At 35, with a degree in Chinese medicine and herbal pharmacy, I was laid off and spent eight months looking for a job without success.
Then a car accident led me to save the owner of a bathhouse, and through a twist of fate, I ended up working at her club.
The massage techniques in traditional Chinese medicine passed down by my grandfather let me pinpoint exactly where every woman is most tense: the fascia, acupoints, and knotted muscles clogged with stagnation. Wealthy socialites, aloof CEOs, spoiled heiresses, depressed young women, blind pianists... women of all kinds come seeking me out.
Others win them over with sweet talk. I let my hands do the talking.
I have principles, a silver tongue, and I never cross the line. This middle-aged man, cast aside by society, carved out a path to success among women with nothing but his own two hands, becoming the most sought-after top attendant in the city.
But the steadier my hands become, the more important that line in my heart grows.
