DBTHDCAR Chapter 7

Translator: dapotaturs
Release Date: 03/18/2024
Edited Date: 06/26/2025
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There’s a long-standing joke online: Southerners, never having seen a proper public bathhouse, go off to university in the north and end up walking into the school bathhouse still wearing their underwear…

As for how true that is for the younger generation, Ning Xiaobei couldn’t say. But for those born in the ’70s and ’80s like him, public bathhouses were absolutely nothing new.

Never mind the fact that in Jiangnan, there’s a long tradition among men of “skin wrapped in water in the morning, water wrapped in skin in the afternoon¹“上午皮包水，下午水包皮” – A Jiangnan saying that means: in the morning you’re soaking in water (drinking tea or bathing), and in the afternoon you’re drenched in sweat or water again.“. Just growing up in a factory compound like he did meant Ning Xiaobei had been in and out of the state-run bathhouse since he was a kid. Seeing people bare-ass naked didn’t faze him in the slightest.

The bathhouse at the Third Shoe Factory was massive—hundreds of people at once, with over a dozen bath attendants who specialized in scrubbing and back-pounding. Sure, it didn’t have the later northern trends like milk-scrubs or vinegar rubs, but those Yangzhou masters had some real skills when it came to back-pounding and foot reflexology.

Just as they reached the bathhouse entrance, a strong wave of mixed steam, soap, and shampoo wafted out toward them. Ning Xiaobei inhaled deeply, the nostalgic scent instantly triggering a flood of memories. He followed Ning Jianguo inside.

Inside, it was bustling—kids, parents, grandparents—everyone was here. Most of the workers lived nearby, so they weren’t just coworkers but also neighbors. That kind of everyday intimacy would all disappear in the years to come.

“Hey! You little comrade—why are you going into the women’s bathhouse?”

As Ning Xiaobei and his dad turned toward the men’s side, an auntie at the entrance wearing a red armband²Red armband (红袖箍 hóng xiù gū) — In this context, the auntie wearing the armband is likely a bathhouse supervisor or community volunteer, responsible for enforcing rules and public order. These roles were often semi-official and common in factories and public institutions during the 1980s–1990s. and a full head of perm-curls shouted from behind them.

Ning Xiaobei turned around and saw a boy about his age being dragged toward the women’s bathhouse. Never mind that the boy was tall and sturdy—he was at least half a head taller than Ning Xiaobei—why was he still being taken to the women’s bathhouse?

And the woman dragging him along? He recognized her instantly. That was Liu Meifang, wife of Ma Zhiguo!

“What’s going on? My nephew is still young, and I’m worried about him going to the men’s bathhouse alone, so I’m taking him to the women’s bathhouse. What’s wrong with that?”

Liu Meifang said confidently.

“Still young? He’s almost as tall as me, not a little kid anymore. What’s there to be embarrassed about?”

The “red armband” woman pointed at the boy and said sternly, “Factory rules clearly state that if you’re not a direct family member, you can’t enjoy employee benefits. How is your nephew a direct relative?”

The commotion quickly drew a crowd. Several young female workers in their early twenties overheard that a tall, strapping boy had almost entered the women’s bathhouse, and immediately furrowed their brows and jumped into the argument with Liu Meifang.

“Aiyo, he’s still a kid—what does he know? And what, getting glanced at costs you a chunk of flesh or something? It’s not like you’ve got anything special—no butt, no waist. You act like you’re some kind of treasure. I’m telling you, even if you gave my nephew A-Bao a peek for free, he wouldn’t want it!”

“Auntie Fan, don’t you talk to me like that. Just because you wear that red armband doesn’t mean you can go around bossing everyone. Your sisters and their kids have all come here to bathe in the factory’s bathhouse—now you wanna talk rules? Did you make those rules?”

Liu Meifang was in full battle mode. Her mouth was sharper than a cannon blast. Seeing that the “red armband” lady and the workers couldn’t outtalk her, she smirked and raised her eyebrows triumphantly, tugging A-Bao’s arm to charge forward.

“Come on, Auntie will take you to shower. We’re not wasting time arguing with this bunch of busybodies.”

At that moment, a small arm reached out and gently touched A-Bao’s arm.

“A-Bao, come wash up with me. Let’s not go to the women’s bathhouse.”

From Ning Xiaobei’s angle, he could see that the boy named A-Bao was blushing as red as a tomato, clearly wishing the ground would swallow him up.

Liu Meifang had long been used to acting with zero decorum, stomping around the factory like she owned the place. Her nephew, though still young, already had some sense of gender and shame. Hearing the murmurs around them, he also knew his aunt was way out of line—he just didn’t have the nerve to speak up.

“That’s right, Sister Liu,” Ning Jianguo said cheerfully, standing behind Xiaobei. “Xiaobei and I will take your nephew in with us for the bath. Now you can stop worrying, right?”

