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From iFeng :. The basement is pitch dark, there are no windows, and is more like a damp cave. The only source of light is a light bulb by the bed, which hangs overhead from a long cord. Wu Xianfang wraps the light bulb with a puckered red plastic bag, the harsh light becomes red and soft. Wu Xianfang is 48 years old, her body plump. From behind, she has straight jet black hair, and no one can tell it is gray hair dyed.
A single mattress takes up half the space of the room. All day long, she either lies or sits on the bed, waiting for customers. Mothers from the rural countryside over the age of forty make up the bulk of these sex workers. The customers are usually local old men, or middle aged migrant workers from out of town. The price of every transaction varies between 10 to 30 yuan , and with such meager income, these impoverished sex workers still face the risk of fines, disease, violence, and discrimination.
The hostel where Wu Xianfang works is in a long, narrow alley, behind a bustling shopping street. As soon as you enter the door, the light is gone, with the scent of smoked firewood. There are three floors in the hostel, each floor has 9 separate rooms, and each room is just a little larger than a ping-pong table, divided by wood planks, with the places for ventilation covered by glass and pornographic posters.
No ID, no deposit, just 15 yuan and a woman can book a room for business. But there are also women who receive no customers at all the entire day. In general though, business here looks good, the brothel owner even making use of the basement now, and has built a simple room on the roof. The consensus these girls have reached is: The customers who come here are long suffering men, migrant workers, without wives, who come only after they can no longer suppress their needs and urges, and generally finish their business in about 5 minutes.
At noon on April 14 th , an old man wearing a white sleeveless undershirt groped for the handrail as he climbed upstairs. He paced slowly with his hands behind his back, walking back and forth checking out one by one the rooms that had their doors open. A middle aged woman lying on her bed with a blowing fan seemed to his liking and the bargaining began. This is the noisiest time of the day. After the water had been provided, the brothel owner locked the faucet. It was sticky everywhere, the walls, the floor, and the bed.