Crimson Delight."
Liu You's smile twitched.
The plaque wasn't the only issue. On either side of the door hung a matching couplet:
Business booms where bed boards creak;
Fortune flows where belts grow slack.
He felt the back of his neck prickle.
He tried tearing it down—no luck. The couplet wasn't pasted on; it was molded right into the plastic wall itself.
Fortunately, Zhang Laowu had a plan. He dashed to the stationery shop, begged for a blank couplet scroll, and pasted it directly over the offending words.
Now the entrance looked… decent, if vaguely unsettling.
One of the committee members tilted his head. "A blank couplet looks weird though. Shouldn't we write something on it?"
Liu You waved both hands. "I can't write—barely know a few characters myself."
"Damn," someone muttered. "None of us can either."
"Maybe just draw something?" Liu You suggested weakly.
Then Zhang Laowu's eyes gleamed. "Wait. I'll fetch a scholar."
Liu You frowned. "A scholar? Those bookish types are all proud as peacocks. No one's going to write for a street vendor like me. And I can't pay much."
Zhang Laowu grinned. "Relax. This one's free."
And he sprinted off.
Before long, he returned, dragging a man in scholar's robes who was panting like he'd just run from the next county.
It was Zhao Sheng, the "Lamp-Lighter"—a man who once wrote letters and couplets for townsfolk in Qingjian County, never charging a coin. He'd been so beloved that people literally followed him into rebellion.
Zhao Sheng bent over, gasping. "Zhang… Lao… wu… what… what is it you need me… to write…?"
Liu You nearly panicked. "He's going to suffocate right here!"
After a minute of heavy breathing, Zhao Sheng straightened and spoke normally. "All right, what's the job?"
Liu You eagerly explained his Water-Fresh Dumpling specialty in full detail—the thin dough, the soft fish filling, the broth that warmed the soul.
Zhao Sheng's eyes brightened mid-sentence. He grabbed a brush and scrawled swiftly across the blank paper:
A thousand noodles stretch long life and fortune;
One bowl of fragrant broth soothes the dreaming soul.
Horizontal: Water-Fresh Dumpling Shop
Liu You's eyes went round with delight. "Sir, that's brilliant! I can't read half those words, but it feels like money!"
Zhao Sheng laughed heartily. "Back in the day, I studied for the imperial exams—read more books than I can count. Of course I've got a little talent."
"'Back in the day?'" Liu You frowned. "You're still young. Why not take the exam again?"
Zhao Sheng chuckled. "Pass the exam and I'd have to go be an official. Why bother, when life in Gaojia Village is so much happier?"
Liu You thought: Happier than being an official? Yeah, right.
But then he looked around—the villagers helping, the laughter, the way strangers treated him like family—and he couldn't help but smile.
Now everyone who'd helped him suddenly filed inside the building, dragged over a few plastic tables, sat down, and stared at him expectantly.
Liu You blinked. "Uh… what are you all doing?"
Zhao Sheng smiled. "Waiting. Open the shop already! We're here for dumplings."
"I—what? I haven't even set up the stove! I need ingredients, flour, broth—I don't even know how much to charge per bowl!"
"Then stop talking and start cooking," Zhao Sheng said firmly.
Liu You looked at them. No way these people were leaving without eating.
Fine. He'd cook.
He unpacked his tools from the cart, stacked stones to build a makeshift stove, and fed in the coal he'd brought from Heyang County. Soon flames flickered under his pot.
Next step—flour.
Zhao Sheng pointed down the street. "Corner over there—Gaojia Village Grain Depot. Their prices are fair."
Liu You ran off, a little anxious. Grain was expensive everywhere this famine year. Who knew what price it would be here?
He asked cautiously, "Do you have buckwheat flour?"
The shop clerk grinned. "Of course!"
"How much per jin?"
"Seven copper coins."
Liu You sucked in a sharp breath. "So cheap?! That's practically giving it away!"
Perfect — you're absolutely right.
Trivia
Couplets and Shop Plaques in Late Imperial China
In Ming and Qing times, nearly every shop displayed a wooden plaque bearing its name — often poetic or ironic. The red hanging scrolls on either side of the door, called duilian (對聯) or couplets, were believed to attract fortune and declare a shop's personality.
Brothels, for instance, favored couplets that blended puns on "wealth," "luck," and "pleasure," like the one seen here:
Business booms where bed boards creak;
Fortune flows where belts grow slack.
The humor was deliberate, flaunting confidence and satire toward morality itself.
Replacing the couplet with a "blank" one, as Liu You does, is both a local superstition (to reset bad luck) and an unspoken admission that literacy isn't evenly distributed — most small traders simply pasted red paper for show.
As for the "House of Crimson Delight", its poetic name followed the same tone — elegant phrasing concealing shameless business.
Ironically, Gaojia Village is so modernized that even its piety toward Dao Xuan Tianzun comes with official signage — a mix of discipline committee and divine zoning enforcement.