“It’s Engineer Ning… Alright, with Engineer Ning here, I have nothing to worry about,” Liu Meifang said quickly, her tone flipping in an instant. Since she still needed something from them, she switched to a flattering smile and pushed her nephew toward Xiaobei.

“He’s my brother’s son, so that makes him practically my son too. How’s that not a ‘direct relative,’ huh? Aiya, it’s only because Old Ma’s been feeling under the weather lately and couldn’t bring him himself. Otherwise I wouldn’t be arguing with that group of nags.”

Ning Jianguo, who had just been talking to Ma Zhiguo outside, thought to himself, This woman is making stuff up faster than she can talk. But he didn’t call her out. Instead, he simply took the towel from her hands and led the two boys toward the changing room.

Under the shower, Ning Jianguo gave both kids a thorough scrubbing, then brought them over to the big soaking pool. The moment A-Bao saw the hot pool—which was almost as big as a small swimming pool—he got excited and dove right in.

There were already seven or eight boys around their age playing in the water. A few of them were splashing each other, laughing and roughhousing, and it didn’t take long before A-Bao joined in. Whenever they got too rowdy, one of the adults would come over and yank them out for a scolding.

Ning Xiaobei slipped into the water and sat down next to Ning Jianguo. The pool was pretty deep—when he sat down, the water nearly reached his neck. He had to tilt his head up just to breathe, or risk getting a mouthful of bathwater with every sentence.

“Why don’t you go play with them in the water? Weren’t you the one who loved swimming in the pool the most before?”

Ning Jianguo draped the towel over his head and chuckled.

Embarrassed, Ning Xiaobei smiled awkwardly in response. Despite being introverted by nature, he still had a mischievous streak. In Shanghai dialect, they’d call him men pi³“闷皮 (men pi)” – A Shanghai dialect term, meaning a kid who’s quiet on the surface but actually quite mischievous or sly underneath.— quiet but sneaky.

Before attending elementary school, Ning Xiaobei learned to swim with his father at the workers’ swimming pool, excelling in dog paddling and diving. Once, he scared Ning Jianguo and his colleagues half to death when he disappeared underwater for a quarter of an hour, his belly brushing against the pool tiles as he maneuvered around the legs of uncles and older men, only coming up for air when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, then diving back down to continue playing.

That incident had sent Ning Jianguo and his colleagues into a frenzy as they searched inside and outside the pool before finally finding him. Ning Jianguo had then given him a good scolding by the poolside before letting him off the hook.

“I’m not feeling well. Don’t wanna play,” said Xiaobei as he squatted down and blew a couple of bubbles in the water.

What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t just blurt out: I look at those little brats like they’re my sons, and you, Dad, like a peer. Honestly, I’d rather hang out with you old guys.

“Dad, does Uncle Ma’s family live near the Big Clock Tower⁴大自鸣钟 (Dà Zìmíngzhōng) – Big Clock Tower. In old Shanghai, a local landmark with complex historical ties to Japanese occupation; most young people today wouldn’t recognize the name.?” Ning Xiaobei asked, leaning close to Ning Jianguo and speaking softly.

“Nope. Old Ma lives just two blocks from us. His son even went to the same elementary school as you. He started middle school last year,” Ning Jianguo replied with a shake of his head.

“But…” Ning Xiaobei licked his lips.

He decided to tell a lie—seven parts true, three parts made up.

“Right before summer break, I ran into a fifth-grade repeater outside the school gates. He said he used to be in the same class as Ma Jiaqi and that he was planning to visit him over by the Big Clock Tower during the break. He said Ma’s house has everything—even a Japanese-imported color TV and a karaoke machine.”

As far as Xiaobei later learned, the Ma family had already secretly bought a new apartment at the end of 1994, hiding the purchase from the factory.

Back then, most housing came from state allocation or private exchange. Newly constructed houses that could be bought and sold were called “commercial housing”, and only a handful of people who had money could afford them.

After hearing Xiaobei’s story, Ning Jianguo slowly opened his eyes.

Unlike Xiaobei’s fine brows and narrow eyes, Ning Jianguo had strong, striking features. His eyes in particular were sharp, like they could shoot cold light. He looked intently at Xiaobei, who returned his gaze with sparkling eyes and gave a subtle nod.

“I see.”

Ning Jianguo frowned and wiped his face with a hand.

“Don’t talk to those repeat students in the future. Our⁵阿拉 (a la)” means “I” or “our” in Shanghainese Xiao Bei is a good kid and will go to college in the future, got it?”

“Got it,” Ning Xiaobei smiled.

His old man might be soft-hearted, but he wasn’t a fool. His words were enough.

After soaking a while, their muscles and skin loosened up. When Ning Jianguo tried to drag Xiaobei over for a scrub, Xiaobei immediately refused.

No way. Those old scrubbing masters in the factory bathhouse didn’t mess around—they scrubbed like they were trying to take your skin off. Ever since he was a kid, Xiaobei saw the bathhouse scrub-down as a form of punishment. He’d rather skip it if he could.

