Chapter 105: Taking a Bath

Han Li swung by the supply and marketing cooperative to buy some biscuits, sponge cakes, and hard candies. Checking his watch, he saw it was only eleven-thirty. He wondered if he should go to the state-run restaurant for a meal; after all, there was nothing pressing waiting for him back home. Even as he pondered this, his hands and feet were already steering his bicycle toward the restaurant.

At first, Han Li felt a tinge of disappointment when he scanned the menu, as it lacked his favorite dumplings. However, that disappointment vanished the moment he looked closer—the menu actually listed chicken stewed with mushrooms. Since arriving in this area, he had stewed wild pheasant with mushrooms a few times himself, but wild pheasant lacked the fat content of farm-raised chicken. Domesticated chicken provided more fat, allowing the hazel mushrooms to soak up the rich chicken oil, which was the secret to making the dish truly fragrant.

The chicken stewed with mushrooms cost one yuan and seven cents for a large bowl, and for three cents each, he bought three steamed buns, leaving Han Li feeling stuffed. Just as he was about to leave, he overheard a conversation at the next table.

"The state-run public bathhouse opened today. Let's go for a soak after we get off work this afternoon. It’s the very first batch of water, too."

"Really? That’s great! I’m definitely going to have a good soak today. I’ll ask the bath attendant to scrub me down until my skin feels raw—it’ll be a real relief."

The words "bathhouse" and "scrub" immediately caught Han Li’s attention. Hearing that man talk made him feel itchy all over; he couldn't wait to jump into a bathhouse himself. Well, why not? He might as well arrange it, and perhaps he could pick up some tips to better arrange his own washroom back home.

Han Li walked out of the restaurant, pushing his bicycle and strolling to aid his digestion as he headed toward the public bathhouse. It was genuinely difficult to bathe in this era. When the weather was warm, people made do at the riverside or with a basin of cold water. In winter, bathing at home was highly inconvenient, so for both adults and children, going without a bath for long periods was the norm.

State-run bathhouses were scarce at the time. In the county where Han Li was stationed, there was only one. A single bath ticket cost twenty cents, a price most families were reluctant to pay. Of course, this was where the perks of being a worker became apparent, as many units issued a bath ticket to their employees every month. Then there were the unit bathhouses, but these were few and far between, usually belonging only to large factories or powerful government agencies. Even then, these bathhouses weren't open every day, usually only once a week or even less frequently.

When Han Li lived in the capital, he would either go to the bus company with his father or visit the local state-run bathhouse. Those places had premium rooms with individual tubs and two basins for washing hair and rinsing off. Showerheads? Unfortunately, those wouldn't become common until the 1980s. Such premium rooms cost more, and Han Li had never enjoyed that luxury.

The busiest time for the bathhouse was in the half-month leading up to the Lunar New Year. In this era, there was no such thing as a holiday for the New Year, nor was there a "big weekend"—workers only had Sundays off. During that period before the new year, the line to get into the bathhouse could stretch for a mile on Sundays. If you had a friend or relative working at the state-run bathhouse—whether they were the ticket seller, the cashier, the number caller, the attendant, or the boiler operator—you were set; you didn’t have to wait in line. Once you sent word inside, they would signal you from afar, sparing you the misery of the queue.

The best part about the state-run bathhouse was getting the first batch of water, as it was the cleanest. You could imagine what the water was like after everyone had been soaking and scrubbing in the pool all day. But given the conditions of the time, people were just happy to have a hot bath—they couldn't afford to be picky!

When Han Li arrived, it was not yet two o'clock, and there were barely any people around. After paying, he received a key tied with a red string, a communal towel, and a small bar of soap. Walking into the main hall, he saw forty or fifty wooden beds. Beside each bed was a small square tea table, on which sat a thermos with a woven bamboo casing and a tea cup. These facilities were for customers to drink water and rest after their bath. It wasn't like what you saw in television dramas; there were no candies or snacks. Tea leaves were available, but you had to pay extra for them; hot water was free.

Han Li passed through the hall into the inner room, stripped down, and stepped into the bathing pool. There were three pools: large, medium, and small. The largest had a normal temperature and was for those just arriving to soak. The medium pool was the hottest, catering to older folks or those who preferred high temperatures. The smallest pool was the "clean water pool," which had a moderate temperature; next to it were many aluminum basins. This pool was for rinsing off at the end; soaking wasn't allowed there.

