The Cost of Opening a Brothel
Having pieced together the whole backstory, Liu Zichu finally grasped his current predicament.
He'd originally resented Ling Ru's harsh attitude toward him. Just because you're beautiful, you think you're all that? I didn't do anything to you—why treat me like dirt? But now that he knew the reasons, Liu Zichu actually thought this nominal aunt of his had remarkable self-restraint. If it were him in her shoes, seeing Liu Zichu still alive, he'd probably grab a knife and finish the job himself.
After tossing the money pouch, Ling Ru had been waiting for Liu Zichu's reaction. She truly despised this nephew of hers, but he was her elder sister's son—what could she do? For her sister's sake, she'd handled this filthy task.
Yet when Liu Zichu stood there dumbfounded, lost in a daze for ages, Ling Ru's temper flared. She itched to slap him flying, just like the time this scum had groped her breast out of nowhere—straight into the wall.
Ling Ru had the strength for it; she was a cultivator, after all.
She slammed the table, her voice sharp and commanding. "Liu Zichu, did you hear me?!"
Liu Zichu jolted back to reality, his gaze landing on his so-called aunt. His heart twisted with conflict.
Sure, he now understood the history, but how was he supposed to face her? Tell her the truth? Auntie, I'm not really Liu Zichu—I'm Liu Zichu from another world. A transmigrator. We've got no blood tie, so no need to hate me. Yeah, that'd get him beaten to death. From the original owner's memories, this aunt was no pushover—one slap from her whipped up gale-force winds. Definitely some cultivation expert.
And who'd believe that crap? With Ling Ru's loathing for Liu Zichu, it'd just sound like the desperate excuses of an unrepentant sleaze—lame and low-effort at that.
So he'd have to own up to being that scumbag Liu Zichu. And honestly, he had to—otherwise, no shop, no brothel.
Fine, own it he would. But how?
Liu Zichu grimaced, eyeing the stunning woman who clearly despised him. "Auntie."
Ling Ru's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Realizing his slip, Liu Zichu quickly corrected himself. "Aunt."
Ling Ru snorted coldly, making no effort to hide her revulsion. "I've said all I need to. You're no longer part of the Liu family. Your mother disowns you. I've done my duty coming here—that's the end of it. Live or die, it's got nothing to do with us."
Liu Zichu drew a deep breath. What choice did he have? Make do.
He stepped forward and grabbed the money pouch from the counter. Ling Ru recoiled like he'd unleashed a swarm of filthy flies.
As he approached, his eyes betrayed him, drawn inexorably to Ling Ru's cleavage. No helping it—auntie, er, aunt in this era's terms. Her tits were huge, pale, and glossy, with a generous expanse of soft flesh on display. His gaze drifted there on instinct... and so did the instinctive twitch in his crotch.
Liu Zichu prided himself on being a gentleman; a mere glimpse of cleavage wouldn't get him hard.
He looked down, hand instinctively cupping his bulge to tamp down his rising brother. Alarm bells rang in his head—a very bad realization.
The instant he'd seen Ling Ru's cleavage, he'd nearly reached out to grope her. God, those tits look so big and soft—bet they'd feel amazing. Wonder what her face would look like getting molested...
But he'd reined it in. Not due to ironclad willpower, but a primal chill down his spine. This body remembered: the time he'd impulsively grabbed her breast, only to get slapped airborne, ribs nearly cracking.
Yeah, the original owner's memory. But since fusing with it, those experiences felt his too... Way too close to getting killed...
Liu Zichu broke into a cold sweat. Was he getting corrupted by the original owner's scumbag memories...?
It hadn't been an issue before, but now, as his erection throbbed under his pressing hands, it dredged up a flood of exquisite sensations from the past.
Liu Zichu was a soul transmigrator; this wasn't his original body.
The previous owner had embraced countless women, these hands had fondled endless breasts and asses, and that cock between his legs had plundered who-knows-how-many pussies. A battle-hardened dick that stiffened at the sight of cleavage and yearned to fuck.
Liu Zichu's thoughts scrambled. He felt so wronged—his own paltry sex life didn't match this stud body's pedigree.
And from Ling Ru's view, this sequence—staring at her cleavage, then fondling his hard-on right in front of her, twisting his face into something creepy... Veins pulsed on her forehead. She flashed back to that bastard once cornering her on the hallway with a maid, pounding her ass from behind, then yanking out his cock to show off...
Fury boiled in Ling Ru. The Liu servants claimed he'd stayed clean on the mountain, grinding away at training like a reformed man. Bullshit—dogs don't stop eating shit. Believing this scum could change? Might as well believe her sister would remarry.
Pah! As if her sister would. And this trash? Still jerking off in front of her.
Ling Ru swung her palm in rage, her half-exposed breasts jiggling mesmerizingly.
Liu Zichu looked up instinctively, meeting her icy glare mid-swing. "Hey? Aun—fuck...!"
He yelped as he flew back, crashing hard to the floor.
These past six months, under the system's watchful eye, he'd trained like a maniac—his physique was leagues tougher now. The fall didn't injure him much, and Ling Ru hadn't used full power.
But his plain cloth shirt shredded in her palm wind, baring his broad pecs and chiseled eight-pack.
Groaning, Liu Zichu scrambled up, too scared to fix his clothes lest she strike again. "Aunt, don't hit! I was wrong—ow, my ass!"
He really didn't want to take the fall for the original owner's sins, but what recourse did he have? No justice here.
Ling Ru blinked, stunned. Those pecs... those abs... Was this really her sister's wastrel son? Him, building a body like that?
