There was an alley cutting inward amid the row of street shops, and inside it were many small inns.
Once you stepped in, you could see the inn signs on the walls on both sides pressing against and overlapping one another.
Every so often a narrow stair led up to the second floor — that was where guests registered.
The ground floor still had one massage room after another, their doors plastered with pink paper and hung with colored lanterns.
It was still early; dawn hadn’t fully broken.
The massage rooms weren’t open yet; their roll-up shutters were down, blocking the glass doors inside.
But one little shop caught Li Zhuiyuan’s eye.
It had a display window only half a meter wide; through it he could see several garments hanging inside.
Four characters were pasted on the glass in two pairs: “Yao Ji” and “Tailors.”
This was the shopfront, yet there was no door — only a little window that was locked from the inside.
And the place seemed to be partitioned off from the adjoining “Sister Hong’s Massage,” which was already a tiny shop to begin with.
Adult men couldn’t walk upright inside; they had to sidle through.
What attracted Li Zhuiyuan were the clothes hanging inside.
After watching Ah Li wear different outfits day after day, the boy had become a half-decent connoisseur.