Chapter 129: The Bathhouse (Bonus chapter for reaching 330 monthly votes)

That old man, however, was truly unreliable. During the winter, he’d brought home an old-fashioned gramophone and a few vinyl records from goodness knows where. But he kept them all for himself, listening to them for half a month straight. Even when Hong Tao asked for them, he refused, claiming he’d only bring them over once the shop opened.

"Where do you think all these good things come from? You think they’re cabbages you can just pick up at the market? Didn't you ask me to find you a night watchman? I found one. Why don't you come with me and have a look? I haven't even spoken to him yet; I'll wait until you've checked him out before I bring it up." Old Man Na curled his lip, clearly unimpressed by Hong Tao’s penchant for playing the fool.

"Sure, let’s go take a look. Let’s head out!" Hong Tao was in desperate need of someone to watch the shop at night. It might seem like a menial job, but finding the right person was incredibly difficult.

First, they had to be reliable and someone he knew inside and out; otherwise, they might clear out the place before any real thief even got the chance. Second, they couldn't have any bad habits—no alcoholism, gambling, womanizing, or troublemaking. Otherwise, instead of providing security, they’d bring nothing but endless headaches.

Furthermore, they needed to be in good health and have some guts. They didn't need to be a fighter, but they had to be at least capable of scaring off a petty thief without hiding under the bed themselves. They also needed to be sharp enough to handle minor matters independently, rather than bothering the boss for every little thing. Finally, they couldn't have family burdens, as the job required living at the shop; it had to be their home, not a place they left constantly to check on their own house. After all, he couldn't afford to hire a whole shift of people just to guard the door.

Hong Tao could easily find plenty of people who met one or two of these criteria among his grandmother’s old neighbors or his uncle’s acquaintances. But he hadn't found anyone who fit all of them. So, he had expanded his search and asked Old Man Na to scout for him. The old man was a true veteran of the neighborhood alleys, knowing far more people than Hong Tao ever could.

"Where are we going? Why are we going into a bathhouse?" Instead of taking him to the man's home as Hong Tao expected, Old Man Na led him straight to the public bathhouse south of Beixinqiao.

"I arranged to meet him here. We might as well soak while we’re at it and get rid of some fatigue!" Old Man Na pulled Hong Tao through the bathhouse entrance and bought the tickets.

"Forget it, let me handle this. You’re doing me a favor; I can’t have you paying for it. Auntie, two tickets! And two bags of shampoo!" Hong Tao fished out five yuan and handed it over before the old man could react.

After buying the tickets, you couldn't just walk in. You had to hand your ticket to the attendant in the corridor and wait for your number to be called. In this era, most households didn't have their own bathrooms, and people either used their workplace facilities or came to these public bathhouses. It was crowded, and you had to wait for space to open up. The attendant would seat people on a first-come, first-served basis.

Usually, it was one out, one in. However, there were exceptions. If you were in a rush and just wanted a quick wash, you could tell the attendant, "I’ll take a basket!" This meant you wouldn't get a locker or a rest bed; you’d just get a large bamboo basket to hold your clothes. You’d wash quickly and be on your way.

When discussing old Beijing culture, the bathhouse is essential. It was a microcosm of every trade and social class in the city. Even in the 1980s, it remained a place every ordinary citizen had to visit.

Legend has it they appeared as early as the Song Dynasty, but they were at their peak from the end of the Qing Dynasty until the founding of the People's Republic. If you're from the south, you might not be as familiar with these traditional bathhouses, but you’d certainly recognize their modern evolution: the luxury bath center.

These modern bath centers aren't a new invention; if you strip away the modern equipment, they are essentially copies of the pre-liberation *guan-tang*. These were high-end bathhouses serving officials and the wealthy. From the decor to the service and hygiene, everything was top-tier. Guests didn't just bathe; they slept, played cards, ate, drank tea, smoked opium, and called for girls.

Before the liberation, the most upscale *guan-tang* in Beijing was the Dongshengping Bathhouse at No. 6 Yangmeizhu Xiejie. It was a three-story brick-and-wood building. Because it was located north of Dazhalan, bordered by the Eight Great Alleys to the south, the Dazhalan commercial street to the east, the Liulichang antique market to the west, and the Qianmen railway station to the north, it was the preferred choice for dignitaries. Its third floor consisted entirely of private rooms; as long as you had the money, you could buy anything there.