The servants said he'd trained relentlessly on the mountain. It was true?
Ling Ru felt like she'd witnessed something absurd. Back then, this nephew was a total good-for-nothing playboy. She'd figured he'd starve in ten days, let alone train.
But shock faded fast. Scum was scum—he'd just been flashing his dick at her.
She spat at Liu Zichu. "I haven't got time to baby you. I'm staying 15 days. After that, brothel or no, I'm gone. As for you..."
She eyed him with utter contempt—one hand on his bruised ass, the other clutching his crotch. "...no one will care if you live or die."
Liu Zichu rubbed his sore butt, mentally reciting pi to evict auntie's tits from his mind. His cock finally wilted.
Resentment simmered in him too. Taking this blame sucked—the original owner was such trash he'd punch him himself. But he'd held back, hadn't groped her—yet she walloped him anyway. Where was the law?
Bitter-faced, he said, "Aunt, believe it or not, I've truly repented. I'm not the old me."
Ling Ru's gaze remained frigid. "So, still opening this brothel?"
Liu Zichu nodded earnestly. "Yeah. I'll run it right, Aunt."
"Scum who can't quit his shit." She spat again.
To her, Liu Zichu was no business material. Why open a brothel? To chase tail inside, of course—grab whores and fuck at will.
Liu Zichu knew he had no ground to argue. Whatever— if she actually helped launch the brothel, great. With his smarts and the system, he'd thrive. Then this crazy bitch could drop dead.
Clutching the pouch, he asked, "So, Aunt, how do I open this brothel?"
Ling Ru didn't even glance at him, spitting coldly, "What business of mine?"
Liu Zichu: "..."
Bitterly, he pressed, "But you said you'd help."
Ling Ru recalled her sister's pleading eyes before she left. Her heart softened a touch. Flesh of her sister's flesh, after all.
After this, no one would care if the scum lived or died. For sister's sake, then.
She finally looked at him. "You've got 120 taels total. Hang a sign, and this place could sell anything. But a brothel? You need whores. A madam to manage them—or swallow your pride and do it yourself."
Liu Zichu's eye twitched. He pictured TV madams cooing, "Aiyo, handsome, it's been ages—missed ya!" Now swap in himself... Shudder. No way. Madam was essential.
Ling Ru continued. "Beyond whores and madam: greeters, a manager, bouncers for troublemakers, cooks for meals, musicians for entertainment, cleaners..."
Liu Zichu's eyes spun. What the hell? A brothel needed all that? Weren't whores enough? Strip, spread, fuck, pay, leave. Why meals? Music? It's just sex—get over yourselves...
He gripped the pouch tighter, voice weak. "Aunt, by that logic, is this silver enough? Can ya spot me more?"
He saw her point. The system wanted a functional brothel—not some quickie hair salon.
Ling Ru's face stayed stone-cold. "It's all you've got."
Truth was, the Lius—including Ling Ru and his mother—hoped he'd ditch the brothel idea and live modestly on the cash.
120 taels was pocket change to the old Liu Zichu—gone in a flash.
To common folk, it was a fortune.
If reformed, Liu Zichu could scrape by, hustling with it.
If not, he'd burn through it fast—beg, starve, revert to savage. The Lius were done.
Liu Zichu gnashed his teeth. "Auntie, crunch the numbers for me. Minimal setup brothel—how much silver?"
Ling Ru sighed inwardly. Scum confirmed. Hope dashed. She'd bail post-task.
She pulled paper and pen, listing items.
Liu Zichu kept distance from his aunt, craning to peek. His heart sank deeper.
Madam: essential. Can't have him pimping.
Usually, brothels paid commissions—greeters on booze upsells, whores on lays and tips. Base pay low.
But his spot? Ghost town. No commissions worth chasing. High base or bust.
Ling Ru didn't care if he died trying.
Madam: 30 taels/month. Absurd, but necessary for this dump.
3 greeters: 7 taels each, 21 total.
5 bouncers: 5 taels each, 25 total.
2 musicians: 10 taels each, 20 total.
4 cleaners: 1.5 taels each, 6 total.
2 cooks: 4 taels each, 8 total.
"Stop, Aunt—please, no more writing..."
Liu Zichu's heart shattered. Near 100 taels already—no point to his 120. And whores weren't listed yet.
Can't pay.
Ling Ru rolled her eyes, tossing the pen. "Your location demands high pay. In the city center? Under 20 taels total—they'd flock for commissions. You?"
Liu Zichu pouted. Blame you guys for the shit location.
But no complaining rights.
He balled up the paper and chucked it. Unworkable—cash too tight.
No such option.
Liu Zichu griped inwardly. Business sim with no startup cash? Stingy.
Ling Ru ignored his brooding, heading upstairs. To her, he could rot—15 days, then out.
Smart? Live off the silver. Stupid? Die.
Liu Zichu barely noted her exit, deep in thought.
Brothel must open—but not her way. Bankruptcy bait.
Core was whores.
But few girls chose it willingly. Desperate families sold daughters, or orphans sold themselves to eat.
Maybe recruit refugees, starving folk who'd take any gig for food.
If I can find any.
A spark hit him—he'd missed something obvious.
Sitting, he pondered. Even fully staffed, on this dead-end Beilu Street? Ghosts for customers?
Don't aim for profit. Aim for the task.
System wanted "open for business" standard—reward draw. Next task follows. Hope?
Eyes lighting, yes! Didn't need fancy. Few whores. Just guest-ready.
That bare minimum...
A bold idea bloomed in Liu Zichu's mind...