The suitors I’ll find for you will treat you like a lily made of white jade. A few will even be so overly polite you’ll be bored to tears when they seek your permission for every peek and touch. Rich old men can be among the best suitors and patrons. They’re experienced, generous, and they know how to tip. They enjoy adulation, but don’t need praise all night long. You’ll know who they are by how warmly I receive them. “Come sit here,” I’ll say, “your favorite spot by the window. Eat this, it’s your favorite snack. Drink this wine, it makes you hearty. Violet will sing your favorite song.” In the boudoir, they’ll treat you like the Goddess of Mercy in a holy temple. They’ll place offerings on your belly so that you might grant their stem a longer life. You may have to apply some herbs to get their stem to stand up, and the potions I have almost always work. Often he will simply fall asleep and dream of what he couldn’t do. Tell him your dream of what he did. There is another good trait of old men: They are loyal. They won’t chase after flowers, one after the next. They don’t want to educate a new girl about their inabilities. The only problem with old men is that they die, sometimes suddenly. You may have one as your patron who gives you a handsome stipend. It’s a sad day when you learn his sons are burning incense for him at the family temple. You can be sure that his wife won’t be toddling over with your stipend in hand.
With all these things in mind, I will choose the very best suitors and patrons, who will go crazy to have you. My plan is to pay off our debt to Madam in three years or less. She paid a lot of money for you, Violet. On top of that, some of your furniture and clothes are provided by this house and that adds up to one hundred fifty dollars—that’s Mexican silver dollars, not the new Republican money. And don’t forget, you also have to pay your monthly rent, not to mention your share of the food and use of the sedan. So you can see why we must be very careful about money. Some girls spend, spend, spend, and their debt goes up, up, up. By the time they have to leave, they have nothing but tears. Once you’re free of debt, you can do as you please, as long as you pay your rent and give Madam a portion of your earnings. When your savings have mounted, we can rent our own house and start a business of our own. I already have one in mind, and it is not an opium flower house.
For your defloration, I would like you to earn a full set of jewelry. Most beauties are happy with the usual two gold bangles and bolt of silk. If I have my way, you will receive much more than that. An expensive ring or necklace might be enough, but once he’s in your room, I’ll suggest that he celebrate by giving you the rest of the set. After your defloration, we’ll need to work hard to accumulate more sets. We may have to rent jewelry from older courtesans who are hanging on and in need of cash. All those necklaces and bracelets will show future patrons how popular you already are. Once a man is your patron, always wear your most expensive set. Praise it lavishly, but add a small criticism. Tell him dark rubies do not flatter your complexion. Mention that the style is a little old-fashioned for a girl as young as you. Say that you saw a beauty who wore a more modern set, and that it showed what good taste her patron had. Now he has the opportunity to offer you jewelry more to your liking. If he says nothing, then that will be the last evening he comes to your boudoir until he offers a suitable form of admiration.
If he offers to take you to a jewelry store, let him know that Eight Virtues, on Felicity Lane, has the best selection and that they are also very honest and never claim that gold over silver is pure gold, unlike Eight Precious Garden, on Fourth Avenue. I know the owner of Eight Virtues, Mr. Gao, and I would ask him ahead of time to set aside two sets, one quite expensive, the other not as expensive but also very nice. When we arrive, Mr. Gao will ask your suitor what he has in mind. If he does not ask for a specific piece of jewelry, Mr. Gao will bring out the expensive set—bracelet, necklace, ring, and hair ornament. You should murmur that if you had a set like that, you would no longer wear the jewelry you have now. If the suitor tells you to try it on, remove the jewelry you have on, throw it on the counter, and tell Mr. Gao to give it to the memorial fund for chaste widows. Don’t worry, Mr. Gao will later come to the house and return the set. Now that you’ve discarded the other jewelry, what can your suitor do? He should buy the set you love so much to show he values you more than anyone, and since you value this set more than any other, the feeling is mutual. At the very least, he should buy a set worth a little more than the one you gave to the faithful widows. You cannot accept anything less.
Yet you also cannot appear greedy and wheedle your future patron. I, on the other hand, can bargain with Mr. Gao on behalf of your suitor. I’ll tell you to take off the necklace so I can examine it. I will call attention to a flaw in one of the jewels, a little blur. Mr. Gao will look at it and acknowledge this with dismay and immediately offer a lower price. You can admit you still like the set but are not sure if it’s the right thing to get. You should then ask your suitor what he thinks. Is it still worth it? Notice how the question is phrased. You are not asking him to buy it; you are asking if it is worth the money. If he does not answer immediately, Mr. Gao will lower the price again, saying he does not want anybody claiming his merchandise is flawed. He adds that he is willing to sell the set for such a small sum because you said you liked it more than anything you’ve ever had. And when others see it, you might tell them the same. They will also think you paid full price. So this is beneficial to all. At this point, your suitor will likely buy it. After all, he’s struck a bargain without even trying.