Besides Dongshengping, other famous *guan-tang* included Qinghuachi in Zhushikou West Street, Qinghuayuan in Wangfujing, Xishengping in Litieguai Xiejie, Yiheyuan in Dongsi South Street, and Yipinxia in Renguangfu Xiejie.

Below the *guan-tang* were the *pen-tang* (tub halls), which were secondary. These featured smaller private rooms with one or two enamel tubs, a lounge chair, and a tea table for resting. These were mostly frequented by government clerks, teachers, or women with children.

The next tier down was the "scattered seating" area, also called the *chi-tang* (pool hall). These had a bathing area and a large resting hall. The bathing room typically contained two or more large square pools—one warm, one hot—where everyone soaked together. There were benches and wooden beds for scrubbing. The resting hall featured rows of beds paired together, separated from the next pair by a meter-high wooden partition, with a locker at the head of each bed and a small table between them.

The people here were mostly laborers. They didn't just come to bathe; they came to conduct business, settle disputes, or chat with friends. There were also those hiding from debt collectors, staying in the bathhouse all day, ordering food from nearby eateries via the attendants, and only slipping home after the bathhouse closed at night.

Thus, the most lively place wasn't the *guan-tang* or the *pen-tang*, but the *chi-tang*. It was a microcosm of Beijing, filled with every type of person imaginable. After the liberation and through the Cultural Revolution, all the *guan-tang* were converted into *chi-tang*, with only a few *pen-tang* remaining in the women's sections.

Hong Tao certainly wouldn't risk taking a "basket," as his locker would be safe, but he had a hundred yuan in his pocket. The attendant didn't make them wait, however. He opened the door to the hall and shouted, "Old Man Na, your usual spot, two people!"

The attendant inside echoed, "Coming right up! Come on in, Second Master! Tea first or a soak first?"

"Soak first! If Da Peng shows up, tell him to find me inside!" Old Man Na was clearly a regular. He led Hong Tao directly to a corner without needing guidance.

"Alright, and who is this?" The attendant was a fat man in his forties, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

"Buddy, we’re brothers!" Hong Tao replied before Old Man Na could, stripping off his clothes. Why pass up a chance to take advantage of the situation?

"Wait! Who started that?" The attendant was stunned, glancing suspiciously at Old Man Na.

"We’re just friends, you little brat! Trying to take advantage of me everywhere you go—you should just shout it through a megaphone!" Old Man Na sighed, unable to beat him to the punch.

"Brothers is fine! Brothers is fine! Otherwise, I'd have to lower my own generation!" the attendant joked.

After locking his clothes in the locker, Hong Tao slipped the key—attached to a rubber band—around his ankle. With his thin arms, it was more secure there. He shuffled into the bathroom wearing oversized slippers, following Old Man Na.

There were only two pools, one large and one small. The large one was warm, and the small one was hot. Since it was morning, it wasn't too crowded. Most were elderly men, some of whom knew Old Man Na. Because children rarely accompanied him, Hong Tao drew curious looks. When asked, he again claimed he and Old Man Na were peers, once more boosting his own status.

"Hey! Don't get in there! That's too hot!" Old Man Na grabbed Hong Tao just as he was about to step into the hot pool.

"I’m not afraid of the heat..." Hong Tao tested the water with his foot. It was hot, but manageable.

"Afraid or not, you’re just a kid! You can’t go in there! Soak in the big pool!" Old Man Na hoisted him up and dropped him into the warm pool.

"Kid! You can't go in that pool. Wait until your little thing grows up first, then you can soak there. Your 'grandfather' is just looking out for you, don't you get it?" an old man nearby chuckled.

"We're the same age! Why can't a kid go in?" Hong Tao finally realized there was a specific reason Old Man Na kept him out of the hot water.

"Fine, same age, same age! Second Master, you’ve got a generous heart—if any kid dared to claim they were my peer, I’d break their legs!" the old man said, leaving Hong Tao’s question unanswered.