“I’m going to play with A-Bao,” Saying that, Xiaobei ran off bare-butted.

After swimming around in the pool, Ning Xiaobei wrapped the towel around his waist and began to explore the old bathhouse.

The Third Shoe Factory had originally been a Japanese-run cotton coat factory before Liberation.

At that time, the Japanese, who were living a comfortable life, knew how to enjoy themselves. The bathhouse they built was the largest among the surrounding factories. You could still see remnants of its grandeur from the domed roof adorned with blue mosaic tiles and several sturdy marble columns.

His dad had said that when he first joined the factory, one of the older workers told him there used to be a mural of Mount Fuji by a famous Japanese artist on the largest wall of the men’s bath. It had since been painted over.

Now, staring at the bare yellow wall, Xiaobei could almost imagine the shadow of Mount Fuji lingering there—maybe it was just in his head.

The bathhouse had two floors. Rumor had it that the second floor used to house a “private bath” reserved for the Japanese managers, where they could bathe while watching Japanese women dance. Nowadays, the second floor serves as the factory’s workers’ club, where workers can do their ‘bong cha cha⁶“蹦擦擦” (bèng chā chā) — often romanized humorously as “bong cha cha” — is a playful, onomatopoeic term that mimics fast-paced, bouncy dance music, especially the kind used for group dances or aerobic routines in China during the 1990s and early 2000s.’ weekend dancing.

Ning Xiaobei had never been to the second floor. He only knew that in another two years, this bathhouse, and even the entire shoe factory, would change hands several times, floating and sinking, and ultimately be abandoned. This factory area would become one of the most troublesome areas in the city. It wasn’t until around 2003 that the site was reclaimed, renovated, and turned into an art park.

Just thinking about it—the scene of hundreds of workers pushing their bikes through the gates—was something soon to become a thing of the past.

With this in mind, he realized that what he had to do was more than just reclaim the welfare housing.

Furrowing his brows, Ning Xiaobei hadn’t realized he had wandered off track and reached the edge of the men’s bathhouse. Rows of abandoned tables, chairs, and lockers were piled up here, dirty and generally avoided by people.

After all, just one wall over was the women’s bathhouse, and people tended to steer clear for propriety’s sake.

But clearly, not everyone had that sense of decency.

With pursed lips, Ning Xiaobei watched as three or four naked young men crowded around a dilapidated table, leaning against the window, peeking through a chipped section of frosted glass, directly observing the scene in the female bathhouse.

These shameless bastards were watching with glee, their laughter sleazy—and judging by their reactions, they were seriously enjoying the view.

“Someone help!”

Ning Xiaobei’s eyes widened in fury as he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Someone’s peeping on the girls in the bathhouse! Catch the pervert!”

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Author’s Note:

上午皮包水，下午水 (Morning: skin wrapped in water; afternoon: water wrapped in skin”) — this is a traditional saying from the Jianghuai region. It refers to the habit of men drinking tea in the morning and bathing in the afternoon. In Shanghai, public bathhouses were often called “混堂” (hùntáng). There’s even a legend that Huang Jinrong, a major figure in old Shanghai’s underworld, couldn’t bear to part with Shanghai’s bathhouses and that’s why he never moved to Hong Kong.

大自鸣钟 (Dazimingzhong) — An old Shanghai landmark located at the intersection of Changshou Road and Xikang Road. It was originally a monument built by the Japanese in honor of the notorious Kawamura Rihei. It was demolished after the liberation, but the name stuck. Nowadays, only old Shanghainese still remember it.

The first mission in Xiaobei’s plan to protect his family and his dad is to take back the house that was swindled from them.

The gong is about to appear — just in the next two chapters.

• 1
  “上午皮包水，下午水包皮” – A Jiangnan saying that means: in the morning you’re soaking in water (drinking tea or bathing), and in the afternoon you’re drenched in sweat or water again.
• 2
  Red armband (红袖箍 hóng xiù gū) — In this context, the auntie wearing the armband is likely a bathhouse supervisor or community volunteer, responsible for enforcing rules and public order. These roles were often semi-official and common in factories and public institutions during the 1980s–1990s.
• 3
  “闷皮 (men pi)” – A Shanghai dialect term, meaning a kid who’s quiet on the surface but actually quite mischievous or sly underneath.
• 4
  大自鸣钟 (Dà Zìmíngzhōng) – Big Clock Tower. In old Shanghai, a local landmark with complex historical ties to Japanese occupation; most young people today wouldn’t recognize the name.
• 5
  阿拉 (a la)” means “I” or “our” in Shanghainese
• 6
  “蹦擦擦” (bèng chā chā) — often romanized humorously as “bong cha cha” — is a playful, onomatopoeic term that mimics fast-paced, bouncy dance music, especially the kind used for group dances or aerobic routines in China during the 1990s and early 2000s.