On the other hand, he could decline to buy the set, and now he has a reason to do so without losing face. The set is imperfect. You said so yourself. Ask Mr. Gao if there is anything similar in style that is without flaws. Mr. Gao will bring out the second set I selected. It will be less expensive than the first set but more than the discounted price. You can exclaim over this unbelievable price. If the suitor does not immediately say he will buy it, what does that mean? Whatever it means, so you do not lose face, look at the set again and find something else that is not to your liking that you had not noticed before. I will ask Mr. Gao if he will have new sets next week. He will say yes, and I will suggest we return. Then we can see what happens. You might be surprised.
One beauty told me that she was once confronted with a similar humiliating situation. She walked toward the door and tried for one last gift, stopping to admire a headband. It was decorated with small pearls and was expensive for a headband, but not extraordinarily so. The suitor said that it did not become her. She was disheartened and prepared to walk away empty-handed when the man called out to Mr. Gao to bring out the headband he had seen the other day. When she saw it, she wept. It was encrusted with pearls and diamonds and was more expensive than the entire first set of jewelry. Mr. Gao had been in on this ruse. The suitor knew how courtesans played the game, but he truly loved this beauty, and he showed her it was not her tricks that had won his heart. When he became her patron, he gave her enough money to pay off her debts and open a house of her own. She was so devoted to him that when he died suddenly, she killed herself to be with him. None of his wives did that.
As you can see, the strategies for winning a pledge from a patron must be carefully played. You don’t want to return home empty-handed too many times. That’s why I should accompany you on any visits to the jewelry store. And until you get a top-quality headband, study the one Vermillion has. It is almost as nice as the one I told you about, studded with pearls and diamonds and shaped to enhance the roundness of her forehead and the angle of her phoenix eyes. You should openly admire the headband. Say aloud how precious it is. Praise the patron who bought it. She will appreciate your flattery, because it will show in front of other men how valuable she is and that the gifts from her future suitors should be equal in quality to her headband. Her patron will also be encouraged to give her another nice gift. One day, Vermillion will do the same for you. Her flattery will also give your suitors an idea of the sort of gift that could win your heart. As you grow in popularity, you should even
tually receive a headband worth ten times more than the one I gave you.
My own fault lay in accepting something less. You are lucky you can benefit from my mistakes.
THE ILLUSIONS
The illusion of romance depends on a man’s willingness to believe, and his willingness comes from thwarted desires. All of your illusions should lead to one thing: to make him fall in love with you. If he does, time will stand still when he is with you. He will fancy himself immortal and be willing to give up his worldly goods for you.
A few men may wish for special illusions. I call one the Illusion of Tragic Love. Remember the songs I said you should learn? The one about maidens who died young? You might take on the role of a girl he grieves for, someone to whom he secretly pledged his love. You will become that girl and either allow him to fulfill the pledge or be released from it. He may even ask you to perform the role of the cousin who dies in the novel A Dream of Red Mansions or that of the lover of the scholar in the opera The Legend of White Snake. A real weeper. This will require flowing robes for a costume, more white powder on the face for a ghostly effect. You should memorize scenes from the novel and master expressions of betrayal and forgiveness. It’s harder than you think. You don’t want to look murderous or like a fool. But if you master the look of tragedy, you can make a fortune. If you have truly lost someone, as I have, you will not need to pretend. You simply remember. Someday I will tell you all about him. I can’t ever speak of him without having tears from my heart flood out from my eyes.
The most common request from suitors is the Illusion of the Noble Maiden. The man wants you to put on the same airs of a nobleman’s daughter, whom he can woo into bawdy adventure, and without the meddling of a gabby mother-in-law. To achieve the Noble Maiden role, you wear clothes that are rich and dramatic, refined yet also a little daring. Perhaps the undergarments are skimpy and in a happy red color.
Some courtesans are asked to play what we call the Illusion of the Night Scholar. A little kohl to darken the eyebrows, the Ming hat of a philosopher, long robes. If he wants a warrior, the hair is oiled, parted on two sides, combed over the forehead, and knotted tightly at the back. The Night Scholar illusion has become quite popular these days, even in a few first-class houses. I don’t know if the courtesans here do that. But it used to be done only in the second-class houses. That’s what the old bustard allowed in the Hall of Tranquility. The customer asked her for the Night Scholar, and she called the courtesan who was known for performing the role with some enthusiasm. A lot of that enthusiasm came from being older and having a last chance to make some good money. The customers piled on the gifts for a few days, and the gates to heaven opened. When I reached thirty, I became the Night Scholar most often requested, even though I look nothing like a man. There’s no shame when you do it in your own boudoir. I didn’t boast in the storytelling halls.
The old bustard also came up with another specialty to draw more business: Two Scholars. I played one of them, and whoever was not so busy played the other. The customers did the usual wooing, but with two beauties. One of us would complain, “Hey, I do all the work. Why should she get the same amount?” Then the other of us made the same complaint. That’s how we both cooperated to get more money. But we made it worth it to the man. He would enter the boudoir, quaking and close to bursting when he saw two stern Confucian scholars. I held the ropes while the other wore a girdle with an ivory stem. I threw him silky undergarments to put on and called him a wife-whore. While he dressed, we sat at the tea table with legs crossed, smoking Western cigars. We commanded that he put on a headband, that he powder his face and rouge his lips. Oyo! What an ugly courtesan he made. Still, we flattered his prettiness, his youth, and called him “Little Pink Lotus.” He had to call us “Lord Scholars,” and I would bind him seated in the chair with his legs dangling over the arms, the usual position, nothing that special. He cried and begged, but alas, it was no use, and the other beauty crossed the threshold with the ivory stem. Where? you ask. How can you be so stupid? Where else would a stem go into a man? In his little pink lotus!
