Chapter Seventy-Five: The Precious Soap

Some say that men are essentially children, but in Yun Hao’s eyes, men are essentially infants. They crave the most attentive care, from having their faces and feet washed to being dressed and fed. If someone were to look after you as if you were a baby, your sense of happiness would surely soar.

Yun Hao was currently on the verge of just such a flood of happiness, his body soaking in a pool of warm mountain spring water. He had no idea where they had managed to find this heated spring; the water was hot and carried a whiff of sulfur. He rubbed his skin, which felt slick and smooth, as if he’d lathered himself with shower gel.

Beside him, two naked songstresses were massaging him with great care. Their ample chests, narrow waists, and rounded hips were truly a feast for the eyes. Their small hands occasionally wandered mischievously, prompting the songstresses to giggle and laugh incessantly. Yet, he was simply too young—despite being surrounded by such beauties in the nude, his body remained completely unresponsive. At eight years old, an age when children in the future would just be starting elementary school, what kind of reaction could he possibly have?

Just look at Master Huineng, and that scoundrel Chai Shao—they’d long since slipped away with songstresses into private rooms. People in ancient times didn’t wear clothes, so they were beasts, not men. Later, as everyone began to dress and wear hats, they became “beasts in fine clothing.” Now, stripped of their attire, their animal natures were once again laid bare.

Pleasure and entertainment have never changed throughout the ages. In later times, people frequented clubs: dining, drinking, singing karaoke, and enjoying saunas all in one place. This Lanwan Club was the equivalent of a club in the Sui dynasty, with a range of services not much different from those of the future, save for the sauna. Otherwise, nothing was lacking.

However, the service was quite different. Take the massage, for example. These two songstresses were truly masters of their craft, their skills enthusiastic and well-practiced—far superior to the half-trained, scantily-clad masseuses of future massage parlors.

Their delicate, rhythmic fists beat upon Yun Hao’s back, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, all the way down to his thighs. The crackling sound was full of rhythm; just listening to it, let alone feeling it, was a pleasure in itself.

After a thorough session, Yun Hao let out a long breath, squinting his eyes and squeezing out a word from between his teeth: “Comfortable!” It was damn comfortable, and he was just about to ask for another round when Chai Shao emerged from a private room nearby, looking a bit unsteady on his feet. Yun Hao wondered whether, if Li Xiuning found out, she’d have Chai Shao turned into a eunuch.

“How is it, Yun? Not bad, right?” Chai Shao grinned. “Yao Niang’s skills are the best in all of Lanwan. If it weren’t for you, she’d be serving me instead.” As he spoke, Chai Shao gave Yao Niang a playful pinch, making her burst into another round of coquettish laughter. Chai Shao even gave Yun Hao a big thumbs-up. Yun Hao would never believe there was nothing going on between those two.

He wanted to flip Chai Shao the middle finger, but thought better of it—after all, Chai Shao wouldn’t understand anyway. Suddenly, Yun Hao remembered something and asked, “Chai, is soap a luxury item?”

Just now, Yun Hao had used soap beans for his bath. They left his skin rough and uncomfortable, and seemed to react oddly with water, making his skin feel dry. He sorely missed the smoothness of shower gel. Even if he couldn’t have that, soap would do.

But when he mentioned it to the songstress, she looked troubled. After checking with the manager, she informed him that the club had no soap. What kind of establishment was this? In the future, if she’d dared to say that, Yun Hao would’ve—well, let’s skip five million words of what he might’ve done (after all, the streaming platforms have already been shut down, and he didn’t want his book banned as well).

“Soap? You’ve used soap before? Where?” Chai Shao was surprised that Yun Hao had ever used it. “In this city, only a few lords in the Duke’s mansion have access to soap. No one else uses it.”

“It’s really that rare?” Yun Hao was stunned. Soap in the future was cheap as cabbage. Even if there were no shower gels or shampoos in these times, surely soap should be available? Was that slippery, faintly pig-scented thing in Zhang Miaoke’s hands actually a treasure?

“Rare doesn’t even begin to cover it! Let me put it this way: soap is something that comes from the Imperial Palace. Each year, only a handful of high-ranking ministers or nobles with royal blood ties are given any as a reward. The current Duke of Tang is the Empress’s own nephew, so he gets some. Due to its limited production, even officials of the second or third rank in the capital can’t enjoy it. Where did you use it? Did the eldest or second master give you some?” Chai Shao instinctively assumed Yun Hao had received it from Li Jiancheng or Li Er, since as far as he knew, no one else in Jinyang had the right to possess soap.

Damn! So a bar of soap was actually that precious. Yun Hao realized he’d misjudged Xing’er. He really was a country bumpkin; he hadn’t even recognized such a rare treasure. Yun Hao’s eyes gleamed—what a brilliant path to wealth this could be!

“Uh… Chai, is this stuff prohibited? I mean, would making soap privately get someone thrown in jail or executed?” Yun Hao asked cautiously. It was important to check first. In feudal times, the class system was strict, especially since soap was connected to the royal family—he needed to be careful. The Sui dynasty was relatively lenient, but in some eras, even wearing the wrong clothes could be a capital offense. Yun Hao had no desire to wind up back in the underworld being mocked by King Qinguang over such a trivial matter.

“Soap? No, not at all. There aren’t that many prohibited items in the world. The authorities do regulate some things, but soap isn’t among them. Besides, only the master craftsmen of the palace know how to make it. Among the common folk… wait, you know how to make soap?” Chai Shao, who had been lying on the bed enjoying a massage, suddenly leapt up, startling the songstress so much she went pale.

Chai Shao had developed a new respect for Yun Hao’s inventiveness. Since meeting Yun Hao, he’d seen him come up with countless new things, from alcohol to ice-making—none of which existed before.

Just that half a month of autumn heat had allowed Chai Shao to make a tidy profit selling ice in Jinyang. Next summer, when the heat returned, business would be even better. Chai Shao was now only hoping for an even hotter summer next year.

If soap could be manufactured, whether shipped to Luoyang or Chang’an, it would be a gold mine. No matter the price, nobles and ministers would fight to buy it. This was a business that could make a fortune.

“No, I don’t know how!” Yun Hao replied honestly, shaking his head. Soap was such a low-end product—how could it showcase his extraordinary abilities? If he were to make anything, it would be scented soap. And if materials weren’t an issue, Yun Hao would rather develop shower gel and shampoo. He’d even thought up the names and slogans: “Use Hi-Fei-Si—your hair is all gone… uh, I mean, your dandruff is all gone.”

The two were still chatting when suddenly there was a commotion at the nearby bath. Amid the ruckus, Yun Hao could hear Laishun and Qi Biao shouting. Yun Hao’s heart tightened—had those two troublemakers stirred up something again?