244: Chapter 42: People and Businesses That Can’t Stand the Light 244: Chapter 42: People and Businesses That Can’t Stand the Light Tianmen people didn’t lack nightlife, but most of them had to work hard during the day to earn money and support their families, so they had little energy to go out at night.
There were still plenty of wealthy idlers around, especially after the descendants of the Former Dynasty, the elites like Young Master Wang, collectively moved to Tianmen.
In order to cater to the huge spending potential of these rich idlers, or perhaps to empty their pockets, the Tianmen City Government maintained a considerably tolerant and permissive attitude towards evening entertainment projects.
Apart from the three items that were banned, other aspects were loosely regulated.
According to the rules of Old Tianmen in the Jianghu World, markets operating before midnight were called night markets, and those after midnight were called ghost markets.
Night markets mostly consisted of street food, clothing, groceries, and various so-called foreign trade goods.
Items that sold in shops for a dollar might only cost fifty cents at these stalls, a much more reasonable price.
Of course, these weren’t the main attractions; the main attractions were the local opera performances that started in the evening.
Almost all night markets originally formed around those opera houses, specifically to serve the opera fans who were heading home after the show.
After midnight, when people disappeared and lights went off, some shady dealings gradually came to light.
The ghost market was also called the black market.
Many people in later generations understood the black market only through online novels, where it was depicted as a place where mysterious vendors allowed the protagonist to find incredible bargains.
In reality, the main commodities circulated in the black market were grain and salt.
This might seem counterintuitive, but in past times, regardless of natural disasters or man-made calamities, grain was an essential commodity in every common household.
Similarly, it was also an easy way to make a profit through exploitation.
Being the North Canal Transport Hub Center inherited from the Sui and Tang dynasties, Tianmen had its own complicated history filled with grudges and stories concerning the grain trade, enough to fill a new book with five million characters (though certainly nobody would read it).
Putting these old stories aside for now, grain, as a primary commodity, had only disappeared from the black market over the past two years.
The reason, of course, was the new government’s intervention in stabilizing grain prices, but people didn’t have much confidence in how long this forceful policy would last.
After all, those who had once profited from the grain trade hadn’t even enjoyed any peanuts last year and were still living a life of nightly revelry.
Nowadays in the ghost market, what you were more likely to encounter were antiques and curiosities of dubious origin and purpose, including imported goods from the West.
These were not items meant to cheat the poor.
But you couldn’t help it if there were those who desperately wanted to appear upwardly mobile, pretending to be wealthy with hardly a dime in their pockets, daydreaming about striking it rich by stepping in dog poop…
They flocked to the ghost market to add to the ambiance.
There were no lights in the ghost market, and vendors had at most an oil lamp, casting feeble flames that illuminated mere feet around them.
The dim environment, where it was hard to clearly see both buyers and sellers, was exactly the point; otherwise, why would they be doing business at midnight?
Strictly business without personal feelings spared a lot of trouble and prevented many mishaps.
For example, if a woman in red came to your stall in the dead of night, you could pretend you didn’t see her, and she wouldn’t bother you further.
Everyone’s better off that way.
Zuo Yan said going out meant visiting the ghost market.
Li Mumu asked Wendy if she wanted to go, and of course, Wendy wanted to.
Having been in Tianmen for so long without finding any interesting places, how could she miss such an invitation?
After all, it was the ghost market, where the pitch darkness meant there was no need to carefully dress or make up; just a scarf to cover your face was enough.
In the bright red wedding dress that Zuo Yan wore, along with the lingering scent of pig’s blood, Li Mumu felt sure there wouldn’t be any danger when they went out.
Indeed, that was the case.
From the moment the trio entered the Ghost Market, the polite locals stepped aside to make way for them, eyes glued to their noses, noses to their mouths, and mouths to their hearts.
They did not glance aside, utter a word, or come close to bother or flirt.
There weren’t any places in the Ghost Market where one could eat, and no proper people would head there to grab a midnight snack in the latter half of the night.
The only hot food available was lamb soup sold by an old lady with a cart at the corner of the street.
Both the East and the West have stories of evil ghosts disguised as sheep, although some people are fixated on the sheep’s buttocks and others on the potential to make money.
The local midnight lamb soup, too, was special, traditionally prepared for those who were neither fully human nor fully ghost.
Decades ago, before the ban on opium, opium dens were rampant.
As night fell, those who had smoked themselves into oblivion were evicted from the dens staggering home, clinging to walls.
Those slightly more lucid could find their way home; those less so, or those without a home, would stagger onto the streets only to possibly never wake up again, their fate left to chance.
At such times, a bowl of white, boiling-hot lamb soup seasoned with white pepper and certain unmentionable ingredients became a life-saving elixir.
This was also known as “Soul-Returning Soup.”
Besides the lamb soup, there was another kind of food not sold publicly in the Ghost Market—sliced green radishes, which could be considered a fruit.
The green radishes grown in Tianmen were sweet, crisp, and juicy.
Many locals who couldn’t afford fruits used them as snacks to cool off and quench their thirst.
The point wasn’t whether the radishes tasted good but that they were said to drive away evil, clear orifices; ghosts, lacking orifices, do not eat them.
Therefore, if you saw a stall owner or customer holding and biting into a green radish, regardless of their true identity, you could at least be sure they were a living, breathing human.
As for those eating raw pig’s liver at midnight, that was not so certain.
Nowadays, during these peaceful times, it was rare to see food, fabric, regulated items, or weapons and ammunition in the Ghost Market.
Most of the items were antiques and collectibles, with many subdivisions such as stalls specializing in stones, items dug from the ground, and those who were selling off family heirlooms due to fallen fortunes.
Everyone had a story, but not everyone was good at telling them.
The vendors out in business at midnight often had items with stories but seldom liked to talk.
Zuo Yan, accompanied by the two young girls, approached a stall and crouched down to pick up a pair of tarnished bronze candlesticks.
She asked softly, “You dare to sell these?”
The stall owner shrank his neck, and without saying a word, appeared quite introverted.
He didn’t have a green radish, clearly not a local, his mouth clamped on a cigarette that was burning close to his lips, yet he remained motionless.
“How much for these?”
“If you like them, feel free to take them to play!”
“That doesn’t seem right, does it?”
“What’s the harm?
Consider it a gesture of my respect for you.”
The vendor wiped the cold sweat from his brow and quickly pulled out a stack of paper money from his bosom, respectfully handing it over to Zuo Yan.