There were few people in the bathhouse yet, so Han Li took his towel and jumped straight into the largest pool.

"Hiss... ahh."

It felt wonderful. Han Li slid down a bit further, letting the water cover his neck. Placing half of his towel over his face, he focused on enjoying the pleasure of the soak. It was so relaxing that he fell asleep without realizing it.

He only woke up when someone bumped into him. He opened his eyes and gasped—good heavens, the pool was packed now, almost to the point where people were rubbing shoulders and backs. Outside the pool, many bath attendants were standing by—some standing, some squatting, some with one leg raised—in all sorts of postures. More common, however, were people scrubbing each other. In this era, there were no dedicated scrubbing mitts; everyone just wrung out their towels, wrapped them around their hands, and attacked each other with force. A bystander might think they were bitter enemies, given how the skin turned bright red, looking as if they had been whipped.

Han Li saw two strangers exchange a glance and a brief word:
"Scrubbing back?"
"I'll scrub yours first."
"Alright, go ahead."
They then began scrubbing each other with great sincerity, never stopping until the other person's back was glowing red.

The clean water area was also very lively. Since there were only so many aluminum basins, they weren't enough for everyone, and voices could be heard constantly:
"I'm just washing my hair, it'll be quick!"
"Buddy, let me scoop one basin, I'll be gone in a second."

Han Li climbed out of the large pool and went to the clean water pool to rinse off. Then he sought out a professional bath attendant; some things were best left to the experts. The attendant wrapped the towel around his hands layer by layer, much like binding bandages. It was said that the better the attendant, the more skillful this wrapping technique.

The attendant had Han Li lie down, starting from the head and working his way down. Once the front was finished, he had Han Li flip over. Then he began on the back. In short, the attendant scrubbed every inch of Han Li’s body, leaving nothing behind. After a basin of hot water rinsed him from head to toe, the attendant began to soap him up. His hands rhythmically patted Han Li’s body, even reaching the calves and heels.

[In fact, by 1966, most places had canceled scrubbing services for reasons we won't go into. It wasn't until 1978 that the trade was restored, so we are just describing it as it was.]

Han Li felt at least two pounds lighter, his body refreshed and his mind clear, as he walked out of the bathhouse with a light, airy step. He had been so hungry after the bath that he intended to fill his stomach at the state-run restaurant, but seeing the fading light, he decided it was wiser to head back while there was still some daylight left.

Han Li mounted his bicycle and pedaled hard. Unfortunately, the road conditions were so poor that by the time he returned to Shanghe Village, it was already pitch black. After putting his things away at home, he immediately returned the bicycle. It was a valuable item, and the owner was probably worrying about it. He only found the Village Chief's wife at home; after a brief chat and leaving some sponge cakes for them, he returned home.

Back at his place, Han Li took out a piece of pork, rubbed it with salt, and hung it up. This piece of meat was now "accounted for"—if anyone asked, he would say he bought it in the county seat today.

Just then, He Mi brought over a bowl of mushroom and egg soup along with some corn cakes. "You haven't eaten at this hour, have you? I saved this for you."

Han Li didn't stand on ceremony. Since their talk about dating hadn't worked out, the two seemed to interact even more than before. Han Li sometimes didn't understand the way girls' minds worked, but things weren't bad this way.

He Mi sat by the kang, watching Han Li eat. She noticed a large parcel on the kang. "Is this the cotton you exchanged for Qi Zhaodi?"

"Yes, though it's not all new; some of it is old cotton that has been re-fluffed."

He Mi said, "Being able to get any cotton back is a blessing, never mind whether it's new or old. Zhaodi hasn't said anything, but the worry on her face has been obvious. I’m going to go tell her this news now, so she can finally set her mind at ease."

Once He Mi left and returned, she brought others with her; Hao Hongmin and the rest had all come along. It turned out that when He Mi found Qi Zhaodi, she was helping Hao Hongmin and the others clear out a cellar, so they all came over together. Yang Xiuying was as boisterous as ever; her voice arrived before she even stepped into the room.

"Han Li, any fresh news from the county seat today?"

"I not only had a bath in the county seat, but I also bought biscuits and sponge cakes. Does that count?"

"A bath?"