For the very generous ones, we let him rest a bit and then brought out another stem, and he now had to call us “Master Teachers.” I would wear the ivory stem this time. For the extremely generous ones, there was a third stem, usually called “Uncle” or “Brother.” That was the request. Family was always last, the most exciting.
Some men just liked a little variety. Others were homosexuals who pretended they were not, to hide their true nature from other businessmen. They didn’t realize that some of those businessmen had the same secret. We were very discreet. We knew who was dabbling in the dew with the pretty opera singers, because some of those singers were our lovers. The singers didn’t enjoy their work, but the money was good. When I was still a courtesan at the Hall of Tranquility, I had one old man who liked to use the ivory stem both ways. That’s the kind of customer a madam in a second-class house will take. I had to wear the Night Scholar clothes and apply Heavenly Showers ointment to get the man’s ancient warrior to stand up. And because he quickly burst, he wanted to draw things out by using the ivory stem on me. He gave me an extra gift, but I still didn’t like it. Those fake stems never grow soft. It was too much work.
The only reason I am telling you this is so you will be prepared if a man asks for these things. If you know what they want, you won’t be tempted by offers of extra money once they are inside your boudoir. I don’t want you to play the role of a man. You are first class. Your reputation is still that of a young beauty. Maybe Puffy Cloud did that. Ha. She was probably crazy for it. But if a man hints that he wishes to wear your robes or he brings out an ivory stem on a girdle, you should go behind the screen and ring the chimes for me. Those customers know they are supposed to make those requests to the attendants ahead of time. I will politely tell him the Night Scholar is not available but that his teacher can take care of whatever lessons he needs. If he’s urgent, he’ll accept my offer. I won’t mind doing this from time to time. A lot of the attendants who were once courtesans do the specialties no one else wants to do. I still have a girdle and different-size stems in my trunk. The bigger the tip, the bigger the stem—that’s how it usually goes. Too bad I never had a big talent for playing the Scholar. I was not genuinely enthusiastic.
On occasion, we have clients who wish to receive instruction. Most are inexperienced. Formerly devout monks, young boys whose fathers are clients of ours, or customers who wish to learn the skills of an expert lover to woo another man’s wife. If you come across these men, let me know. In fact, the initiation of young boys was a specialty of mine, and that’s because the fathers who brought their sons remembered how encouraging I was when they were young. I am always moved to tears when these same young boys come back as grown men and say to me, “Because of you, my wife and concubines are content.” Often they ask for a lesson, just for old times’ sake. You should let me take care of any client like this. They are not as choosy about how old the courtesan is. What matters to them is gaining knowledge that will last a lifetime.
Whatever any man requests, you should never degrade him for his desires, nor should you accept being degraded. If he’s drunk and pisses on you, ring the chimes and I will come and remove him from your room. Don’t accept extra money to let him do these things. You know what happens to a woman who lets herself be degraded? She winds up with a pimp and lies on the floor of a chophouse, where rickshaw pullers and laborers rub her raw, one after another, a hundred a day. She never has a chance to close her legs or her mouth until she’s pounded into raw meat and dies. I’ve always wondered why those women don’t kill themselves. Maybe they think it’s their fate and if they endure it they will have a better life in the next. I would rather kill myself and return as a fly.
FASHION
Don’t let yourself become too thin. No man likes bony limbs poking him. And it’s bad business if a suitor accidentally snaps a girl’s ribs. Just before you came to the Hall of Tranquility, t
hat happened to one beauty. She screamed so loud that the madam, the attendant, and two menservants ran into the room, thinking the man was killing her. The servants flung the naked man onto the streets. The old bustard learned he was an official who determined the fees for business licenses. This did not end favorably for anyone.
A fat courtesan holds no appeal, either. It limits what positions she can do without breaking the man’s stem in two. Right now, you have a good shape. I think your breasts might grow to be a little larger than ideal. Large breasts were not considered attractive when I started my career, and those who had them would bind them up. But these days, younger men find large breasts lurid and exciting. It’s the influence of pornographic Western postcards. I still think that large flopping breasts belong on a wet nurse. Don’t do anything to grow them on purpose.
When it comes to clothes, everything about you should convey that you are a high-ranking courtesan. The best clothes should be worn in public—on carriage rides, in restaurants, at the theater. Your jacket will be so tight, everyone can see your shapeliness. The skirt will be well-fitted so that no imagination is needed to see the curves of your rump. There will be shocking Western details: buttons instead of clasps, frills, and pleats. Or it could be men’s trousers, or a Western skirt. This is where you must use your imagination. As you ride around in a carriage with your suitor, think of yourself as being onstage, like an actress. All eyes are on you. Your suitors and patrons are proud to show you off. It gives them face. They enjoy seeing envy in other men.